#first you have soulmate confirmation now you have telepathy???
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"We're full blown telekenisis dude. Him and I barely have conversations, we're just like-we're thinking the same thing...Sometimes, we're pretty locked. Yeah, we just have this deeper thing. It's just something that happens when you learn someone's-your subconcious mind analyzes them without even asking it to...We have our own language. Which is why our relationship is slightly indestructable. Because it isn't based on any external humanship. It's a flow state that we get in together, that's wordless."
— ashton irwin on his musical relationship with calum on artist friendly
#5sos#ashton irwin#calum hood#cashton#first you have soulmate confirmation now you have telepathy???#5sos quotes
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Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 2)
Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood
Previous Chapter: The First Meeting
Next Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?
Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader
Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc
Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty.
CHAPTER 2: The Rebirth
You had a hard time falling asleep that night. Your mind is trying to remember the vision, but the images remain blurry. There was a faint heat lingering from the man's body pressed against yours.
‘Could we possibly be…. It’s not impossible but….’, your mind was working 10,000 miles an hour trying to think of the possibilities. There was only one thought that came to mind and it made you blush. You pulled up the covers and snuggled against your stuffed plushies and pillows. You had to pass by the library and get permission tomorrow.
At least the weaponry was amazing. Noritoshi senpai even showed you inside and pointed you to the crossbows he often practices with. ‘He must be a capable sorcerer. The way he holds himself up with such dignity was already a dead giveaway. A natural born leader huh.’ you wondered.
You fell asleep that night dreaming about a lovely Phoenix, being reborn from ashes.
◇◇◇
Noritoshi was pacing around in his room. He had passed by the library on the way back from dinner, and grabbed several books. “The Secrets of Foreseeing the Future, Vol. 1”, “Alternate and Parallel Worlds”, “Past Lives: A Study”, and “The Life and Works of Abe no Seimei".
He paced around his dorm room, looking over the book that was bothering him the most. “The Tales and True Records of Soulmates”.
He scanned through the main parts of the book. It spoke about bonding. There apparently were 2 types of bonding, emotional and physical.
When 2 halves of a whole reach a certain degree of understanding of each other, they establish what's called a half-bond or a phantom bond.
This begins to link their emotions. Intense anger, fear, joy, disgust, sorrow, and love can be felt from the very first stage. As their bond strengthens, they begin to share more emotions, as well as short strong intentions.
Intentions are used to depict a state of being. If they have a goal or a state of feeling over a particular matter, their partner can pick up on it.
The near final stage of a full bond is when they start to share physical sensations. When one gets injured, it will resound with the other.
The strongest bond is known to share special abilities and thoughts via telepathy between a fated pair.
Noritoshi's mind was definitely in overdrive. There was SO MUCH information on soulmates. But the one thing that wasn't explicitly stated was how a soulmate pair found each other.
How do soulmates confirm that they are indeed soulmates? Most of the information was based on soulmates who simply claimed to be. Then what about how they came to be?
So now he knows that soulmates are supposedly able to share emotions and feelings to a certain degree. But there was a lack of information in the book. What about visions? The vision he shared with y/n was one of a kind.
It kept discussing how the known most popular existence were the parents of Sugawara no Michizane. One of the three great vengeful spirits that is the ancestor of the Gojo clan.
He made up his mind. Taking out his phone, he dialed up his father.
Beep. “Noritoshi? It’s so late, why are you calling at this time? It best be an urgent matter.” his father gruffly answered.
“I am sorry to disturb you father. It’s just, there is a new student here in school. A First year called Tsuchimikado y/n from the Tsuchimikado clan.”
“Ahhh, them huh? Powerful group even though there are only a few of them. They don’t really talk about their techniques that much. They are descendants of Abe no Seimei and yet they kept to themselves as a minor clan of jujutsushi… So what about her?”
“She might possibly be my soulmate, but I am still confirming. Do you have any books or records on soulmates at all?”
At this, his father sat up straight in his study. “Are you serious? And what can you say to prove such claims? Do you know how rare a soulmate bond is?”
"I am aware. And I know we may not be soulmates. But I have some suspicions. If you have any info about soulmates, The Abe clan, or the Tsuchimikado clans, I would appreciate it." Noritoshi replied.
"Okay. I'll have a look and get back to you. Feel free to come by the main house this weekend. Look over the main study. There are also some records on Soulmates there."
"Thank you father. Have a good evening."
Beep.
Noritoshi sighed. He undid his hair bindings and combed out his hair. And opened the book again. He read through the table of contents in case he missed out on any major pointers.
He couldn't read the book in one sitting, because he is still reviewing for the TOEIC and improving his English.
He yawned and was about to retire to bed, remembering his promise to bring you around tomorrow, when one particular word jumped at him.
The binding process of soulmates. He quickly flipped through to the page and found out with horror that some of the pages had been torn out.
It wasn't him who did it. (Obviously). But now he has to go and tell Utahime sensei about it.
He took a closer look at the remaining few pages.
"The Binding of Soulmates. It is known to vary per pair. Some pairs found themselves to be born with a matching symbol in the inside of their arms or on their necks from birth. While others form it upon passing the first stage of -" and the page ends with a violent diagonal tear from the upper right corner to the lower left.
That's pretty much all that he can take away from the book so far. Frustrated, he decided to go to sleep. Nothing about sharing visions was mentioned so far. Maybe they weren't a fated pair after all.
But deep in his gut, Noritoshi knew that you were an important person to him. That was for sure. As he fell asleep, he shared the same dream with you. A lone Phoenix, being reborn from its ashes.
◇◇◇
The following morning, you didn't know where to meet up with Noritoshi senpai so you simply went to the same place he left you last night. On your way there, you passed by a tall robot kind of thing which spooked you. You stared at it, wondering if it was a kind of automation that serves the technical school.
To your surprise, it turned towards you and bowed while greeting, "Hello. I'm a 1st year student here at Kyoto Jujutsu Technical College. You can call me Mechamaru. Kokichi Muta is my real name, but I use robots to fight."
Your eyes widened in surprise and curiosity. "My name is Tsuchimikado Y/n, also starting here as a first year student. Pleased to meet you!" You bowed back.
“So… is your body inside that robot?” you asked him.
“No, as a result of heavenly restriction, which if you haven’t heard of yet is a means of exchange/ a binding contract, my body is elsewhere. I am controlling this robot from afar.”
Your eyes bugged, “That’s incredible! To have that much cursed energy, plus it is over such a long distance.” You were jealous as long-ranged techniques are something you try to work hard and specialise on.
“It’s not that fun being physically stuck in a basement.” Mechamaru didn’t sound too amused.
“Ah, I’m sorry about that… “ you floundered as you mentally hit yourself for being so inconsiderate.
“No need to apologize. I am used to it.” He waved it off coolly.
"You're the first other 1st year I've met Mechamaru. I wonder when the others will come. I've heard of 2 others." You wondered.
"I've already met one of them. Miwa is her name. You won't miss her with her bright blue hair." He replied. His voice was so stiff and robotic, a strange feature.
"Ohhhh I see. I'll keep that in mind!" You smiled. "I'm afraid I have somewhere to be right now, but I'll catch you around for sure! Please take care of me."
"Don't let me keep you waiting. Please also take care of me and see you around." Mechamaru waved as you ran off.
More students to meet huh. Your heart pounded in nervousness and excitement. So it was Miwa and Mechamaru so far. ‘Ugh, I’m so bad with names. I’ll surely get used to it.’ you thought to yourself.
You rounded the corner and nearly plowed through Noritoshi senpai in your haste. “Whoa there, careful,” he held his hands out in case you slipped, but you were fine. You caught yourself just before you hit his personal space.
You were surprised to see him already there, in the same clothes he was in yesterday (was that his uniform? You had yet to get yours, which had custom arrangements).
"Good morning Noritoshi-senpai!" you beamed up at him. He looked down at you amusedly, liking your bright energy. “Good morning y/n.”
Your smile grew wider upon hearing your name fall from his lips for the very first time. For a moment the both of you just stood there smiling. Then Noritoshi beckoned you to his side as you walked around the campus.
"Did you sleep well last night?" He asked.
"Ah yes, though it might take some time getting used to the dorm rooms here. But everything is pretty much convenient. Especially the kitchenettes in our rooms." You were still excited about starting classes.
“Did you have your uniform tailored to your liking?” You asked him.
“Ah yes, I requested a looser fit. I am used to wearing a kimono and wooden sandals at home. I simply requested for them to be made in a similar fashion for comfort. And it gives me enough space to hide all of my weapons.” He smiled gently down at you.
“Ahhh I see. I have also put in a request for my uniform, but I don’t have it yet.” you said.
“Well, it shouldn’t be too long now, classes start in 2 days after all.”
He brought you around the main gardens. “It’s so big,” you gaped, excited to train here. There was so much open space, it would be good for flying practice. “The other buildings are offices for the staff, and warehouses for special tools and materials.” He explained.
Then Noritoshi led you to a corridor with tons of doors. “These are the 3rd year classrooms. First and second year classrooms are upstairs. We can have a look if you’d like?” He asked.
You agreed. And on your way to the staircase, you came face to face with a man going down the stairs. He was incredibly tall and ripped. With his hair tied up, a scar racing down on his left eye, he grunted at Noritoshi in greeting.
He came down and faced you both, before addressing Noritoshi. “You ready for class? Is this a new student?”
“Of course I am. And she is a first year. Tsuchimikado Y/n.” Noritoshi introduced you and you quickly bowed in greeting. “You can call me Tsuchi san or just Tsuchi as I know my last name is long. It is very nice to meet you!”
Noritoshi noted that you didn’t offer to be addressed by your first name this time and felt weirdly happy.
“Todo Aoi, 2nd year. So… what man or woman is your ideal type?” He asked as he loomed over you menacingly. You barely came up to this man's chest.
….. What in the world are you getting into?
Fun fact: The Tsuchimikado Clan are indeed a real clan descended from the Abe Clan and Abe no Seimei the Onmyouji himself. I chose Abe no Seimei as a parallel to the three great vengeful spirits from whom the big 3 Jujutsu families are descendants of. As Abe no Seimei was also a major figure during the Heian period. But of course my story is a work of fiction so other than the onmyouji himself, everyone else is not real^^.
Blood Bound: Table of Contents
#kamo noritoshi#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jjk fanfic#kamo noritoshi x you#noritoshi fluff#noritoshi angst#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#kamo noritoshi x reader#soulmates au#blood bound#red strings of fate
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i know we’re gonna uncover what’s sleeping in our soul
[ao3]
so! my fic exchange fic for the absolutely lovely @lifewasradical who had the most brilliant reader profile i have to say you are truly so big brain in your preferences (perhaps because they overlap with mine no i am not biased). thank you so much to @allsassnoclass for hosting this you are wonderful and i adore you
thank you to bella and ainslee for listening to me chat shit about this fic and to my anonymous friend for also patiently listening and encouraging me and also telling me to stop fucking writing i need to hear that shit
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The most exciting thing about Luke’s twenty-first birthday is the same as everyone else’s.
On a person’s twenty-first birthday, they get access to their soulmate.
-
The most exciting thing about Luke’s twenty-first birthday is the same as everyone else’s.
On a person’s twenty-first birthday, they get access to their soulmate. At least, in theory. In practice, it’s a little more complicated - most people’s soulmates aren’t exactly the same age as them, so some people have to wait a few years, and some people find out they haven’t got a soulmate, and a small handful of people find out their soulmate has already passed away. It’s a complicated process that’s built up over generations - when Luke’s grandparents were younger, it was still the norm for governments to inform people of the identity of their soulmate on their twenty-first birthday, but privacy and mental health concerns in recent years following a few nasty high-profile situations where people discovered their soulmates were serious criminals led to the passing of international legislation restricting access to the information. Now, the only way a person can find their soulmate is by writing to them, or the dreaded letter that arrives the day after their twenty-first birthday informing them that their soulmate has predeceased them.
Luke’s sort of the baby in his circle, so he’s the last to find out. His brothers are both older and so by the time Luke really understood the system they’d already found their soulmates; Alex and Jack had already known they were soulmates when Luke had met them, also being a few years older; and when Calum had woken up on his twenty-first birthday to see it best be you, dickhead scrawled on his arm in Michael’s messy handwriting it had only really been a formality, confirming what everyone already knew.
Luke, though, has no idea who his soulmate could be. There’s no one he’s ever felt that alleged special affinity with, no matter how hard he’s tried to force it. He’s never felt entirely safe with someone, the way that Ben describes it, never felt at home with someone, the way that Michael describes it, never felt at peace, like, deep in your soul, like the universe is balanced just right around you the way that Calum describes it. He has felt the desire to punch people in the throat before, as Alex and Jack both describe it, but he thinks that’s probably more of a them problem than it is a universal experience.
And it’s not that Luke’s particularly unusual in that - the vast majority of people don’t know who their soulmate is before their birthdays. Ben and Jack both had to fly to different countries to meet theirs, and Alex and Jack had been on opposite sides of the USA, and the way Michael talks about it, Quakers Hill would seem to be on a different continent to Mount Druitt. It’s what Luke tells himself every time he looks in the mirror at four in the morning, alcohol and often something else swimming through his veins, and sees the fear of what if I’ll be one of the lonely ones? etched into the cloudy blue of his eyes. You’ll be fine. Almost no one knows their soulmate before their twenty-first birthday. Lots of people don’t even know them then. You’re not even twenty-one yet; just be patient.
Except, now he is twenty-one.
It’s two minutes past midnight, and Luke’s sat on his bed, already a little buzzed, Michael and Calum flanking him, pen poised over his inner forearm. This is how it works - as soon as the clock ticks over to midnight on a person’s twenty-first birthday, their soulmate (if they’re already over twenty-one) is accessible. And the way to communicate is by writing to them. Luke still isn’t quite sure how it works, because it just does, so he’s never questioned it, but what one soulmate writes on their skin appears on the other’s, like a temporary tattoo. It fades after a few hours, but it’s usually there long enough for the person to notice; after all, who wouldn’t spot a new hi, hello, or the odd grocery shopping list appearing on their hand or arm?
“What do I say?” Luke says, a little nervously.
“Just say hi,” Calum suggests, and Michael scoffs. “What?” Calum says, turning to Michael and raising an eyebrow. “You got a better idea?”
“Well, it’s not very original, is it?” Michael says haughtily.
“It doesn’t have to be original, Mike, it just has to work,” Calum says.
“Okay, but what if it doesn’t work because it’s not original?” Michael says. Luke’s grip on the pen tightens.
“Who’s going to reject their soulmate because they said ‘hi’?” Calum points out. Michael crosses his arms, and shrugs.
“I would’ve,” he says.
“Only because you knew it was me.”
“Yeah, and?”
“Guys,” Luke says, anxiety leaking into the edges of his tone, and the two of them start a little, like they’ve just remembered he’s there.
“Just say hello,” Calum says.
“Hello?” Michael echoes. “What is he, some eighteenth century English lord? Say ‘hi’, Luke, or ‘hey’.”
“What, you can’t say ‘hello’ now?” Calum demands. “Anyway, it’s the principle, alright? Just greet them. It doesn’t have to be the best introduction in the world.” Yeah, Luke thinks. Yeah, that makes sense, right? It doesn’t have to be stellar; it’s just got to be something. So he nods, takes a deep breath, and lets the pen touch his skin.
Hi.
The word sits on his skin like everything he’s ever written on it before, doesn’t sink in or dissolve or do a little jig. Luke hadn’t been expecting it to - after all, he’s seen enough soulmates write things to their partners - but it looks just like when he used to hastily jot down his homework for the day because he’d forgotten his planner again, and it’s oddly underwhelming. It doesn’t look - or feel - like something he’s been anticipating for years is happening, despite the butterflies in his stomach. It looks a little lonesome.
“Well?” Michael asks impatiently.
