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limitlessgojo · 3 years ago

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Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 15.5)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Shadows Fall

Next Chapter: Non-Standard

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast @nayydoesthings

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with nsfw posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty❤

Author's Notes: This is a deleted chapter but I decided to just put it as an extra/half chapter. I took a step back to assess my drafts and deemed that it didn't need to be in the story for it to be cohesive. But this is full of extra info that will be quite significant in the chapters to come^^

土御門天皇

Chapter 15.5: Tsuchimikado

“Geto Suguru has pronounced war against the Jujutsu Society. We are expecting there to be an ambush here in Kyoto and one in Tokyo Shibuya. We must prepare thoroughly. Amongst the students we will only be asking Jujutsushi of Grade 3 or higher to assist us in this battle. And you may opt out if you do not wish to fight. But your help will be highly appreciated, especially on such short notice.” Principal Gakuganji ended his speech by looking at you dead in the eye.

And deep in your gut, you knew you didn’t have so much as a choice. You were going to fight this battle as a Special Grade sorcerer (and being the only one in this room at the moment), whether you liked it or not. So you gave a short nod in return.

“I’ll be joining. As the future clan head of the Kamo clan and the eldest son, this is not a matter to be ignored or taken lightly.” Your head whipped around to face Noritoshi and to your biggest surprise he was looking straight at you. Then he turned to nod to Principal Gakuganji who nodded back approvingly.

“I’m always up for a good fight, so of course I’ll be joining. Can’t miss out on a chance to beat down curses.” Todo grinned and cracked his fists.

“Will you join, Tsuchimikado?” Utahime asked.

Everyone was silent as you looked at her then the Principal. “Of course I will.”

Everyone else called out to say if they were participating or not. After the meeting was finished after several more announcements, and you left back for your dorm rooms.

◇◇◇

The next day, Utahime sensei called in some students plus Hiroki into her office. You all filed in, wondering what it was about. Hiroki nudged you, “Why am I here with yall kids?” You pinched him in return.

Outside the door, you went face to face with Noritoshi. He gently called your name, “Good morning Y/N.” You just purse your lips and nod.

In this time of war, you need to set aside all personal matters. It’s all business; everyone had to cooperate together to have a chance of surviving.

You counted and named the people present. Noritoshi, Todo senpai, You and Hiroki. That was it.

Utahime let you all sit down on chairs facing her desk before calling your attention, “So, I called you all here today, because we have some information on the possible curses that might appear here at Kyoto. As you know, Geto Suguru has the ability to manipulate and take in curses.

We know of some grade 1 and special grade curses. I decided that amongst the students, the three of you are the most capable in handling those. Hiroki san, you’ve stated that you’ll be fighting alongside your cousin, so I brought you in here today so that both of you can prepare together.”

He grinned, “Of course Utahime san. We got this in the bag sis.” He punched you softly in the arm, and you softly hit him in the head. A childhood habit of yours.

So Utahime sensei then explained and listed off the curses that are known to be in his possession. All of you paid close attention and took notes. Most were Grade 1 and 2.

“And finally. We know of another Special Grade curse, the Giant Black Tsuchigumo of Kyoto. This curse is-” she continued to speak, but it felt like radio static on your end. You couldn’t hear anything anymore.

The blood drained out of both your and Hiroki’s faces. ‘Huh? I thought that nightmare was already done and gone. Whatthefuck’

Your right hand shot out to grab at Hiroki. Utahime paused at the sudden movement. It was getting harder to breathe, and you could feel the onset of the panic attack kicking in.

You’ve done so well recovering from anxiety attacks over the years, but this just made you feel so helpless. “Sorry, can’t breathe.” You gasped out.

“Give her space!” Utahime and the others pushed back the chairs and desk. Hiroki caught you as you leaned your forehead against the top of his chest and settled on the ground.

“Breathe in 2 3 4, hold 2 3 4 5 6 7 8, out 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9, and again,” Hiroki repeated your go to breathing exercises, ignoring how your nails dug into his arms. It took you a good 7 minutes to calm down. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized, wiping your sweaty palms off your thighs.

You looked down at your hands to see them still shaking. Utahime, Noritoshi and Todo were all kneeling with you on the floor. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Utahime patted your head lightly.

“Tsuchigumo. That big black one is dead. I have no idea which one you’re talking about right now, but the one that reigned in Kyoto is dead.” you said. “Gojo Satoru and I killed that curse back in late 2007.”

Noritoshi inched closer to you. Hiroki stiffened, watching him closely, but he didn’t do anything to close the gap. He just stayed by your other side, a silent and steady presence.

Utahime reached out to wipe your sweat with a towel. You only noticed now that the room has been rearranged, chairs pushed away to make a bit of space. There were cushions on the ground for everyone to sit on.

“Drink.” Hiroki pushed a cup of hot tea into your hands. You nearly spilled it, but he cupped your hands firmly, helping you drink. You leaned against your cousin, sighing at his warmth.

Hiroki spoke up, “As you can see, it is a bit of a touchy subject for the both of us. Our clan had a bad run in with that Tsuchigumo years back when sis was only 6 years old. But we are pretty sure that, like she said, Gojo and Geto san have gotten rid of it.”

Utahime nodded, “Geto did huh. Then he must have taken it in during that time.”

Noritoshi looked at you and realized that something far worse than just an attack happened. “Your sister,” he spoke quietly, “was she…?”

Hiroki raised his eyebrows. “Yes, our Sora was killed by that Tsuchigumo.”

The atmosphere in the room turned heavy and almost unbearable. Utahime looked concerned, “We need as much information on that Tsuchigumo as we can. Y/n, can you tell us anything?”

Oh yeah, just the one memory you’ve desperately tried to forget your entire life. Still you nodded.

Hiroki squeezed you.

“So basically.” You paused. “One night when I was 6, Sora neechan was like 10 years old. We got attacked near the Kiyomizu shrine. It was getting late, the sun was setting. But we were up at Daimonji-yama to play, and there were barely any people around. It wasn’t too dark yet, but it was really quiet.” Your teeth were practically chattering.

Noritoshi met your eyes and for a moment you wanted him to hold you. Until you remembered you were supposed to be angry with him, so you brushed it off and looked elsewhere.

“Satoru nii and Geto san were actually in Kyoto at that time to visit us. So I remember calling Toru nii and screaming for help, he was on my speed dial. He told us that we could call for help anytime. We are pretty much like siblings to each other. So he would always come to our aid. Right niichan?”

You leaned into Hiroki as he let out a small “Yep. He never lets us down. Dumb as he is.” Your lips actually quirked into a small smile at that.

“Sora and I basically had to hold off the curse until they got there. But it was strong. As you know, Tsuchigumo are earth spiders. But this particular one reigned in Kyoto for so long. Like centuries. It was so strong it ate every other tsuchigumo, making it grow bigger. Still, it rarely comes out to feed and is adept at hiding. We like to think of it as a smart curse. Every bite is laced with poison.”

“Back then I only mastered basic freezing and wind manipulation techniques. I couldn’t make barriers yet. And it really…” you closed your eyes remembering that sense of helplessness you’ve felt like never before.

“It was the worst 10 minutes of my life. I couldn’t do anything to hurt it. I had another technique I was working on, but it involved using reverse cursed techniques which I didn’t perfect yet. And I didn’t like playing with fire as much as I did with water and ice.”

“I froze it several times, but my technique was way too weak. It kept breaking free. Sora nee didn’t even have a cursed technique; she couldn’t fight. But still she felt responsible for me since she was older, so she …” you stopped. You closed your eyes and tightened your fist.

At this point your nails were drawing blood from your palms, but you didn’t feel the pain. “It’s so stupid really.” You laughed out loudly trying to distract everyone from the tears that were forming in your eyes.

Noritoshi reached out to you. But Hiroki’s eyes flashed at him in warning and he dropped his hands. Your heart squeezed painfully.

“I was just a stupid kid, who let her weaker sister take the shot of poison from that Tsuchigumo, instead of facing it head on. She wouldn’t let go of me no matter how hard I tried to put her behind me. A huge part of me was scared and terrified that night of course. I didn’t know what to do and I was such a coward. It was about to hit me until Satoru nii came.” You took a deep breath and forced out the remainder of the story.

“So I actually did manage to activate my reverse cursed technique towards the end, but it was too much. I burned nearly half of the mountain…. My mom had to help in restoring a large part of it afterwards. Satoru finished it off and carried us away immediately.”

“But Su- Geto san. Like he has the cursed spirit manipulation right? I never realized if he took it in or not really. I never particularly cared about it that night, because Sora nee was dying in my arms.” You rushed your words and pushed further into Hiroki’s arms.

“It was a bad omen for our clan,” Hiroki’s teeth were gritted tight as he relived your stories. “For such a powerful and evil curse to share a part of our namesake, only to hurt one of our own. After that day, we hunted down all the Tsuchigumo we could find across the entire country as a priestess told us to do so to cleanse our clan of a lingering curse. But… for some reason it was never enough. Now we know… it still lives with Geto san.”

“What painful memories,” Todo cried. “We will help you take it down, y/n. And I don’t doubt that you can defeat it the way you are right now.” You were touched by his words.

“But can you face it once more?” He asked.

“I’ve been training all my life for a day like this. Of course I’m going to throw that thing into the depths of hell.”

“Careful there.” Hiroki nii was eyeing you carefully. “You tend to rush headfirst when you’re being controlled by your emotions. You’re too reckless lil sis.”

“That’s true.” Noritoshi hummed. You glared at him. “If it’s to save a life, why not.” You shot back and had a stare off with Noritoshi.

More like a one sided glare on your part and him lovingly looking back at you with a sad smile. Noritoshi’s bond mark burned.

"Ahem." Hiroki cleared his throat loudly and everyone turned to him. "I'll be watching over lil sis here so it should be fine. I'll be joining this war anyways."

You smiled at your cousin gratefully.

“Well then. That was the last curse that needed explaining. I think the four of you are suited to taking them down. You’re all dismissed.”

You all nodded at Utahime, rising to your feet along with everyone else.

◇◇◇

“Y/n! I need to talk to you.” Mai said urgently. She followed you back to the first year dorms after class. You had told the first years about the special grade curses you were expecting to see in the war.

Mai looked particularly shaken upon hearing about the death of Sora. She was always the cool and calm one amongst the first years, besides Mechamaru that is. So this was very new.

“Of course, come into my room.”

You served her tea and cakes, before kneeling down on your floor cushion.

Mai threw her arms around you. Your eyes widened as her arms tightened around your shoulder. You cautiously put your arms around her.

“I know how it feels….. To lose an older sister.”

You flinched, “Is yours-”

“She’s alive.” There was a different pain in her eyes. And that was then you realized that she must have been left behind.

“Grief is the loss of a person. Someone could be going through a divorce or a break-up and experience grief. You could lose an important person, while they’re still alive and it’s still considered grief.” Mai said.

You wanted to cry, but your eyes ran dry. All you’ve been doing is crying yourself to sleep night after night lately. Your soul was still longing for Sora when she couldn't be reached anymore.

Noritoshi was different. He made it clear that he’s still running after you, never stopping to call out your name even if you ignore him in the hallways. But you were not willing to touch on his matter as of now.

Mai told you all about Maki and her life in the Zenin clan. How she was left behind and forced to be a Jujutsu sorcerer. Everyone has their issues deep inside, but you’re all still pushing and coping as you fight curses.

You buried your hair into Mai’s chest. “I’m sorry you experienced that Mai. You’re such a brave woman for doing this everyday even though you’re afraid of curses.”

“You get used to it.” She sniffed.

You sat there for a while, just hugging her.

“Wanna watch sappy romcoms with me?” You peeked up at her from her arms. “Of course.” You both smiled at each other.

Author’s notes: Tsuchimikado translates to “Emperor of the Earth”, while Tsuchigumo translates to “Earth Spider”. Thus, with how Tsuchi (meaning earth), both names share common Kanji. They are a strong clan that can heal and guard living beings and plants. And Tsuchigumo are expected to be easily defeated by them, being an earth creature. But, as Hiroki said, it was a very bad omen when Sora was killed by one.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#angst #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk x reader #blood bound #blackened bond #bonus extra

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rosaetae · 4 years ago

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spellbound to be | prologue

☇ “I don’t need to drink your blood to have my lips on your neck.”

[this is a part of tale of the purebloods]

➣ pairing: jungkook x reader

➣ genre: vampire!jungkook, fanatasy!au, soulmate!au, angst

➣ word count: 1.5k

➣ rating: pg-13

➣ synopsis: jeon jungkook is the cursed pureblood to have fallen in deep love with someone who was not his Complement. having to have fallen hard, he has to compensate with a life full of heartbreak and pain— one of which a burden weighs heavily on his shoulders. so much so, he hires a witch one day to reverse his inevitable Complement tie.

Pale, fair, ivory.

The color of a vampire's skin that drains all source of blood circulation in the veins. The shade of the moon when it has reached full potential. The hue of the crystal wrapped around her neck that will soon distinguish her in his eyes.

She watches her daughter reach for the selenite placed beautifully, carefully on the mahogany shelf, her innocent and curious eyes wanting to grab the bar of such white glory into her tiny fingers. The witch smiles at the sight, silently maneuvering into the back to place her woven basket of herbs she freshly picked onto the table just beneath her cabinets of various herb jars.

Glancing at her daughter, the witch watches as her own flesh and blood examines the bar in her tiny hands, holding it carefully knowing by instinct to nurture it with care. The witch turns back to the cabinets to grab her jar of juniper and a newly emptied one to place before her, before suddenly, a gust of wind tickles her neck and trails down her spine. Just as she reaches to open her herbs, she halts every muscle in her body when the draft lingers.

The sensation is no stranger— in fact, it was eerily resemblant to a harbinger of a storm, distinguishable from afar.

Inhaling sharply, she peeks her head around the walls to find her daughter who must have sensed the same sensation as her mother's by the way she had her eyes glued on the door. The witch calmly and carefully smiles at her own when they lock eyes.

"Take the selenite with you and go into the back, darling. Someone's coming."

And obediently, the child grasps the striking selenite bar in her hands of where it used to sit next to the moldavite and aragonite crystals, silently nods, and wanders into the back room of where she strays far away from sight.

Goosebumps form on the witch's skin, but she ignores it as she tends back to her work calmly, a tune of an old Frawen folk song humming from her throat, in any second should the door of her home open followed with the strong force of familiar wind. She looks up when she hears the faint bell toll and the wooden door eerily creak, indicating a presence to have entered the premises of her cottage home. Make no mistake that it is a former presence, one who has entered the abode before and now returns again.

"Jungkook."

"Circe," he acknowledges the witch before him, usually those standing would quiver under his gaze, but she was quite different. It's a given after having to know of each other for centuries. "I assume you knew of my presence."

"I felt it miles away," she hums. "Haven't seen you in over a decade after your mother's passing�� may she rest in peace." Jungkook meets her eyes, a furrow of his eyebrows growing evident as he notices a few strands of gray hair sticking out in front of her face. The more he stares, he realizes that she had a smile line— faint, but evident. A contrast of his recent memory of her before he disappeared while he wonders what has happened to the immortal witch he's known as a child. "The kingdom's been worried sick about the king. Passive sovereignty has been interesting. How was the disappearance vacation? Visited your brothers by any chance?"

Jungkook, due to his previous experiences of having to know the behaviors of a fellow acquaintance, understands that she wavers knowledge about him that he does not yet know in his face so sheerly. She cannot veil a secret to save her immortal life. Licking his lips, he stands tall, clearing his throat and disregarding all of the questions and statements of Circe's small talk towards him.

"I need a favor, Circe."

Circe, in the midst of transferring freshly picked herbs from the garden just outside into one of her jars, halts. Slowly and carefully, she peers up at him with emotionless grace, placing her herbs back down into the basket momentarily as she awaits Jungkook's need.

"Jungkook, if it's about Dawn—"

He shakes his head, the sound of the painful name feeling like a drop of poison onto his face, as if Circe had elicited spitfire in spite. If he hadn't known that Circe was the most powerful witch he knows and that he has known her for more than lifetimes, he would have ended her life there knowing that the name that should not be said rolled off her measly tongue. "No," he snaps. "It's not."

The witch sighs, her shoulders rising and falling as she patiently maintains eye contact on Jungkook's form. She had a guess on what could be his favor, noting how achingly slow he is taking his time to ask for a favor. "I can't bring back anyone from the dead."

"I know that," he growls, his eyes forming into slits at how Circe was testing his anger, but Circe knows that his anger is fueled by the inevitable loss and dread experienced firsthand— she could only feel the heartbreak that is emanating from his own energy. "I wanted to ask you a favor regarding my Complement—"

Jungkook's attempt of a calm stature is suddenly disturbed when he is nudged from the behind. It makes him stumble forward, causing Circe to raise an eyebrow at his peculiar loss of balance before meeting the gaze of the culprit. Irked at how easily his grace was disrupted, Jungkook turns around in a swift motion, Circe instinctively raising her arm and lips parting to anticipate casting a restriction spell, only to have stopped the second Jungkook's body has frozen over.

Circe, with a silent gulp, lowers her arm as she beholds the moment unraveling before her. What turned into peculiarity from her knitted eyebrows turns into fascinating marvel that she couldn't help but curl her lips at the moment before her.

She takes in with silent muse of how Jungkook's neck cranes down to meet the eyes of the beholder, one of which who obtains the eyes of a doe— of vast purity before them. It's almost as if their auras collided, became one with the other to create a vast explosion of colors and shades as their pupils have dilated in size staring at each other, almost as if they had just seen all of the colors on the spectrum in one standing. But what confirms the situation at hand is the fact that Circe notices a mark forming onto her daughter's skin on the back of her neck as if it were an Etch A Sketch— a single line drawing of a rose.

When Circe takes a look at Jungkook, she sees that even Jungkook's eyes have softened. The man that is feared by the whole kingdom as well as the Counsel and his own brothers, has grown soft for the merest moment of locking eyes with her daughter. It's not hard to miss the inevitable that has been shared.

A Complement has been made.

"Circe," his grace's tone has grown velvet that Circe could not suppress the way her amusement. "I didn't know you had a daughter."

Jungkook slowly tears away his gaze from his Complement, meeting Circe's with a delicate and oddly tranquil gaze along his features. The doe-eyed beholder runs over to Circe, engulfing her leg into a hug with a force that nearly even topples her over.

"It's been far too long, Jungkook," the witch smirks before peering down at her daughter. "Dear, I told you to stay in the room. Go, your father's coming home soon from the town. And put the selenite back." Circe gives one good motherly smile down at her daughter, her slender fingers stroking her strands before a single nod is given. Before she had made a scurry back into the room her mother wanted her to stay in, the child locks eyes with Jungkook once more, only for Jungkook to look away scornfully. It's until he heard her uneven foot patterns of her trotting fade away did he look back at the witch.

"She exudes human blood," Jungkook observes coldly, his eyebrow arched as Circe comfortably returns back to refilling her jars of herbs. "I didn't know you've grown soft for a human."

"Correction, I've fallen in love," Circe rolls her eyes, shaking her head at the way Jungkook nearly spits out the word 'human' as if it was venom. "Surely you've noticed my gray hairs, maybe some wrinkles as well. While you went and disappeared, I've decided to end my immortality to grow old with my Complement. And along the way, we had her."

"How old is she?"

Circe smiles, her heart becoming light. "She's four." She glances at Jungkook for a moment who stares at her with a gaze so emotionless that even the dead could not reenact. "Turning five in two weeks."

"Love has poisoned you, Circe," Jungkook announces, his heartbreak becoming the foundation of his spew of words that when Circe looks up from her plucking of herbs, her retort was lost in the air as she realizes that she was opening her mouth to the bit of dust that was left by Jungkook's sudden disappearance.

The ringing of the bell is made as Circe drops her herbs, letting his loss of presence soak in before her eyes trail to the petite figure just looming within the shadows of the shop, her eyes scared and curious at the same time until they are met with her mother's.

"Mommy, who was that?"

Circe sighs, an inner debate passing through her brain before she shakes her head. "No one, dear. No one. Go on, prepare the table. I'll be there in a second."

And in the witch's mind, she wonders how she will explain to her daughter one day when she is of ripe age, when she adheres to outmost power, when the idea of the Complements becomes a constant question in her head, that the man who walked into the shop is not "no one", but one of the legendary Pureblood kings that still lives on to this day, as well as her very own Complement.

"Will he come back?"

She freezes, knowing that the mark of a tie being completed has been etched onto her daughter's skin has already triggered an attachment to the king of Frawen. Giving from what his reaction was to the tie, the witch is sure that he would not return for the mere reason of her daughter, but perhaps to erase his tie given his painful past. "Not anytime soon, ___."