“It’s been thirty fucking seconds, Mike, Jesus Christ,” Calum says, swigging from his beer.
“So?” Michael says, craning his neck to look at Luke’s arm. “Punctuality is an important quality in a partner, you know.” Calum scoffs incredulously, and Michael scowls. “Except if your partner is me. I have enough incredible traits to make up for it.” Calum just throws him a slightly-fond-but-mostly-exasperated look, and turns back to Luke, who’s still staring at his arm.
“Maybe they live in a different timezone,” Calum suggests. “Or maybe they’re younger than you.”
“Maybe,” Luke allows, and puts his arm back down on his lap, but doesn’t stop staring at it. “Maybe they’re busy.”
“Maybe,” Calum agrees.
“Maybe we should finish these fucking beers,” Michael says pointedly, and Luke finally tears his gaze away from his arm and over to Michael, who’s gesturing at the crate they’d lugged upstairs (‘they’ being Calum and Michael, because Luke refuses to lift anything heavier than a book). He’s got a point - it’s Luke’s birthday, and there’s a slim chance of his soulmate replying immediately, so he might as well enjoy himself.
“Alright,” Luke says, reaching for another bottle. “But don’t you fucking pussy out on me at two in the morning again.”
“What the fuck?” Michael demands indignantly, also reaching for a bottle. “When have we ever done that?”
-------
At two a.m., when Calum and Michael have stumbled blearily into bed together, Michael curling around Calum as they drifted off to sleep, Luke’s sat up in bed, staring at his arm. It still only says hi, and Luke’s trying to focus his alcohol-addled mind as much he can to will it to say more, to say hey, I’ve been waiting for you underneath Luke’s writing, but nothing changes.
And logically, Luke knows there are countless explanations as to why he hasn’t heard anything from his soulmate yet, least of which is that it’s only been a couple of hours. There’s a high chance his soulmate is younger than him, or asleep, or just busy, and a slim chance that they could be- well. Luke doesn’t want to think about that. It’s just- Luke’s been wanting this for years, always daydreamed about his soulmate, about the colour of their eyes and the sound of their laugh and the warmth of their touch. He’s conjured fantasy after fantasy in his mind about how his twenty-first birthday would go, about how he’d meet his soulmate and immediately fall in love, about the comfort and safety and fulfilment he would feel. Because that’s the whole thing about soulmates; they’re made for you, made to fill in the gaps in your soul that you can’t even see, and as Luke blinks at the single word written on his arm, a word that feels like it needs completing somehow, he realises he might want that more than he’d realised.
After a good ten minutes of staring and trying to engage any telepathy he may have, Luke decides that if his soulmate isn’t going to add anything, Luke’s going to have to do it himself. So he reaches for a pen, thinks for the briefest of seconds before a slightly-drunken thought tells him just introduce yourself, tell them about yourself, and he writes:
My name is Luke. It’s my twenty-first birthday today. I live in Sydney, Australia, and I have two brothers and a dog. What’s your name?
It reads like one of his French oral exams at school that he barely passed, but Luke’s satisfied with it, capping the pen and setting it aside. It’s good to give a bit more information, right? Surely his soulmate will appreciate more than just a hi, will be more likely to reply if they know a little more about him. Plus, he’s asked a question, and it’s only polite to respond to a question, isn’t it? They’ll be trapped into responding by social etiquette, if they’re of age.
Yeah, he thinks, satisfied, as he rolls over on his side and lets his heavy eyes fall shut. If his soulmate is old enough, he’ll have heard back by the morning.
-------
When Luke wakes up to the sun streaming through his window - fuck, they forgot to shut the curtains last night - he momentarily forgets what day it is, too focused on swearing under his breath and squeezing his eyes shut, debating whether it’s worth getting up to shut the curtains or not. He decides it is, and heaves himself out of bed, and as he’s padding over to the curtains, arms already outstretched, he sees two lines of text on his arm.
Luke had written more than two lines. He’d written a few, all bunched together in a long paragraph. And this handwriting is bigger than Luke’s, more confident, more assertive.
It’s his soulmate.
Luke stops dead, twisting his arm around so fast he thinks he might have given himself a Chinese burn, heart beating so fast that it’s all he can hear, and reads.
I’m sorry. I don’t want to be your soulmate.
And then, like an afterthought added reluctantly in a smaller script underneath: Happy birthday.
Luke stares at the words, reading them over and over, each hastily scribbled scratch of the pen like a tiny needle in his heart; not quite enough to tear it apart entirely, but enough to make it ache and leak.
So he has a soulmate. A soulmate who doesn’t want him back.
It doesn’t make sense, he thinks, a little disoriented, stumbling back towards his bed and reaching for the pen he’d left on his bedside table almost on autopilot. Luke’s soulmate doesn’t even know him. How can they not want to be his soulmate? What did he do wrong? How can he have ruined something that’s predestined, something that’s fated to happen?
What? he writes back. The ink is harsh black on his pale skin, dug too deep into the flesh of his arm, sitting on top of his skin rather than underneath it like the words from his soulmate - some kind of sick symbolism, maybe, Luke thinks dazedly. An impenetrable layer between them, and it’s his own skin and bone. He’s heard of people not wanting their soulmates, but only after meeting them, or finding out that they’ve committed some horrible crime, or something of the sort. He doesn’t know of anyone who doesn’t want their soulmate before meeting them.
“Hey,” Calum says suddenly and sleepily, clearing his throat and making Michael groan, stirring in his arms. “Did they write back yet?” Luke blinks, swallowing around a dry mouth.
He could lie. He could pull his sleeve down and say nah, not yet, and Calum would hum noncommittally and say sorry, mate, keep trying, I guess, and that would be it. He could keep it to himself, wouldn’t have to admit to those around him that somehow, he’s managed to turn his soulmate away from him before they even know him, that while they’re all in happy relationship with their soulmates, he’s managed to fuck his up before it began.
But on the other hand, he doesn’t know how long he could keep up that lie, because people would keep asking from time to time, and keeping it to himself feels like it would slowly eat at him from the inside out, teeth digging into the fabric of his soul and tearing it into even smaller pieces, and so he swallows, and says: “Yeah.” His voice is thick and wobbly, and it makes Calum’s brow crease, makes him struggle to sit upright leaning on his elbows, ignoring Michael’s noises of protest.
“What?” Calum asks, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?” Luke wants to cry.
“I-” he starts, and then stops. He doesn’t think he can say the words aloud. Instead, he holds out his arm, sleeve still rolled up, and watches as Calum’s eyes flit over the words, then looks away quickly as he sees Calum’s expression shift from concern to pity.
“Oh, Luke,” he says softly, and now Luke doesn’t want to cry but can’t stop it, can’t help the tears that are pricking at his eyes, forcing him to swipe at them hastily before they can fall.
“I don’t get it,” Luke says, a little numbly. “I- how can they not- they don’t even know me.”
“I know,” Calum says, shoving Michael off him and swinging his legs out of the bed they’re sharing. “Oh, Luke. I’m so sorry.” But Luke doesn’t want Calum to be sorry. He wants his soulmate to want him back. Was it the stilted introduction? Maybe Michael was right; maybe Luke should have thought of a more striking opener, should have mentioned some interesting facts about himself, come up with something flirtatious and witty and suave. Maybe his soulmate took one look at Luke’s nervous, awkward introduction and thought nah, fuck that, I’d rather be alone than have this guy as my soulmate.
“I should’ve said something better,” Luke says quietly, letting himself be pulled into Calum as he sits down next to him and puts a warm, strong arm around Luke’s shoulder. “Michael was right.”
“Oh, fuck Michael,” Calum says, with feeling, and Michael opens one eye a crack.
“Wha’ve I done?” Michael mumbles, and then, like he’s just remembered what day it is, he shoots bolt upright in bed, eyes wide and excited. “Oh, fuck, did they reply, Luke? Did they say something? What did they say, was it-”
“Mike,” Calum says warningly, and shoots Michael a look that Luke doesn’t need to be his soulmate to understand - shut the fuck up, Jesus, read the fucking room. Michael falters, and then frowns.
“What happened?” he says, a little fiercely. “Are they a dickhead?”
“Yeah,” Calum says. “A proper cunt.”
“Hey,” Luke protests weakly, and Calum’s arm around him tightens.
“What did they say?” Michael asks. Luke hesitates, swallows, and then holds his arm out.
“Hang on, I need my-” Michael says, fumbling around on the bedside table for his glasses, and then swears when he realises they’re covered in fingerprints, wiping them hastily on his t-shirt before shoving them on his nose and squinting at the writing on Luke’s arm. He reads the words at least three times, going from a frown to a clenched jaw, and then looks up at the two of them, green eyes ablaze behind his glasses.
“What the fuck?” he demands, and whips his glasses off. “What the fuck?”
“I know,” Calum agrees, stroking Luke’s bicep. “It’s fucked up.”
“They don’t even know you. All you said was ‘hi’.” Luke bites his lip.
“I wrote a bit more,” he says. “After you went to bed. I just- just introduced myself. Said it was my birthday, I live in Sydney, have two brothers and a dog.”
“Alright, so all you did was fucking introduce yourself,” Michael corrects, leaning into his anger. “What the fuck sort of reason could they have for saying that?”
“Mike,” Calum says gently, and Michael’s gaze turns to him for a moment and then softens in understanding.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says. “I just- fuck. I’m sorry, Luke.” He sets his glasses aside, gets up and sits on Luke’s other side, wrapping his arm around Luke’s waist, and that’s too much for Luke - he starts crying in earnest, big, ugly sobs that come from the frayed patches of his soul that feel like they’ll never be stitched together because the needle doesn’t want to play ball. Michael and Calum just cradle him through it, whispering soothing words, humming quietly, pressing soft kisses to his shoulders and temples and forehead as they rub gentle circles on his skin. It’s enough to stave off some of the desperate longing leaking from the pinpricks in his heart, enough to give him a little splutter of a spark in his veins that reminds him hey, you still have people who love you. It’s not enough enough, and Luke vaguely thinks it never quite will be, but it’s enough to stem the flow of tears, to make him sniff and ask for a tissue through a thick throat, to make him clear his throat and try on a watery smile.
“D’you want us to tell your parents?” Calum asks quietly, taking Luke’s snotty, tear-stained tissue from him and setting it on the bedside table. Fuck, Luke thinks, as a fresh wave of tears brim in his eyes. He’s got to tell everyone else, now, too. Over and over, telling person after person yeah, my soulmate doesn’t want me. My soulmate doesn’t want me.
“No,” Luke says, even though he does want Michael and Calum to tell his parents. “I- I should tell them.”
“Okay,” Calum says gently.
“Can you-” Luke cuts himself off, biting his lip. Michael and Calum just wait, though, so Luke bids the scraps of his dignity farewell, and mumbles: “Can you tell Alex and Jack, though?” He feels both Calum’s and Michael’s arms tighten around him, feels Michael pressing a kiss to Luke’s shoulder as Calum says yeah, mate, of course we can. Of course.
(Happy birthday, the words underneath the line etched into Luke’s skin telling him I don’t want you say, now wet with the tears dripping from Luke’s cheeks onto his sleeves. Yeah, Luke thinks bitterly. Happy fucking birthday to him.)
-------
Telling everybody is exactly as painful as Luke had anticipated.
He manages to tell his family in one go, because they ask over his birthday dinner, and he almost manages not to cry into the stunned silence as he says it, only breaking when Ben sighs sadly and pulls Luke into his chest for a tight hug. Alex and Jack call around four to ask him whether he’s finally going to get laid (what, Lex, that’s literally how you wish someone a happy twenty-first birthday, what’s your fucking problem), and Luke makes big, wide eyes at Calum, who throws a quick glance at Michael, who snatches the phone out of Luke’s hands and hastily walks out of the room, whispering something fiercely with a knitted brow and his hand cupped over the receiver. When he comes back in and hands the phone back to Luke, Alex and Jack have switched tack completely, all attempts at normalcy and breeziness mitigated by the oddly gentle, hesitant tones to their voices. Luke hates it, hates the pity and the microscope he feels like he’s under, the fact that he’s done the whole thing wrong somehow before even starting it, so he mumbles his excuses and hangs up on them as soon as he can, lying back on the sofa and staring blankly up at the ceiling.
The first few weeks are almost equally bad - Luke just wants to forget about it all, pretend that everything is normal outside of his own head, make-believe that his world hasn’t had a harsh spotlight shone on it showing the cracks in the façade he’s been admiring as though it were worthy of the Louvre, but everyone’s walking on eggshells around him, whispering whenever he leaves a room and stopping abruptly as soon as he comes in, or throwing him concerned and pitying looks. He hates it, hates that his mum will come into his room every evening and ask him too-casually how his day’s been, hates that Calum and Alex will ask him how he’s doing and look too sad when he says he’s fine, hates that Jack and Michael will bluntly tell him fuck someone else, forget about them. He just wants things to be normal again, doesn’t want the constant reminder that even the person made for him doesn’t want him swelling up in his lungs and choking him day in, day out.
He does a lot of research in those first few weeks. The majority of the results are about soulmate pairings where one person has moral qualms with the other, and a smaller group are about pairings where one partner only sees a platonic future where the other wants a romantic future - those are rare, though, as the system is designed to take these preferences into account - and it’s only on Luke’s second week of searching that he finds something, a tiny footnote at the bottom of an article about being soulmates with a serial killer. Choosing love, it says, and when Luke clicks on the link it opens up an ancient-looking website that says Choosing love: soulmates and the autonomous self.
It’s not a long article, and it’s riddled with spelling mistakes, but the gist of it seems to be that the author thinks the soulmate system is fucked up in principle, not in practice - they readily acknowledge that their soulmate is perfect for them, but resent the idea of having love assigned to them. It brings in ideas of free will raised by such authors as- and then Luke stops understanding, eyes glazing over as he reads metaphysical libertarianism and fatalism and compatibilism. So maybe this is what Luke’s soulmate’s problem is, Luke thinks, rereading the first few paragraphs that he actually understood. But it doesn’t make any fucking sense - why would someone try and choose someone that might not be right for them, when the right person is at their fingertips?
(He asks one night, after a few too many hours alone with his thoughts. Why don’t you want to be my soulmate? But it, like everything he’s written over the past month since his birthday, goes unanswered.)
Luke tries to reach out a few more times over the next few weeks, with varying degrees of success. His soulmate is completely unresponsive when Luke asks where they live, or how old they are, or what they do for a living, or what they look like.
Can you at least tell me your name? he asks once. No response.
Okay, what about your initials? he asks the next day. Again, no response.
One initial? he tries, the day after that. Please. Just your first initial. Maybe it’s the ‘please’ that does it, or maybe Luke’s soulmate is just sick of being asked the same question three days in a row and doesn’t want to get half a letter? Write it in code? tomorrow, but when Luke wakes up the next morning there’s a tiny, slightly-smudged A written underneath where he’d asked for the initial.
That’s the last Luke hears from his soulmate.
For a while, he writes a few times a day, tries to say something witty or something clever or something interesting. He tells A about his job, tells them about how frustrating it is to have Jack as his co-worker and Alex as his boss (because seriously, Jack should be fired at least four times an hour, and he’s fairly sure your boss being your soulmate violates a fair few codes of conflict of interest), tells them about Michael and Calum and how he sort of wishes he’d gone to university like they did. A never responds, and so after a while Luke gets self-conscious and stops writing so often, just checks in once a day in the evening to give A a roundup of the previous twenty-four hours. Luke figures the person doesn’t care, probably won’t read it, but it’s like a more cathartic version of a diary, one that has the possibility of being read and talking back, however slim the probability may be. Every evening, just before he goes to bed, he rounds up his day, vents to A about Jack breaking a bass in the shop again, laments that he doesn’t get to see Michael and Calum as often as he’d like to, talks about the regulars who come in like clockwork for their guitar strings, muses about whether he should get up early and get a coffee on the way to work tomorrow or whether he should get as much precious sleep as he can. He fills his arm from left to right, twisting it all the way around until he has to hold the pen at such a strange angle that he can barely control it, getting out all his thoughts and grievances and little things he’s observed that day, and when he wakes up in the morning, his arm is completely empty again. A never writes back, never even indicates that they’ve seen or read Luke’s ramblings, but they never tell him to stop it, either. And while that probably doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t not mean anything, either, and that’s as good as Luke figures it’s going to get for him. Plus, it becomes so ingrained in Luke’s daily routine that he barely even notices he’s doing it, and he sort of thinks getting a response might throw him off a bit.
(One night, so drunk he can barely stand, Luke scrawls I wish you wanted me. I wish I didn’t have to be alone. It’s gone when he wakes up the next morning, but there’s a tiny pen marking underneath where it had been, like A had gone to write something and then thought better of it.)
A week or so after that incident, Luke’s just taking out his earphones, still humming along to the song he’d been listening to as he shoulders the door to the shop open, when Jack appears right in front of his face, making him jump and drop his phone.
“Jesus Christ,” Luke mutters, picking his phone up from the floor and inspecting it for damage he can sue Jack for.
“Glad you noticed,” Jack says. “Come to the back room.” Luke stops, and narrows his eyes.
“What for?” he says suspiciously.
“What do you mean, what for?” Jack says, sounding a little affronted. “Don’t you trust me?”
“No.”
“Well, we need to fix that. We should do a team bonding day,” Jack says, just as Alex walks around the corner. “Hey, Lex, d’you think me and Luke can do a team bonding day?”
“A team bonding day?” Alex echoes, raising an eyebrow. “I thought torture was illegal in Australia.”
“That’s true,” Jack agrees placidly. “I’m not sure I can spend a whole day with Luke.” Luke scowls, aiming a kick at Jack’s ankle, just as Alex passes by and says: “I was talking about you, idiot.”
“I’m a fucking pleasure to spend time with,” Jack says, voice rising as Alex walks away. “You spend all your time with me.”
“For legal purposes,” Alex calls over his shoulder. Jack frowns.
“Legal purposes?” he says.
“Yeah,” Alex shouts. “The life insurance papers have to look convincing.” It’s Jack’s turn to scowl, yelling fuck you at Alex’s retreating figure and getting a you can’t afford my fees in return.
“Not on the fucking salary you pay me,” Jack shouts, and then turns to Luke. “Come to the back room.” Luke eyes him warily.
“No,” he says. Jack scowls again.
“Aren’t I your manager?” he says. “Come to the back room.”
“I think I’m your manager at the moment,” Luke says, because who’s manager is dependent on the whims of a certain Alex Gaskarth and Jack breaking another bass last week had outdone Luke accidentally selling an Epiphone for half its retail price. Jack, though, just waves a hand dismissively, then grabs Luke’s wrist and starts tugging him towards the back room.
“Hey,” Luke protests, trying to plant his feet and failing miserably - Jesus, Jack’s stronger than he looks. “This is kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping?” Jack says. “You know where you’re going.”
“But I don’t want to be,” Luke says, grabbing onto the desk as he’s pulled past and scrabbling to hold onto it. Jack just yanks harder, dislodging Luke’s grip, and forces him into the back room.
“What?” Luke asks warily, when Jack finally lets go, glancing around at the cardboard boxes filling their shelving units up to the ceiling full of new bass and electric guitars that Luke was meant to unbox two days ago but didn’t. “What have you done?”
“Nothing!” Jack protests, and then kicks the door shut behind them and grins. “It’s what I’m going to do.” Luke groans, tipping his head back, and shakes his head.
“No,” he says, taking a step back and holding his hands up. “Nope. I’m not getting involved in this.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“I know it’s something I don’t want to be involved in.”
“No you don’t,” Jack says.
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because it’s something you’re planning.” Jack pouts.
“Listen-” he starts, taking a step forward towards Luke, who instinctively takes another step back, and that’s all Luke hears because then his heel is hitting a cardboard box hard, forcing it back against the wall, and the box on top of that is wobbling and making the box on top of that one wobble even more, and Luke says shit and flings his arms out to steady himself, catching the metal of the shelving unit and pulling it towards him, making all of the heavy, heavy fucking guitars in it come crashing down on top of him. A few land next to him with ugly crunching sounds and accompanying twangs, and a few hit his legs and force him to the ground, and then a few are hitting his stomach and chest and crushing his organs, making him gasp for breath, and then a few are hitting his head, making him momentarily unable to see as his vision swims so much it almost disappears entirely, and then Luke must lose consciousness because the next thing he hears is a distant voice shouting, sounding incredibly worried.
“Luke?” they’re yelling. “Luke? Fuck. Oh, fuck. Shit. Luke, Luke, are you okay? Are you- fuck, fuck, Lex, help me, help me move- no, not that, you fucking idiot, that’s going to-” and then Jack’s face comes into view, uncharacteristic concern etched on his features.
“Huh,” Luke says weakly. “You look funny when you care about me.” And then he passes out again.
-------
When Luke wakes up again, he’s in hospital.
At first, it sends a jolt of fear running through him when he wakes up in an all-white, clinical-looking environment, but his brain supplies a helpful hey, remember when all those guitars fell on you? That was pretty wack, and then it sort of makes sense.
“Oh, hey!” someone says, and Luke’s head snaps to the left to find the source of the voice. It’s a pretty - very fucking pretty, oh God - man, standing next to a bunch of machines, some of which are bleeping, some of which are blinking. “You’re up.”
“I’m up,” Luke says, and finds that his throat is dry and raspy. He coughs, and tries again. “Uh. Who are you?”
“I’m Ashton,” the guy says. “I’m your nurse. Well, until my shift ends.”
“Oh,” Luke says. “Hi. I’m Luke.” Ashton grins, hazel eyes lighting up in amusement, and steps back from the machines he’s been fiddling with.
“Yeah, I know,” he says. “How are you feeling?”
“Uh,” Luke says, and looks down at himself. His right arm is bound in a cast, and when he tries to wriggle his toes he finds his left foot in a cast too, and winces when he takes a deep breath. “My body hurts.” Ashton huffs out a laugh, and moves to the foot of Luke’s bed to pick up a tablet.
“Yeah,” he says. “You had a bunch of guitars fall on you. You’re lucky you came out of it with just a few broken bones and a concussion.”
“And probably a huge bill for damages, if my boss is anything to go by,” Luke adds, and Ashton looks up from the tablet with a small smile.
“Nightmare boss?” he says, and then frowns. “Hang on, you’ve had a visitor claiming to be your boss. American guy?”
“Not the one with skunk hair?” Luke asks in trepidation, because the last thing he wants to deal with is Jack Barakat in a hospital environment, and Ashton shakes his head.
“No, but he was with him,” he says. “I think they’re both still here, actually. They were insistent that they wanted to be here when you woke up, but I can tell them to leave, if you’d like.” Luke hesitates.
“No, it’s okay,” he says. “The boss thing was, uh. A joke. Well. Kind of. He is a shitty boss. But. Not like that.” He swallows. Fuck. He should not be allowed to interact with hot men, honestly. Maybe Ashton will just think these incredibly lacking social skills are a part of the concussion and not just Luke’s main failing as a person.
“It’s still visiting hours, so if you want they can come in, but I’ll get the doctor to check you over first, since you’re awake now,” Ashton says, and Luke nods. Yeah. He should probably get checked over. Seems like the kind of thing you do in a hospital, right?
“Sure,” he says, and Ashton throws him one final grin before heading out of the room. Luke exhales shakily, lying back on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling.
Fuck. He hopes he’s sick enough to stay in hospital forever, and that Ashton’s on shift tomorrow, too, and the day after that, and the day after that. However long it takes for Luke to become socially adept, really.
-------
The doctor tells him something about broken leg and fractured wrist and broken ribs and bruised internally, but all Luke hears is will take a few months to heal fully but no lasting damage, and we’re just going to keep you in for today and tomorrow and monitor your situation, since you had a fairly nasty concussion. Jack and Alex come bursting in as soon as the doctor gives Luke the all-clear for visitors, rushing to his side and telling him how fucking stupid he is, what the fuck, why would he grab onto the fucking shelving unit to steady himself, but their eyes are shining with worry and their faces are a little red and puffy, and it makes Luke’s heart lurch in his chest in an oddly pleasant way. Alex tells Luke he’ll give him a pay raise if he doesn’t sue for workplace injury, and Luke laughs and then immediately groans in pain and says don’t make me laugh, I’ve broken my ribs.
(“Don’t worry,” Jack assures him, “Michael and Cal are coming in after us. You're safe on the laughing front.”)
Michael and Calum do visit after Alex and Jack, but only get to stay for five minutes before Ashton’s sticking his head in the door and saying Luke, your parents are here, and they’re not happy that everyone’s seen you before they have.
(“He’s your type, isn’t he?” Michael says loudly, before the door’s even closed behind Ashton, and Luke wants to die. He wonders whether he can force one of his broken ribs to puncture his lungs, or something.)
By the time his parents have finished fussing over him, his mum plumping up his pillows and his dad clapping a hand on his broken leg that makes Luke let out a choked scream of pain, Luke’s so exhausted that he just falls straight asleep, only waking up when he hears some shuffling around his bed.
“Mm?” he mumbles, blinking blearily, and finds Ashton smiling apologetically at him.
“Sorry,” he stage-whispers. “I’m not great at being quiet.”
“No, no, ‘s all good,” Luke says, swallowing like it’s going to get the horrible taste out of his mouth.
“How are you?”
“Fine, thanks, and you?” Luke answers automatically, and then belatedly realises he’s lying in a hospital bed with an IV in and a few broken bones. “Uh. I mean-” he says hastily, but Ashton just laughs, gentle and amused. It sends a shiver down Luke’s spine, although that might just be whatever Ashton’s just pressed on the machine blinking next to Luke’s head.
“Do you ever get a good answer to that?” Luke asks, turning his head to look at Ashton.
“To what?”
“To asking people how they are in a hospital.” Ashton smiles down at the tube he’s fiddling with, and Luke tries not to think about the fact that the other end of the tube is inside him, tries not to let his stomach turn. It’s probably not very sexy to throw up in front of Hot Ashton.
“Not really,” Ashton says. “But it’s free to care, right?” Oh, God. Hot Ashton is also Caring Ashton. Fuck. Luke is not in the right state of mind to deal with this.
“I guess,” Luke says.
“So, how are you?” Ashton asks, smile still playing at his lips.
“Uh,” Luke says. “Tired. My body still hurts.”
“You should rest,” Ashton advises him. “Pretty much the best thing you can do for your body right now.”
“Yeah,” Luke says, and then without thinking, adds: “I mean, I was resting, until…” he trails off, rational part of his brain kicking in and screaming what the fuck, Luke, that’s your fucking nurse, that’s so rude, that’s so unprofessional, you’re going to get kicked out of hospital and forced to try and heal your broken bones on your own (okay, maybe not so rational), but Ashton just laughs, bright and amused.
“Point taken,” he says, but he’s still grinning, so Luke figures he’s safe. “Sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep.”
“I’ll send my botox bill your way,” Luke says, and Ashton arches an eyebrow, stepping back from the machines at Luke’s side.
“I’m not sure that’ll hold up in court,” he says.
“Guess we’ll have to find out,” Luke says, eyes following Ashton as he crosses the room over to the door. Ashton huffs out a laugh, looking over at Luke as he pulls the door open and lets light spill from the bright hallway into the room, making him glow softly like some kind of weird, scrubs-clad angel.
“Sleep well, Luke,” he says, and then the light is gone.
-------
Luke does sleep well.
He sleeps for most of the next day, only waking up for a very groggy talk with a new doctor of which he takes absolutely nothing in, then for a very painful walk to the bathroom with a brisk nurse who tugs on his elbow too hard, and then when Alex, Jack, Michael and Calum all pile into his room as soon as visiting hours begin. He’s kind of glad they’re all there, because it means they can entertain each other rather than him having to partake in the conversation, so he can just lie back, exhausted, and watch them bicker over whether or not Luke would notice if they stole his hospital food. Wait, hang on-
“Hey,” Luke says, frowning. “No one’s stealing my hospital food. I need to heal.”
“But it’s salmon tonight,” Michael protests. “You don’t even like salmon.” Luke pulls a face. He really doesn’t like salmon.
“So, what, I should starve?” he says indignantly, even though he probably would rather starve than eat salmon.
“We can sneak you food,” Jack says earnestly. “Mike and I were thinking-”
“I told you, Jack,” Alex says exasperatedly. “Visiting hours are once a day. Luke needs to eat more than that.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Michael says. “Not if we bring him enough food.”
“He can space it out,” Jack suggests.
“Yeah, I’m sure Luke would fucking love to eat cold and soggy chicken nuggets,” Calum says sarcastically, and Alex nods and points at him, all thank God, finally someone speaking some sense.
“They’re not going to get soggy,” Michael protests.
“Yeah, do you know how many preservatives they put in those things?” Jack adds.
“And you think that’s what Luke should be eating to mend his broken bones?” Alex asks dryly.
“He’s fine,” Michael says breezily. “He’s twenty-one. His body’s been managing a poor diet so far.” Luke scowls.
“My diet’s fucking fine,” he says. “What’s wrong with my diet?” All four of them round on him in disbelief.
“Are you fucking serious?” Calum demands, at the same time that Michael says: “What isn’t wrong with your diet?” and Alex says: “When was the last time you even looked in the general direction of a vegetable?” and Jack says: “No, y’know, the man’s got a point. His diet could be worse.”
“Just because it could be worse doesn’t mean it isn’t bad,” Calum points out.
“Credit where credit is due,” Jack says solemnly, “he’s doing a better job than he could be.”
“The only way Luke’s diet could be worse is if he went all Monsieur Mangetout,” Alex says, and the four of them blink at him. “What?” he says defensively. “C’mon, Monsieur Mangetout? You know Monsieur Mangetout.”
“You wanna flex your French pronunciation skills one more time?” Michael asks, raising an eyebrow. “The floor is yours, mate.” Alex rolls his eyes.
“Fuck off,” he says. “My point is-” but they don’t get to find out what his point is, because then the door’s opening and Ashton’s sticking his head in. Luke wishes he’d been able to shower this morning - he’s sure his hair is sticking up all over the place, and that half the curls are flattened and frizzy, and he sort of wants to say sorry, Ashton, I swear I’m at least a little hotter than this most of the time.
“Visiting hours are over, guys, I’m sorry,” Ashton says apologetically, and all four of Luke’s friends groan. “Sorry, sorry, I know,” Ashton says, and then throws Luke a smile before closing the door as they start gathering their things together, the sound of chairs scraping filling the room.
“He’s hot, isn’t he?” Jack says to Luke, nodding at the door Ashton’s just closed.
“Yeah,” Luke says. “He’s also my nurse, so. Very illegal.” Michael pulls a face.
“Is it?” he asks. Calum and Alex both throw him hard looks.
“Yes,” they chorus.
“Fucking hell,” Jack grumbles, pulling his coat on. “Laws are really fucking boring.” In this case, Luke can’t help but heartily agree.
“Well, hurry up with the healing, and then he won’t be your nurse anymore,” Michael suggests.
“Pretty sure it’s still illegal,” Alex notes.
“So?”
“Jesus Christ, Jack,” Alex mutters, and pushes him towards the door. “We’ll come back tomorrow if you’re still here, Luke.”
“Us too,” Calum says, shepherding Michael in the direction of the door too. “Bye, Luke. Be safe.”
“Be safe?” Luke echoes. “What sort of fucking danger am I in at a hospital?”
“Falling in love, apparently,” Calum says, and then the door swings shut behind him.
Well, Luke thinks. He’s not exactly wrong.