#kwritersworldnet #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #vampire!jungkook #bts angst #bts ff #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #soulmate!au #bts scenarios #kpop scenario #kpop ff

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extratragic · 4 years ago

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scars

pairing: jj maybank x reader

warning: hints at jj being abused for 0.01 seconds.

word count: 2165

summary: whenever you get a scar, it appears on your soulmates skin. your soulmate has a lot of scars.

a/n: i’ve been obsessing over soulmate au’s for a bit so here’s this. lowercase is on purpose cause i did this on my phone. also, i have like 3 topper fics in my drafts soo... should i post them?

“another one?” rafe asked, rubbing the scar on your eyebrow.

at this point, you probably had over thirty scars on your body. your soulmate was either reckless as hell or loved to do things that hurt him.

“there’s three. that one, one on my stomach, and one on my shoulder,” you sighed.

you and rafe once thought that you were each other’s soulmates. it was when you were fourteen and he was sixteen, but still. rafe had a crush on you, and when he kissed a scar on your shoulder and it didn’t go away, you both knew that the two of you weren’t meant to be. it was wishful thinking for both of you, considering rafe didn’t have the same scars, but it was worth a shot.

he had a simpler soulmate tie than you, his being the name of his soulmate on his wrist once he turned 18. it would’ve been a lot easier if he figured that out a few years earlier.

“he better be on his knees healing you,” rafe laughed.

you grinned and punched his shoulder. rafe had been your best friend since you were six years old, and the friendship never wavered, even after the sad truth of not being soulmates.

“we’re gonna miss the ferry if you don’t hurry your ass up,” you told him.

he rolled his eyes, mocking you as he followed you onto the ferry. it was finally summer break and you were going back home to the outer banks after your first year of being at chapel hill. you’d been home plenty of times over the school year, but now you could finally stay for months without worrying about going back so soon. plus, you spent spring break in the bahamas with the cameron’s, so you hadn’t been to an outer banks party in a while.

“what if it’s a pogue?” he teased you.

“then i hope it’s john b,” you shot back at him.

rafe didn’t have a good relationship with the pogues, and he especially didn’t like that his younger sister dated (and is currently on a break with) one of the most well-known pogues. you had a decent relationship with them. though the only ones that you ever spoke to were pope, john b, jj, and kie.

“honestly, if i do find him this summer, i just hope that it’s not one of your party friends,” you sighed.

“speaking of parties, there’s one at the boneyard tonight. sarah and john b are apparently getting back together and she wants us there,” he said.

you groaned and looked up at him with a frown. “do we have to?” you asked. sure, you missed obx parties, but it was your first day back home and you wanted to sleep.

he grinned and pinched your cheek, making you slap his wrist. “ow,” he hissed, watching the skin redden. you grinned proudly and he glared at you. “we’re going,” he stated.

jj maybank was standing at the keg with pope heyward, handing out plastic cups with beer in them to everyone who walked over. rafe was waiting across the beach with topper and kelce so that he wouldn’t feel tempted to fight jj.

your choice. rafe was a lot better at controlling his anger, but you didn’t want to risk anything by bringing him to the boy he used to fight almost weekly.

“hello, boys. i’ll take two cups, please,” you told them.

“coming right up. how’s chapel hill?” pope asked.

“it’s a constant party with the kook prince. where did you end up going to school?” you asked him.

“SEC. plenty of scholarships,” he grinned.

you grinned, taking one cup from jj’s hand when he held it out. “thanks, jj,” you said.

he nodded in response, keeping his head down. you looked at pope and he shrugged, handing jj another cup. jj quickly filled the cup and handed it to you.

pope looked down at his blonde friend and then looked at you. he noticed how jj’s eyes widened when he saw you coming closer, and he saw the way his eyes focused on the scar on your rib cage. it was the same one that jj had, one of the few scars that his soulmate gave him. he also saw the smaller scar by your bellybutton, one that was still red and healing on his best friends skin.

“crazy scar. what happened?” pope asked, pointing to your rib cage.

you smiled sheepishly and blushed, making pope grin.

“topper was teaching me how to surf a while ago. we were still on the sand but some kid ran past and stepped on my board and i fell onto a rock. no stitches but a lot of blood,” you answered.

pope chuckled and nudged jj who finally looked up at you. he had a soft smile on his face and your sheepish smile turned into a grin.

“i’ll see you guys around,” you said before walking away.

“you see maybank? he has the same eyebrow scar,” rafe asked you.

“i saw him earlier but he kept his head down most of the conversation. besides, jj used to fight with you a lot, maybe he fights with someone else now. eyebrow cuts aren’t that rare,” you said.

“do you even have any oddly placed scars?” he asked.

you pursed your lips, having to really think about it. “i mean, there’s the rib cage one. oh! and there’s the one right above my ass. i think the rest are decently normal.”

rafe smirked and turned you around so he was looking at your back.

you gasped and quickly turned around when he tried pulling the waistband of your shorts back to see the scar.

“i’ll kick your ass if you do that dumb shit again,” you told him.

he only grinned.

“hang on, why were you by jj? i thought you were staying away from him tonight,” you asked.

“i went to get a refill. nothing happened, mom,” he answered.

“y/n!” sarah screamed before you could respond.

you and rafe turned towards her voice, eyes widening when you saw her sprinting towards you. rafe stood behind you and put his hand on your back to keep you from falling when his younger sister almost tackled you.

“oh, my sweet y/n. i missed you,” she sighed.

you looked at john b and he grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

sarah was wasted already.

“hey, princess. did you pregame a little hard?” you laughed.

she hummed and nodded, still wrapped around you like a koala. you held onto her, though. after knowing the girl for almost your entire life, you were used to her drunken state and being able to hold her up.

“did you miss me?” she slurred.

“i missed you so much,” you laughed.

sarah cameron has two drunk personalities. she was either extremely affectionate and touchy, or she was annoyed and angry. her high personalities were different, though. apparently she was feeling affectionate tonight.

“how are you and john b?” you asked.

“we’re great! i just needed to be dicked down i guess,” she said.

you laughed loudly and rafe groaned. john b blushed and pulled sarah off of you, letting her wrap her arms around his waist instead.

“i should get her out of here. it was, uh, good to see you guys,” he said, nodding awkwardly.

you and rafe waved to them and they left. you were giggling at the way sarah was trying to kiss john b but he was pushing her face away.

“well, we know that your sister is getting lucky. now we need to get lucky,” you said.

“with each other?” rafe asked.

“nope. i’m gonna search for my soulmate. what scar should i focus on?” you asked.

he looked over your visible skin, which was a lot considering that your outfit consisted of a black bikini top and denim shorts.

“those two,” he pointed to the one one on your rib cage and your newest abdomen one, “and the eyebrow.”

“i’ll text you later if i don’t see you,” you told him.

he nodded and you kissed his cheek before walking away.

almost two hours later, you were sitting around a bonfire with kie, pope, jj, and a few tourons.

kie was flirting with a touron, and doing an amazing job. seriously, her flirting skills were so good that you were sure she could flirt you into bed if she wanted to. sarah had drunkenly told you one night that kie might be bisexual, telling you that kie’s had a few female one-night stands.

power to her.

jj sat beside you, pope on his other side. the three of you were drinking quietly, enjoying the sound of the waves crashing and the heat from the fire.

the party had died down some, enough so someone turned the music down some and you weren’t bumping into someone every second while walking through the crowd.

you shivered when the wind blew harshly, hitting your skin and causing goosebumps to appear.

“shit. hey, jj, do you have a hoodie or something that i can wear? i think rafe took the car and my clothes are in there,” you asked. rafe texted you about an hour ago that he was leaving with a touron. since he didn’t bring you his keys, he probably took the car.

the blonde nodded and stood up, not saying a word as he motioned for you to follow him.

you stood up and wiped the back of your shorts before following jj. he led the two of you to john b’s van and slapped his hand on the back door.

“if you rabbits are in here, i’ll kill you!” he yelled.

you laughed softly and he opened the door, sighing happily when he saw that no one was inside.

“is it a common occurrence to find sarah and john b in here?” you asked.

jj grimaced and nodded. “we catch them all the time. it’s really gross. i’ve learned to hide my things underneath the seat, but i don’t think pope or kie have caught on,” he told you.

another laugh fell from your lips and jj grinned at the sound. he could listen to you laugh all day, especially if he was the one making you laugh.

he pulled out a grey hoodie and handed it to you before taking his t-shirt off.

your eyes focused on the jagged scar on his rib cage, but they widened when you saw the scar beside his bellybutton.

“jj...” you trailed off, almost dropping the hoodie in your hands.

he looked over at you and followed your gaze, seeing that it was focused on the two bigger scars on his abdomen.

“you okay?” he asked nervously.

he hated his scars. well, he hated most of his scars because he only had them because of his dad. he didn’t want to get his hopes up earlier when he saw the scar on your rib cage and he still wasn’t going to get his hopes up.

“jj, come on. i know you’ve seen my scars. we have the same fucking ones,” you said.

you were scared. finding your soulmate was always a scary thought for you. there wasn’t really a reason why other than your anxiety about if they didn’t want to be your soulmate.

he sighed and sat down on the floor of the van, looking at the ground.

“maybe... maybe not the exact same,” he said.

did he not want to be your soulmate?

“wh... what? are you serious? what the fuck are you doing to get a scar right here, maybank?” you asked, grabbing his hand and putting it on your newest scar.

you were pissed. there was no way that you were letting this boy go without a fight.

his fingers gently traced over the straight line, then moved up to the jagged one that you gave the both of you. he smiled softly and looked up at you.

“i’m scared,” he said quietly.

“yeah, me too,” you agreed.

he grinned and you sat beside him, throwing your legs over his and leaning against the back of the passenger seat. you gently took jj’s wrist in your hand, lifting his arm closer to you. there was a burn scar on the side of his wrist, the exact spot where your hair straightener scar was.

“can i...” you trailed off.

jj nodded and you softly kissed the scar, then pulled your lips from his skin to watch. when the scar slowly faded until it was gone, you slapped the blonde’s arm.

“hey! what was that for?” he exclaimed.

“jj, i’ve given you ten scars max! i can’t even count how many i have because of you!” i snapped.

he grinned, grabbing your cheeks in his hands. “one less,” he said, kissing your eyebrow.

you hummed and leaned closer to him. “you got a lot to make up for, maybank,” you said.

“glad to kiss them all away,” he said.

#obx jj #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj obx #jj outer banks #Outer Banks #outer banks imagine #soulmate #soulmate au #college au #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks

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toplinetommy · 4 years ago

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You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part One) - Tyson Jost

gif by @pavszacha

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Word Count: 3.5k

series playlist

January 2017 – University of North Dakota

It was your senior year at NoDak, and you couldn’t believe that you had somehow made it through nearly four years of school already. You of course had the help from your roommates who doubled as your best friends, and the hockey team to keep you sane from everything that comes with being a student studying purchasing management. If you were told freshman year you would be buddy-buddy with any D1 sports team, you would’ve laughed.

That’s kind of how you ended up where you were today: a student-athlete tutor. You were a marketing major, loving it so much and needing some extra money, you had decided to tutor the first level econ and marketing classes when you were a second-semester sophomore.

You were in the middle of tutoring a few of the guys that were all enrolled in Intro to Economics when a guy you had never seen came barreling in the room.

“Hey, Boes, do you know when the bus leaves tomorrow? I didn’t write it down and no one sent it in the group chat.” The curly headed brunette spoke. You figured he was on the team with what he said combined with the green UND hockey shirt he wore.

“Uhh 10:30, and don’t be late you saw what happened to Cam last week.” The blonde in front of you chirped. The brunette scoffed as he rolled his eyes, exiting the room just as quickly as he entered.

“Who was that?” you ask the guys surrounding you, bringing your Yeti to your lips for a sip of water.

“Why, you think he’s cute?” Brock smirked, causing both Tucker and Andrew to laugh. He was one of the guys you had been tutoring since freshman year, so you had a closer bond to him then some of the other guys on the team.

His chirp had you choking on the last bit of water in your mouth, “What! I can’t just ask who a guy I’ve never seen before is?”

“Name’s Tyson, he’s a freshman from Canada.” You nodded, noticing the slight accent he had when he spoke earlier. “I think he’s only here for the year though, he was a top 10 pick in the draft.”

At that, the boys all went back to taking their notes and working on their case studies as the new boy’s face stuck in your mind for a few more minutes.

“By the way, are you coming to our next home game? It’s next Friday.” Tucker said as he put his laptop into his backpack. “I’ll even let you wear my alternate jersey.”

You laughed at this, the boys always making jokes on who’s jersey you got to wear whenever you went to games. “Only if you finish your econ stuff before then.” He agrees, and you and the boys all make your way out of the common room.

A knock on your front door startles you as you eat your sandwich, and before you can get up to go see who it is, Tucker is walking into your apartment, green sweater in hand.

“Okay, so I might not have washed my jerseys still, so here’s a different one.” He admits, tossing the sweater in your general direction. You unfold the jersey seeing the number 17 stitched onto the sleeves and the name Jost on the back.

“Tuck, I literally have no idea who’s jersey this is?”

“Oh! It’s Josty’s, the freshman. We’re also playing a prank on all the new guys tonight so we stole all of their green jerseys so they think they're missing.” The brunette in front of you laughs to himself. You agree to wear it, only because you don’t really have anything else to wear and you’d thought entertaining this so-called prank would do no harm.

It’s a few hours later and the mystery-man’s jersey looks like it was made to fit you with how it drapes over your shoulders. You’re sitting with two of your roommates that you had to drag along as well as one of their boyfriend’s. One of the many perks about going to a school like North Dakota was that there was one sport everyone bonded over: ice hockey.

Warmups had just started and you finally spot #17 on the ice and that’s when it hits you. Jost. Tyson Jost. Number 17. The freshman, the guy that you had met for the first time just a few days prior. The guy that you thought was kind of cute. No scratch that, not kind of, but definitely cute.

“Dude, Allison,” You nudge your roommates shoulder. “I don’t think the team is playing a prank on the freshies, I think Tuck is playing a prank on me.”

Allison quirks her eyebrows in confusion, urging you to keep talking. “If they were gonna steal their jerseys why would they hand them out to people and not just hide them?” You groan, and Allison doesn’t think too much of it, not knowing the ins and outs of the team like you do.

The game ends with a win, the arena shaking with excitement. You knew the boys would be excited with the win, especially coming after a tough loss earlier in the week.

You and your friends make your way back home and you text the group chat you’re in with the guys you tutor letting them know they played great.

Dumb Jocks + 1 Y/N: great game guys 🤩 *Brock loved the message* Andrew: thanks y/n! Andrew: also party at the house 10pm Y/N: might drag the roomies and make an appearance. and tuck, im ripping you a new one when i see you Tucky: just for that i decided its going to be a jersey party 😈 *Brock laughed at the message*

It’s two hours later when you walk through the front door of the NoDak hockey house. You were probably one of the handful of people there that actually spend time there both sober and when the sun is shining. This gives you much more confidence navigating your way through to the back of the living room, finding the small group of guys you actually know on the team.

The group consisting of Tucker, Andrew, Brock, and Johnny, cheers as you approach them. You walk straight up to Tucker, giving him a hard clap on the shoulder to say hi to him. “Hey, Tucky, you gotta real nice jersey on you there.” You chirp, gesturing to his Drew Doughty jersey. “It’s almost like you play hockey or something.”

Tucker shakes your hand that’s still resting on his shoulder off and points it back towards you. “I think the real story here, bud, is the jersey you’re rocking tonight.” You hadn’t bothered changing out of the green sweater between the game and now, opting to show school spirit. Besides, how often did you get to wear a player’s jersey, right?

You roll your eyes as the other boys look to see the commotion between you and Tucker. The boys snicker at the sight of you two upon seeing the green #17 sweater still adorning your body.

“Tucky, I didn’t know you actually got her to wear it!” Brock emphasized, going into to dap up his teammate. Your head snapped towards the blonde, shooting him, as well as the other boys all a glare.

“Anyways, I’m here to get drunk and win some flip cup, not be patronized by a bunch of dumb jocks.” You joke, looking over your shoulder to see where your other friends went. You say your goodbyes, letting them know you’ll see them around throughout the night.

You’re standing near the staircase with your friends, about halfway done with your third drink when the freshman brunette walks up to your group.

“So that’s where my alternate jersey went, eh?”

You scoffed into your cup, your friends laughing at the confrontation. “Yeah, I guess so.”

An awkward silence falls over your small group, the unintended snarkiness of your tone being felt by everyone. Your few friends leave the two of you, mentioning that they needed refills.

“Sorry about the jersey. I can wash it tomorrow and bring it the next time I tutor the guys.”

Tyson leans against the wall across from you, “It’s no problem. I don’t think we wear them again until next month anyways.”

Silence falls between the two of you again, the one common denominator between the two of you being the jersey hanging over your shoulders.

“So, uh, what do you tutor the guys in?” Tyson pipes up, hiding his expression behind the Bud Light in his hand, bringing it to his lips for a swig.

“Mainly econ, but I help some of the guys in specific classes depending on their major. Like, Johnny and Tucker, for example. They’re both in finance and econ, and I’ve taken a lot of those classes.”

“You’re an econ major then?”

“Oh, no,” you laugh. “My minor is econ, but I’m a marketing major. What about you? Have you decided on a major yet?”

The question pulls a laugh out of Tyson, confusing you. “Yeah, I’m pre-athletic training, but I don’t see myself finishing that out.”

You swallow the rest of your drink and decide to chirp him a bit, “What? Too big of some hockey hot-shot to get a degree?”

That comment elicits another laugh from the Canadian in front of you, and that’s when you decide you could definitely get used to hearing that sound.

He gets ready to answer when Tucker yells at the both of you from the kitchen, “Josty! y/n! We’re about to start flip cup, let’s go!”

Tyson chugs the rest of his beer before setting it on a nearby table and grabbing another one from the case in the fridge. He takes a spot across from you on the other side of the table as you guys jump into the game.

As the games continue, your level of sobriety starts to deteriorate and a light dizziness falls over your body. The current game of flip cup being played is elimination style and your team had lost, the other team electing to have you kicked off your team.

You move to the side, leaning against the kitchen counter to continue watching the game unfold in front of you. You pulled out your phone, trying to figure out where some of your group had disappeared to, seeing that one of them had already left to go hookup with one of her usual hookups.

You start to type back to her, letting her know that you’ll text her when you’re home when you feel a presence next to you. Turning your head to the side you see Tyson reappearing next to you.

He notices the mix of drunkness and tiredness on your face, asking if you were all good. You nod your head, going to scratch the discomfort you feel at the back of your left elbow. “I think I’m getting ready to go home soon, just trying to make sure my friends and I all leave at the same time.”

Tyson nods, tight-lipped, and offers to help you find them. As you walk around the house gathering your friends, the discomfort on your elbow only grows.

April 2017 – University of North Dakota

You’re standing in your apartment, waiting around on Tucker and Brock to come pick you up before the banquet, staring yourself down in the mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. You get dressed up often, but never quite this dressed up and your nerves are getting the best of you. You don’t think anything can prepare yourself for the dinner you’re about to go to: the North Dakota men’s hockey senior banquet.

As you put your earrings in, you hear a knock on the front door and the boys shouting that they were here. You yell back that you were coming, heading to the kitchen to grab your flask and purse.

“You excited for your first hockey banquet?” Tucker yelled into the kitchen. You had known him for the past two years, regularly tutoring him, and over the course of those years he had somehow become one of your best friends.

Walking out into the living room, where the two boys were sitting, you let them know that you were excited and ready to go.

“Damn, y/n, didn’t know you were such a rocket.” Brock whistles. You roll your eyes at them, but specifically him, and gesture towards the door.

You sit with Tucker and some of the other guys you know from tutoring, and get through dinner barely speaking a word due to all of the speeches being made. The dinner was good, it was a nice break from your cooking and the fast-food you were used to eating on a regular basis.

You got more involved in the conversations as the seniors got to make speeches, asking Tucker what some of the inside jokes and chirps were all about. Lots of laughter and snuck-in alcohol later, the boys and their dates were ready for their bar crawl.

Your large group walks into to the first bar, the boys going straight up to the bar to get drinks as no-one really pregamed. The group ends up all back together for the first bit, taking over one of the front corners of the balcony that overlooks the rest of the bar. You guys were clearly over dressed for the dive bar located right off of campus with all the guys in suits and ties and the girls in dresses and heels, whereas everyone else was dressed for the cold April weather.

Tucker finally makes his way back to you, two drinks in his hand, as he hands one over to you. You thank him loudly and quickly jump into conversation.

“You sad I’m leaving you guys soon?” You yell, with a wide smile on your face. Tucker, Andrew, Brock and Johnny all laugh at you. You were the oldest of the group, as everyone else was either a junior or younger.

“I’ll be sad not being here, but I won’t be sad that I’m finally done with school.” Brock admits, to which he earns a few eye rolls from the other guys. Both Andrew and Johnny weren’t really on a clear cut path to the NHL, instead just playing for the fun of it at this level.