-------
Ashton comes back at around seven p.m. with Luke’s dinner, although I don’t usually serve dinner, it’s not a nurse’s job, but Jenna’s just had to go home for a family emergency and I was the closest person at hand. It’s salmon, and Luke pulls a face when he sees it that makes Ashton laugh.
“You don’t like salmon?” he says. “We have veggie options too, if you want that.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Luke says hastily, not wanting to come across like the fussy eater he is, for some reason. “Salmon’s good. I like salmon. It’s, uh, a good fish.” Ashton blinks at him for a moment, and then snorts.
“Sure,” he says, and sets the tray down on Luke’s lap carefully. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” Luke says, which isn’t really a lie this time. “Everything still hurts, but.” He shrugs. “It’s alright.”
“You’re a trooper,” Ashton says, grinning. Luke nods solemnly, using his unbroken left hand to slot the knife into his right hand.
“It’s the top level care I’m receiving,” he says, and Ashton laughs again.
“Flattery will get you places,” he says, and Luke pauses, glancing over at Ashton.
“What places?” he asks, and Ashton winks, and sets a slice of chocolate cake down on the tray balanced on Luke’s legs. Luke looks down at it, and then back up at Ashton.
“That was on the menu,” he says. “You were going to give that to me anyway.” Ashton just grins, and heads back to the door.
“I would’ve withheld it if you hadn’t complimented my exemplary nursing skills,” he says, as he pulls the door open.
“I thought you said dinner service wasn’t part of the job description?”
“I might fight for it to be now,” Ashton says, pulling the door open. “Everyone needs to play God from time to time.” Luke snorts.
“That’s a completely non-alarming sentence to come out of your nurse’s mouth,” he says. “I think I’ll check my IV myself tonight.” Ashton’s lips hitch up in an amused smile.
“Enjoy your dinner,” he says, and then he’s gone.
-------
The next day, Luke is told that he can be discharged after a series of tests have been carried out, which are booked in for five p.m. - right in the middle of visiting hours, so he texts everybody not to come - and then get delayed until nine p.m. By ten, Luke’s still waiting for someone to come round as promised, and is getting incredibly restless, so turns to reach for his phone again - and stops dead.
There’s writing on his arm.
Writing that he, with his broken right hand, did not put there.
He yanks his arm close to him, then turns to fumble with the light above his bed because he can’t fucking see, and squints at the writing.
It’s just three words, small and scribbled like they had to be written fast or A would have lost the nerve to say them, but they make Luke’s heart thud against his ribcage like it’s trying to break a few more of his ribs.
Are you okay?
What?
Luke’s reaching for the pen in his drawer before he’s even thought about it, a million responses racing through his mind. What the fuck, being one, I thought you didn’t want to be my soulmate another, why are you talking to me now? What changed? in there somewhere too, but mostly: why?
It’s a good thing it’s only why, too, because writing the letters takes a fucking age and when he’s done, it sort of looks like something he would have produced when he was four years old. The reply is instantaneous, though, and Luke can barely believe it, feels like he’s hallucinating the way the letters are appearing one by one on his arm. He’s too scared to blink, like it’ll break the spell somehow, like looking away will make A think well, he’s replied, that’s good enough, but another sentence appears, letter by letter.
You haven’t complained about Jack in a few days.
So they have been reading Luke’s quasi-diary-entries.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Shit. Luke has no idea what to say. Should he tell the truth? Should he try and take a mile from the inch A is giving him, ask what the fuck is going on, press the question of why A doesn’t want to be his soulmate? No, that’ll make them clam up again. Maybe he just shouldn’t reply at all. After all, it’s not like A’s ever given Luke anything when he’s been pouring his heart out in the early hours of the night, is it? Maybe Luke should give them a taste of their own medicine.
He only considers that for a total of half a second before the pen is back on his skin, writing underneath A’s handwriting - God, it’s fucking surreal.
I’m in hospital. Broke a bunch of bones. There’s a longer pause this time, and when a few minutes of Luke staring intently down at his arm have passed with no further reply and he’s thinking fuck, that’s it with a sinking heart, a few more words appear.
I’m sorry to hear that. Get well soon.
Luke’s just about to put the pen back down to his arm, to write a quick thanks, because it’s about all he can manage to write legibly with the weird way he has to hold his pen with the cast on, when more scribbles start appearing.
How are you doing? Luke bites his lip.
Fine, he says. You?
I’m not the one in hospital.
True, Luke writes. My body aches.
You should rest. Best thing you can do for your body. Luke huffs out a laugh.
You sound like my nurse.
Your nurse knows what they’re talking about.
I’d be concerned if he didn’t. The reply takes a little longer to come this time, but after a few minutes more words are appearing.
Touché. Luke’s just staring down at the word, racking his brain to think of something to say to keep the conversation going because fuck, fuck, he’s talking to his fucking soulmate, when a few more words appear.
Goodnight, Luke. Get some rest.
I’d like to, but I’m waiting for more tests, Luke writes. He waits, and he waits, but no response comes.
Fuck, he thinks, rereading the entire conversation over and over, and over just for good measure. Fuck. He’s spoken to his soulmate. He’s spoken to A. He’s spoken to his fucking soulmate.
He reaches over for his phone, turns his arm this way and that and takes a photo, and sends it to his group chat with Michael and Calum. He sees Michael’s typing bubble pop up before the second picture has even sent, but then the door is opening and Doctor Nichols is striding in, and Luke hastily puts his phone down and nods along to the list of tests she’s rattling off that need doing before he can be discharged, mind covered in an impervious sheen of soulmate soulmate soulmate that stops any of it going in.
Fuck, Luke thinks, as he’s getting a bright light shone in his eyes and trying his hardest not to blink or look over at his phone, which is buzzing incessantly on his bedside table. Fuck.
-------
Michael and Calum agree that this is a positive step.
(Are you fucking kidding me? Calum says, when Luke voices hesitancy. They checked in on you. They fucking care.
rt, Michael says.)
Luke’s not so certain, though. The thought of it is sending delicious sparks dancing from his heart to his fingertips and down to his abdomen (or maybe that’s the medication, he’s not entirely sure), but he doesn’t want to jump to any conclusions, given A’s hard stance and silence for the past few months. But A would have received a letter if Luke had died, and the government are usually pretty quick to send those out, so maybe there is something to be said for the fact that they only waited three nights before asking after Luke.
Luke’s body is too exhausted to let him stay up psyching himself out over it, though, forcing him into a deep sleep as soon as Doctor Nichols has told him he’s free to leave the next morning and left him be, and when he wakes up the next morning it’s to someone opening his curtains.
“Hey,” they say, as Luke’s eyelids try to fight the fucking sun, and Luke shields his eyes with his hand to see Ashton silhouetted by the window.
“Weren’t you on shift last night?” he asks, and Ashton smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Life of a nurse,” he says tiredly. “Sorry for the light, by the way. Figured it would be a nicer way to wake you up than ripping your IV out.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Luke says, squinting and scrunching his face up, and Ashton huffs out a small laugh as he makes his way over to Luke’s side.
“This isn’t going to be pleasant,” he warns.
“That’s a shame,” Luke says. “I always thought having needles ripped out of me would be an enjoyable experience.” Ashton smiles again, and there are a few crinkles around his eyes. God, he really is fucking pretty.
“Are you looking forward to going home?” he asks.
“I’m looking forward to not having to eat salmon anymore,” Luke says.
“Hey, I offered you the veggie option,” Ashton says, and Luke winces as he feels the needle and whatever the fuck else being pulled out of his vein.
“I didn’t want to be a nuisance,” Luke says.
“Hold this,” Ashton instructs, and Luke reaches over to hold the gauze on his arm as Ashton reaches for a clear plaster. “You wouldn’t have been a nuisance. You’ve been an exemplary patient.”
“Is that a compliment?” Luke says. “I’m good at lying around being useless?” Ashton grins.
“You’re not useless,” he says. “Patients keep me in a job.” Luke grins back.
“I’ll try my best to get seriously injured again, then,” he says, and as Ashton turns away to the trolley he’s put Luke’s cannula on he catches the tail end of a small smile playing at his lips.
“Legally and professionally, I can’t encourage that,” he says, and Luke snorts.
“But personally?”
“No comment.”
“So you want me to hurt myself?”
“Is that what ‘no comment’ means these days?” Ashton says, throwing Luke a glance over his shoulder as he pushes his trolley over to the door, eyes twinkling. “Get some rest, Luke.”
“Wait,” Luke blurts, and Ashton stops. Luke blinks, like he's waiting for Ashton to say something, even though he's the one who'd asked him to stop, because shit, he hasn't thought this through. Something in his brain just said stop, ask him out, ask him out. And really, he thinks, why not, because if he embarrasses himself he'll never have to see Ashton again, and he's no longer Ashton's patient, so he takes a deep breath, says fuck it, and mumbles: “Uh. Look. Would you- would you want to go out? With me? Not- not now, obviously. Some other time. But- y’know. Would you?” Jesus Christ. Ashton hesitates for a moment, and then throws Luke a slightly sad, kind smile.
“I’d love to, Luke,” he says, and Luke’s heart soars for a moment, flying higher than it’s ever gone before “but I can’t.” Fuck. Luke’s heart should have read Icarus.
“Why not?” Luke says. “I’m not your patient anymore.” Ashton shakes his head.
“Still not allowed,” he says. “Only exception is if you find out you’re soulmates.” Well, fuck.
“Oh,” Luke says, and hopes the wobble in his voice isn’t as audible to Ashton as it is to him. “Okay.”
“I really- fuck. Sorry. I just- I’m sorry, Luke.” Ashton smiles at him again, barely more than a twitch of his lips, and then he’s gone.
Luke leans back against his pillows and stares up at the ceiling, heart pounding.
Maybe he’s just not meant to be with people whose names start with the letter A.
-------
Luke sits around at home for a week before he decides he’s so bored and so sick of being fussed over by his parents that he insists on coming back to work. Alex, in turn, insists on picking him up and dropping him off every evening, like he’s doing a fucking school run, and Jack insists on Luke doing nothing besides working the till so he can sit down. It’s fucking boring, because all the fun parts of the job are helping little kids buy their first guitars or talking to seasoned professionals about the ins and outs of the instruments, not smiling politely and waiting while they swipe their cards. He has nothing to do between people paying, so he spends most of his time on his phone, swiping through his various social media apps and wishing his hand weren’t in a cast so he could at least play guitar. It’s not exactly the worst way to spend his time, though, especially now that he’s found that forum of people pretending to be middle-class Dads which is oddly relatable and funnier to him than it probably is to anyone else. He’s in the middle of scrolling through it in a particularly quiet lull on a Thursday afternoon, screenshotting the best ones to send to Ben and Jack, when the shadow of a person looms over him.
“Hey, I- oh,” they say, and Luke looks up from his phone hastily to find-
“Ashton?” he says, surprised.
“Hi,” Ashton says. God, he looks good; he’s wearing a leather jacket over a faded grey Guns ‘N’ Roses t-shirt and black jeans, and his hair is falling into his eyes a little, and Luke sort of wants to kiss him and sort of wants to die.
“Uh, hi,” Luke says. “Sorry. I just, um. Wasn’t expecting to see you here. How can I help you?” Ashton blinks at him, and then smiles.
“I need some new strings for my Strat,” he says, and Luke nods. Of course Ashton plays guitar. Hopefully he doesn’t play, like, fucking drums, or something. That would probably be too much for Luke’s little heart to handle.
“Sure,” he says, turning to the selection of strings behind him. “Ernie Ball Regular Slinky alright?”
“Sounds good,” Ashton says, and Luke pulls a pack down and sets them on the desk in front of him, busying himself with adding up the cost like he doesn’t know it off by heart.
“How are you doing?” Ashton asks as Luke furiously types in numbers to avoid looking at Ashton, making Luke pause and glance up at him.
“You’re not on the job right now,” he says, and Ashton huffs out a laugh, raking a hand through his curls.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t care,” he says. “So?”
“I’m alright,” Luke says. “Bored, mostly. Kind of shit not being able to use my hand.” Ashton makes a small noise of sympathy, and Luke dramatically presses a button on the till and announces: “That’s fourteen dollars, please.”
“You won’t have to have the cast on for long,” Ashton says, digging around in his pocket for his wallet. Luke tries not to watch the way the movement exposes a sliver of his stomach. Thank fuck the scrubs had made Ashton entirely shapeless, because Jesus Christ.
“I feel like I’ll have to relearn how to use my hand normally when it comes off,” Luke admits, accepting the twenty Ashton hands him and fumbling with the till for a five and a one.
“That’s pretty normal,” Ashton says, accepting the change. Luke’s fingers brush against Ashton’s palm, and he tries not to let them twitch at the contact. “You’ll be used to it after a day or two.”
“Maybe I’ll grow attached to it, though,” Luke says, and Ashton snorts. “I mean, everyone has to be nice to me now.” Ashton looks down at the cast, which has Luke sucks big dicks written on it in huge, black letters courtesy of Jack, and then back up at Luke pointedly, who sighs. “That’s just Jack,” he says, and right on cue, Jack pops his head out of the back room.
“What’s me?” he says, and then brightens. “Hey, Nurse Irwin!”
“Hi, Mr Barakat,” Ashton says.
“Hey, idiot, Luke’s sexy nurse is here,” Jack shouts, and Alex’s head appears out of the office.
“What?” he says. “Oh, hey, Nurse Irwin.”
“Hi, Mr Gaskarth,” Ashton says politely. “How’re you?”
“Great, thanks,” Alex says. “Better now that you’ve patched my best employee up.”
“Hey,” Jack says, affronted. “Aren’t I your best employee?”
“Did Nurse Irwin patch you up?”
“Not yet.”
“Maybe you’ll be my best employee after that, then.”
“Good to know my nursing skills are what keep your business running,” Ashton puts in, and Alex grins.
“Think it’s more than just your nursing skills,” he says cryptically, and then disappears back into his office.
“Jesus Christ,” Luke mutters under his breath, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Uh. I’m sorry. Here. Um. Have fun?” Ashton smiles, a little teasing, a little amused.
“Will do,” he says. “Look after that arm for me.” Luke’s heart skips a beat. For me.
“Well, I was planning on smashing it up a bit more, but now that you’ve said that…” he says, and Ashton laughs, eyes twinkling.
“See you around, Luke,” he says, pocketing his strings and heading for the door. Luke watches him go, and then groans and puts his head in his hands.
“What the fuck?” Jack says. “Why didn’t you ask him out?”
“I did,” Luke mumbles into his palms. “The day I got discharged. He said no.”
“What?” Alex pipes up, sticking his head out of his office again, because apparently he’s still listening too. “Why? Does he already have a soulmate?” Luke’s stomach flips. He’s been trying not to think about that possibility. But surely Ashton would have said that, right? It’s the kindest way to let someone down. And he had said he would have loved to, however much out of politeness that may have been.
“Apparently it’s still not allowed, unless you’re soulmates.”
“Well, you could be-” Jack starts, but immediately falls silent upon a stern look from Alex. “Fine. Well, since you’ve got nothing better to do in your spare time now, you can start by reorganising those CDs you fucked up the other day.” He nods at the cardboard box that’s been sitting behind Luke for a few days now, and Luke rolls his eyes, and bends down to pick it up with a dramatic sigh.
“Fuck you,” Luke says sullenly, and gets to work.
-------
Nine days after Luke’s discharged from the hospital, another message appears on his arm.
How are you doing?
Luke’s heart skips a beat, and he reaches for a pen with fumbling fingers, slotting it into his hand as best as he can manage.
Better, Luke writes. I’m out of hospital.
I’m glad to hear that.
Why do you ask? Luke decides to chance it. Fuck it, he thinks. Why not?
You still haven’t been writing. Luke swallows.
My writing hand is in a cast.
Oh. Luke frowns.