The conversations start to slow down in the group as the music gets louder and more drinks are consumed. Tucker and Brock get pulled away by some of the other guys for a little bit, leaving you alone with some of the girls as well as Andrew and Johnny.

You’re in the middle of a story being told when you hear Brock and Tucker’s booming laughter not too far away from you. When you turn to look at them, they’re standing with Tyson, who looks as if he’s speaking into both of their ears so they can hear him properly. Tucker is grasping his chest as he spots you looking at him, causing him to only laugh harder.

A light flush falls on your cheeks, confused as to why the sight of you makes him laugh more. You put your straw in your mouth, biting down on it as a nervous habit, and look down at your dress making sure nothing was spilled on you.

When you look up again, Tucker is no longer where he was standing and his voice startles you as he appears next to you. “You will never believe what just happened,” he starts, a hint of laughter still laced in his tone. “Tyson just asked me if we were together.”

The accusation makes you laugh, too, the both of you starting to lose your breath at the crazy thought. The both of you had become such good friends over the past 18 months that he was more like a brother than anything else.

The laughter dies down, and a realization hits you. “Why the fuck did he want to know if we’re dating?”

“I think the kid thinks you’re cute.” Tucker smirks, raising his eyebrows before downing the rest of his drink.

Your face flushes again, and as you finally go to respond to the statement you see the culprit of the previous conversation heading your way. Turning to your friend for an escape, you see that he has made himself seemingly disappear into the crowd. By the time you spot the tall brunette he’s out on the dancefloor talking to some girl.

You turn back around, trying to find someone new to start a conversation with when there’s a tap on your shoulder. Looking over your shoulder, you see that Tyson finally made his way over to you.

In light of the new information Tucker has given you, you sheepishly greet the freshman in front of you. His just as shy response gives you a little boost of confidence and you decide to mess with him a little. “Aren’t you a little too young to get into American bars?”

“Perks of my status, I guess.” He shrugs with a hint of cockiness in his tone, a new found confidence showing on his face.

“Oh, the big-shot Canadian hockey player status?”

He laughs pointedly “that’s the one.”

You were trying to figure out how to articulate your words about what he was laughing about with Tucker earlier in the night, when a wet substance pours down your back. Your jaw drops open, shoulders shrugging in both shock and discomfort. The back of your light blue dress is completely and noticeably soaking wet.

Tyson watches everything unfold in front of him. He watches your bright eyes and smiling cheeks do a complete 180 into a scowl. You whip around to whoever spilled their drink on you, ready to give them a piece of your mind. As you open your mouth, getting ready to tell the guy off that he hadn't noticed what he had just done, a large hand wraps around your stomach pulling you back.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal. He’s probably plastered and didn’t mean to spill.” Tyson assures lowly into your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand straight up. The hand not holding your drink goes to hold where Tyson’s hand is placed on your stomach, using his warmth to bring you back down to earth.

You take a deep breath and try to swallow your embarrassment before turning back towards him. You rest wrap your hands around his biceps as he continues to rest his free hand on the small of your back. Looking back up at him only makes you feel embarrassed again, realizing he’s touching the gross substance that was dumped all over you.

“I want to leave.” You let out in a whisper.

“You sure? We can find the other guys and stay if you want and try to have a good rest of the night. I don’t think anyone will care.” Tyson says, caution laced in his soft tone.

Shutting your eyes and tightening your grip on him, you continue, “I care and I just want to go home and shower.” You turn out of his grip for a moment to try and spot either Tucker or Brock in the crowd. You find them rather quickly, both with girls, causing you to sign heavily. “I’m going to call an Uber.”

You start to walk away towards the door but Tyson catches up to you quickly. Grabbing your hand he pulls you back into him slightly. “I had two beers, y/n, I can drive you back.”

You nod your head and thank him for the offer, leading him out of the bar and towards the parking lot. You follow him to his car and as you get to your door, he opens it for you. You thank him and he runs over to the driver’s side, jumps into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and turns the radio down.

His car finally pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, and you lift your head from the car window to turn to him. “Thank you for driving me, I really appreciate it. Sorry you had to miss out on the senior bar crawl for this.”

“It’s no problem, at all. I would’ve wanted to leave under those circumstances, too.” He admits. You give him an awkward tight lipped smile to say goodbye as you hop out of the car. As you open your front door you turn back to wave at him, yelling another thank you.

When you’re in the shower a little while later, you can’t seem to shake the comfort you felt when he pulled you away from the guy that had spilled his drink on you. Smiling to yourself, you turn the water off, dry off and put lotion on your elbows noticing how dry and itchy they both were towards the end of the night.

#tyson jost imagine #nhl imagine #tyson jost #alex writes #ybtmastm fic

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phantastictragedy · 5 years ago

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Brighter Than The Stars

I impulsively wrote this so it’s not very good.

Pairing: Intrulogical (Main) there’s like some Moxiety and Roceit but only if you squint and it’s only implied.

Uhhhhh basically soulmate AU where when you meet ur soulmate u see the world in color but until then u see in black and white. Also like human AU. ALSO Remus is a painter/artist and logan is a broke college student tyvm

Logan did not mind that he couldn’t see the color in the world, it did not affect the way he lived his life from day to day. As long as he could get his work done and pull all-nighters studying for tests in black and white then that was really all that mattered to him. Of course, he could not deny that he wasn’t sometimes bothered seeing his friends around him bragging about how ‘this color would fit nice’ or ‘oh isn’t this just so pretty??’ Yeah, sure, maybe he’d wonder about how the world looked and how the stars may look with a different colored background behind them-- but he didn’t let it be a thing that distracted him from his studies.

Chewing on the eraser of the pencil he had in his hand, and keeping his other hand holding his head annoyed, he stared at his first draft of an essay that was nowhere near being done. “How can I possibly write 20 pages for this?” He mumbled under his breath frustratedly.

“Talking to yourself, again?” A hand was placed on Logan’s shoulder for a brief second before it was off and his taller friend Virgil was standing in front of him. He had his backpack on and a large cup of coffee in his hand, so Logan knew he had either woken up late or was about to finish some work he had procrastinated on.

Logan glanced up at the boy who stood above him and shot him a slightly annoyed look on his face at the comment, “Huh-- doesn’t coffee make your anxiety worst?” Then he went back to writing a random sentence that he had thought of, not really necessary to his essay, but it would probably take some space away from the page.

“Alright, alright I see now that you aren’t in the mood to joke around, but listen. Remember that time I went to that party alone because you agreed to go it and wanted to bring me, but then canceled last second and I couldn’t escape it and then YOU said that you were sorry and would make it up to me one day when I needed it?” Virgil said suspiciously, he ended it off with a smile in hopes Logan would not go back on his word.

“Ah, yes. How could I forget when it is something you always bring up when you need something?” Logan sighed and placed his pencil down on the paper that was making him feel like he was losing his mind. “Go on, what is it you want me to do?”

Virgil rolled his eyes at the comment and let out a sigh, “Okay, Roman’s brother is having a little art gallery. We are all going, to support him. His art is super good-- he’s a little weird and loud and uh-- offensive. But-- Hey, don’t look away from me, Logan! Listen-- okay we know it’s hard for an independent artist to make it and we just want as many people to support him and be there if the night goes wrong. So, please go with us??”

Logan groaned but pursed his lips and thought for a second. At least the favor wasn’t like the usual ones where it was just because of Virgil’s laziness, or his inability to communicate. This was a nice thing, and it seemed like a pretty easy task-- of course, he’d have to push some studies aside. “Alright, just give me a location and a time.”

“Awesome! I’ll text you everything. Now I’ll let you get back to torturing yourself with trying to figure out how you’ll fill these empty pages.” Virgil grinned and nudged Logan before walking off.

----

Logan was running a bit late, not super, unacceptable late; but a late that he would be embarrassed about. Despite his more fancy outfit of a black turtle neck with a dark blue suit jacket and matching pants (of course, the color isn’t something that actually mattered to him considering he couldn’t see it)-- his messy, dark brown hair was doing its own thing and was evidence of his lack of time to get dressed. Being late was the worst.

For how Virgil had spoken about the event, he had expected it to be empty-- but it was actually decently full. Logan pushed some messy strands of hair away from his face before he looked around to find his familiar group, which didn’t take to long when he heard...

“Nerd! Come over here, you were supposed to be the first one, aren’t you the responsible one?” Logan groaned and shot his head towards where an overly fancy-dressed Roman stood with all of his friends.

Logan made his way to the small group before speaking, “My apologies, I got a bit carried away with my studies. I hope I did not miss too much.”

“Oh, don’t mind Roman, he’s just mad he wanted to be casually late, but ended up being the first,” Dee said shooting Logan a grin.

Roman pursed his lips and let out a groan, “Ugh- you don’t have to tell everyone that I was first! It really is not that important, sure I wanted to show up and make a fancy entrance, sure I wanted everyone to shout my name, but I think we should take note of how much of a supportive brother I am.”

“Ah, I’m sure that was your whole intention from the start, being supportive.” Before Roman could interrupt Logan’s sarcastic comment he went on, “So, where is the Artist anyways? I’d love to put a face to the artwork.” Logan said looking around to see the paintings hanging neatly on the wall-- well to say neat was generous. They were actually scattered, but somehow it had made them all the more appealing-- it was nice to look at everything.

“Pftt-- he’s talking to that big crowd over there, if you want to meet him it seems like you’re going to be waiting for a while,” Virgil said before going back to his phone.

“Or you could go back in time and arrive first, then you for sure would have met Remus.” Roman grinned at the nerdy boy.

Logan rolled his eyes annoyed.

“As I said, don’t pay attention to him. His pride is hurt right no-”

“I am a supportive brother, Dee!” Roman said placing a hand over Dee’s mouth, just noting from the taller boys’ eyes, it was noticeable that he was smiling.

Most of the people had left seeing as though the art gallery was ending. Patton and Virgil were sat outside so Virgil could have some time away from people and Dee and Roman had gone to get the group some food. Logan was still staring at the paintings on the wall, most of them had been sold, according to Roman. That really surprised nobody after seeing the paintings.

There was one thing that was on Logan’s mind and that was wondering how the paintings must look with color. He wondered if he’d missed any details, or if the meaning would change, maybe this paint depicted fear to him but was actually happy. He sighed, eyes glued on the painting.

“You know? I think that one is sold, but I could always make you another one.” A voice he didn’t recognize said. He assumed it was from Remus.

Still, Logan’s eyes barely moved from the painting, “I was just making sure I didn’t miss a detail. Although if you had any art that didn’t get sold, I’d be happy to buy that.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips before he sighed contently, “I’m Remus.”

The sound that escaped Remus’ lips made Logan’s heart do twirls in his chest, he’d never felt that before, he especially had never felt the weird tickling sensation in his stomach. “I’m Logan.” He eventually turned to look at Remus and smiled.

Nobody ever tells you how it happens. It’s truly hard to explain and it’s said it happens differently to everyone. Some will say it happens in a snap and it’s like walking in on a surprise party just for you. Some say it very slowly starts, from the center of your view to the end. Some people say that they don’t even remember how or when it happened and they shock themselves when they realize it happens-- of course it takes a couple of seconds.

For Logan-- the taller man standing before him was the only thing in color, he was pale, was not dressed super casual-- like black shirt sweatpants casual, and had his hair put up into a small messy bun, bangs holding a gray color. Then slowly after the world began to gain a tint, and then it’s full color. He stood in shock for a couple of seconds, staring at Remus completely confused and waiting for a just as confused reaction from him.

“You alright?” Remus said slightly tilting his head.

“I-- are you-- not seeing this too?” Logan said 100% losing his proper composure.

“Yeah-- I see you look like you’re about to be sick at my art gallery. I hope you had nothing gross to eat because it will be a bad time for all of us. Not me though, don’t worry I don’t judge, be as gross as you want to be here.” Remus spoke so casually that Logan was sure he was losing his mind.

“You-- you’re my soulmate.” Was all he managed to get out, as he ran his fingers through his messy hair.

“I’m your wha--” Remus squinted his eyes for a couple of seconds before the widened and he looked at Logan, “Oh my gosh-- wait a minute-” The taller boy whispered, he looked over at his paintings, not half bad. “God-- I hope that is the real color of blood.”

The comment caused a small laugh to escape Logan’s lips. “You’re not what I imagined.”

“Is that good?” Remus asked subtly moving a bit closer to the shorter boy.

Logan thought for a second, he looked at Remus and examined his beautiful green eyes, they were so vibrant and held admiration in them. Never did he think that someone would be staring at him the way he was being stared at now..it made him feel-- warm.

“Yes.”

After a week of spending time with Remus, his soulmate, he had found that it was true what Virgil had said. He was, in fact, a little weird, definitely offensive, and for sure loud. Logan loved it. It was nice to have someone pull him away from his studies and have fun with him-- while also in some way keeping him from worrying about them.

Today was no exception, Logan was sat at his desk when he heard knocking on his window and then the loud and quick sliding of it opened only to reveal Remus in all his glory. He truly looked like the cutest robber to Logan, with his black ripped jeans and green shirt that somehow perfectly matched his eyes-- Remus fully hopped in and fixed his hat that seemed to have fallen and completely covered his eyes, when his vision returned he was met to find his soulmate smiling up at him.

“Oh, Hello! Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Remus smiling widely.

“You know, you’re allowed to use the door. There is nothing stopping you from using the door.” Logan said letting out a content sigh.

“Oh what’s next, you’d like me to do pee in the bathroom?”

“Yeah- I’ve been meaning to talk to you about th-”

“ANYWAYS-- we should get going. I want to show you already!” Remus said leaning down and scooping his boyfriend up, adding in an extra swirl.

Logan let out a semi loud noise of surprise, that was a new thing. “Wait-- I don’t know if I can tonight, Remus. We were out all yesterday and I--”

“Hey.” Remus said calmly looking into his soulmates pretty blue eyes, he swore they looked like the night sky. “You’re going to be okay, you’re super smart and I think you deserve such a long break after constantly breaking your spine to do work. Please, tonight, come with me.”

Logan knew from the second Remus came into sight through that window, he would leave with him. It was just a skill the taller boy had gained in the last week. “Fine, but can we please use the door.”

The walk to the small park near where Logan lived was full of random questions that Remus would ask whenever he saw something around him. Logan, of course, would answer leaving his soulmate to making big impressed noises. The shorter boy was just glad he had agreed to this, the sky held a gorgeous color that he had never really thought he’d ever see, everything was so much more beautiful. By the time they had gotten there, it was dark.

His thoughts and observations were interrupted when once again he was grabbed, but this time it felt like the arms had let go and he was falling-- which didn’t last long because then Remus grabbed the nerd before he fell and gently laid him against the soft blanket on the floor. “I set this up just for you. I know we haven’t gotten to stargaze and this is what you were looking most forward to doing now that you can see color.”

Before Logan could say something, Remus threw himself next to Logan and wrapped his arm around the nerd, softly pressing his lips against the boy’s cheek and jawline, “You don’t have to thank me, I just want to make you happy.”

Logan turned his face and stared into his soulmate’s eyes, it had felt like time had completely stopped, suddenly looking at the stars wasn’t the most exciting thing. It’s hard to tell if they leaned in at the same time, or maybe it was Logan. One thing is for sure that they both had managed end up in the same place, with their lips gently pressed against each other. It was something that Remus had wanted ever since they’d met, but something Logan insisted they wait on. Suddenly, he wished he hadn’t, he’d wish he’d just did this first.

Remus was, surprisingly, first to pull away, “Does this mean-- that I can start calling you my boyfriend?”

Logan smiled, “Does this mean that’s what you’re asking me to be?”

“If the answer is yes.”

“Yes.”

Silence had fallen over them as they both looked up at the start, fingers intertwined. The stars shined against them and it had truly felt like a spotlight hitting them, allowing them to know that this was real and this was perfect.

The stars were a lot more stunning than he had thought they’d be in front of the dark blue sky, but he’d realized there was something so much better that he didn’t need to wait for night to see.

His world.

#Intrulogical #logan sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #Soulmate AU #patton sanders #lomus

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staycatcher · 5 years ago

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Cursed 001

Member: Kim Seungmin x Femme Reader (she/her) (Jisung is also in this, we love wingpeople)

Au: (Dorky/Pure) Frat Boy! Seungmin x Baddie! Reader + Unexpected Soulmate AU [in the same universe as Anguish, no need to read it though!]

Genre: Crack, Angst, Fluff? (she’s all over the place, partner🤠)

Rated 14? for too much swearing, kind-of-stranger danger, getting into mentioned kind-of-stranger’s car (don’t do what y/n did!!), suggestive themes & jokes, hangover & leftover tipsiness, cringe, promiscuous bisexual reader, nothing explicit though!! Also, Jisung is too much I’m sorry

Word Count: 4.1k

Notes: special thanks to @staytion-nine for being a bro and reading & critiquing my full shitty drafts and @strayneoculturekids & @hyunjinssmile for thinking my crack parts were good & somewhat funny way back when I wrote them ilyssssm🤗💞💛

ps, I hope you readers liked/found my easter eggs!!🥴

“Your heart began to sing, sing triumphantly as if you broke some sort of curse- Curse? Wait, hold up. Hold the fuck up. I think he’s my soulmate?! But I can’t possibly have one-”

Cursed series 1/?- ~001~ 😈🤓😳~

Growing up, not a single day passed without your single mother reminding you that meeting your soulmate wasn't going to happen for you. The odds were not at all in your favor, not her’s, not your grandmother’s and not even your great grandmother’s mom; being the youngest girl of the youngest in the family made you carry such a burden. The streak that your family had going on for generations was too strong to break at this point. It’d be a miracle and a half if you ever heard of your soulmate for a fraction of a second. You started to accept by the time you learned how to read, that a life with a soulmate was frankly not in the cards for you.

To say you were completely and utterly blind-sighted when you met your soulmate, would be the understatement of the century. You lived your whole life with no fear or any expectations of long lasting relationships whether it’s with a soulmate or not. You lived the life you knew many people with soulmates or obsessions with commitment couldn’t live. You lived a life of freedom, focused on yourself.

Now, it's been three months at this university; three months, and you already have a reputation that precedes you. Contrary to popular belief, you don't like the attention. Yet somehow the spotlight seems to follow you. Though, you would argue you weren’t as charismatic as you were careless. Your carelessness seemed to be your charm and charming you seemed to be.

A groan tore out from your throat when as stretched over to snatch your boots. Jelly legs hobbling all over the place as you scrambled to tug them on, stubbornly not zipping down the zipper which only made it harder for you in the long run. Once on, you trudge on forward, not giving a shit if things were inside out or not, all that mattered to you was going back to sleep in your own bed. You have to remain careful though. You don’t want to go too fast and have stomach acid erupt out of you in aggravation, ruining the Sorority’s carpet and your morning. So, you watched each and every wobbly step as you did your best to navigate your way out of the crowded, trashed halls of the post-party filth. Fortunately, it seemed you’ve risen before anyone else, no conscious creatures for you to deal with.

The clock struck six o’clock as you strut down Greek row, your steps more firm now, waking you up more with each step. However, waking up meant more hangover symptoms, though you weren’t exactly sober. You made it about four more clumsy steps down the sidewalk before a car slows down next to you. This has happened to you more times than you can count, but never when the birds were fucking chirping. You huff out in irritation, walking faster, thus, less firm as you tried to remain calm.

Who the hell pulls up to you when it’s fucking sunrise?! Unbelievable.

You only make it two more steps before the right next to you. Even though you tell yourself not to, your head swivels to look at the driver on instinct. He looks vaguely familiar, you’ve seen those cheeks somewhere but his name is lost on you. You acknowledge him with a questioning look as he rolls down the window.

“Want a ride?” He offers like you’ve known him for ten years and your pets were best friends. You were expecting a catcall but his voice was full of awkward sincerity and a bit of reluctance that couldn’t be faked.

“I thought chivalry was de-ad.” You choked, giving a nudge with your words to test his sincerity.

“I thought you liked girls more and don’t believe in it anyway.” He dished back. Okay, fair. This guy’s a real one.

“Touché... Ohhh what the helll-” You huffed, “I’ll take it.” You vaguely recognize him and he seems to know you too so what can hurt; that’s at least how you look at it in the buzzed moment.

His unimpressive car comes to a smooth stop, you hear the doors unlock and you sluggishly yanked the door open and groan as you slide in, kindly ignoring the mess because you’re not much better.

“Did you not party last ni’?” You blurted, looking over at him with a dry smile. As you do, you can really take him in. His dark, messy hair and his cute over-expressive face, topped with a pair of doughy cheeks. Despite the cuteness, there’s not a doubt in your mind this is some frat boy on the college team, though you’re not even sure what team is in season right now. One thing was for sure though, his guns were proudly out of a cut out muscle-t like a living, breathing fuckboy starter pack. Infuriatingly, he pulled it off, he looked too attractive for this time, on the weekend especially. With all that being said, he seriously looks like the kind of guy that should be as fucked up as you are right now. And yet, here he is, behind the wheel looking as sober as a slice of bread.