Could you not tell from my handwriting?
Honestly? No. Luke scowls.
My handwriting isn’t that bad.
Isn’t it? Luke’s scowl deepens. A is fucking rude. Before he can come up with a suitably haughty response, though, they’re writing something else.
Can you just write me something in the evenings to let me know you’re okay?
Luke stares at it for a moment, something bitter rising in his throat. He doesn’t owe A that. A’s done next to nothing but ignore him, and now they’re demanding something from him?
You never let me know you’re okay, he writes back, a little petulantly. There’s a longer pause this time, like A’s really thinking about the answer, because when the words come they’re written like they’ve been rehearsed prior to pen touching skin.
Do you want me to?
Luke hesitates. Does he? Of course he does, it’s his fucking soulmate, but they don’t want him, and it might make him more attached to them and make it hurt more when they inevitably reject him again.
(Oh, who is he fucking kidding.)
Yes.
Okay. That’s it, they don’t say anything else, and Luke doesn’t want to chase them, so he puts the pen down and stares at the conversation.
Okay. So they’re- so they’re sort of talking now. That’s something, right? Maybe they can at least be friends.
(He pushes away the that’s going to hurt too much, Luke, that’s going to hurt far too fucking much that flashes like a neon warning sign in his head, rolls over and goes to sleep.)
-------
After that, he falls into a sort of routine.
He goes to work, plays on his phone, jumps whenever the door opens in case it’s Ashton, like his strings are going to break within a week or two, then goes home or goes to Michael and Calum’s to watch them play videogames (he’d discovered fairly early on Xbox controllers and casts don’t mix), then gets ready for bed and writes A a quick I’m okay message. Sometimes it’s just that, just I’m okay, and sometimes it’s I’m okay, had a good day at work, or I’m good, really tired, or I’m okay, Jack broke another bass guitar today, I don’t know what he has against those things. A always replies with Thanks, I’m okay, but it’s something. It’s almost enough, and Luke can make do with that.
Six and a half weeks after getting out of the hospital, Luke gets his arm cast taken off. His leg still has a few weeks to go, and he’s told his ribs are healing nicely, congratulations on refraining from strenuous exercise (Luke almost laughs in the doctor’s face), but Luke’s not really thinking about that. Logically, he knows the chances are next to nothing, but he can’t help but look out for Ashton, just in case. He doesn’t see him, of course, but when he half-jokingly mentions it to Calum and Michael that night, Michael makes an offhand comment that sticks in Luke’s mind.
“Looks like Ashton’s helping you get over A,” he says, eyes glazed over as he stares at the screen in front of them.
“What do you mean?” Luke says.
“He’s all you fucking think about despite only meeting him, like, four times,” Michael says, and then swears loudly as Calum shoots him. “You cunt.”
“Should’ve been paying attention,” Calum says, with a shrug.
Luke’s thinking about that remark as he’s getting ready for bed that night, staring at himself in the mirror as his right hand tries to remember how to use a toothbrush. Maybe Michael’s right. Maybe Ashton is the antidote to A. Or, at the very least, he’s proof that Luke can like people that aren’t his soulmate. The thought makes him smile around his toothbrush, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest. Yeah, his soulmate might not want him, but maybe he’s not doomed to be alone, after all.
He spits and rinses, and then wanders into his room, picking up his pen to write his daily I’m okay message to A. A millimetre before the pen touches his skin, though, he hesitates. He might as well ask the question he’s asked a hundred times before, now that A actually speaks to him, even if it’s only to say the same three words every night. The worst that can happen is he gets ignored again.
I’m okay, he writes, and then, why don’t you want to be my soulmate?
Thanks, I’m okay. The response comes immediately, like A’s been waiting for Luke to check in, but nothing else follows it. Luke watches his arm for a few moments, waiting for more to show up, and then sighs, turns his light off, rolls over and falls asleep.
-------
When he wakes up the next morning, he hobbles into the bathroom, yawning and stretching, and as he’s reaching for his toothbrush he happens to glance in the mirror - and stops dead.
There’s something new on his arm.
He looks down so fast he thinks he might have snapped his own neck, heart skipping a beat.
I want to choose who I love.
So it is that, Luke thinks, testing the weight of the words on his heart. They aren’t as heavy as he’d expected them to be. In fact, he thinks, as an image of Ashton flashes through his head, he sort of respects it. A can have their chosen love. Luke can find someone else.
(Another image of Ashton flashes through his head.)
He hobbles back to his room and sits down on his bed, picking up the pen and thinking. Fair enough sounds a little passive aggressive, as does that’s fair, but Luke can’t think of anything else to say, so he settles for that’s fair and adds a little smiley to try and mitigate any potential hostility that might come across in the words. He blinks at the phrase for a moment, half-hoping for a response, but it’s eight in the morning and the words must have come at around four or five for them to still be there, so A’s probably asleep. So Luke shakes himself out of it, reaches for his toothbrush, and forgets about it.
-------
A week after that, Ashton comes back into the shop.
“Hi, Luke,” he says, waving and grinning as he closes the door behind him, because of course he’s a fucking gentleman who doesn’t let the door swing shut heavily like almost everyone else who comes in. “You sell drums, right?” Oh, Jesus. He’s not a drummer. He is not.
“Uh,” Luke says intelligently, like there aren’t two drum kits set up opposite him. “Yes?”
“Sweet,” Ashton says, ambling over with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing short sleeves today, because it’s November and the weather’s starting to really warm up, and Luke can’t help but thank whatever deity may exist that he lives in the southern hemisphere, because Jesus Christ, Ashton’s arms are a fucking sight to behold. “I need a new snare.”
“Sure,” Luke says, tucking the pen he’s been holding behind his ear. “For- for you? Or- like, as a gift?” Ashton throws him an amused look.
“Who gifts snare drums?” he asks, and Luke shrugs, trying not to think about Ashton drumming. Good fucking God.
“People have gifted stranger things,” he says, and waves a hand at the drums opposite.
“Oh, hey, you got your cast off!” Ashton says brightly. “How is it?”
“It’s fine,” Luke says. “Still feels a bit weak.”
“I’m sure you know how to strengthen it,” Ashton says solemnly. Luke blinks at him. Is he- surely he’s not- is he- “Oh my God,” Ashton mutters, cheeks a little pink, like he’s just realised what he’s said. “I meant- I meant that the doctor should have given you a few exercises. Fuck. I did not mean- I’m not- fuck.” Luke can’t help but burst out laughing, warmth curling in the pit of his stomach as Ashton throws him a sheepish smile. God, he’s fucking cute. Luke is far too far gone on this man.
“Yeah, I forgot them,” he admits, because I didn’t take them in because I was too busy looking at every nurse that walked past in case they were you sounds insanely creepy. Ashton throws him a slightly exasperated look.
“Luke,” he says admonishingly, and Luke rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling.
“What was that you said about me being an exemplary patient?” he reminds Ashton, who shakes his head, grinning.
“I should have reserved judgement,” he says, making his way over to the drum kits Luke had pointed out. “Hey, do you have any sticks for these?”
“Oh, shit, yeah,” Luke says, hobbling out from behind his desk to the basket that stores test sticks and then over to Ashton, ignoring his protests of you shouldn’t be putting weight on that foot, Luke, let me get them, tell me where they are.
“It’s fine,” Luke says. “It’s getting taken off next week.” Ashton throws him a look.
“Yeah, next week,” he says. “These things have specific healing times for a reason.” Luke just waves his hand dismissively.
“I have another foot,” he says, and Ashton tuts, but a small smile is tugging at his lips.
“Hey, Luke?” a voice shouts - Jack, whose head pops out of the back room. “Oh, hey, Nurse Irwin. Luke, can you make a note that we need to order more of the Dunlop Hendrix Wahs, the SolidGoldFX NU-33s, the-” shit, Luke thinks, looking around him wildly; there’s no fucking paper, and Luke’s got a broken foot, so he can’t get back to the desk before Jack’s finished rattling this list off. As he’s spinning on the spot, the pen he’d tucked behind his ear dislodges itself and threatens to fly out, and he slaps a hand up to stop it before realising hey, pen, I have skin, I’ll just write it on my arm and write it on paper later.
“The Hendrix Wahs, the NU-33s, and what?” he calls, scribbling on his arm.
“The Hydra Stereo and Reverbs, and the Boss Pocket Processors.” Luke nods, frowning as he notes it all down, and then looks back up at Jack.
“Got it,” he says, and Jack gives him a thumbs up and disappears back into the back room. “Sorry-” he starts, turning back to Ashton, and then drinks in his ashen face, and frowns. “Are you okay?” Then he notices in the corner of his eye some writing on Ashton’s arm, and thinks huh, that’s weird, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t there when he came in - in fact, I’m certain that wasn’t there when he came in, because I made a mental map of every inch of his body, and looks down, trying to surreptitiously read it.
Hendrix Wahs, NU-33s, Hydra S&R, Bass Pocket Processors.
Luke’s list. Luke’s list, in Luke’s handwriting, has just appeared on Ashton’s arm. That doesn’t make any sense.
“Wait,” Luke says slowly, and looks back up at Ashton’s stricken face. “Wait. You- hang on. How did my list just appear on your arm?”
“How do you think?” Ashton says quietly. Luke blinks.
“I don’t know,” he says. Ashton stares at him.
“I- what? What do you mean?” he says. Luke frowns.
“This doesn’t make sense,” he says. “How did my list appear on your arm?”
“Jesus Christ, Luke,” Ashton whispers, and then grabs the pen out of Luke’s hand and scrawls hi on his own arm. It sits there next to Luke’s list, looking oddly harmonious for two things that are completely unrelated, and Luke stares at it for a moment before looking down at his own arm.
There, right next to the messy scribble of his list, is one new word.
Hi.
Oh, fuck.
“Oh, fuck,” Luke says faintly, and steadies himself against a nearby keyboard. “Oh my God. You’re- you’re A?”
“You’re Luke?” Ashton sounds just as faint as Luke.
“I- yes? Fucking- how did you not- you met all of my friends? Michael, Calum, Jack, Alex? At the hospital?”
“I only knew them by surname,” Ashton says. “I- fuck. You’re Luke.”
“You’re A,” Luke says, and then a thought occurs to him and he swallows, and grits his teeth. “Fuck. You’re A.” The words come out harder this time, tinged with bitterness, and it makes Ashton’s eyes snap up to him, big and wide and so pretty it would take Luke’s breath away if he had any left to give.
“What?”
“You- you don’t want this.” Luke gestures a little feebly, not wanting to be too specific, but Ashton just looks at him like he doesn’t quite get it. “Y’know. This. Us.” He swallows. “Me.” Ashton’s gaze softens.
“Oh, Luke,” he says. “I- fuck. I do. I want you. I just didn’t- I didn’t want Luke. But I want you.”
“But I am Luke.”
“I didn’t know that, though,” Ashton says. “I- oh, fuck. You’re my soulmate.” The word sends a chill down Luke’s spine. Jesus. He’d sort of almost come to terms with the fact he’d never meet his soulmate, never have a soulmate, never hear those words out loud, and now here he is, standing with one foot in a cast at work, talking to the hot nurse he’s not been able to get off his mind for two months who just so happens to be his fucking soulmate who had semi-torn Luke’s heart out from its resting place on his birthday.
And now, he’s not sure how he feels about it.
“You didn’t want me,” he says, more than a little accusingly. “And now you do.” He doesn’t ask anything in particular, but Ashton seems to know what he’s pointing at anyway, because he bites his lip.
“Look,” he says. “I- I just didn’t want to fall for someone because it was assigned to me, or whatever. I wanted it to be a choice, not something I was forced into. And then I did fall for you, without knowing you were my soulmate, but obviously I- I couldn’t, because you were a patient - or a former patient - so I just- I thought that was it, but. Fuck. I fell for you on my own, and it turns out you’re my fucking soulmate.” Luke swallows. When he puts it like that, it makes a lot more sense. Luke can kind of get that. And the fact that Ashton’s saying he fell for Luke but just couldn’t act on it is definitely helping matters - Luke’s easily buttered up by an ego stroke.
“You broke my heart,” he says, matter-of-fact, and Ashton swallows.
“I hoped I hadn’t,” he says, like that makes it any better.
“You could’ve at least waited ‘til it wasn’t my birthday anymore,” Luke says. “Or explained yourself. I thought it was me.”
“You thought what was you?”
“I thought- I thought I’d put you off, somehow. That I was the problem.” Ashton’s eyes go wide, and he shakes his head.
“God, no. Jesus. No, no. I just- I wanted to be clear, and I thought the less I engaged the better, y’know? Like, the less you’d have to latch onto, the easier you’d forget about me.” He hesitates. “I shouldn’t’ve done it on your birthday, though,” he says. “I’m sorry. And- I’m sorry for everything else, too. It was never you.”
And, okay. Luke’s the type to hold grudges. He’s petty and he’s childish, and he doesn’t forget shit like this. But he’s also an adult and he’s (to some degree, at least) capable of rational thought, so he shoves away his first instinct that says spite him, go on, make him hurt like he hurt you and thinks about it. Yeah, Ashton fucked up. He should’ve waited until it wasn’t Luke’s birthday, and he should’ve explained himself, and he just should’ve been a lot more communicative from the beginning. But the past week or two, Luke’s actually been okay with the idea that A doesn’t want him, so he can’t really hold that against Ashton anymore, not when his heart has patched itself up the past five months and shrugs off the idea of not having his soulmate in the way he’d always wanted. And he does understand Ashton’s reasoning, even if he doesn’t agree with it, so he clears his throat, and, just to make sure, says:
“So- so you do want it now?”
“Fuck, I- well, I want to see where it can go,” Ashton says. “I- I don’t want to make any promises. But I’d like to try.” Luke blinks at him.
Ashton wants to try. Ashton, who is Luke’s fucking soulmate, wants to try the two of them on for size.
“Okay,” Luke says. “Okay. Yeah. We can try.”
“Yeah?” Ashton says, a little nervously.
“Yeah,” Luke says. “I mean, I’ve been sort of infatuated with you from a distance since meeting you, anyway, so.” He shrugs, and Ashton grins and opens his mouth to say something, and then there’s a yell from behind them.
“Hey, Luke,” Alex says. “Oh, hey, Nurse Irwin. Luke, can you call our accountant? I need the books going over by- uh. Why are you both smiling like you’ve committed a crime? You’ve not committed a crime on these premises, have you?”
“What?” Luke says. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“What’s wrong with you two?” Alex says suspiciously. Luke glances over at Ashton, who shrugs, tiny and imperceptible, like sure, go on. Fuck.
“Uh,” Luke says, and swallows. “Turns out Ashton is, um. Kind of my soulmate?” Alex blinks at him.
“Who’s Ashton?” Luke blinks back, and then points at Ashton. “That’s- that’s your soulmate? Ashton’s the dickhead?” The back room door opens.
“Who’s a dickhead?” Jack asks, intrigued.
“Ashton,” Alex says.
“Who’s Ashton?”
“Nurse Irwin.”
“Oh. Hey again, Nurse Irwin. Why are you a dickhead?”
“He’s Luke’s soulmate.” Jack looks at Alex, and then at Luke, and then back again.
“No, he isn’t,” he says calmly.
“He is,” Luke says.
“Fucking hell,” Jack says, and then goes back into the back room and closes the door.
“Hey,” Alex shouts, frowning. “Get back out here. Luke’s just found his fucking soulmate.”
“I’m not dealing with this mess,” Jack yells back, muffled by the door.
“What mess?” Ashton asks, bewildered. Alex whips around to stare at him.
“The mess you made,” he says. “Y’know. When you broke little Luke’s heart on his twenty-first birthday.” Ashton has the good grace to look embarrassed, and even winces slightly. Good, Luke thinks, a little childishly. Public humiliation probably makes them even for Luke’s birthday being ruined, isn’t it?