“Nah,” He starts, getting his foot off the brake and turning back into the road, “me and my soulmate stayed in ‘cuz coach is making practice earlier than usual.”

Well, that train left the station. “Ahh, that-that's too bad.” You heard yourself pettily trail off.

“Nah, ‘zall good. I think coach is taking it out on us ‘cuz his wife found out he’s doin’ drugs and gambling again-“

“Do ya have any friends like you?” You blurted out again.

“Huh??”

“Do ya got any friends that do things like this?” You grumbled, resisting the urge to facepalm at yourself. Fucking hell, Y/n.

“That go to practice this early? Yehh. The whole fucking basketball te-“

“No!” You hiss, head pulsing, his voice is too goddamn loud. “Gentlemen!” clarifying and sulkily leaned your head against the cool window.

“Ohhh!!~” Then he belts out laughing like a blaring fire alarm, making your entire brain rattle.

“Shhhh!” As you turn to glare at him, you realize your turn was coming up. “Wait!! Turn here!!”

He hissed and stepped harshly on the breaks. “This one?”

“Yeah!!-“ it was already too late when you unnecessarily clarified, so he had to turn around and go turn in again. Thank god the streets were dead at this date and time. You’re sure he broke at least four traffic laws.

“Shit, man!! You can’t say that and then expect me to make the turn, I got too excited!!” He was beaming, far too excited for your dumb question and not at all concerned about his chaotic driving.

“What the fuuck?!?! You’ got a soulmate-“

“No, dumbass!!” He whines like you just missed the best play in the whole game, too bad there aren’t instant replies for day to day conversations. “I have a bro who we’ve been trying to get laid.~” And now he makes the turn, good job buddy.

“Okay, two stops from now you’re gonna turn left.” It is then that you realize the last part of what he just said. “Huh? Li-like frat bro?”

“Yeah, dude. He’s so pissy I don’t think his hand is doin’ it for him anymore.” The dude laughed at his own joke, elbowing you in the side. Normally you would have joined in and punched him but for some reason, your little fucked up heart started to warm up hearing about this cute frat boy.

“Ahhhh.” And then you laughed a little too late, his wingmanning ass didn’t notice.

“Yeah! And he says books are better than pussy so that’s how we know he’s becoming a lost cause. We’re placing our bets that he won’t get it on until he finds his soulmate.”

“What a swee-eetheart.~” You hiccupped with dazed eyes and chapped smile. You had to admit, you were endeared. You never heard about a dorky, innocent fraternity boy before, and you never would have thought that it would appeal to you.

“Is it this one or the next one?”

“This one. So whoo’z this friend of yours-“ Unfortunately you were caught off by a ringtone blasting at the fullest volume making your brain wail in pain, for the second fucking time this morning.

He just snickers. “Sorry, gotta answer this… Yuh~?” You just huffed and closed your eyes, deflating a little bit.

“Seungmin?!?”

For some unknown reason, that name made you jolt back up into your seat. ‘Seungmin’, why does that sound so familiar?!

“Well, speak of the devil!!~” He got too excited and looked at you, and gives you an over-enthused wink. You’re assuming this is the frat bro. “Your car won’t start??~~” This dude, you still don’t quite remember the name of, was really playing this up. For possibly the same unknown reason, him talking to this dude has your full attention. Normally you’d eavesdrop half-heartedly but this time your whole heart started to beat a way it never has before, begging you to soak up as much of this half conversation as possible.

“Of course I’ll drive my wittle brother!!~... -fuck off a few days totally does count!!- Whatever!! Anyway, fair warning, I became a fucking uber this morning, I’m driving this girl too so prepare yourself!!... Shhh, it’s not a joke! And she’s really hot; make sure your heart and dick are ready.”

You were about to beat this dude before you vaguely heard the muffled voice on the other line chew him out for you. You couldn’t hold in your smile before you realized; even though you were abnormally giddy, now is not the goddamn time to meet this kid. You looked like you were run over by three different military-grade vehicles and you’re more than sure you had lipstick marks from last night smeared in various places all over you. But most importantly, you were in a limbo of drunk and hungover. You needed way more rest and sustenance before you should interact with anyone of importance. You opened your mouth to scream at him but you were cut off yet again.

“...Yeah, yeah. Anyways, I’ll turn around now, just for you.~ I’m pretty sure we’re close to her dorm but who cares how late I’m gonna be for practice! I’m making shit happen! See ya in a sec, muah!” If you weren’t high key starting to panic, you would’ve laughed at this dude’s unending ridiculousness. There is no way in hell you’re gonna meet this familiar stranger‘s friend that he’s setting you up with at six fucking a.m. in a frankly disgusting state.

“Do not turn around or I swear to fucking Rupaul-“

“No can do, bro. Besides, you seemed interested in him so why not!?! Be grateful! I’m gonna have to run double the fuckin laps cuz a’ this.”

‘“Why not’?!! I just got outta’ a stranger’s bed and I’m still drunk and somehow hungover too and my dorm is just around the corner-“

“Listen; bros before hoes. Frat legacy.” And with that, he chuckled as he turned the car around for the second time today. You take back the gentleman comment you gave him earlier, he’s a pile shit.

“I’m gonna fucking jump out of the car-“ you groaned with a bluff, tugging at your smeared face and he smugly locked the doors before you could finish. “Cmonnn!~ It’s too fucking early for this shit, man! Why didn’t I just keep walking or just stayed-“

“I'm doing you a favor!~”

“Dropping me off when and where I asked you to is doing me a favor! That’s literally why I’m in your messy ass car that smells like rancid fuckin’ cheesecake in the first place!!”

“Hey, now you’re just being mean!”

You groaned and glared out the window, opting to ignore him now. This argument had you sobering up. This just really wasn’t it. You resisted the urge to pull down the mirror and see how bad you really looked but, you would rather not know how bad it is. Knowing your past morning afters, you’ve looked a hell of a lot cuter every other time.

It seems like you’re just gonna have to grin and bear it and let this one go. There’s plenty of bitches in the sea. Bitches that never made you heart skipped like this before- and without you even meeting them-

All you could think about how embarrassing and fucked up this whole thing he’s pulling is as you glare at the passing sidewalks and cars parked at the side of the roads. You wish the passing textured and crumbly neighborhood sidewalks could swallow you up. It’s not often that you felt so burdened at an awaiting social encounter these days. You hated this.

“And we’re here!!” He stops and proudly puts the car into park. “Okay, Siri, call ‘Noodle Bitchass’.”

The fuck-

-“I’m sorry. I didn’t get that. Would you like me to search the web for ‘Nude space app’?”-

“Ughhhhh. Fuck you!! I said, ‘Call~ Nooo-DiLL BiiiiTCh AAAssss’~~!!!”

-“Okay. Calling Noodle Bitchass nerd emoji, middle finger emoji in medium tan’.”- You were about to cry in shocked laughter but the guy answered too soon so you had to snort into your hand and curl in on yourself.

“Yah!! Han Jisung!!” Holy mother almighty, his voice is pure sunshine and honey. Your body slowly uncurled back up on its own. Fuck, okay it’s on speaker. Shit, I can’t even breathe, can’t make a sound.

“We’re here, man.”

“Hhhhh… she’s not still with you is she?” Is it possible to be attracted to a voice? I think I’m attracted to a voice.

“Hell yeah, she is! Suck it up, bro. You’re already making me late and she’s fine~!!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jisung-“ Oh, good lord. Him swearing really just--

“Get in or I’ll leave you here and set her up with Innie instead.” You just heard the guy sigh and the sound of a facepalm, you’re guessing, before the line went dead. And finally. You could finally howl with laughter, or perhaps it was more like manic screaming in infatuation.

You have never, in all your years of living felt like this because of a person. Is this what it feels like to be whipped? Fuck, fuck, fuck- It’s like I’m at a concert- but not really and-

You were still in the thick of it when a door ripped open. When you reflexively looked over, all the air that was left in your lungs pathetically wheezed out of you like a sad balloon.

Then the sensations all hit you.

Wow, okay the drunkenness and hangover is gone? I feel good? I feel alive, I feel the cool late autumn air? I feel feelings; feelings I’ve never felt before? You were light as a mother fuckin’ feather and astounded as all burning hell. You were openly experiencing so many intense emotions, something that hasn’t happened in so many years.

At that moment your mouth and his gawk right open at the exact same time, not that the two of you noticed. Without any volition, your eyes immediately drown in the other. Okay, he’s actual artwork? He was dressed so cute like he was ready to take some cute aesthetic photos for a dumb little blog. Oh god, he smells like a cup of tea in the forest after it rained?! That’s so specific- but. He smells so lovely.

His hair was pure angelic fluff and his skin was a light, silky caramel. You watched before your tired, dry eyes, the caramel in his cheeks rise into the purest shade of pink and his eyes widening into adorable little saucers. When they met yours, they were sparklier than any ring on any finger; you swear to god herself, you felt electricity crackle in your veins like wood to the fire. Your eyes couldn’t pull away, you felt like a giddy little kid again. Whirling with excitement and curiosity as you looked at him all bundled up for the late fall weather. Your heart began to sing, sing triumphantly as if you broke some sort of curse-

Curse?

Wait, hold up.

Hold the fuck up.

I think he’s my soulmate?! But I can’t possibly have one-

That’s when your entire body began to heat up in question. None of this made sense to you.

How is this possible? How is this fucking possible?! The only thing your brain seems to produce in reaction is unending, spiraling questions. For each and every one of them, whether rhetorical or not, you didn’t have a sensical explanation or possible answer. This didn’t make any sense, it went against everything you ever knew to be true.

You couldn’t have a soulmate, your maternal lineage fucked that up for you, it was what you were born into without a choice. A perpetual heartbreak, something that started out as merely coincidental to grow into a family burden that carried on precariously. How can it be that for generations, the youngest daughter in the family never got to meet their soulmate until now, until you? You were on the brink of a fucking existential crisis.

Seungmin seemed shocked as well, though leagues and leagues below the ballgame you’re dealing with right now. He looked shocked; appearing delightfully surprised. Shocked as if he wasn’t expecting to be surprised with a present on a random and unimportant Wednesday, not shocked as if he just broke a generations-long family streak.

Before you can continue these heavy ass thoughts, Jisung blasts out an interruption yet again.

“I CAN’T FUCKIN’ BELIEVE THIS!! I THOUGHT I WAS JUST HOOKING UP MY BOY AT ASS CRACK IN THE MORNING!! BUT NO!! I FUCKIN’ FOUND HIM HIS SOULMATE!! AND IT’S Y/N OUTTA ALL PEOPLE!! Y/N?!? SEUNGMIN?!? THE UNIVERSE REALLY PAIRED THESE PEOPLE TOGETHER?!? OUT OF-”

“Jisung, shut the fuck up.” To your surprise, it was Seungmin who interrupts ‘Jisung’ and not you, as he gets the rest of the way into the messy car. His put-together ass looks completely out of place in this shitty car, it made you try to hold in a smile as closes the door with barely restrained enthusiasm.

Before he turns back, you force yourself to face forward and try to calm the hell down and calmly reassess the situation.

Alright... You met your not plausible-soulmate, out of all places in time and space, in the car of a kinda-stranger who offered you a ride home in the early-ass morning after getting laid at a sorority party.

Okay. Great. This is great.

You cleared your throat and tried to remain cool. “O-okay, awesome. Where ar-are we heading to first?” Okay, that wasn’t entirely cool but maybe you can blame it on literally everything else wrong with you in this situation.

“I don’t know, man. I deadass wanna just skip practice altogether and-” Jisung was interrupted by the sound of a camera’s shutter. You instinctively whip your head around towards the sound, only to be met with Seungmin camera-handed. He has the fucking nerve to take two more in the time it took for you to whip around.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?” Your voice ripped out of you, croaking out like an enraged toad. He then takes the final picture as you’re screeching at him. This just kept getting richer and richer. First, Jisung’s bullshit, then life-altering realizations that you broke some sort of generations long streak of not having a soulmate, and now your seemingly miraculous soulmate taking unexpected, embarrassing photographs of you in the worst state you’ve ever been in?

“Taking your picture.” He grinned with a shrug, no guilt or shame to be seen nor heard. You could not hold in squawks of disbelief. His pride and excitement seemed to only grow at your bewilderment, he had the nerve to do a precious ‘hehehe’, the kind that little kids do after they steal a cookie from the jar.

“Give me that!” You sneer as you go to savagely rip it right out of his perfect hands. However, the two of you seemed to be matched in more ways than one; neither of you would budge, equally as strong as the other.

“No way! You’ll delete them!!”

“Yeah, exactly!! ‘No way in hell will I let you keep pictures of me like this!”

“‘No fuckin’ way will I let you delete them!”

You gritted your teeth. “Then let me take pictures of you!!!” And then you can sneakily delete-

“Yeah and then you’ll delete yours.” How the fuck did he know-

“Seungmin, just give her the goddamn camera so I can drive and drop your hormonal asses off before coach murders me.”

There was a raging fire in Seungmin’s eyes as he slowly and painfully let go of his forsaken camera so you could tentatively take it. Upon retrieving the camera your fingers accidentally grab unto Seungmin’s. Resulting in a little static shock zap, startling you and heating up your cheeks immediately with a jerk and a hiss. Seungmin reacted similarly, blinking like pink dust blew into his eyes to land on his cheeks. Your hand yanks it back towards you before you even realize it. Jisung was far too excited to watch this drama unfold right before his wide eyes.

If this was a normal day for you you’d jump to delete those humiliating pictures of yourself immediately, looking nothing short of the cheshire cat. But this was evidently not a normal day in any sense of the word, so, what you did was unlike you. You huffed out a breath to encourage yourself before slowly raising the camera to your dominant eye and focused the lense as best you could.

At least I can photograph how irritatingly handsome he looks at this hour.

You took the first picture, zooming in on his now grouchy, but still stupidly handsome face. Then you zoom out as far as possible, hoping to take in this entire scene in front of you, his angry posture in an adorably preppy outfit, this messy, disgusting car and how out of place he looks in it.

“Only two more.” Seungmin huffs with an eyeroll and by some divine power (perhaps the same divine power that made this odd miracle happen in the first place), you clicked fast enough to get some of that petty behavior visually documented. You pressed down twice, sadly that was your limit you agreed upon.

You didn’t even look at the pictures you took nor the ones Seungmin took so that you wouldn’t be tempted to delete them. It felt like you were committing a saintly act; as if simply taking his picture like you said you would, without deleting anything made you pure and free of sin. Perhaps this twisted reality of somehow defeating the ancestral odds had you feeling undeservingly self-righteous.

“You better not delete yours either.” You sneered once more, before jabbing the camera back into his sweatered chest. This time you were determined not to turn around again, you couldn’t risk him taking any more pictures. You also aren’t entirely sure you could handle seeing his stupid perfect face once more. This was an outrage and this was your way of protest. Also, an unspoken miracle, but enough of that.

You swiveled your head away from Jisung and Seungmin, fully leaning into the cool window and began to count the street lights and stop signs. As the grueling seconds ticked by the more concentrated you tried to be. Soon enough the concentration turned sleepy and before you knew it, you were knocked out. All your adrenaline fueled energy depleted.

All through your protest-turned-snooze, Seungmin couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. He couldn’t help but find it endearing how you could be an absolute riot only to pass out three minutes later. It hurt how cute he found you, no matter how scandalous you seem to be. You seemed so genuinely shocked, it made him want to cry. And he’s also fairly certain that this isn’t new to you, you not only partied all night and regularly. And judging from the markings on your skin, you might’ve done a little bit more than party last night. In fact, it might’ve even enticed him, might’ve gotten him a little hot under the collar. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he already whipped and he hasn’t even caught your name.

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taeken-my-heart · 5 years ago

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Moirai Chapter 4

Summary: On your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. It’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brushed aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. But what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake to find the name of your mortal enemy? Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Soulmates au/ Enemies to lovers au. Angst, fluff, bickering, romance, eventual smut.

Word Count: 5106

Notes: There is a read more placed after the first paragraph, but we all know tumblr is weird so if it doesn’t show up I’m sorry :(

*****

Mondays sucked. You were pretty sure that was a hard and fast rule by now, but as you rolled up to school looking like an actual hot mess and with your sweatshirt on backwards (don’t ask, you weren’t actually sure how that happened but you did dress in the dark this morning so…) you were even more sure of that fact.

Ella complained the entire way about your mom not being able to drop you off and now you felt like your ears were bleeding as she rushed off in the direction of her friends; a new audience to voice her frustrations to.

You hiked your bag higher on your shoulder, aiming for the doors of the school. You had an AP bio test today that you’d spent the weekend studying for, which sucked because those were hours of your life you couldn’t get back and would rather have given to Lucas. As it was, he had only about a week and a half left before he had to go back for the next semester.

He insisted that when you graduated you could just go to college with him and then you’d get more time together…it just felt so far away. The hallways were filled with the zombies of the weekend and the others that were far too chipper this early in the morning. You liked to think you fell somewhere in between. You weren’t exactly happy to be awake, but you’d made it past the point of zombie thanks to a clumsy journey of dressing yourself in the darkness of your room.

The sea green of your locker came into view and you shuffled up to it, twisting the combination into the lock and pulling it open. AP bio was first so at least you could get the test out of the way and breathe a little easier after.

“Hey there, sister in law.”

You turned to find Lillian, long strawberry blonde hair swept up into a ponytail and a goofy smile attached to her barbie pink lips. “Wow, that’s a statement.” You said, pointing at her mouth and she grinned wider, shrugging the books in her arms higher.

“Figured I’d give something new a try. Is it a good statement or a bad statement?”

You turned to look at your friend, frowning in dismay. “We’ve been over this, everything on you is a good statement, you rude girl. You can’t be smart, nice, and beautiful too. You need to share with the rest of us.”

“Oh stop,” Lillian chuckled, “you’re literally the entire package, Y/N, so I don’t even want to hear it.”

Noelle came strutting up beside you, hip pressed to the lower locker next to yours, sunglasses still covering her eyes and eyebrow raised. “Did I hear correctly? Is one Mr. Jeon Jungkook really your English tutor?”

“Wha-?” You spluttered, watching as Noelle pushed her sunglasses from the bridge of her nose and to the crown of her head. “Why would you even think that? Are people seriously saying that? The tea must be empty if that’s what people are concerned about.”

“I don’t hear a denial,” Noelle sing songed and you rolled your eyes, grabbing your AP Bio book and closing your locker.

"OK, no, I’m gonna go ahead and put a stop to that right now. He’s not my English tutor, I’d rather choke. I do take my education seriously, though, so I probably should find a tutor.”

“Seriously enough to take advice from your worst enemy?” Noelle asked, turning to walk beside you as you and Lillian began walking towards your classes. “Wow, this must be the real deal.”

“It’s really not.” You muttered darkly and you could see Noelle grinning from the corner of you eye. “And I just told you he’s not my tutor. Anyway, this is my class so I’ll see you guys later. Bye!” You waved quickly, stepping into the classroom and going to take your seat.

******

After lunch was finished and you retreated to your English lit class, you waited until Jungkook and pool party Barbie were seated before going and finding a seat as far away from him as possible. Unfortunately, that meant the back right corner, but beggars couldn’t be choosers in a situation like this.

Ms. Collins passed back the first draft of your essay, weaving her way around the room and you frowned down at the very average C written in dark blue ink. You would never get the hang of this crap. No matter what you did, you couldn’t figure out what you were doing wrong.

You sighed, shoving the essay into your backpack and scratching at the wood of your desk with your fingernail. “Remember,” she said, now standing back at the front of the room, “the second draft is due this time next week so make sure you’re doing your research and putting in the effort; you don’t have much time to slack off.”

The lesson passed with you taking a few measly notes and a new list of words you needed to memorize for a small spelling test next week. Ms. Collins then turned on the Kenneth Branagh version of Hamlet and you sat back to try and comprehend at least some of it. You weren’t sure what Shakespeare was on, but it had to be good considering he was making up words and crap and still managed to become one of the greatest playwrights of all time.

The bell rung, signaling the end of class and you lifted your bag onto the table, sliding your books into your bag as you allowed the rest of your classmates to trickle from the room. You just wanted some time to pout by yourself. What was the point in a second draft if you still had no clue what you were even doing wrong in the first draft?

Standing sluggishly, you made your way to the front of the room, eyes trained on the door as you began to prepare yourself for a refresher on the Civil war.

“Y/N, can I speak to you really quick?” Ms. Collins smiled and you nodded, pulling at the strap of your bag and walking to her desk.

“Everything OK?” You asked.

“Well, I’ve noticed you’re having a bit of a tough time with some of our assignments so I wanted to talk to you about the idea of me assigning you a tutor from class.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I have thought about getting a tutor but I wasn’t actually sure how to go about finding someone in the class with the time and skills to help me.”

“It’s no problem, I’ve already got someone in mind. Actually, I asked him earlier if he’d be willing to help out and he said he’d be happy to.”

“Oh!” You smiled in surprise. “That’s great, I really appreciate it.”

“Great, so I’ll let Jungkook know you are game and you guys can figure out the details.” She smiled, shuffling some papers around on her desk and you felt like your heart fell into the pit of your stomach.

“Jungkook?” You stuttered, and she looked up at you.

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

“Ah,” you hesitated, glancing around the room in discomfort, “It’s just, we…have our differences.”

“Well, he’s the highest in the class and he’s got time until the soccer season starts in the spring. He’s the best candidate. Perhaps it’s best to put differences aside. I’m all for positive collaboration and learning to work with people you don’t always get along with; you’ll need those skills when you’re older and going into the workforce.”

You sighed, nodding and pouting. “I know, it’s just…Jungkook and I have a weird history.” You mumbled, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the floor.

“Maybe it’s time to let bygones be bygones.” Ms. Collins smiled. “Anyway, you better run, class starts soon. Just give it a try for me, hmm?”

You sighed, nodding. There was no point in fighting against it; Ms. Collins was nice, but bullheaded. When she’d made up her mind, you couldn’t change it. “OK.”

After school you sulked your way to the courtyard. Ella had texted to tell you she was meeting up with friends and not to wait up and you still couldn’t get the whole Jungkook being your new tutor crap out of your head.

“Y/n!” Someone shouted and you turned to find Noelle running to your side, long dark curls swinging haphazardly around her face. “Are you walking home?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking over her shoulder, “you wanna join?”

“Yes please!” She grinned. Just as you started walking again another person was calling out your name and you turned your head just in time to see Jungkook coming to walk beside you.

“What do you want?” You grimaced. He smirked, nodding his head at Noelle in greeting before turning his attention back to you.

“Ms. Collins told me you agreed to tutoring. When did you want to set something up?”

You grumbled under your breath. Of course, she’d already told him. “I don’t know, to be honest I don’t think you could even take this seriously. Maybe we should just call it off. I’m fine with just skating by. English isn’t my thing, that’s ok.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, bumping your shoulder with his and you frowned up at him. “Of course, I’ll take this seriously,” he said, “I do some paid tutoring on the side and it would hurt my reputation to mess it up with someone out of spite.”

“I’m not paying you, Jungkook.” You said, linking your arm with Noelle who was listening quietly by your side.

“No payment necessary, I’ll tutor you for free since we’re such good friends.” He grinned.

You scoffed. “Since when?”

“Come on, Y/N, help me build my tutoring portfolio. Besides, I already told my mom about it yesterday after Ms. Collins asked so your mom will probably be expecting it.”

“Geez, do you share everything with your mom?” You sneered.

“Absolutely.” He chuckled. “So, what do you say?”

Noelle nudged your side and you glanced at her. “Come on,” she smiled, “you were talking about needing a tutor anyway. Jungkook’s really smart, let him help you.”

“Fine.” You sighed, “But if you pull any funny business, I swear I’ll castrate you.”

“Scouts honor!” He saluted and Noelle giggled as he sent a wink her way.

“Well, anyway,” she said, pushing some hair from her face, “I need to head this way. I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“So really we can start anytime,” Jungkook continued as you resumed your walk home, “we could even start tonight if you wanted to. I could help you with the second draft.”

“I don’t know.” You mumbled, forcing your gaze anywhere but him. His hair was parted and swept off to each side, dark and slightly too long, reaching just passed his eyes. He pushed his hair back with his hand as though he could hear your thoughts and you sighed. Why was he so good looking? You hated him.

“Come on, no backing out now. I swear, I’ll be a good boy, just let me help you.” He smiled, three fingers up in a scout’s honor.

“Fine,” you acquiesced, “but any funny business and I swear I’ll punch you straight up the butthole.”

“Graphic,” Jungkook nodded, “I like it.”

You walked up the pathway to your house, Jungkook trailing behind you. Sliding the key from your pocket, you unlocked the door and made your way inside, kicking your shoes off at the threshold. Jungkook closed the door behind him, stepping from his shoes and into the hallway.

“Mom, I’m home!” He called, and you looked up at him with a frown.

“Jungkook?” Your mom called, stepping from the kitchen with a smile, “hey honey, what are you doing here?”

Your mom wrapped her arms around his waist, patting his back and you huffed. Your mom didn’t even show this much love to you. “Hi sweetie,” she smiled at you as an afterthought and you smiled tight.

“I’m here to tutor Y/N in English.” He smiled and your mom grinned, patting his arm.

“Oh, that’s right, your mom told me you were probably going to be doing that. That’s so kind of you! Did you say thank you, Y/N?”

You huffed deep in your chest while plastering a smile across your face, “of course mom. Jungkook knows I’m grateful.”

“Yeah, Y/N is great,” he said enthusiastically, slinging his arm around your shoulders and you tried your best to hold your squeal of disgust. “Actually, she even told me she wanted to make me dinner some time, as a thank you.”

“Really?” Your mom smiled at you and you smiled tightly at Jungkook.

“Oh, yeah.” You huffed; chest tight with indignation. “Wow, yeah, well, I’m just so grateful after all.”

“I’m so glad you two are such good friends.” Your mom smiled, squeezing your elbow. “How about you stay for dinner, Jungkook? I could text your mom.”

“That would be great, actually. They’re going out on a date so it’s fend for yourself night.” He chuckled and your mom practically belly laughed. Mortifying.

“Anyway,” you called loudly, grabbing Jungkook’s forearm, “we’re gonna get started on that English assignment.” Jungkook waved at your mom as you pulled him up the stairs, closing the door behind you and dropping your backpack on your bed.

“Man, haven’t been in here in years.” Jungkook whistled, dropping his bag at his feet and scanning the walls of your room.

“You haven’t exactly been welcome.” You muttered and he looked over at you with a smirk, eyebrows wiggling.

“But I am now?”

“I thought you said you were going to be good!” You seethed and he held up his hands in defeat.

“Fair enough. Ok, grab your stuff and let’s get started. Where should we sit?”

You sighed, looking around your room. “Let’s just sit on the bed, my desk only has one chair and the carpet is uncomfortable.”

He nodded, grabbing his bag and bringing it with him, sitting cross legged on the end of your bed and digging through his backpack for everything he needed.

You took your place at the top of the bed, a pillow behind your back and one in your lap. “Here, hand me your latest essay so I can see what I’m working with.” Jungkook said, taking a notebook from the front pocket of his backpack and clicking his pen to life.

You pulled your essay from your assignments folder, handing it over gingerly. “I swear, if you make fun of me…”

“I promise I won’t. I really meant it when I said I take this gig seriously. It’s how I’m making extra cash right now.” He stared down at your work, pen twirling between his fingers as he read. Every once in a while, he’d hum and make a note in his book before continuing on.

You watched in apprehension as he flipped the page in silence. After finishing the essay, he made more notes in his book, chewing on the end of his pen in thought. “OK, so one big problem that I see right away is that your paragraphs are not well connected. You have certain ideas you want to connect, right, but instead of connecting them from paragraph to paragraph you’ve kind of left them disjointed. So, it’s like, in paragraph one you’ve talked about how Hamlet’s goal is to avenge his father’s death and the consequences of that choice and then in paragraph 2 you’re suddenly talking about Ophelia’s death, which doesn’t necessarily connect, but you could connect it with the idea of foreshadowing the royal families demise. Then in paragraph three you continue on talking about why you think Ophelia and Hamlet’s relationship is significant, but again, it doesn’t exactly have a connection to Hamlets attempt at revenge or even her death so it feels disconnected. You also have a habit of telling and not showing. You’ve gotta let the evidence speak for itself.”

“Wow…” you breathed, lips pursed in thought, “that is not at all what I thought you’d say. OK…so then what would you suggest?”

“Well,” he sighed, “if I’m being honest, I’d suggest a complete overhaul. This was just the first draft so there’s of course going to be lots of room for growth. You’ve got some pretty solid ideas; I just need to help you find a better way of connecting those ideas together.”

“So, it’s not a complete loss?” You asked, shoulders loosening slightly.

“Naw,” he shrugged, “we can definitely work with this. Your writing voice is pretty decent, you just need to figure out how to get the ideas you have in your head down on paper in a better way. It’s almost mathematical, like how you build an equation.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “this is nothing like math, Jungkook.”

He grinned, shrugging, “I don’t know, you have to formulate ideas, make a base and build on top of that. There are formulas to writing, you know? You just have to solve them.”

“Ok, ok. I’ll take your word for it. So, what would you say I do now?” You asked, biting your bottom lip nervously.

“Let’s work on making an outline, we can even spider diagram it if you need to.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, “if that works.”

By the time your mother called you down for dinner, Jungkook had helped you to map out all your ideas on a spider diagram and even start writing down your first few paragraphs on your laptop, helping you to see how you could tie your different ideas together to make your essay more cohesive.

“The spider diagram seems to really help you,” Jungkook said, trailing after you down the hallway towards the kitchen, “you should use it more often to sort out your ideas so you have a basis of how you want to start and where you want to go from there.”

Stepping into the kitchen, you grabbed a plate, loading it with the food your mother had left on the island for you to pick through. “Hey Jungkook.” Ella smiled from across the countertop, grabbing some fruit for her own plate. “My mom mentioned you were here.”

“Yeah,” he grinned, “just helping Y/N with an essay she’s writing.”

“Completely hopeless, right?” Ella joked and you scowled at her.

“Actually, she’s doing pretty well. She’s got some really good ideas, it’s just all about finding the best way to get them down on paper. She’s picking it up pretty quickly.”

“Thanks, Jungkook.” You murmured, looking up at him in surprise.

“Wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.” He grinned.

He made his way to the dining room, Ella hot on his tail with conversation he was a willing audience to and you watched him go in curiosity. Why was he being so…decent?

“How are your AP classes coming, Y/N?” You mom asked, taking a sip of her water as you pushed a piece of broccoli across your plate.

“They’re fine,” you shrugged, “pretty easy as long as I study the material.”

“And you came up with an idea for your science project?” She continued, taking a bite of her food.

“Yeah, I’ve got a general idea for what I want to do.” You said. Jungkook turned to look at you, eyebrows rising.

“You’ve already figured out your science project?” He asked, voice husky with surprise, “we don’t even have to start working on that until the spring.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, starring down at your plate in embarrassment. “I like to be prepared. I’m a bit of a nerd I guess.”

You could see Ella nodding out of the corner of your eye and just before you could extend your foot to kick her in the shin, Jungkook continued. “No way, I think that’s super cool. The science fair always takes so much time and preparation; it’s cool that you’re trying to get ahead of the game.”

You stared at Jungkook, eyebrows furrowed, but Ella distracted him with conversation about how prepared she was for all of her classes so you could only ruminate to yourself. What was Jungkook’s deal? Was he seriously trying to bury the hatched like he’d proclaimed? There was no way.

“What about you, Jungkook, honey?” Your mom said, turning her attention to him after asking Ella all about her school activities, “what have you been doing recently?”

“Mostly doing school work, but I’ve been doing some tutoring on the side to make money while I’m not in sports.”

“This is your last year playing soccer, do you think there are going to be scouts when you get into the season?” She inquired, finishing off her water and grabbing the pitcher to pour more.

“Yeah, maybe.” Jungkook nodded, “but we won’t know for sure until it’s closer to the season.”

“Well you never know, you could get a sports scholarship to a lot of different schools, pay your way through college!” Your mom smiled, offering the pitcher of water to your sister who shook her head, taking a bite of her food instead.

“That’s true.” He nodded.

“Where’s dad, by the way?” You asked, glancing back out the door to the kitchen.

“He’s just coming late from work; told us to eat without him.” Your mom remarked, finishing her plate and standing, “want me to take yours?” She asks, motioning to your plate and you nodded, allowing her to collect it from you and take it to the kitchen.

After the four of you finished dinner you cleaned the kitchen, putting away the food and dishes before Jungkook ran to grab his bag from your room and you showed him to the door. “You should try and finish the essay tonight so that you can show me tomorrow at school and I can give you some more pointers.” He said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and you held the door between the two of you as he put one foot over the threshold.

“By tonight?” You huffed, pouting down at the floor and he grinned.

“Better to be proactive, right?”

You shrugged, sighing, twisting the door knob in your hand. “Yeah, I guess.”

He nodded, backing out the door, “Cool, well, see you tomorrow.” He waved and turned to head towards his own place, just a few houses down the road.

You sighed, closing and locking the front door, staring up the staircase towards your room where you’d left your laptop with your essay on it. The last thing you wanted to do right now was go upstairs and work that essay.

With a huff, you grabbed hold of the railing, dragging yourself up the stairs and into your room. The paper wasn’t going to write itself and you needed to do it now while Jungkook’s advice was fresh in your head.

By the time you were finished, everyone else had already gone to bed so you were shuffling quietly into the bathroom to go brush your teeth. You had about 6 hours to sleep and you intended to make the most of it.

******

You dreamt of Jungkook dressed as Hamlet. Your mood was especially crabby because of it, but you managed to remember to print out your second draft for him to read so that was something positive, at least.

“You ready to go?” Your mom asked, peeking her head into your room as you finished packing your backpack.

You nodded, throwing your bag over your shoulder and following her down the stairs. Ella was already sat in the back of the car, which surprised you, but you figured your mother must have insisted since she was such a shotgun hog all the time.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you dropped your bag by your feet, fastening your seatbelt and leaning your head back against the rest with eyes closed. All you could picture was Jungkook in a stupidly good looking houppelande and puffy shorts, but he was wearing a hat with a feather sticking from the top and drooping down the back of his head and somehow that made you feel so much better about the whole thing.

The ride was mostly silent. You could hear the music from Ella’s earphones, but there was no conversation and it gave you a few minutes to let the irritation from your dream wear off before you arrived at school. The last thing you wanted to do was take your frustrations out on your innocent friends.

“Have a good day at school!” Your mother called as the two of you stepped from the car and you waved. “I’ll be in the pick-up line at the end of the day, Ella.”

Jungkook was waiting at one of the outdoor tables when you and Ella made your way towards the front entrance and he waved you over. Ella continued on towards her friends and you grit your teeth, turning to make you way towards him as he pulled the notebook and pen from his backpack once again.

“Morning!” He smiled as you sat across from him. The sun was already blinding and you had to squint to see him from where you were sitting. You readjusted your shorts; the bench a little too cool on your skin and nodded in greeting towards him. “Did you manage to finish your essay?”

“Yeah.” You murmured, pulling it from your backpack and handing it across the table to him.

He grabbed it from your hand, reading through while clicking the tip of his pen absentmindedly. After what felt like forever of you shifting awkwardly in your seat and looking around the courtyard at all of the other students beginning to make their way into the building, he finally cleared his throat, looking up at you.

“This is much better. There’s still room for improvement, but for a second draft I’m pretty happy with what you’ve done. I’m gonna make some notes and we can go over them after school.” He said, handing you back your essay and standing to pack his own things.

“I can’t today, I’m actually meeting up with Lucas after school.” You said, sticking your essay back in your homework folder and sliding that back in your bag.

“Oh,” he faltered, looking down at you, eyebrows wrinkling in the center. “Ok…well, maybe after you guys are done hanging out?”

“I don’t know when that will be.”

Jungkook pursed his lips, tugging his backpack over his shoulders. “Here, let me see your phone really quick.”

“Why?” You asked, handing it to him anyway.

After messing with your phone for about 30 seconds he handed it back to you, one recent outgoing call on the screen. “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll come over.”

With that, he walked towards the school where you could see Rachel waiting, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. “Sucks to be him.” You mumbled, before packing up your own stuff and heading to your first class.

*****

Thank you so much for waiting patiently for me to get this out! Now that my life has settled the next few chapters should come out much sooner than 6 months. My goodness, I’m so sorry you had to wait so long! I’m going to try and get myself back into a once a month posting schedule. Please be patient with me while I figure this out and please let me know what you think of this chapter! Your feedback means so much.

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

#jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #btscreatorsnet #bangtanarmynet

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keepyourpantsongohan · 6 years ago

Note

I miss your writing and since then found myself rereading your fics. Any WIPs you can share with us, if you don't mind? Also wanna know if you got any plans of doing a multi chaptered fic in the future?

Omg this is so sweet! I definitely do have WIPs. I have maybe 20k+ of writing in my drafts for various ideas. The ones that are probably going to be finished soonest are my Team Minato soulmate attribute swap AU, and an unrelated but equally ridiculous collab piece with @sloaners.

(Funnily enough, it was in one of Sloane’s livestreams that I originally brought that particular soulmate premise up, and she has her own take on it you can find here. And, amazingly and flatteringly she also made art inspired by an excerpt from my AU!!!! Found here!) And a little bonus excerpt below:

Obito’s eyes widen behind his goggles. “So you found a new disease? That’s amazing, Rin! Can you name it after me?”

Kakashi shakes his head vehemently and declares, “Absolutely not.”

“Maybe,” says Rin with a small smile, nudging Kakashi.

“They’ll remember the name Obitosis far and wide,” Obito says, grinning widely.

Minato arrives just in time, because Rin suspects Kakashi is about to tackle Obito to the ground.

I do have some plans for multi-chaptered fic(s), but no guarantees on if or when you’ll see that! In the meantime, I assure you, you will definitely be getting more of my writing in some form.

#this is my only kk romance story where tenzo isn't the other romantic lead lmao #although romance is a very loose term for what i'm writing either way kfhfkhjghkj #mostly i'm just trying to make myself laugh #excerpts #anonymous #asks for ts

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lilieevans-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Build-A-Daddy

or “the college au where lily is a single mom struggling with finishing school and raising a child, and james discovers he quite likes babysitting” (AO3)

(p.s.: thank you to @gxldentrio for being a lovely beta reader!)

Chapter: 1/2

She’s just another face in the crowd.

But she stands out.

She’s battling her way through the waves of I’m late-s, I should have gone to bed earlier-s and Why haven’t I started that bloody paper yet-s entangling themselves in people's legs. They trip, but she bears on.

Her hair is made of flames; they lick their way through the sea of people, turning them to ashes, burning a path for her - James is entranced. Her brow is furrowed with decision, and she doesn’t hesitate to nudge someone out of her way with her shoulder, or to make herself bigger with the size of her backpack which looks like it could make her topple over. She parts the flood with sheer determination in her eyes.

She’s unstoppable.

“Hey!”

He goes unnoticed.

“Hey, er - you!”

James can’t resist. He has to talk to her.

The girl turns around and the force with which her backpack hits him almost makes him fall over, but he catches himself just in time.

“Oops, I’m sorry!”

“No worries, er…”

The girl glances at the clock that hangs in the school corridor, then balances on her heels, looking at him expectantly. James realises she’s waiting for him to say something; he’s the one who interrupted her march after all.

His mind, usually overflowing with colours, blanks out.

“Er - ”

He curses himself. He had been so busy trying to get her attention that he hadn’t thought about what he would say to her if he actually got it.

She peeks at the clock again, then takes a step back.

“Listen, I really need to go - sorry!”

She turns around and dives back into the crowd that swallows her whole.

“But -”

It's too late. She's gone. James shakes his head, then runs a hand through his hair, his eyes fixed on the spot from which she dropped out of sight.

∞

He starts seeing her everywhere; in the library, walking past the fall of the Roman Empire and the Renaissance, in the corridors between classes, at the bus stop on campus. She’s a spark that bursts out of a fire, only to die out just before he has the chance to catch it.

This time he notices her in the cafeteria. He’s sitting down at a table when he distinguishes her now familiar crimson hair. She’s in the queue waiting to pay, a sandwich in one hand, a twitch in the other, while she taps her foot to the beat of a seconds clock hand. She doesn’t have a tray in her hand. She’s eating out. Damn it .

“Earth to James.”

James blinks and slowly sits down, his eyes glued on the girl.

“James’ middle name is -”

He snaps out of his entrancement and plunges onto the long-haired boy sitting next to him, covering his mouth with his hands.

“You promised, Sirius! You promised you wouldn't say anything!”

“Let me go!” says the boy, his voice muffled by James’ hands.

A second later he jerks his hand away, howling with pain. The people in the Great Hall steal glances at them.

“You animal! You bit me!” he says unfazed by the attention they’re getting.

Sirius bites the air and looks at him with a self-satisfied grin.

“Kinky,” says Remus.

James glares at him and latter squints his eyes giving him a fake smile.

“What was the sole center of your attention this time?”

“A girl probably,” Peter purrs.

Sirius swings an arm around James’ shoulders.

“A girl? You should have said so immediately! When do we get to meet her?” he says loudly, turning around to look at the queue.