“I didn’t mean to,” Ashton says, sounding very much like a five-year-old.
“I don’t care,” Alex says. “You two sort shit out between yourselves.” Ashton blinks at him.
“Right,” he says, and turns to Luke. “So. Uh. I feel like now is the time to ask you on a date.”
“What, with my chaperone watching?” Luke says, throwing Alex a pointed glance, and Alex throws his hands up in exasperation and heads back into his office. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Ashton says, with a small smile. “It’s sweet how protective they are of you.” Which, yeah, but like, fuck, because if Ashton thinks this is protective, he’s got another thing coming when he meets Michael and Calum. Luke bites his lip.
“Wait ‘til you meet Michael and Calum,” he says, a little warningly, a little gleefully.
“So is that a yes?”
“A yes to what?”
“Me asking you out.” Luke blinks.
“Ashton, I asked you out, like, two months ago,” he says. “And you’re my soulmate. Obviously it’s a yes.”
“Well, I don’t know,” Ashton says, a little defensively. “It’s good to check.”
“What, so now you’re the king of communicating?” Ashton throws him a slightly hard look, but it softens when he sees the smile on Luke’s lips.
“I sort of deserve that,” he admits, and Luke grins.
“Part and parcel of going on a date with me,” he says, and Ashton grins back.
“At least I to go on a date with you,” he says. “Softens the blow.”
Yeah. Luke could get used to the way his heart is trying to communicate with him through the medium of interpretive dance.
(It’s a good thing his soulmate’s a nurse.)
-------
Hurry up, Luke scribbles on his arm as quickly as possible. I didn’t pay for parking.
Jesus, Luke, comes back almost immediately. I’m on my way back.
I can tell by your handwriting.
You’re one to talk.
Fuck off.
xxx
Luke puts the pen back in the glove compartment and taps his fingers on the gear stick, peering at the revolving doors to try and spot his boyfriend. It only takes about thirty more seconds before he sees him walking out, looking around for a moment until he sees Luke parked badly and illegally and jogs over, shaking his head fondly.
“Idiot,” he says, when he gets in the car. “If we get a fine, you’re paying it.”
“You’ll have to bargain with Alex to give me a raise, then,” Luke says, throwing the car into reverse without bothering to look over his shoulder.
“Jesus, Luke, look where you’re fucking going,” Ashton says, even though there’s no one there. Luke shrugs, puts the car into first, and pulls out of the spot he’d been parked in.
“What?” he says. “We’re right outside a hospital. It’s fine.”
“Fucking hell,” Ashton mutters, but when Luke glances over he’s smiling.
“So?” Luke prompts. “What did they say?”
“It was fine,” Ashton says. “There are procedures in place for this sort of thing, y’know. They had the government papers confirming you’re my soulmate, and the ethical review was fine, because you just broke a few bones so I barely looked after you.” Luke scoffs.
“Just broke a few bones?” he echoes, a little indignantly. “I broke half my fucking body.”
“Well, you did toss about fifty guitars onto yourself,” Ashton says, fumbling in the glove compartment as Luke pulls out onto the main road.
“That was to get out of whatever Jack was trying to force me to do,” Luke says. “And it worked.”
“Was it really worth it?” Ashton says, pulling the pen out of the glove compartment and raising his eyebrows.
“Of course it was,” Luke says immediately. “I didn’t have to do whatever dumb shit Jack had in mind.” Out of the corner of his eye, Luke sees Ashton roll his eyes.
“That was a perfect set-up to say of course, Ash, I wouldn’t have met you otherwise,” Ashton tells him, and Luke grins.
“Would’ve said that if I meant it,” he says, and Ashton sighs, but he’s grinning.
“I don’t know why I bother with you,” he says, and Luke grins back.
“Because I’m your soulmate,” he says. “And worse than that, you chose to be stuck with me. This is all your own fucking doing.”
“Fucking hell,” Ashton mumbles again, but he’s scribbling something on his arm, and when Luke glances down he sees a slightly shaky heart drawn right where his wrist meets the back of his hand, and smiles out at the road.
“Love you too.”
#lashton#malum#5sos fic#5sos fanfic#5sos slash#jalex#YES I KEPT IT UNDER 15K#sorry i am literally going to crow about my achievement on that front#no one come for me for the title#IT WORKED OK...its not just my addiction rearing its ugly head agian
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This weekly roundup includes fics written (at least in part) during the 1k1h sprints and/or the Weekend Writing Marathon events.
Fics are ordered first by fandom, then by word count from smallest to largest.
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I’ll Follow You (Around The World) by vexbatch
Good Omens || Crowley/Aziraphale || Teen & up || No major warnings apply || 2,414 words || Complete
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale meet up, sometime before the end of the world, to have a coffee.
Other tags: fluff, pining, first kiss
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Dancing By Myself (and baby, it’s the electric slide) by vexbatch
Marvel || Clint Barton || Explicit || No major warnings apply || 1,559 words || Complete
Summary: It’s Clint’s birthday, and Natasha actually got him a really nice gift. A really nice gift that he’d like to try out right now, thank you very much.
Other tags: trans clint barton, masturbation, violet wand, pwp
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An Intermission (or two) by @pherryt
Marvel, The Old Guard || none || General || Major Character Death || 1,590 words || Complete
Summary: Two short vignettes focusing on Andy and Bucky (Separately) before the next big story hits:
Chapter 1: Andy isn't sure of her usefulness anymore, now that Superheroes are becoming a thing.
Chapter 2: Bucky isn't sure of anything at all. Until he is.
Other tags: off screen character death, canon divergent winter soldier, Avengers, Implied/Referenced Torture, Battle of New York, Family, loss of self, Memory Loss
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Outside the World by @pherryt
Marvel || winterhawk (bucky/Clint) || General || No major warnings apply || 4,767 words || Complete
Summary: Bucky doesn't really remember who he is, and what little he does remember is impossible. All his therapists have said so. There's no way he can be who he thinks he is - a character from a children's book.
And yet, the world around him just doesn't *feel* right - its too dark, too colorless and doesn't match the vibrancy of his dreams. Dreams he tries to capture both on paper and on his walls.
Bucky doesn't have any answers he can count on, just the hat he's kept all these years, but that guy that started following him - as vibrant and eye-catching as the pieces of Bucky's dreams -
Well, he just might.
Other tags: Mad Hatter, Cheshire Cat , White Rabbit, March Hare , Wonderland, Amnesia, Lost!Bucky, stranded in another world, Magic, Portals, past self inflicted hurts (but not self harm), Reunions, Riddles, names have power, Protective!Bucky, Sacrifices, allusions to greater conflict, bucky's friends never gave up, Pocket Watch, Top Hat, Recovering Memories, unwonderland, steve rogers, steven strange
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Finding Me (And You) Along the Way by @pherryt
Marvel || winterhawk (Bucky/Clint) with side Steve/Sam || Teen & up || No major warnings apply || 10,031 words || Complete
Summary: When Clint retired - pre-Loki, pre-Avengers - he'd never expected that his leisurely world tour might be joined a couple years later by Captain America's best friend. A best friend who'd gone through things nobody should ever have had to go through and was just trying to find himself again.
Even if Clint hadn't already promised Steve to keep an eye out for Bucky, he'd have caved in the direction of helping. There was just something about him...
Other tags: soulmates, soulmate miscommunication, telepathy (sort of) finding yourself, fluff, traveling the world, mutual pining, deaf!clint, retired!clint, nerd!bucky, soft!bucky, canon divergent, post winter soldier, journal, memories, scarf, minor references to nightmares and past abuse
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Square One by @pherryt
Marvel, The Old Guard || nicky/joe (pre Nicky/Joe/Bucky) || Mature || Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Major Character Death || 15,709 words || Complete
Summary: It's been nearly 50 years since James sacrificed himself to save Joe and Nicky from a very Merrick like fate. They had no idea he was about to become a presence in their lives once more, looking almost as young as he had then.
James wasn't an immortal, so it should have been impossible, but there he was on the tv, clear as day.
Other tags: Temporary Character Deaths, temporary suicide, On screen suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, identities revealed, Angst, Family, finding sanctuary, There's another one, Hopeful Ending, protective Joe, Protective Nicky, Supportive Andy, supportive Nile, talk about past joe/nicky/bucky, Forgiveness, Winter Soldier, bonding all over again, post winter soldier, canon divergent winter soldier, post old guard, Tired Bucky Barnes
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Not Your Guardian Angel (chapter 21) by @tryslora
Original Fiction (Welcome to PHU) || M/F/F (Shane/Pels/Jess) || Teen & up || Author chooses not to give major warnings || 3,464 / 83,881 words || WIP
Summary: When Pels wakes up, everyone she loves is there. Maybe they can heal from more than just the accident.
Other tags: Magic, College, Guardian Angel, Ghosts, Soulmarks
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Not Your Guardian Angel (chapter 22) by @tryslora
As Above || 3,513 / 87,394 words || WIP
Summary: Jess wants to hug Pels. She wants to confirm that she's alive and well, but... that's something they haven't done yet.
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Under the Surface by @pherryt
Supernatural || destiny (Dean/Cas/Benny) || Teen & up || No major warnings apply || 25,842 words || Complete
Summary: Dean was kicked out of his pack because he couldn't turn into his wolf, but shifters aren't meant to be alone. He finds a traveling companion in Benny, who's been on the run from his own pack for years and is desperately lonely. It goes well enough, except that Dean keeps getting sick and Benny doesn't know why, so when they find what appears to be an abandoned village, they take refuge - only to find a lone wolf still lives there and he's not too happy to find strangers in his home.
Other tags: Found Family, Shifters, Wolves, Werewolf AU, touch starved, Alone, cast out, Traveling Together, Finding Shelter, Storms, Hurt/Comfort, Sick!Dean, hurt!Dean, Bad Pasts, Fluff and Angst, Pining, Mutual Pining, loner!cas, Magic, spells, Prophecy, Fantasy AU, not a/b/o, Shapeshifting, Domestic
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Wyerd by tryslora
Teen Wolf || Stiles/Derek/Jackson || Teen & up || No major warnings apply || 4,990 words || Complete
Summary: Stiles started writing the webcomic when he was sixteen. At the time, he thought the name was the height of wordplay humor. Now it's been picked up by Netflix for a six episode series covering the first published volume, and starring Derek Hale and Jackson Whittemore. What even is his life?
Other tags: AU-Actors, Comic Artist Stiles, Actor Derek, Actor Jackson, Getting together
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Have you posted a fic recently? Any active WWM participant can Submit your fic here by midnight EST Wednesday and it will be included on next Friday’s WWM Fic Roundup post.
#wwm fic roundup#good omens#marvel#the old guard#original fiction#welcome to phu#supernatural#teen wolf#fanfic
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Second Soulmate
CHAPTER 1: THE ENGINEER
At the academy Jim drags Bones along to meet his cousin Rachel, an advanced engineer student. As soon as he meets her, Bones knows he's screwed. But there's a problem. In a world where each woman is eventually drawn to her soulmate, Bones has already met his...& Rachel hasn't. So as the three of them join the Enterprise & go adventuring, Bones dreads the day she receives her Pull.
Chapter 2 -->
Star Trek fic
2,298 words
Bones/OC
Hello again! It's been a while since I've done a fic, and this will be my first multi-chapter one. There will be 6 parts and I'll probably post one chapter per week.
I've always adored the character of Bones/Doctor Leonard McCoy. His cynical sarcasm lifts my spirits and mirrors my own personality. He can be grumpy, but underneath he's a southern gentleman, a genius doctor, a brave man, and a real softy. A man after my own heart!
Feel free to comment or send questions. No flames please. Other than that, let me know what you think! :D
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Starfleet Academy
“I should get paid if I’m going to have to babysit you.” Bones grumbled halfheartedly as he struggled to keep up with his energetic friend.
They’d just completed Starfleet Academy's two week orientation process. And on their first afternoon off Jim decided to drag him out of his nice warm dorm, through campus to some unknown destination.
“C’mon, old man! At least we’re not cooped up indoors anymore.” said Jim with one of his crazy grins.
“It’s raining.” Bones deadpanned, not amused.
Jim waved his hand. “What’s a little rain? Maybe it’ll perk you up a bit.”
Bones rolled his eyes. “Will you at least tell me where we’re going?”
“We’re going to see someone.”
The doctor stopped short. “Who? I swear, Jim, if you’re going to see that girl Daphne, or Dora, or whatever her name was… I did NOT sign up to be your chaperone!”
“Her name is Dani, and no. We’re not going to see her. Besides,” he smirked. “I don’t need a chaperone when I go see Dani.”
“Gross.”
“Jealous?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Liar.”
“Not. Is it Louisa Colbert from Administration?”
Jim scoffed. “That was weeks ago!”
“That was last week!”
“Whatever. She got Pulled.”
Bones blinked. “To who?”
“Remember Frank from Space History 101?”
“Him? Really?”
Jim laughed. “I know, right?”
The doctor snorted and avoided a gush of water coming from a broken gutter.
At some point in a woman’s life she was “Pulled” to her soulmate. It could happen at any point in her life, but generally happened before the age of thirty. There were a variety of ways it could manifest. A com number popping into their head. Seeing a vision of the person. Being physically and irresistibly pulled to the person. Hearing the person’s voice in their head. Their soulmate’s name suddenly appearing on their skin. And many more.
When the two people finally made contact, there was a Settling (or some called it a Spark) that took place to confirm the connection. Sometimes it was a tingle or a warm sensation. Butterflies in the stomach, uncontrollable shaking, electric sparks, and a floaty feeling were also possible. Mates recited the first half of the binding vows at this point. Even with all this, the law said that a telepath had to confirm the validity of the Pull in order for it to be considered official. The second part of the bond would be cemented when they said the second part of the binding vows at their wedding.
From then on the bond between the mates would only strengthen over time. It could grow infinitely depending on the couple. Some couples developed the ability to sense the other’s emotions, pain, or even thoughts. Though communicating coherently and intentionally via telepathy was rare unless their species was already predisposed to it.
The doctor hesitated for a moment until his curiosity overcame his uneasiness.
“What was the Pull?”
Jim’s brow wrinkled. “I’ve heard a couple of different stories. Someone said that his com number appeared on her wrist and she called him over and over until his com started to heat up and he finally answered it right in the middle of class. Apparently the professor wasn’t too happy about it. But another group said that it was a temporary telepathic link while he was taking an important placement test. She heard him furiously trying to decide if the answer was A or D and she ran halfway across campus to tell him that the answer was actually B!”
The two men laughed.
Bones shook his head. “Still, Frank. I hope he grows up in a hurry.”
Jim nodded. “He hasn’t been to a party since. I saw him in the library the other day filling out internship applications.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Well good for him.”
The rain was letting up, but the cold wind was getting stronger.
“Now for the love of God, tell me where we’re going!” he growled, frustrated, as he tugged his collar up against the stinging drops..
“We’re going to see an engineer.”
“Really?” Bones smirked. “I didn’t think you got along with technology too much at the moment. This morning you had an argument with the coffee pot.”
“Ha ha. Hilarious.” the younger man grumbled. “In here.”
He led them into one of the dorms and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. Jim headed down one hallway and then another, checking the numbers on the doors. Finally he stopped in front of 417.
“Do they know we’re coming?” Bones asked, a bit late. Jim had already knocked.
“Nope.”
“Brilliant.” Bones grumbled.
There was a bang from inside and the sound of muffled cursing. Then the door flew open and a rather grumpy looking young woman stood on one leg. She was leaning against the door jam as she clutched at her other foot, which she’d obviously just stubbed. She already had her mouth open for another curse, but froze when she caught sight of Jim. Her mouth fell open in surprise.
“Hey, Rache! As graceful as ever I see.” said Jim with a grin.