Remus strains his neck and Peter gets up on his chair, standing on his toes.

“Cut it out! She’ll see you!” he says grabbing Sirius by the chin, forcing him to look in the opposite direction.

Sirius bares his teeth at him.

“Who’ll see you?” says Marlene dropping her tray on the table with a clatter, then plopping herself next to James.“James’ COTW,” says Remus.

Hestia, who’s arrived with Marlene, takes a seat next to him.

“James’ what?” she says, her soft-spoken voice barely audible over the roar of the cafeteria.

“James’ Crush of the Week.”

“I thought he already had a crush of the week.”

“Technically, he's had four,” Peter says taking a bite out of his sausage, having given up the search of James’ new crush.

Marlene turns around, perching her elbow on the back of her chair.

“So, who is this mystery girl? Anyone I know?”

James peers at the queue again, then slumps in his chair.

“She's not there anymore,” he says, his lower lip dropping like a child’s.

“Poor bloke. Can’t keep a girl satisfied,” Sirius says leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head.

“Neither can you,” snaps James.

“But that, my friend, is for a whole other reason.”

“She probably saw the lot of us staring and ran for her life,” says Remus.

Hestia nods approvingly.

“Clever girl.”

“What sort of friends ruin your only chances to speak to the girl of your dreams?” he says glaring at them.

“So this would be James’ fifth GOHD ?”

“Sixth,” says Peter counting on his fingers. “No, wait! Seventh. Two of them he's met this week.”

“I'm sensing a pattern here…”

Marlene snorts.

“Yeah, it's that this love-struck dork will have the hots for anyone who sets their eyes on him for more than five seconds.”

Sirius gasps, his eyes alight with understanding.

“That explains why he's always been in love with me,” he says snapping his fingers. “I mean, I keep telling him he's like a brother to me.”

“Kinky,” says Remus, his lip curled.

“The chances of me being in love with you are lower than those of me kissing Filch!”

Sirius clutches his heart.

“Ouch.”

“How did you meet this girl anyway?” says Hestia, honest interest in her voice.

James messes up his hair and sighs.

“I saw her in the corridors, but I don't know who she is. I haven't seen her around before.”

He looks up at them with hopeful eyes.

“Do you guys know her? She’s got deep red hair and these amazing green eyes. Like emeralds,” he says a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Remus snorts.

“Have you already written sonnets about those eyes, James?”

“He's probably written his next essay on them.”

“I know her,” pipes in Hestia.

James slams his hands on the table, making Peter jump and spill lemonade all over his Star Wars t-shirt.

“Prick!”

Sirius snickers.

“You do?! You’ve got to introduce me to her!”

“But - ”

“Hestia, you don't understand! My life depends on it!”

“But, James - ”

James throws his arms in the air.

“Hestia, I thought we were friends! Friends are supposed to be there for one another! And have each other’s backs!”

“James - ”

“Hestia, what if she was actually the one? The true love of my life? What if she’s really my soulmate, my better half, my kindred spirit, the Juliette to my Romeo, the Isolde to my Tristan, the Angelina to my Brad? Would you really want me to miss the single opportunity that whatever God above - thou be merciful - has given me to meet them? What if I never find someone again? What if I chase aimlessly after love for the rest of my life, because you didn't want to introduce me to her? What if I grow old alone and end up raising an army of fifty-three cats? What if I depart this miserable life alone? Do you really want to live knowing that it’s your fault? Do you really want that weight on your shoul - ”

James feels a splash of cold water hit his face and his fringe slaps against his forehead, soaking wet.

“God, that was getting annoying,” says Marlene banging her empty glass on the table.

A roar of laughter bursts out of Sirius’ mouth, while James’ falls open.

“What goes around comes around,” Peter chants.

James spits water out of his mouth.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Perfect timing, Marlene,” says Sirius while holding his sides. “He really needed a cold shower.”

“Hey look.” says Remus whose squinting face is a couple centimeters away from Peter’s chest. “It looks like pee is leaking out of this storm trooper’s suit.”

∞

James stuffs his paper between his books and empty wrappers - the contents of his messenger bag practically spilling out - unbothered by the fact that it is getting completely crumpled. The last thing he wants right now is to get started with McGonagall’s corrections, but given that his mates have disappeared to God knows where and that his football is currently sporting a hole the size of a ping pong ball in it, he has nothing better to do on his agenda.

(Yes, he has checked. Multiple times.)

He opens the door of the Art History Department and walks down the small flight of stairs, two steps at a time. It's a perfect day to play football, he notes bitterly. The breeze has chased all the clouds away, letting the sunshine warm the fields on this pleasant autumn afternoon. Unfortunately, practice won't start until Wednesday, by when he will have to have bought a new ball. His feet falter and he finds himself walking in the direction of the sport shop close-by. It won't hurt to just have a quick look after all.

His phone beeps, and he opens it, then curses under his breath. Goddammit, that woman can read his mind.

He’s just received an email from McGonagall reminding him of the due date of his paper - that is, in two hours. Begrudgingly, he turns around and drags his feet towards his flat, through the Forbidden Forest, which is the student’s nickname for the park on campus that it had received after last year’s infamous Easter holidays. So infamous had it been that some faculty members - and by faculty members he means McGonagall - had had to draft a series of decrees particular to these events.

(Such of these decrees include:

It is forbidden to push a fellow student on the playground’s swing high enough that they do a complete 360.

It is forbidden to use the slide, causing a fellow student to get stuck in it.

It is forbidden to sneak into the school’s kitchens and steal three pounds of butter in order to unstick forenamed fellow student.

It is forbidden to play on said playground, resulting in the escape of scared children from it.

It is forbidden to climb the trees whilst pretending to be the baboon from The Lion King.

It is forbidden to build a fence around a section of the park and call it the Independent Republic of the Marauders.

It is forbidden to make Professor McGonagall, or any other faculty members, the Public Enemy of the Independent Republic of the Marauders.

It is forbidden to threaten aforementioned faculty members with exile or execution when they attempt to cross the borders of the Independent Republic of the Marauders.) He doesn't worry about how long it takes him to get his flat, given that it’s practically on campus. For the price he pays, he doesn’t expect anything less than that. Luckily, sharing it with Sirius, Remus and Peter makes it affordable, although a bit crammed from time to time. Not that he needs to worry about the rent. He could have easily afforded with all the money he inherited.

A little boy cuts him off. He’s toddling after a flock of pigeons, as fast as his small legs can take him, clapping his hands together in front of him. The birds taunt him; they stay still until he's a second away from catching them, then take flight, leaving the boy grasping at thin thin air. It doesn't wipe the smile off his face though. On the contrary, his silvery laugh echoes through the empty park.

James turns on the spot. There is no one around. He looks over at the playground. No one there. Not on the bench, not on the slide. Not on the empty swing that balances in the wind, its oxidised hinges piercing the stillness with a grating, shrill cry. Where are the boy's parents? He's barely older than one, he can't have possibly gotten here by himself.

He turns around again and finds the baby sitting on his bum, looking shocked. He’s just fallen down. The birds have taken flight and he looks around him with big, watery eyes, his mouth slightly jutting.

“Ma-ma? M - ma-ma?”

He scrunches his face and starts crying, his mouth wide open, and his wails quickly overwhelm those of the swing.

James panics. He strides over to him, but hesitates, and his arms fall at his sides, useless. He has no idea what he should do. Should he pick him and try to calm him, even though it might look like he’s taking him, or should he just sit with him until someone arrives? He runs a hand through his already messy hair, pats his sides awkwardly, his darting eyes searching in the distance, then finally decides to sit down next to him, waiting for his parents to come. The baby’s cries are as loud as an ambulance’s siren, and he hopes that whoever’s looking for him will hear him soon.

“Hey, hey little fellow,” he says with a soothing voice.

“Harry!”

James turns around and sees her running towards them; the girl, the one he’s been seeing everywhere. She screams urgency with her open arms and her flaming hair.

At the sight of her, the little boy named Harry reaches out to her, clutching his small, chubby hands and she picks him up as soon as she reaches him.

“Oh my god,” she says squeezing him and resting her chin on his head “I'm never ever letting my eyes off you again. Never.”

She kisses his forehead, cheeks, neck, nose. Anything she can find. Harry squeals with delight.

“I - I found him here and I had no idea what to do. He started crying and I didn't see anybody around and I couldn't leave him, so - so I just waited.”

“Th - thank you,” she says wiping her eyes with her free hand.

“It's nothing really. It was pathetic.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and studies her. Running a hand through her hair with shaky fingers, she takes a deep, forced breath. She notices him looking and chuckles awkwardly, before tucking her trembling hand under the baby’s arm.

“Are you - er, okay?”

She laughs again, but it ends up sounding like a cry. She breaths deeply.

“Er, y - yeah. Yeah,” she says nodding as if trying to convince herself. “I'm fine. I should, er - ”

“I'm James, by the way,” he pauses, then rubs his neck. “I don't know if you remember this, but we've meet before. In the corridors - ”

“Yeah, I remember. I'm sorry I wasn't particularly nice with you. I was in a hurry.”

She shrugs.

“Don't worry about it,” he says.

He looks at her expectantly.

“What?”

“Would you mind telling me your name?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I'm Lily. Listen, thank you again, but I should - ”

She’s going to leave again.

“ Wouldyouliketogetsomecoffee ?” he blurts out before she has the time to disappear.

“Sorry?”

“Would you like to get some coffee? Or tea. With me.”

She shifts Harry from one hip to the other.

“Er - ”

“Some water?” he says in a high-pitched voice.

She glances at Harry who’s poking a strand of her hair, before yanking his finger away as if he were playing with flames. He squeals with delight when a ray of sunshine catches it on fire.

Lily sighs.

“Okay. Sure.”

A smile tugs at James’ lips.

∞

James grabs the two mismatched mugs and heads to the table where Lily is playing with Harry. They’ve walked into a small cafe, barely five minutes away from campus. The tall window panes on each side of the door let in a clear light that brightens up the whole space and reflects on the checkered clothes that cover round, dark-wooden tables, a small vase of a single, fresh flower on each one. The back wall is covered with a shelf so full of books it seems it could topple over any moment, while the one behind the counter shows a display of teapots of all sizes, shapes and colours.

James sits down and watches Lily lay a napkin on Harry’s head and the little boy scrunches up his face with delight the moment she pulls it off his face. He’s made of rosy cheeks, missing-toothed smiles and giggles that make James’ chest swell. She sets the napkin on his head again and James can almost see the boy shiver with anticipation under it.

“Peek-a-boo!”

His clear laugh fills the air and Lily kisses his temple, laughing against it. A little old couple sitting at the table next to them whisper to each other while stealing glances at them, their faces wrinkling with the lines of past smiles.

“He’s got your eyes,” James says suddenly.

She looks at her son, her eyes shining with happiness, and tucks his fringe behind his ears, unaware of the mop of hair standing up at the back of his head.

“Yeah, he does. He’s the spitting image of his dad though.”

“Does he also go to Hogwarts?”

The question wipes the smile off her face and she nods slowly. They fall silent. James kicks himself mentally.

“I - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine. I’m not bitter about him looking like his dad.” she says, laughing to herself. “We were never together. His dad and I. One-night stand. I know. Stupid.”

Her lip twists and James scratches his neck.

“It happens.”

Lily snorts.

“Yeah, if you’re stupid enough.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“How would you know?” she says arching her brow. “You've just met me.”

“I just do. And I’m rarely wrong,” he adds with a cocky half-grin.

She shakes her head, but her eyes betray her; they smile.

“It’s true! You look smart!”

“Tell that to my grades.”

“Oh, don’t be modest. I’m sure you smash all your exams.”

She snorts again, but doesn’t contradict him.

“So what are you degreeing in, Mr. I’m-always-right ?”

He puffs his chest out.

“English lit and history of art. You?”

“Bio-chem.”

James crinkles his nose which makes Lily laughs.

“What? You didn’t do well in high school in chemistry?”

“Oh no, I aced my finals,” he says, a smug look painted on his face. She rolls her eyes, but it doesn't discourage him. “What about you? What did you get in your A-levels?”

“A star.”

“See,” he says pointing his hand at her. “I told you you looked smart!”

Harry slams his fists on the table, bringing their attention back to him and Lily strokes his cheek.

“He looks like a nice kid.”

“He is,” she says nodding unconsciously. “He just takes a lot of time.”

“How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know, school, being a mum, everything.”

She chuckles.

“I have a sitter that looks after him while I’m in class. The rest of the time I take care of him.”

“When do you study?”

“When he’s asleep.”

“At night?”

She nods.

“And how much sleep do you get?”

“Enough.”

Her voice wavers and she clears her throat to cover it up.

“How is that working out then?”

“I’ll tell you when I find out.”

She tries to make it sound as a joke, but her voice has no real mirth to it. It falls flat on its face.

James knows he should stop badgering her with questions, but he can’t stop himself. He’s just curious. Curious about how she manages to look so alive when she’s got a baby clinging to her side and her education hovering above her head like a sword ready to drop. He wonders if her bones were forged under miles of earth, her heart beating to the fall of the hammer on her skin.

“Why don’t you hire a sitter during the afternoons?”

“My parents don’t have the money. They’ve already gone out of their ways so I could come to this bloody school, and for Harry. And they live too far away to be able to take care of him. And I don’t have enough time for a job. I barely have enough time to study. Or sleep.”

She says this in a deadpan voice as if she has repeated it to herself a thousand times, looking for loopholes, alternatives, tearing its structure apart only to build it back again with her bare hands, stone by stone, to make sure no solution has gone unnoticed. No detail undetected. Any detail. Even a tiny one. Anything that she could hold on to.

Guilt twists at James’ gut. It’s so easy for him to forget about money since he's never had to worry about it. He’s never known the crude reality of not having enough of it; his childhood carries the memories of soft velvet curtains and fine china, not those of unpaid bills and hand-me-down clothes. Those possibilities have never even crossed his mind.

“I'm sorry,” he says.

Her eyebrows shoot up.

“For what? Getting pregnant? Because I'm not. Sure, since he takes most of my time and energy, it would have been easier if it had happened in ten or fifteen years, when I have a job and financial stability, but I would never regret having him. Never.”

“Good.”

They look at each and he is certain that if he weren’t sitting down, the resolve that radiates out of her eyes would have knocked him down.

Now he knows. She wasn't forged with fire and coal. She runs on it everyday. It makes her function. It's flows through her veins and spills out of her head, blinding anyone who gets in her path. It fuels her.

She’s flame and smoke and spark.

She is the fire.

∞

They walk back to campus, Harry stammering on his bandy legs in front of them.

They take a few steps, Harry stops, picks up trash from the floor, inspects it, smells it, tastes it, spits it out (Lily’s orders). He stumbles forward, falls and picks himself up using a total of seven body parts (James counted). He picks up a rock, shows it to his mum, Lily feigns amazement, shows it to James, he imitates her, Harry giggles. James picks a flower and tickles the little boy’s nose with it. The latter wrinkles his nose, rubs the tickle away, giggles, but he scrunches his nose up at James, a silent invitation to do it again. He complies, Harry grins, little teeth poking out under his lip.

By the time they arrive at the bus stop, Harry is sitting on James’ shoulders, wiggling his small fingers into his hurricane hair. Lily apologises, but James insists he doesn't mind (he loves it). He whistles a song, while Harry babbles along, and, in the end, what should have been a five minute walk has melted into a twenty minute game, the streets their playground.

They stop in front of the Hogwarts library and James picks Harry off his shoulders, then sits him on his hip. Lily’s eyes are fixed on the flower her son is twirling in his hands.

“He seems to like you.”

“What isn't there to like?” James says gesturing to himself.

Harry claps his hands in agreement. She chuckles. He smiles. She checks her wrist; watchless.

“I should probably go. ”

“ CouldIhaveyournumber ?” he says simultaneously.

Lily twists her mouth.

“You'd like to have my number?”

“I'd love to actually.”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

“But - ”

“Listen, I don't have time - ”

“For what? Exchanging numbers?”

“No, just for - ” she runs a hand through her hair and heaves out a sigh. “Listen, I just don't have time for other people. When I'm not with Harry, I'm in class, when I'm not in class, I'm looking after Harry, when I'm doing neither, I'm doing homework, writing essays and papers, finishing lab or group projects and when I'm doing none of those things then I'm doing something terribly, terribly wrong.”

“I -”

“I mean, look! I can't even get coffee with a cute guy without Harry being there!”

He can’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth.

“Hey, hey, hey! It's okay, it's okay. I'm not asking for anything. I just thought that a friend’s number is a nice thing to have.”

She hesitates.

“Plus, I'm an excellent sitter. First month is free of charge, too,” he says winking.

She chuckles.

“Okay, fine.”

“I'd knew you'd come around. They always do when I throw in the free babysitting.”

“Wait until you offer to change diapers for them. They’ll be all over you then.”

“They already are.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

James hands her his phone.

“I'll send myself a text if that's okay,” she says. “You don't have to type in your number in my phone that way.”

She hands it back and James can't help let his fingers linger on hers for a second.

“Your phone.”

“Your baby.”

They exchange.

“So, say bye to James, Harry.”

“Ba-bay, ba-bay,” he says clutching his little hand.

James ruffles the boy’s hair.

“Bye, little fella.”

“That was nice. Er, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“I guess I'll see you later.”

“I would hope so.”

She waves goodbye and turns around. James watches her leave for a moment, then opens his phone and Lily's contact pops up. He throws his head back with laughter.

“See you soon, Hot Mama No Drama!” he says to Lily's back.

She turns around.

“Too much?.”

“No, it's perfect. Catchy and classy.”

Waving one last time, she doubles the corner and disappears, leaving James with an unmistakable giddy feeling fluttering in his chest.

∞

James loves going to their home. It's made up of a small bedroom, a cramped kitchen and a living room, all filled with an array of furniture thrown in together without much thought, baby toys or papers and essays lying on each possible surface. It’s not much, but it works.

He loves that when he walks through the door, Harry’s face breaks into a smile; a smile that could keep him warm on the coldest of winter night. How the little boy now reaches out to him with his small arms and giggles when he throws him in the air then catches him. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

He loves how Harry has picked up little habits from him, like ruffling his hair, to Lily’s great dismay, or grabbing his glasses and pushing them clumsily onto his nose, decorating the lenses with his fingermarks. He gives up on ever having them clean now.

He loves how he laughed that time James spiked the boy’s hair up with water. How the little boy looked to his mum, his belly pushed out with pride and his face beaming with a grin that could eat the whole world.

He loves how Lily smiled in return. Hers is a smile that could set James on fire.

On the best days, the three of them will eat together, sat around the small table between the fridge and the wall. They’ll take turns waving a spoon like an airplane in front of Harry’s face, or making a spectacle of themselves to distract him long enough and stick the food in his mouth before he realises it. James will then spend hours and hours playing with Harry, giving Lily time to catch up on her homework. She’ll sometimes look up at them and wonder how his energy never wavers, how he can play with him for so long - dancing, showing him stuff, running after him - and make Harry laugh and squeal like no one else. It’s innate for him. He doesn’t have to think about it.

She’ll realise she’s falling for him and curse herself for it. She doesn’t have time for friends, much less a boyfriend. She has to take care of Harry. She has to study so she doesn’t waste her parents’ money. She has to pass this bloody year.

On other days, she’ll learn of the three boys he calls his brothers. Of the one who ran away when he was sixteen and that he welcomed in his house like his own. Of how his parent’s died barely two years later. Of how he wouldn’t have made it without his friends.

On bad days, he’ll learn that her grades have been dropping ever since Harry was born. How after moving into the city, she lost contact with all her childhood friends. How her sister hasn’t spoken to her ever since she got pregnant. How she sometimes think she won’t be able to make it too the end of the month without cracking into pieces. How she feels tired all the time. She’s being worn too thin. She’s not big enough. She can’t reach that far, can’t stretch that much.

James wishes he could help her. He wishes she would let him pay for more babysitting hours, so she could have more time to herself, but he knows she would never accept, so he doesn’t ask.

Instead, he spends as much times as he can with them, talking to her, helping her out. His friends think he's gone mental; playing babysitter during his free time when he should be getting ahead on coursework, making sure his grades don't suffer from the neglect. But he loves it. It feels natural to him. It’s rewarding.

When Harry said his name for the first time, James thought nothing would ever be able wipe the wobbly smile that stretched across his face. He ran into the bedroom where Lily was studying at her desk, grabbed her hand and pulled her into the living room without an explanation.

“James, what's wrong? Is Harry hurt?”

They burst in through the door, his hand still around hers and Harry looks up at them from the floor, toys in hand, his eyes still wide open with surprise from James’ sudden exit from the living room. James crouches next to him and gently pushes Harry's hair out of his face.

“Say it again, Harry.”

Wame is his simple answer.

“Did you hear that?” James says turning to Lily. “He said my name!”

“Wame!” Harry says louder this time, reacting to James’ excited tone.

Lily can't help but laugh at James’ boggled expression.

“Lily Evans, tell me you heard it too! That was my name!”

“Are you sure?” Lily says, teasing him. “Because it sounded more like ‘lame’ to me.”

“That was my name! You said my name, Harry!”

“Wame! Wame!”

In a rush of happiness, he springs up, picks Lily up and hugs her, and she can't help the heaps of laughter bubbling out of her mouth like a waterfall.

“He knows my name!”

“That was lame , you idiot! I heard it!”

He lets go of her, her body sliding against his, their faces mere inches from one another.

“Liar, liar, head on fire,” he whispers.

Lily doesn't say anything. She can't concentrate when they're so close together and her t-shirt has ridden up from him putting her back down and his arms are still around her waist and his lips are so close she can feel his breath on her chin.

She remembers how many times she's drilled the thought into her mind that nothing can happen between them. Nothing. She can't let that happen. She can't depend on him like that.

But she doesn't listen. Doesn't care. She feels herself slowly inching towards him, her lips parting, her eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Something pulls at their trousers and they both look down to Harry's grinning face, the tension broken.

“I Wame.”

They let go of each other awkwardly and Lily picks Harry up.

“Wame,” he says jumping excitedly in his mum’s arms.

“That's right little fella.”

∞

James looks down at his notes, not really seeing anything he's been writing until now, and doodles absentmindedly. The professor’s voice is like background noise to him as he traces the outlines of a football and starts filling in its pentagons with his pencil. He looks up at the clock. Still twenty-five minutes to go; too long to go.

“Mr. Potter. Did you hear my question?” says a piercing voice.

James notices that the professor has stopped talking and that all the heads are turned towards him.

Unfazed, he says,

“I'm afraid I didn't, Professor.”

“Well, I will say it again. Might you be able to tell me the similarities and differences between Egyptian and Mesopotamian art?”

James flips the pages of his book, searching for the answer.

“I'm afraid you won't find what you're looking for there, Mr. Potter. See, this information you can only get from listening to me.”

“Or google. Which amounts to pretty much the same thing,” he says with a crooked grin on his face.

Some of the students snicker.

James knows he shouldn't talk to his professor that way, but his bratty attitude that he worked so hard on to leave behind him in high school can't help but resurface in Mr. Stebbins’ presence. Everything about him infuriates him; from the way he speaks as if it were an honour to be in his presence, to his growing baldness and his twitchy mustache. It sends him through the roof.

“Well, I see that you don't know the answer to what I'm asking, given your childish answer,” he says straightening out the sleeves of his blazer.

James peers through his notes quickly and tries to decipher his scribbles.

“As I was saying - ”

“Actually -” James says putting his hand up. “- if my notes are correct, which I hope they are because I've been writing down what you've been saying, the main common characteristic between Egyptian and Mesopotamian art is that both of them are monumental, because they're meant to suggest - rather boldly might I add - power and authority. But there is one small difference. Egyptian art represents the power of divinities, while Mesopotamian, that of the leaders.”

He finishes his answer by dropping his paper on the desk and smiling at him. Mr. Stebbins’ mustache twitches.

“Very well.”

He turns towards the rest of the class and resumes as if nothing had happened, ignoring James until the end.

∞

“That was absolutely wicked, mate. Probably the best practice we’ve had this season,” Sirius says flinging his sports bag onto his shoulder.

James nods vaguely and they walk out of the locker rooms, their feet taking them, past the Art History department, through the Forbidden Forest, knowing that it’s the fastest way to their flat. James only half listens to Sirius’ chatter, his mind too enthralled by his own thoughts.

“And that’s when I popped down on one knee and asked Flitwick to marry me. He said yes! We’re getting married January seventh. A snowy wedding! Can you imagine?” Sirius says practically jumping on his toes.

James turns to him, his eyes wide open with incomprehension.

“Are you off your rocker?”

“Look at that! You’re actually listening.”

“I’m sorry! I just can’t stop thinking about her. I haven’t seen her in two days and she’s not answering any of my calls.”

“Hm, I wonder who you could be talking about… My, my, this is a hard one.”

“I’m serious! I’m really worried about her.”

“Mate, get your shit together. She’s probably too busy studying and forgot to call you back.”

“I dunno. Could be. But if that were the case, why hasn’t she called me? I could look after Harry while she finishes her work.”

“Because you’ve got work to do on your own! You’ve got football practice three to four times a week! You’ve got mates to hang out with!”

“Yeah, I dunno,” he says stuffing his hands in his pockets and kicking at the ground. “I still think it’s fishy.”

“Go to her flat and see what’s up then. Actually, no. I can get used to this absent-minded version of you. It’s not everyday that I see get you knocked to the floor by a ball to the head.”

“Prick,” he says nudging him in the shoulder. “Also, I didn't know you had a thing for Flitwick.”

“Oh, my love for him has never been a secret. I might even go through with that wedding proposal. You know, for science.”

∞

James rubs his eyes as he tries to chase the sleep out of them, and lets his head fall on his desk. He sighs.

He's been trying to start McGonagall’s essay for the past hour, but his words won’t commit to paper as easy as they usually do, for every time he lets his mind relax, his thoughts rush back to Lily. Why should he care about if he believes Jane Austen to have either a conservative or radical approach to the issue of class in Pride and Prejudice (© gradesaver.com) when he hasn’t heard from Lily in three days?

He checks his watch. 22:27. It's still fairly early, but he might as well call it a day and try finishing his essay tomorrow, so he unlocks his phone hoping to see a reply from Lily. He's answered with disappointment. Maybe he should drop by her place tomorrow to check up on her, as Sirius suggested. But what if she's trying to cut him off? What if she’s seen those missed calls and just chosen to ignore them? The last thing she would want is for him to be waiting at her door.

As if it had been aware of his hesitation, Hot Mama pops on his screen and his phone starts vibrating. She's calling him; actually calling him.

“Yes?” he answers before the first ring has the time to end.

“James?”

“Yes. Thank god! I've been trying to call you for days! Where have you been?”

“James, can you come? Please.”

James freezes. Lily has never asked for his help before. Her voice sounds wrong and shaky and he can almost see trembling fingers holding up her phone.

“I'm on my way.”

He hangs up and practically falls out of his chair as he jumps for the first pair of shoes he can find. He grabs some money, his phone and his keys and he's out the door.

∞

James knocks on the door and Harry’s cries reach his ears before it flies open, Lily standing in the doorway as she bounces a howling Harry on her hip, and her tear-stricken face practically breaks at the sight of him.

Here's the boy who's never asked anything of her. The boy who helps them out of the pure goodness of his heart and who never expects anything in return. The boy who just gives and keeps giving.

In this moment, the only thing Lily wishes is to forget about everything. She wants James to hold her until there are no more tears left inside of her to cry, no more knots to break and let go of. She wants things to be taken care of for her. She doesn't want to care anymore.

But she can't let that happen, so she gets a hold of herself and straightens up.

“I'm sorry I called you this late, but I have a test tomorrow which is worth a huge part of my grade and I can't screw it up, I can't fuck it up and Harry won't stop crying! I've been trying to put him to bed, but he won't sleep, he won't eat, he won't watch cartoons and he just won't stop crying and this test is super important and I - I just don't know what to do!” Her voice breaks. “I can't - ”

“Hey, hey, hey. It's okay, it's okay,” he says with the most soothing voice he can manage, as she wipes the tears under her eyes. “Here, I'll take Harry.”

“I'm so useless. I can't even take care of my own son without needing help!” she says looking down, her arms crossed across her chest. “I'm a useless mum.”

“Hey, listen to me,” he says squeezing her shoulder. “You're not a bad mom. You’re an excellent one, and Harry is the luckiest baby ever to have you, but everyone has their limits, okay? Even the best mums.”

Lily sniffs her nose and nods numbly.

“Now. I'm gonna try to calm Harry down and you should probably try to get some rest - ”

“No! I have to study for this test!”

“Fine, then study for your test. But wash your face first, maybe even take a shower, have a cup of hot chocolate, listen to a song you like, it'll make you feel better.”

There's a moment of silence.

“Do you want to study in the living room or bedroom?”

“Bedroom. I'll take Harry's crib out for you.”

Her tone is dry and she doesn't look up from the floor, before she goes and fetch it.

Once Harry's bed is pushed into the living room and Lily is settled at her desk, James tackles on the task of calming Harry down. He tries everything - reading to him, showing him pictures, singing songs - but nothing seems to work. Harry's face is now so red that James thinks it might explode like a ticking bomb. He doesn't understand how Lily can study in these conditions, with the air so hot it seems like the walls are closing up on you and Harry’s wailing pounding on your temples like hammers.

In the end it's walking around the room that does it. He gently bounces him in his arms and hums to him and, soon enough, Harry's head gradually leans into his shoulder, his mouth open, but no sound comes out; only drool dampening James’ shirt.

James is shocked at the sudden absence of noise; everything seems overly still, almost dead, if not for Harry's slow and regular breathing. It's beautiful.

He can't believe it. He actually did it. He's so happy he could scream if it wasn't for the baby sleeping in his arms, so he casually punches the air instead while mouthing his celebration. He lays him gently in his crib and lets himself fall into the sofa, his brain so clouded with exhaustion that he's ready to hibernate for twelve months straight. But he remembers Lily is still studying in her room and in half a second he's up, any desire of sleeping having been cleared from his head. He tiptoes to the room and knocks on the door softly, but there is no answer, so he cracks it open.

A tangle of deep red hair spreads out on the wooden desk, Lily's face pressed against the opened pages of her book where a coloured and complicated graph is shown. Her back expands slightly as she breaths in, then out.

James is astounded at how young she looks. Twenty one. Not a child anymore and barely an adult. Just twenty one. She doesn't look like a single mother only just out of her teenage years, juggling finishing school and raising a baby. Twenty one, like him.

He slips one arm under her knees and one around her shoulders, hoping that she sleeps like a rock. She grumbles softly in his arms and her arms snake themselves around his neck instinctively, her head resting on his chest. He places her on the bed and pulls the covers up, then looks at her one last time, brushing her hair out of her face with his fingertips, before walking out and settling for the couch. He falls asleep immediately as if it were the most comfortable bed in the world.

∞

When Lily wakes up, despite the annoying beeping of the alarm clock drilling into her skull, she feels more rested than she has in a while. She stretches and, as her fingers bump into her pillow, she realises she's in her bed. She rubs her eyes, her eyelids feeling lighter than they have in weeks, then props herself on her elbows, and, at the sight of her open chemistry book on her desk, last night’s events push back into her sleep-fogged mind. James must have carried her to her bed. She can't help colour rushing to her cheeks at the thought of him picking her up and tucking her into bed, and a surge of gratitude flows in her chest; not just for making sure she slept well, but for everything else too.

She gets up and walks out of the room to find James, head resting on his palm while he watches over Harry playing with his favourite doll, looking completely disheveled with his droopy eyes and his slept-in hair, flat at the top, completely unruly on the sides, but adorable nonetheless. She smiles to herself. This is a sight she could get used waking up to.

James hears her coming in and props his head up.

“Morning. How did you sleep?”

“Pretty good. I almost forgot what it's like to sleep in a bed,” she says stretching her back.

James’ eye twitches, which she assumes is from tiredness.

“When's your test?” he says ignoring her comment.

“11 a.m.”

She walks to Harry and presses a kiss to his forehead, then sits down on the couch. They sit next to each other in silence, watching a sleepy Harry who mumbles and talks to himself, oblivious to the grown ups watching him as only a baby can be.

Lily wants to hold James’ hand. She wants to lay her head on his shoulder while he wraps his arms around her. She wants to be held by him more than anything she's ever wanted; but she won't let herself do that, so instead she thanks him. He nods.

“Anytime.”

“I wouldn't have minded you sleeping in the bed by the way. It's big enough for both of us and the couch doesn't look to comfy.”

He shrugs.

“Don't you have any morning classes?” she says trying not to get frustrated by his lack of responsiveness.

“Yeah, I missed them already.”

Lily straightens up.

“Wait, while I was asleep?”

“Yeah, but it's fine, really.”

“You should have woken me up!”

“It's fine. It's an 8 a.m. class. I don't go that often,” he says trying to sound lighthearted.

“I don't want you to do that, James.”

“Do what?”

“Skip classes to babysit Harry.”

“It was just this one time!”

Lily scoffs.

“You think I haven't noticed how much time you spend here? You think I'm stupid enough to not know how much work you also have?”

James leans back on the couch and puts his hands behind his head.

“Maybe I'm just brilliant and know everything already.”

“I'm serious, James. I don't want to have to depend on you. God, it was so stupid of me to call you last night,” she says dragging her hand down her face. “You shouldn't have dropped whatever you were doing last night to come!”

“I wasn't doing anything!”

Lily just glares at him and he starts to sing I Get By With a Little Help from My Friends under his breath, trying to diffuse the tension.

“James - ”

“A little help doesn't hurt from time to time. And I don't mind babysitting Harry.”

“I've got a babysitter for that.”

“Then why didn't you call her yesterday instead of me?”

James feels a twist of guilt at his gut for bringing this up.

“Well maybe I will next time.”

“And how will you pay for it, may I ask?”

“I'll get a job,” she says matter-of-factly.

“The only possible way you can get a job is if you stop sleeping altogether which you already do little of.”

Lily looks like she's about to interrupt him, but he cuts her off.

“You know I wouldn't mind lending you some money.”

Lily springs up.

“I don't need your money! I don't want your charity!” she yells, her fists clenched. “I'm perfectly fine without it! I can work for things myself!”

“I never said you couldn't!”

“You just did!”

“You’re reading what I’m saying wrong.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Listen, - ”

She sighs.

“No, James, you listen. I’m sorry,” she says sitting back down. James looks at her, a concerned crease between his brows. “You’ve been nothing, but incredibly nice to me and I’m being a complete arse. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It happens to all of us,” he says with a carefree shrug. “Don’t think you’re so special that you’re the only person capable of being an arse.”

“It doesn’t seem to happen to you.”

“That’s just because I’m the most perfect man in the world. Mothers adore me. They all wish I was either their son or their son-in-law.”

Lily chuckles in spite of her temper.

∞

James unlocks the door to his flat and curses Sirius for thinking big panel windows were a good idea as the gloomy, but blinding, light pours in and maims his sleep-deprived eyes. He covers them with his hand and lumbers through the living room, managing to walk into what little furniture they have. Finally, his shins bump into the couch and he lets himself fall onto it.

“Look at what the cat dragged in!” Sirius says, walking out of the kitchen wearing nothing but his boxers, a few strands of hair falling casually out of his bun, and holding a bowl of cereal in his hand. “You've got some explaining to do, young boy. I don't think Moony, Wormtail and I fancy your unexpected disappearances. We've been feeling rather neglected.”

“Spent the night at Lily’s,” he says with a dramatic sigh.

“Did you hear that lads! He said he spent the night at Lily’s!” Sirius says, shouting towards the kitchen and gesticulating which makes his milk spill. “That makes me feel loads better.”

Remus and Peter’s heads pop out of the doorframe almost immediately.

“Well, that explains his face. Don't take his personally, but you look like shit, mate,” Remus says through a mouthful of croissant.

“I do take it personally,” James says his voice muffled against the couch.

Sirius gives him a sly wink.

“Didn't come around too much sleeping, did ya?”

“I hope you were quiet at least. You know for the baby’s sake,” Peter says, his lips curling.

“It wasn't like that!”

“Of course it wasn't,” the three of them say in unison, rolling their eyes.

“I'm serious!” he says, his head shooting up. “She called me because she had to study for a test and needed help with Harry and then I just stayed the night.”

“Of course he did,” Sirius says.

“Perfect little daddy he is,” Peter adds.

“Hey, if you're planning on running away with this girl to play happy family, mind giving us a couple days’ notice? Not that we'd care about not seeing you anymore, it's just so we have enough time to get another rich flatmate,” Remus says buttering his croissant excessively.

“Har, har.”

“Aw, come on, don't be sore about it. We actually miss you loads when you spend all day at her place.”

“Don't tell him that, it'll go to his head,” comes Sirius’ disembodied voice from the bathroom.

“I'm not listening to any of you anymore,” James says covering his ears with cushions.

“Now, now don't get all upset,” Peter says playing mother hen and covering him with a blanket which he can't help snuggling into. “Poor boy needs his beauty sleep. Otherwise, look at what happens to his hair. It's a mess.”

“Not listening!”

They continue picking on him for a few minutes which he tries to block out as best he can by singing nursery rhymes offensively loud. Once they get bored and move on to another game, James realises that he has actually missed them and how little he has seen them these couple of weeks; at lunch time, when he wasn’t with Lily, in the afternoons, when he wasn’t at Lily’s, and at night, which he had yesterday spent at Lily's. Although he doesn't want to admit it, maybe she had a point. He was neglecting his life for her.

It’s not completely of his own accord but, after that day, he starts spending less time at her place because, regardless of having made up after their little fight, Lily had really meant what she had said. She gradually starts to limit the time he spends at their flat. Although at first he assumes it's because she wants to spend time alone with Harry, as the days go by her excuses to not have him over get weaker and less believable.

“I made brussel sprouts last night and it stunk up the whole flat.”

Replaying what she told him earlier that day, James scoffs with disdain, blowing his fringe out of his face. He knows that she's doing it for him, so he can spend his time with his friends or getting ahead of his workload, and sure, a bit more of spare time is nice, but he isn't sure he likes it better. Nowadays, two or three days might pass between each visit he pays them. Yes, he still messages Lily as much as he can, but not seeing her almost everyday isn't the same. And he barely sees the little boy. He misses them.

As the days go by, autumn settles into winter and covers the town with a white coat which sends everyone into a holiday frenzy as colourful lights twinkle in every window, mistletoe is hung in every corner and Christmas carols get stuck in people's heads on hours end; everyone except Sirius, that is. He hates holidays, he says lying through his teeth. And joy, and kittens, and happiness and anything pure, Peter adds, personally offended when he comes back from his temporary job where the dress code is a full Santa suit.

Term ends one week before Christmas Eve and soon enough students start packing their bags and hopping on trains to visit their families, which sinks the campus into a restful state, the snow drowning out what little sound there is. Remus, Peter and Sirius, being part of that first shift of students, take a train to the Pettigrew's, which is where the four of them have been spending their last couple of Christmas holidays since James’ parents died. However, he decides to stay back and spend a few days with Lily all to himself since Harry isn't with her. Some relatives of hers who were on their way to her hometown to spend the holidays passed near Hogwarts and took the baby to his grandparents.

Lily, instead of relishing of a few days of freedom, takes up the opportunity to sign up for a week job at the library. But even though she does work full days, it's refreshing to spend time with her when she doesn't have to worry about Harry or school. James can sometimes almost catch a glimpse of what she used to be before she got pregnant. Lively, carefree, teasing. Young.

On his last couple of day on campus, he invites her to dinner with him.

“Dinner? Where?”

“Just this place I know.”

“What's the dress code?”

“Casual is fine. Oh, and I'll pay. As a Christmas gift,” he adds seeing that she's about to protest.

“But I haven't bought you anything for Christmas!”

“You don't have to. Please just let me do this. It's Christmas!”

James juts his bottom lip out and she looks at him for a minute, then sighs.

“Fine, fine. Okay. You're worse than Harry when you do that.”

James grins.

“Pick you up at seven?”

∞

Friday. Seven p.m. He knocks on the door and after a few seconds it flies open.

“I thought you said casual was fine!” Lily says before he has the time to say hello.

“I did!”

“But you look nice!”

“I always look nice,” he says strutting into her flat, making a show of his outfit.

He's wearing a light blue dress shirt that hugs his chest and shoulders nicely, some casual, but well-fitted trousers and ankle wingtip boots, his peacoat and dark blue scarf thrown over his shoulder; even his hair looks particularly nice, not messy, but tousled.

“Give me a minute,” she says running into her room.

She slips out of her originally beige jumper which has lost its colour from all the times Harry has burped, drooled and vomited on it, pulls out her fanciest garment , which is a deep green cashmere jumper that she never wears, then slips into a pair of black jeans and straps on her tall black boots. She looks into her closet mirror, pulling at her sleeves and decides to twist her hair into a low bun, pulling some strands of hair out of it to frame her face. It’ll have to do. She slips on her coat, flings her purse on her shoulder and walks into the living room.

“You look nice,” James says getting up from the couch.

“Oh, shut it,” she says hoping that a blush doesn't appear on her cheeks.

“Wait, there's something - ”

“What?” she says her hands flying to her face, fearing she has a booger in her nose.

He doesn't say anything. He takes his scarf and wraps it around her neck, then tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“There,” he says, the hint of a smile on his lips, lightly tugging at the scarf, causing her to take a step forward. “Don't want you catching a cold.”