The comment seemed to startle the woman out of her stupor. She lunged for Jim and Bones took a hasty step forward, already used to women’s affinity for wanting to punch Jim in the face. But instead she threw her arms around his neck in a bear hug. Jim laughed and hugged her back, holding her up off the floor because of their height differences.
“Jim the Daredevil! As I live and breathe! What the HELL are you doing here?!” the woman laughed as she let go.
“I-” Jim started to say, but was interrupted.
“Wait!” The woman seemed to take in his red cadets uniform for the first time. She frowned. “James Tiberius Kirk, did you swipe a uniform just to sneak in here to see me?”
“You’ve a mighty fine opinion of yourself if you think I came all this way just to see you.” Jim joked, earning himself a punch on the arm from her. Bones smirked at that. “As a matter of fact, I signed up.”
The woman blinked. “You joined Starfleet?”
“Yep!”
There was a pause as she seemed to process this. Then her eyes narrowed and Bones took an instinctive step away from Jim so as to be out of the line of fire.
“You idiot!” She lunged and caught him in a headlock, causing Jim to squawk indignantly. “I’ve been at you for years and years to sign up with me! Then I finally give up and leave on my own only for you to show up out of the blue a year later!”
“Ow! Ow! Watch the hair!” Jim struggled, but she merely gave him a noogie that mussed up his hair even more and caused Bones to laugh out loud.
Noticing him for the first time, the woman let go of Jim and turned to face the doctor. She was several inches shorter than his 6’1” frame, but she scrutinized his face with open curiosity before thrusting her hand out for him to shake.
“Rachel Ryanns. Second year Advanced Engineering. An’ this lump,” she nudged Jim with her toe as he tried to flatten his hair. “Is my crazy cousin.”
Bones tried to ignore a small sense of relief as he shook her hand.
“Doctor Leonard McCoy.” he said.
“And who’s beloved pet did you run over to get stuck babysitting this guy?” she asked.
Bones grinned pointedly at Jim. “See! I told you it was babysitting. I’m gonna have to set an hourly rate.”
“Who would pay it?” Jim asked.
The Doctor ticked off on his fingers, “Captain Pike, Professor Jones, that barista you scandalized at the coffee shop yesterday, the dean of the academy-”
“Your mom.” Rachel added. “My mom. Heck, even I’d pay you in cookies to keep him from making too big a mess on campus.”
They laughed as Jim put a hand over his heart, pretending to look hurt.
“I’m wounded!” he cried.
“Drama queen,” snarked Rachel, elbowing him in the gut. Bones caught sight of something on the sleeve of her white shirt as she did so.
“Is that blood?” he asked.
Rachel glanced at her wrist. “Oh, probably. I think I might have caught it on something in the lab.”
Bones’ healer instincts weren’t going to let her brush it off. Assuming his doctor persona he took her wrist and gently rolled up the sleeve. It was a graze more than a cut, but it was still several inches long and seemed to have bled a bit before starting to scab.
“What materials were you working with?” he asked, frowning as he examined the depth of the abrasion.
“Mostly boridium power generators. We were given some really busted up ones and are supposed to be diagnosing potential issues and recalibrating them before the assignment date on Wednesday.”
Bones frowned. “Did you wash this afterwards?”
“I washed my hands, but I was in a hurry to submit my notes for the day. I was just finishing that up when you knocked.”
Leonard picked a tiny piece of debris out of the wound and carefully wiped away a smudge of grease. “If you’re wearing rolled up or short sleeves you need to wash all the way up your arms. I see this isn’t a one time thing either.” he scolded, pointing to several other scars littering her fingers, hand, and arm. “Being danger prone apparently runs in the family.” He complained. “You’re in Starfleet now. You won’t last a month in space with all of those alien diseases and germs if you don’t follow basic hygienic practices. Or you’ll get an infection from a graze like this and wash out before you even step foot on a starship.”
“Ouch, Bones. Way to give a girl a bad first impression.” Jim said with a wince.
The doctor opened his mouth to snap back but was interrupted.
“No, no. He’s right.” Both men blinked at her. “I know I need to be more careful. Bad habits are hard to break.” She traced an old scar with a fingertip. “I just get so zoned into a project that I usually forget to eat, let alone do first aid. But I’ve dreamed about being a Starfleet Engineer since I was a kid. I don’t want to miss out on that because I was too scatterbrained to take care of myself.”
Bones raised an eyebrow approvingly. It looked like the female cousin was much more responsible and reasonable than her male counterpart. On top of that, she didn’t seem at all put off by his grumpy snappishness.
“Since you’ve waited this long to clean it, I’d recommend a trip to the nurse just to make sure nothing got in there in the meantime.”
Jim rolled his eyes. “Stop pestering her! You’re-”
Rachel reached up and grabbed him by the ear turning his sentence into a squawk.
“You need to be more respectful to your elders.” she chastised.
“First of all, that hurts! Second, you’re only six months older than me!” complained her victim.
Bones tilted his head back and laughed til’ his eyes watered. Wiping the moisture away he grinned at the engineer.
“I like you.”
She smiled, letting go of Jim’s ear. “Mutual. So what do you think? Between us do you think we can keep this reckless goof alive ‘til he graduates?”
Leonard chuckled as Jim rubbed his bright red ear looking disgruntled.
“It’ll take a miracle, darlin’. But we’ll see.”
Rachel’s cheeks flushed a bit before turning back to her cousin.
“So besides ruining the few hours of peace and quiet I get in this madhouse, what’re you doin’ here?”
Jim pouted. “I just wanted to say hi, let you know I was here, and see if you wanted to get lunch with us this weekend.”
“What time?”
“Maybe about eleven on Saturday.”
Rachel tapped at the watch-like gadget strapped to her left wrist. A holographic calendar appeared.
“Sure. My study group doesn’t meet until three. So that’ll be fine. Meet me at the west end of campus by the art sculpture. There’s a great Bajoran cafe just a few blocks away.”
“Great! We’ll see ya then.” said Jim giving her a quick peck on the temple. “C’mon, Bones. All this talk of food has made me hungry.”
The doctor rolled his eyes. “Of course it has.” He turned back to Rachel. “Well, it was nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too.” she said before turning back to her door.
Bones started to go after Jim, then stopped. He cleared his throat.
“Don’t you have somewhere…”
“Easy, Doc.” Rachel said, leaning around the doorway and pulling out a pair of boots. “I’m headed off to the nurse. I just didn’t want to walk through puddles in my socks.”
Bones chuckled as she hopped up and down on one foot, trying to get the shoe on. He finally offered her an arm and she leaned against it gratefully. Her footwear sorted, she straightened up, and gave a salute.
“Request permission to follow doctor’s orders, sir!”
Leonard laughed. “Granted. But don’t you need a coat?”
Rachel waved a hand. “I don’t get cold easy. See ya later, doc.” She flashed him a brilliant smile and headed off down the hallway.
Bones felt his heart give a kick and his own smile slowly melted off his face. He watched the long end of her ponytail swish back and forth across her back until she was out of sight around the corner.
“I am so screwed.” he mumbled.
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud, obnoxious voice.
“Earth to Bones! C’mon! There’s a giant pile of chicken wings with my name on them!”
Chapter 2
Masterlist
#bones#leonard mccoy#doctor leonard mccoy#jim kirk#star trek#star trek fic#bones / oc#bones x oc#bones/oc#bonesxoc#leonard/oc#leonardxoc#leonard / oc#leonard x oc#leonard mccoy / oc#leonard mccoy x oc#leonard mccoy/oc#leonard mccoyxoc#captain kirk#starfleet#starfleet academy#soulmates#bones / soulmate#bones x soulmate
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The You’re Mine Saga: Pt. 1 (Hannah’s POV)
Hannah hummed quietly to herself as she dug through a box she had just gotten out of the storage closet. Whilst her darling husband was hard at work with the rest of The Pack, helping Carla build her dream dance studio downtown, she had decided to pull out a box that she had hand painted herself using her two favourite colours, pink and blue. And in a lovely lilac shade, she had hand painted the lyrics to the song You're Mine by her all-time favourite band, Disturbed. It should be no secret that this box contained an array of photos, movie ticket stubs, concert ticket stubs, and other memories that she and Ned had created over the four years they had spent together...
So far, anyways...
It was a chilly Los Angeles day in December of 2014 when the man who would eventually become her soulmate had entered her life. At the time, she was staying at Lily Stone's mansion in a private, gated community in the Hollywood Hills. Hannah, along with a group of her friends, were taken there for shelter after a man who went by the monicker Diesel 10 had come bursting into The Old Iron, during which time it had been booked for close friends and family of Alfie and Ashley in celebration of their upcoming Christmas Day wedding. Hannah, George, Thomas, and Buster were in the middle of a song when the front door of the pub seemingly burst off of its hinges, and nobody at that moment knew what type of horror they were about to be subjected to...
Wielding a barbed wire baseball bat that he had oh-so-affectionately nicknamed Pinchy, Diesel screamed at everyone to line up and get on their knees. He was there for a very specific reason, and that reason was revenge for his deceased wife and daughter. He wanted to know the whereabouts of Lily's parents, Burnett and Lady, and that he wasn't leaving until he knew where the fuck they were. He knew that everyone in the pub were friends with Lily, but, none of them had ever met her parents a day in their lives
Lily's excuse was that they were always out of town on one of their luxurious vacations. Burnett had come from a wealthy family, never having to work a day in his life. Despite his wealth, Burnett Stone was a kind, gentle, and humble man who would give you the shirt off of his back. But, it was later found out that Lady was a very powerful Goddess. Her powers included resurgence, teleportation of herself and others, telepathy, as well as uphold the link between the regular world and a special, spiritual world. If that link is broken due to Lady's death, it would be the end of humankind. Diesel had learned about this link while he was visiting Duncans's tattoo shop, where he had overheard Lily communicating with her mother via their telepathic link, and apocalypse be fucking damned, he wanted revenge for his beloved girls...
It was after everyone had settled down a bit that Lady had told them the story as to why Diesel wanted her dead so badly. She did give them a warning, since the story was going to be gut wrenching, especially after they had just watched their friends and loved ones go through such unspeakable horror only mere hours before. She didn't want to scar everyone even more, but...nobody cared in that moment. All they wanted to know was why that man chose to attack them in the manner that he did. Injuries. Deaths. Horror that still haunted many of the people who were there that fateful night...
But, that's a story for another time...
It was a few days after the attack, and Hannah was quietly sitting on the living room couch with Thomas. Regardless of the shit they put each other through during their drug and alcohol fueled "romance," Thomas always has been, and always will be, like a brother to her. They were watching the first, and original, A Nightmare on Elm Street movie, when there was a sudden knock at the door. Lady had mentioned that it was okay if anyone had wanted friends or family over for extra comfort, under the condition that she and Burnett were notified first. They wanted the name and a photo of the person who would be coming over, as well as an estimated day or time. If plans changed, they were to be notified of that, as well. Everyone knew that they were only asking them to do this as an added safety procaution due to the event, and they happily agreed to the conditions. And, since pretty much everyone else who was staying at the mansion were either at work or busy doing other things, Hannah had decided that she was going to answer the door and ask whoever was there what droid they were looking for. In a polite way. Duh...
She excused herself from the couch for a second, telling Thomas that she was going to answer the door. She was always good at getting unwelcome people to amscray if need be, and she was more than willing to do so if this whoever - or whatever - was an unwelcomed guest. She sharply inhales as she unlocks the door, before swinging it open. And she was met with the most beautiful specimen of a man she had ever seen in her then twenty five years of life...
Standing in the doorway was a man she had never seen before. He stood at a cool 5'10" from what she could tell. He was clad in a faded, black Rush t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and black high-top Converse sneakers. He had shoulder length dark brown hair that had some hints of silver, and the most beautiful shade of green eyes she had ever seen. Her brain must have blue screened for a moment, because the man at the door chuckled and said...
"Hey, Sweet Cheeks. I'm here to see Alfie. Is he back from work yet?"
Sweet Cheeks. He fucking called her Sweet Cheeks. Jesus H. Christ on a fucking unicycle...Hannah was in love. She had absolutely no idea how this guy knew Alfie, but, she didn't give a fuck in that moment. She manages to collect herself, before telling the mystery hunk that Alfie was indeed home from work and that she would go and fetch him. She tells him to stay outside for now, due to the safety precautions, before turning around and screaming
"ALFIE!!! THERE'S SOMEONE AT THE DOOR FOR YOU!!! IS HE THE DROID YOU ARE LOOKING FOR?!"
Hannah could hear the mystery hunk laughing behind her. Dear Odin, he had the laugh of an Angel. It wasn't long until Alfie came sprinting down the stairs, and his face lit up the second he saw who was at the door. Judging by that reaction, this was the droid that he was looking for, but, that was confirmed even more when Alfie had gently shoved past her to give mystery hunk a great, big Bro Hug. Ashley wasn't far behind her husband to be, asking him who was at the door for him. Alfie beams proudly, before turning towards her and saying
"Baby, this is Ned! He works with me! He was just on vacation visiting his family in New Jersey! Come and say hi!"
Hannah had decided to stand back a bit while Alfie introduced his darling fiancée to his coworker. She stood at the bottom of the staircase, lost in her own thoughts as she stared at Ned. She didn't know what it was, but, there was something about him that caused her to feel an instant attraction to him. And she knew in her head and in her heart that he was her definition of a perfect man...and she didn't even know him!
Well...
Not yet, anyways...
She was still standing on the stairs when Alfie finally allowed him to walk through the door. He must have noticed that she was there, because he looked right over at her and smirked. The smirk caused her heart to drop into her asshole, and it took everything in her power not to physically swoon. Ned then looked at Alfie, and asked him in - well, from what she heard, anyways - the most seductive and orgasm inducing tone...
"Hey, Alfie...who's the gorgeous lady with the pink hair?"
Alfie side-eyed Hannah for a hot second, and she could see the animosity glistening in his eyes. Alfie has had it out for her ever since her past relationship with Thomas, because he blamed her for his struggles with drugs and alcohol. Thomas was already down that road before they had gotten together, and even Vivian knew that, but...Alfie didn't give a fuck. He pretended to be civil with her for Thomas' sake, but, Hannah could see right through his bullshit façade. But, instead of making a snide remark, he just smiles and says
"Oh, her? That's Hannah. She's a family friend. Why don't you go say hi to her? I'm sure she'd love to meet you..."
Hannah's heart stopped for a solid second. She wasn't a shy girl by any means. Never was. But...there was no way in Asgard she'd be able to talk to Ned. One thing about her was she always became incredibly awkward whenever she felt even the slightest bit nervous or intimidated. She knew there was no way a guy like him would ever like a girl like her...
5'2" in height. Pastel pink hair. Multiple tattoo's. There was no fucking way he'd ever give her the time of day. Ned looked like the type of guy who would enjoy the company of someone like Isobella, another member of the construction team known as The Pack that Alfie worked for, who is also the oldest daughter of their boss, Miss Jenny. Isobella was a fucking bombshell of a woman. 5'6" in height. Blonde hair. Gorgeous blue eyes. The same belly laugh inducing sense of humour her mother had. But, she was about to be pleasantly surprised by what was to come next...
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You’re Mine (Pt. 1)
Relationship Backstory For:
@FeistyLilRocker
@ClumsyIsNed
Hannah hummed quietly to herself as she dug through a box she had just gotten out of the storage closet. Whilst her darling husband was hard at work with the rest of The Pack, helping Carla build her dream dance studio downtown, she had decided to pull out a box that she had hand painted herself using her two favourite colours, pink and blue. And in a lovely lilac shade, she had hand painted the lyrics to the song You're Mine by her all-time favourite band, Disturbed. It should be no secret that this box contained an array of photos, movie ticket stubs, concert ticket stubs, and other memories that she and Ned had created over the four years they had spent together...
So far, anyways...