“You sound like my mother,” she jokes, trying to hide the fact that her breath has caught in her throat.

“Well, someone has to take care of you.”

She rolls her eyes, but lets the comment pass.

“What about your neck?”

“I can put the sides of my coat up. Now - ” he says pulling up his arm and bowing slightly. “ - m’lady.”

She follows his antics and puts her arm through his.

“M’lord.”

And they're out the door.

They walk into a nice, low-lit restaurant and a waiter ushers them to a table covered with white linen; they follow, their heels clicking on the polished wooden floor. They sit down and soon enough their drinks are written down and menus typed in flowery, but legible writing are handed to them. Lily opens hers and her brow immediately creases with suspicion.

“Where are the prices?”

“Your menu doesn't show them,” he says scratching his neck.

“Oh, please, James,” she says slamming it shut. “We're not in the nineteen-fifties.”

“I just want you to order what you want without worrying about the price.”

“Worry about the price? If you're paying I just want to make sure I'm ordering the most expensive dish. How's their lobster?” she says with a cheeky smile.

“Not as good as their filet mignon.”

James chuckles and shakes his head while Lily calls the waiter and asks for another menu.

“Ooooh, twenty pounds. Now that's a juicy piece of steak, isn't it?” she says her eyes gleaming at him with mischief over the brim of her new and improved menu.

James rakes his teeth over his lips, trying to bite his smile away.

They order and their conversation flows all throughout the dinner, only slowing down once their entrees arrive, and between the eating, teasing and laughing, they barely have time to catch a breath.

“I can't believe you had Sprite with your filet mignon,” James says once she takes the last bite out of her plate, his own being empty. “You know a little bit of red wine would do wonders to it.”

“Yeah, well I don’t drink alcohol. Haven’t since the day I found out I was pregnant,” she says her mouth stretching into a line. “I was drunk off my arse the night I got pregnant.”

“Oh, I didn't - ” he says stumbling on his words.

“Would you like some dessert?” says the waiter who's just arrived at their table.

Saved by the bell.

Lily smirks, looking at James from the corner of her eyes and says,

“Gladly.”

The waiter whips out two menus, clears the table and leaves. Lily peers over the dessert list, humming innocently and often looking up at James to tease him.

“I think I'll have…” she says once the waiter comes back, her voice thick with fake hesitation. “The triple chocolate cake.”

“Interesting choice,” James says.

“And you, sir?” the waiter says turning to him.

“Nothing, thank you.”

“I'm not sharing my cake with you,” Lily says once it arrives.

“I didn't say anything.”

“But you were getting ideas,” she says, her eyes narrowing to slits.

She eats away, making a show of groaning at each bite and dramatically looking up at the ceiling as if thanking the gods for whoever had made the cake. James looks at her through it all, his chin resting on his palm, not saying anything, the spark in his eyes and the half smile on his face speaking enough on his behalf.

Lily heaves out a big sigh.

“Fine,” she says pushing the plate toward him as a knight would drop her sword, accepting her defeat. “You can have some. Just stop looking at me with puppy dog eyes.

“I wasn't looking at you with puppy dog eyes!” he says, picking up the spoon nonetheless.

“Well, you were looking at me weird.”

They fall into silence for the first time during the whole evening and Lily takes the opportunity to reach under the table for her purse and pull out a shiny red paper bag out of it, then settling it on the table.

“What's this?” James says looking up at it.

She leans back into her chair and crosses her arms.

“Your Christmas present,” she says nodding at it.

James eyes’ widen.

“You didn't have to do that,” he says wiping his mouth on the napkin.

“Don't thank me yet and open it.”

He unfolds the wrapping paper and pulls out a pair of antlers, the small bells hanging on them chiming with glee . He looks back at her, his face torn between confusion and amusement.

“I want you to wear them all day on Christmas Day, in and outdoors, and send me a picture of yourself while doing it.”

“Easy.”

“Look into the bag.”

He pulls out a round red nose with a string attached to it.

“That too.”

He lets out a hearty laugh.

“I'll do it. But I think you underestimate me here, Evans. I've been seen in much more an embarrassing attire.”

“Like what?”

“Like that time Sirius, Peter, Remus and I were invited to a fancy dress party and Sirius thought it was a good idea if he went as Frank N. Furter and I as Rocky.”

“Sounds like a hell of a party,” she says trying not to think about how appealing the view of him in nothing but the tight golden shorts must have been.

“Oh, it was. And if I remember correctly I think Sirius and I lost a bet and were forced to kiss. Not that it would have been the first time.”

She throws her head back with laughter.

“I’ve got to say I'm not entirely surprised.”

“Well, I’m not complaining, Sirius is a handsome bloke. He's got boys and girls fawning over him.”

“Is that a bit of jealousy I'm sensing?”

“Never.”

Once the bill is payed and the waiter tipped, they decide to walk instead of hauling a taxi despite the stormy weather, the restaurant not being too far away from Lily's flat. Their shoes leave footprints in the fresh layer of snow, a crunching sound accompanying each step, while their bare hands redden from the biting cold; but they let them hang at their sides, not bothering to put gloves on or stuff them in their pockets, and their fingers brush against one another.

They arrive in front of her door and Lily falters when reaching for her key, hesitation settling itself into her face. She could invite him to go inside, like she has hundreds of times before, but this time she feels that something is different and she's not sure of what could happen next. Actually, she is sure. They would kiss; and one item of clothing would feel like one too many, and then thing would lead to another and he would probably end up spending the night at her flat. Or at least that's what she hopes that would happen. But this is her only friend standing in front of her looking at her with uncertain eagerness in his eyes which looks adorable on him, but makes things so much harder, and she doesn't want to do anything that would ruin what they have. She doesn't want to go back to the way things were before meeting him.

James reads this on her face and saves her from having to say anything. He opens his arms to her and she embraces them gladly, grateful for the warmth that surrounds her when she settles her head on his chest. In that moment she almost cracks; almost invites him to stay the night, because what could be better than falling asleep in these arms so familiar it seems she's known them her whole life, her head tucked under his chin, while the rise and fall of his chest cradles her?

“What time is your train tomorrow?” she says, her voice muffled against his chest.

“8 a.m.”

His breath tickles the top of her head and she can hear his voice vibrating in his rib cage like a small bee.

“You shouldn't go to bed too late then.”

“Yeah. I should probably go soon,” he says softly.

Stay .

But she doesn't say it out loud. She lets go of him begrudgingly and it might as well take every ounce of willpower she has in herself.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, his voice forming a cloud of steam.

“Merry Christmas. Don't forget the picture.”

The corners of his mouth shoot up and she can't help but wonder what it would feel like to kiss them.

So she stands on her tiptoes and does it.

But before he has the time to react she's said goodbye and gone inside, leaving him with a lingering feeling at the corner of his mouth. It drops slightly and he shakes his head, then reaches in the inside of his coat, pulling out a letter. After placing it on her doormat, he rings the bell and exits her building into the cold night.

When Lily hears the doorbell she's barely had the time to take her coat off, but has already regretted her impulsive act about a thousand times. She staggers to the door, afraid she'll have to give him an explanation, but when she opens it there isn't a single person standing on the doormat, but an envelope instead; and it’s addressed to her, her name written on it with James’ neat handwriting. She bends down and opens it.

My Dearest Lily,

I know I said that this dinner would be your Christmas present but, if I have to be completely honest with you, it was all a ruse to be able to buy you dinner, and buy myself time to think of an actual gift. Indeed, I've been racking my brain these last few days to try and figure out what Lily Evans would want for Christmas, and today, it struck me. Time. That's what Lily Evans wants.

And Time I shall give you…

I looked up the average wage of a babysitter in England and I am pleased to tell you that in this envelope you will find enough money for a full day’s worth of babysitting, that is, twenty-four hours.

I know what you're thinking; I know that you don't want my charity, but this isn't it, for it is a Christmas present and it would be extremely rude to give it back.

Now Lily Evans is free to make use of these hours however and whenever she pleases, but I would want to inform her that I would be more than happy to spend more than a great deal of them in her presence.

Merry Christmas!

With love,

James

When Lily finishes reading it, tears rush to her eyes and she's not sure if those are of joy, sadness, or simple exhaustion.

Maybe a little bit everything.

641 notes · View notes

nomorelonelydays · 8 years ago

Text

Patater Week - Day 4

Feb. 9 - Alternate Universe – Soulmate AU, 2.4K (everyone has their soulmate’s first thought about them on their skin – both still in NHL - coda of sorts to Dot Your Ts and Cross Your Is)

“You’re in a good mood today,” Jack comments, as slides in next to Tater in the nook. “Mhm,” Tater hums and chews his sandwich. “I find soulmate,” he says, like he’s commenting on the weather. Snowy and Thirdy look up from their breakfast, and Marty nearly snorts out his cereal. Guy pats him on the back a little harder than necessary. “You found your soulmate, Tater?” Poots asks carefully. “Like, the one who said ‘You’re tall and hot, I want to die,’ that soulmate?” Almost everyone’s seen that particular marking in the locker room, and though no one actually voiced it, a large majority of the team had covered up their jealousy with chirps. Who doesn’t want a confidence booster like that as a soulmark? Tater simply nods, and Thirdy flies up, excited.

“That’s great, man!” he crows. “Who’s the lucky girl? Did you meet her at a bar? Was it after the game against the Aces?” “You should bring her around sometime,” Marty comments. “I want to meet the person who has to put up with you and your snoring all the time now.” The table laughs, echoing their assent. “I’m happy for you,” Jack says, and Tater glows. “So who is she?” Marty asks. “Yeah, Tater, is she hot?” Thirdy adds. “Yeah,” Tater says casually, and takes another huge bite. “He is very hot. He also make this sandwich before I’m leaving.” The crowd of catcallers fall silent almost immediately. Snowy’s mouth falls open and a toast crumb falls out. Jack’s eyes widen as he stares at Tater’s expression, which has not changed from his previous, besotted look. “He is not good at making sandwich. Next time I go to kitchen and see how he do it,” Tater admits as he shrugs. “It’s thought that count.” There’s another awkward moment, but Marty’s already leaning in and taking a huge bite, quick as anything. “Hey!” “Chicken salad’s kind of dry,” he comments. “Tell him to use more mayo.” “Wait, man, no fair, I want to try,” Thirdy complains as he leans his weight on the table towards Tater. “Don’t be stingy.” “Get your own,” Tater guffaws, then tries to stuff the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and almost chokes. Jack doesn’t think he’s ever seen Snowy laugh this hard before. Or like, at all. Jack doesn’t know if it’s happy giddiness he’s feeling as he watches the table start teasing Tater good-naturedly, or if he’s lightheaded because he almost has to Heimlich maneuver the dry chicken and bread chunk from Tater’s throat, but he gets a quick flash of introducing Bitty, his own soulmate, to the Falconers. They’d love him to pieces, Jack thinks. Bitty will feed them even more pie, Poots is going to cry. “What’s his name?” Jack asks, after Tater isn’t in danger of suffocating anymore. “Kent Parson,” Tater answers. “He is Captain of Las Vegas Aces.” Tater smacks his lips, then adds, “How long does chicken salad keep in fridge? Kenny says a week, but Google say 5 days.” Initially, Jack thinks his internal screaming is him actually screaming in reality, but then he realizes that it’s just Thirdy and Marty and the rest of the Falconers present roaring their lungs out simultaneously, with Poots in the background going, “Tater, you have to get me his autograph you’re my only hope.” Jack thinks he might’ve heard a “Boo, traitor, Parson sucks” from Snowy, but he’s not really sure of anything anymore.

Kent doesn’t visit until 6 months after Tater’s announcement, but Tater seems determined to make up for it by talking to Kent on Skype every chance he gets. He goes to Vegas three months before Kent’s visit and returns starry-eyed and insufferably dopey. He also starts talking about Kent to the Falconers. Whether it’s about the Aces’ most recent win or Kent murdering a new recipe, the Falconers locker room has heard each one at least twice. They’re all happy for Tater (Poots is practically frothing at the mouth when Tater tells him that Kent had agreed to sign his jersey— “Why didn’t you just bring a jersey back?” Poots groans, and Tater just holds up his arms and says apologetically, “I forget! Next time! Maybe.” And all that just ignites another round of chirping). Tater and Kent apparently had taken to each other like an old, decrepit house on fire, in the most sickeningly romantic way possible. Once Tater boasts that he sent flowers to Kent for Valentine’s Day as a surprise, and that Kent had called him so fast Tater had thought Kent had been mad, but he’d really just been crying since the arrangement that’d been delivered was so excessive and it’s absolutely like Tater to go all out. Tater’s always staring at his phone and smiling at every new message Kent sends, and they seem to talk to each other on Skype every single day. He’s getting worse than Jack, Marty had once commented, and Jack, seeing how ridiculously happy Tater is, cannot bring himself to ask whether Tater knew about Kent and himself. They’ve somewhat made their peace by now; Kent phoned him one night, sounding exhausted, and stammered out an apology. It’d been terse, and while Jack had accepted his apology as sincere, neither of them have ever been good with words. He wonders if Kent is the same as before. He doesn’t forget how Kent had crowded him against the door of his own room in Samwell that night, his eyes decidedly fierce as he spits venom when Jack wrestles him off. “I miss you, okay? I miss you,” Kent had said, his face slack with desperation, then frustration. His grip on Jack’s shirt loosens, and for a moment the hurt cracks through and Kent looks like Kenny from the summer before the draft, with his fingers grasping at a love he never had. But Tater looks so happy when he’s on the phone with Kent before a game. It’s his new little ritual. Kent always takes the time to make a five-minute phone call, and Tater does it for Kent’s games as well, apparently. Tater sits in the locker room, phone pressed against his ear as he whispers things like, “Thank you. I miss you, too. We bring Kit to Providence next month, too? No? Haha…” It’s incredible how the same words that had slashed Jack in half can brighten Tater’s entire day. He doesn’t tell Bitty, either, because he hates for Bitty to be anxious for him, even if Jack knows that Bitty will, without a doubt, drop everything and hop on the train to Providence if Jack ever needed him. He wants to tell the world he loves Bitty, so very, very much, and even though he’s comforted by the fact that his teammates won’t react negatively, especially after Tater’s announcement, he wants to keep Bitty’s sleep-tousled hair and smile to himself for just a short while longer. “How was your day?” he asks Bitty again that night through Skype, as he always does. He says nothing of Kent, only that Tater’s soulmate is a man, and that they seem to be very happy together. Bitty eyes twinkle, but he doesn’t voice what they’re both thinking. “I love you,” Bitty says, as Jack lets his soulmate’s drawl slow the beats of his thundering heart until his head is quiet again. “So much, sweetheart.”

They pick up Kent at the airport two months later, after a game that they win (but the latter is just a coincidence). The ‘they’ in question includes Jack, because Tater had pulled him aside before the game and asked if he could accompany him. “Wouldn’t Poots be more excited to go with you?” Jack said automatically, gripping his stick like a weapon before relaxing. “Not that I don’t…want to…” He doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t want to say no to Tater, either, when all Tater’s been doing the past few months is rave about how wonderful and fantastic his boyfriend is. “Is surprise,” Tater says conspiratorially. “Tomorrow, team come to my house. We celebrate win, and I bring Kenny.” “The game hasn’t even started,” Jack says wryly. “You’re going to jinx us.” “No,” Tater shrugs. “Team win, come over to drink. Team lose, everyone still drink. No jinx. Will be fun.” He nudges Jack with his gloved fist lightly. “Beside, you my rookie. I’m need emotional support. Please.” Jack’s pretty sure that’s an excuse Tater made up on the spot, but they get ushered out to meet the ice then, and Jack finds that he can’t refuse Tater’s earnest expression. “Okay,” Jack croaks out. “Good,” Tater says gratefully. “Kenny so small and funny. Used to be so sad and angry.” “Did he tell you that?” Jack asks, alarmed. “Is he still—?” “No,” Tater says, then leaves it at that.

Tater picks him up from his apartment the next day in the afternoon, and Jack can see that Tater is thrumming with energy the entire ride to the airport. He talks about Kent and their daily Skype calls, and how Kent tried to bring them breakfast in bed but ended up spilling orange juice all over the cat instead. Jack just makes a bunch of noncommittal noises like “Hm” and “Ah” as he casually grips the armrest handle like Tater’s driving isn’t the most terrifying thing he’s ever experienced. They’re in the lobby now, with Tater craning his neck to see over the other travelers and checking his phone every once in a while. Jack clears his throat. It was now or never. “Um, Tater?” “Mm?” Tater’s still looking at the gate expectantly, like if he looked away even for a second, he’ll surely miss Kent. “How much, uh, do you know about me? Like, I mean, about me before. In the Q?” Jack never talks about it. He didn’t figure he had to, not with the headlines everywhere from back the proclaiming his teenage decline as Bob Zimmermann’s legacy. “Little bit, here and there,” Tater says absently. “Hear things, but not much. Respect privacy, so…” He shrugs, still absently scanning the crowd. And it’s sweet to hear, for a change. Jack hadn’t expected that. “But you—Kent and I—did Kent ever tell you—” “See him!” Tater exclaims suddenly, and Jack is jolted from his thoughts. “He’s here! He’s—” Jack sees doesn’t see anyone that looks like Kent, but Tater’s already maneuvering Jack’s shoulder so he’s facing him. “Do I look okay? Smell my breath.” Then he actually huffs on Jack like he’s six and Jack’s his mom checking if he brushed his teeth. Jack laughs, despite his nervousness, and pushes him off. “You’re fine. Get off of me.” And just like that, Tater bolts ahead, sidestepping the families and tourists until Jack sees that he’s heading for a man dressed in a grey hoodie and headphones. Tater’s waving his arms like a hooligan, and when Kent finally turns in Tater’s direction, even Jack can see that Kent’s mouth is falling open as he rips his earphones out, and the grin is so bright Jack would’ve been able to spy it from a mile away. It’s like a scene ripped from a bad romance flick. Kent picks up his bag and makes a mad dash for Tater, and Tater nearly loses his balance trying to go around some businessman’s luggage. They slow to a stop about a feet before they actually touch, and Jack sees Kent’s mouth form a very small “Hi.” Kent’s bottom lip is wavering as he schools his composure, but Jack’s well aware that he’s definitely looked at Bitty with that exact same expression many times over. Tater’s examining Kent like he can’t believe Kent’s corporeal, which is borderline ridiculous because there hasn’t ever been a missed night of Skyping. He breathes, “Kenny—” And it’s like a trigger is switched. Once Kent hears the nickname, he literally drops his duffel bag and jumps into Tater’s arms like he’s scrambling up a tree. His hoodie flies back as he buries his head in the crook of the taller man’s neck, his legs wound around Tater’s waist. Tater catches him like they’ve been doing it for years, and it’s heartwarming and sickening sweet but they’ve never looked happier. They’re hesitant when Kent bends his head down for a kiss, their noses bumping. Kent giggles, and Tater hardly notices as they fall into the next kiss, a real, proper one, like they’ve been aching for it for ages. When Tater finally lowers Kent, Kent’s expression is so open and laid bare that Jack is taken aback for a second. It’s love, Jack can see. Pure, unfiltered love. The kind that makes you want to smile beyond the confines of your face. The kind of love that surges over Jack whenever he looks at a text or good luck note from Bitty telling him that he believes in him, and that he is needed. “I missed you,” he says breathlessly. One of Tater’s slides over to Kent’s forearm, where Kent’s soulmark is, and Kent’s hand hovers over Tater’s ribs reflexively. “Did you—?” “Yes. Every day,” Tater says as-matter-of-factly, still smiling like a fool as Kent just about melts. After about ten seconds of this, he seems to remember that Jack is now standing behind him awkwardly. “Oh, Kenny, I bring—” “Zimms,” Kent says. He sounds a little surprised, but not unhappy, either. “I—” “Hey, Parse,” Jack says. Kent seems at a loss for words, and he’s shuffling. Tater’s hold on his waist tightens, as he glances at Kent then back at Jack. “I—God, Zimms, I’m…” Kent looks dumbstruck. “It’s so good to see you again,” he finishes. “It’s been a while,” Jack agrees. “You look happy.” And Kent beams at as he leans into Tater, who rubs his shoulder with a sure hand. Jack hasn’t seen that gentle, quiet smile on Kent in years. “Come on,” Kent says softly. “I want to meet the rest of your team properly.” “You mean off the ice and not where you could get beat up?” Jack chirps automatically. He’s a little surprised at how easy it is to get back into the same rhythm with Kent. “Yep,” Kent says, not missing a beat. “Unless the Falconers are hitting financial rock bottom and can only afford you and Zimms.” They’re still a long way from being alright, but without the dread of the draft or a summer with a deadline looming over their heads anymore, they start over, and they take it slow. So they go.

#PataterWeek #patater week #patater #bee writes #soulmate AU #jack zimmermann #past pimms #implied zimbits #check please

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