It was a chilly Los Angeles day in December of 2014 when the man who would eventually become her soulmate had entered her life. At the time, she was staying at Lily Stone's mansion in a private, gated community in the Hollywood Hills. Hannah, along with a group of her friends, were taken there for shelter after a man who went by the monicker Diesel 10 had come bursting into The Old Iron, during which time it had been booked for close friends and family of Alfie and Ashley in celebration of their upcoming Christmas Day wedding. Hannah, Ned, Thomas, and Buster were in the middle of a song when the front door of the pub seemingly burst off of its hinges, and nobody at that moment knew what type of horror they were about to be subjected to...
Wielding a barbed wire baseball bat that he had oh-so-affectionately nicknamed Pinchy, Diesel screamed at everyone to line up and get on their knees. He was there for a very specific reason, and that reason was revenge for his deceased wife and daughter. He wanted to know the whereabouts of Lily's parents, Burnett and Lady, and that he wasn't leaving until he knew where the fuck they were. He knew that everyone in the pub were friends with Lily, but, none of them had ever met her parents a day in their lives
Lily's excuse was that they were always out of town on one of their luxurious vacations. Burnett had come from a wealthy family, never having to work a day in his life. Despite his wealth, Burnett Stone was a kind, gentle, and humble man who would give you the shirt off of his back. But, it was later found out that Lady was a very powerful Goddess. Her powers included resurgence, teleportation of herself and others, telepathy, as well as uphold the link between the regular world and a special, spiritual world. If that link is broken due to Lady's death, it would be the end of humankind. Diesel had learned about this link while he was visiting Duncans's tattoo shop, where he had overheard Lily communicating with her mother via their telepathic link, and apocalypse be fucking damned, he wanted revenge for his beloved girls...
It was after everyone had settled down a bit that Lady had told them the story as to why Diesel wanted her dead so badly. She did give them a warning, since the story was going to be gut wrenching, especially after they had just watched their friends and loved ones go through such unspeakable horror only mere hours before. She didn't want to scar everyone even more, but...nobody cared in that moment. All they wanted to know was why that man chose to attack them in the manner that he did. Injuries. Deaths. Horror that still haunted many of the people who were there that fateful night...
But, that's a story for another time...
It was a few days after the attack, and Hannah was quietly sitting on the living room couch with Thomas. Regardless of the shit they put each other through during their drug and alcohol fueled "romance," Thomas always has been, and always will be, like a brother to her. They were watching the first, and original, A Nightmare on Elm Street movie, when there was a sudden knock at the door. Lady had mentioned that it was okay if anyone had wanted friends or family over for extra comfort, under the condition that she and Burnett were notified first. They wanted the name and a photo of the person who would be coming over, as well as an estimated day or time. If plans changed, they were to be notified of that, as well. Everyone knew that they were only asking them to do this as an added safety procaution due to the event, and they happily agreed to the conditions. And, since pretty much everyone else who was staying at the mansion were either at work or busy doing other things, Hannah had decided that she was going to answer the door and ask whoever was there what droid they were looking for. In a polite way. Duh...
She excused herself from the couch for a second, telling Thomas that she was going to answer the door. She was always good at getting unwelcome people to amscray if need be, and she was more than willing to do so if this whoever - or whatever - was an unwelcomed guest. She sharply inhales as she unlocks the door, before swinging it open. And she was met with the most beautiful specimen of a man she had ever seen in her then twenty five years of life...
Standing in the doorway was a man she had never seen before. He stood at a cool 5'10" from what she could tell. He was clad in a faded, black Rush t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and black high-top Converse sneakers. He had shoulder length dark brown hair that had some hints of silver, and the most beautiful shade of green eyes she had ever seen. Her brain must have blue screened for a moment, because the man at the door chuckled and said...
"Hey, Sweet Cheeks. I'm here to see Alfie. Is he back from work yet?"
Sweet Cheeks. He fucking called her Sweet Cheeks. Jesus H. Christ on a fucking unicycle...Hannah was in love. She had absolutely no idea how this guy knew Alfie, but, she didn't give a fuck in that moment. She manages to collect herself, before telling the mystery hunk that Alfie was indeed home from work and that she would go and fetch him. She tells him to stay outside for now, due to the safety precautions, before turning around and screaming
"ALFIE!!! THERE'S SOMEONE AT THE DOOR FOR YOU!!! IS HE THE DROID YOU ARE LOOKING FOR?!"
Hannah could hear the mystery hunk laughing behind her. Dear Odin, he had the laugh of an Angel. It wasn't long until Alfie came sprinting down the stairs, and his face lit up the second he saw who was at the door. Judging by that reaction, this was the droid that he was looking for, but, that was confirmed even more when Alfie had gently shoved past her to give mystery hunk a great, big Bro Hug. Ashley wasn't far behind her husband to be, asking him who was at the door for him. Alfie beams proudly, before turning towards her and saying
"Baby, this is Ned! He works with me! He was just on vacation visiting his family in New Jersey! Come and say hi!"
Hannah had decided to stand back a bit while Alfie introduced his darling fiancée to his coworker. She stood at the bottom of the staircase, lost in her own thoughts as she stared at Ned. She didn't know what it was, but, there was something about him that caused her to feel an instant attraction to him. And she knew in her head and in her heart that he was her definition of a perfect man...and she didn't even know him!
Well...
Not yet, anyways...
She was still standing on the stairs when Alfie finally allowed him to walk through the door. He must have noticed that she was there, because he looked right over at her and smirked. The smirk caused her heart to drop into her asshole, and it took everything in her power not to physically swoon. Ned then looked at Alfie, and asked him in - well, from what she heard, anyways - the most seductive and orgasm inducing tone...
"Hey, Alfie...who's the gorgeous lady with the pink hair?"
Alfie side-eyed Hannah for a hot second, and she could see the animosity glistening in his eyes. Alfie has had it out for her ever since her past relationship with Thomas, because he blamed her for his struggles with drugs and alcohol. Thomas was already down that road before they had gotten together, and even Vivian knew that, but...Alfie didn't give a fuck. He pretended to be civil with her for Thomas' sake, but, Hannah could see right through his bullshit façade. But, instead of making a snide remark, he just smiles and says
"Oh, her? That's Hannah. She's a family friend. Why don't you go say hi to her? I'm sure she'd love to meet you..."
Hannah's heart stopped for a solid second. She wasn't a shy girl by any means. Never was. But...there was no way in Asgard she'd be able to talk to Ned. One thing about her was she always became incredibly awkward whenever she felt even the slightest bit nervous or intimidated. She knew there was no way a guy like him would ever like a girl like her...
5'2" in height. Pastel pink hair. Multiple tattoo's. There was no fucking way he'd ever give her the time of day. Ned looked like the type of guy who would enjoy the company of someone like Isobella, another member of the construction team known as The Pack that Alfie worked for, who is also the oldest daughter of their boss, Miss Jenny. Isobella was a fucking bombshell of a woman. 5'6" in height. Blonde hair. Gorgeous blue eyes. The same belly laugh inducing sense of humour her mother had. But, she was about to be pleasantly surprised by what was to come next...
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Another soulmate one cuz why not. How about the telepathy with Iwaoi?
“Anything for you. Also you request the best combinations how
Oikawa knew damn well his soulmate was his best friend, the person he’s known practically since he was born. But as far as he knew, Iwaizumi didn’t know Oikawa was his, which at times made him feel awful.
Iwaizumi was all sweet when they communicated telepathically but when they meet in real life he was… well he was Iwaizumi. Oikawa knew Iwaizumi liked him, both sides of him. The one he knew personally since their were kids, and the one he knew from telepathy. He just wasn’t sure if they were the same kind of like.
Oikawa thought Iwaizumi was in love with the person he knew telepathically and liked the person met everyday as just a friend. And it was hard to live like that. Sure, he thought of telling him, just about thirty times a day. He always gave up in the end. As far as Iwaizumi was concerned, he loved a telepathic conversation and not Oikawa.
“Tooru, we have volleyball practice now, c’mon.” Iwaizumi dragged Oikawa out of his chair.
“Iwa-chan!” He chanted. “Always looking out for me.”
“Shut up, bastard.” Iwaizumi pretended not to smile, it was enough to get Oikawa through volleyball practive.
Which he loved. He did. But his knee? Not so much. After since his injury, playing had become a bit harder.
“What are you doing now?” He suddenly heard Iwaizumi inside his head.
“I’m with a friend, we’re leaving school right now.” He half lied. “And you?”
“Dragging my idiot friend to volleyball practice.” Iwaizumi replied right at the same time he let go of Oikawa and he, not paying attention to the way, bumped into a wall.
“Iwa-chan, that hurt!” Oikawa cried.
Both things hurt. Iwaizumi calling him his idiot friend and getting his face smacked by a wall.
“Pay attention to the way, Tooru!” His soulmate warned. “I can’t do everything for you.”
“I know.” He massaged his own face.
“Did something happen?” He asked.
“My friend managed to hit a wall.” Iwaizumi explained. “He can be such an air head some times, I worry about the guy.”
“Awwww!” Oikawa accidently let it slip but Iwaizumi interpreted as him as him complaining of pain.
“Once we get to the gymnasium I’ll get you some ice.” He reasurred. “But we’re already late so let’s go!”
He started dragging Oikawa again. Like promised, Iwaizumi got Oikawa a small bag of ice so he could put on his face. While everyone else started training, Oikawa had to wait till his face didn’t sore anymore. He thought he should talk to Iwaizumi while he waited.
“How’s practice going?”
“Wonderful!” Iwaizumi replied as he spiked a ball. “I do wish our normal setter was playing thought. He really hurt his face in that wall.”
“So you’re friend is a setter?” Oikawa played dumb.
“One of the best I know.” Iwaizumi answered. “But never tell him I said that! He’d get all cocky and condescending.”
“Oh c’mon, now would he really?”
“Trust me, he would.” Iwaizumi laughed, it killed Oikawa that he could even hear him laughing with this telepathy thing. “He does have the right though, I just can’t deal with him for too long when he gets like that.”
“Sounds like he’s really troublesome.” It hurt Oikawa’s pride to talk about himself like that.
“He is. And what are you doing now?”
“I’m just at home, watching a movie.”
“What movie?”
Oikawa stopped to look at his soulmate and at how happy he seemed to be playing. It was something he could watch for all eternity.
“Chick flick stuff. I do love romances.”
“Very brave of you to admit that.”
“To be honest, I feel like I can admit anything to you.” Except for who I really am… Oikawa thought. “You’re my safe space. I guess that’s why they call it soulmates.”
“Is the chick flick movie making you emotional?”
“Just a bit. I am a romantic by natural after all.”
“I’ll have to trust you on that one. I’m here just hoping you’ll be as romantic with me once we actually meet.”
“Oh it’s a promise.” Oikawa’s heart hurt a little bit. “You’ll be the only human ever to receive every ounce of romance I have in me.”
“I’ll definitely take you up on that.” Oikawa could see Iwaizumi’s smirk from where he sat. It was one of the most beautiful things.
“I promise to deliver.”
Oikawa finally stood up and went to his coach. “I think I can play now.”
“You sure?” The coach asked. “Don’t exert yourself too much, Tooru.”
“I’m completely sure.” Oikawa managed a smile.
His coach smiled back and nodded in the direction of the court, meaning he was giving permission for Oikawa to join in.
“You suddenly went quiet.” Oikawa teased as he crossed the lines painted on the floor.
“You can’t expect me to have a comeback for those type of comments.” Iwaizumi replied. Oikawa could see him blushing.
“And why not?”
“All better?” Iwaizumi asked him in real life.
“All better, Iwa-chan.” He smiled.
“Then let’s go!” He patted Oikawa in the back.
“I’m not smooth like you.”
He called me smooth! Oikawa was swooning.
Practice after that went like it normally would. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Iwaizumi and Oikawa would exchange a few telepathic conversations like usual. Once it was all over, Oikawa felt unecessarily tired. He spend half of the time sitting on the bench, why did he feel so bad?
He breathed in and out multiple times, a tick Iwaizumi had taught him. It did make him feel a bit better.
“I’m going home, Tooru.” He said goobye.
“See you later, Iwa-chan.”
“I’m going home now. Practice was amazing as usual. You’re still watching chick flicks?”
“Don’t you know me so well?”
Oikawa started walking to his own house. Next day was Saturday, he’d have a bit of peace from now till Monday morning. That was good, he could use some peace.
“Haven’t you left your house at all today?”
“In the morning, for school. That’s all I allow myself these days.” Oh, how Oikawa wished that were true.
They talked all the way to Oikawa’s house and then until both of them went to sleep. Iwaizumi went to sleep first, Oikawa could tell by the silence that creeped close to 11 pm.
The next day, Oikawa woke up pretty early because of the doorbell ringing.
“Mom!” He called. “Mom!”
He didn’t get an answer. Of course, he forgot his mom worked on Saturdays. It wasn’t as uncommon as one’d think.
He dragged himself out of bed and opened the door to find Iwaizumi there.
“Iwa-chaaaa” He yawned. “What are you doing here?”
“Just tell me, Tooru.” He said. “Just freaking tell me.”
“Tell you what, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa was genuienly confused.
“That you are my soulmate, you bastard!” Right then, Oikawa felt his heart suddenly stopped beating. “We’re best friends since forever, did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
“B-But you…” Oikawa stammered. “I-I… You’re okay with this?”
That was all the confirmation Iwaizumi needed. Oikawa barely registered when his lips where on his own. The kiss must’ve lasted no more than 6 seconds but in Oikawa’s world that was the equivalent of a whole day. This was all he ever wanted and it was just happening, right then and there.
“I love you, Tooru.” Iwaizumi was in his head this time. “I’ve always had, you bastard.”
Oikawa felt like crying. His heart was so happy, beating again, but at risk of exploding from so many good feelings at once. Most feelings he couldn’t even name. But he was just plain happy.
“I love you too, Hajime.” This time, Oikawa inciated the kiss.
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If you were given three things to make you happy, what would these be?
A brain rid of anxiety & insecurity
A better paying/less stressful job
A killer body
How would you rank the following in importance: family, career, love life?
Well, I’d group family and love life in the same category because when you find your soulmate, he/she becomes part of your family (regardless of marital status). Nothing comes before family. And all of that is entirely more important than career. Jobs are expendable, transferable. Our loved ones are not.
Which would you prefer: having a baby without a partner or a partner without a baby?
For a long time I kind of envisioned myself in the former situation. But now that I have the love of my life, I wouldn’t trade him for anything. I do hope we have kids someday but I try not to stress about making it a priority. Spending my life with him is what matters.
What was your experience about being “mansplained,” and what did you do about it?
I call out men each & every time they do that. I don’t have the tolerance.
Who was your favorite cartoon character when you were a kid?
Princess Aurora! And she still is. I’m wearing a Sleeping Beauty bangle as we speak.
Do you think God is real, and why?
I have a fluid idea of what/who I believe God to be.
Do you believe in giving people second chances, and why?
Absolutely. I would have never improved & evolved if it weren’t for the people in my life who gave me second (and third and fourth) chances. That’s how we grow.
How would you describe your first crush?
I was in kindergarten. His name was Jake. We ended up hooking up senior year of high school. Better late than never, huh?
Do you ever keep a journal?
For my entire life. I have a whole box of over 30 journals ranging from age 9 to the present.
Do you think people fall in love because the right person has arrived, or because the time is right (regardless of whom the person is that they fall in love with)?
Timing *is* a factor but ultimately love is about the individual person.
How do you feel about the #MeToo movement?
I fully support it. What else do you expect me to say?
What do you look for in a relationship?
I never realized how important the element of FUN is for me until I dated Glenn. We’re very playful; constantly joking and making each other laugh. Several people have remarked to us that we always look like we’re having a good time in each other’s company. And we are! I think I had an unhealthy expectation of relationships in the past. I thought passion was only achieved through intense conversations, tearful arguments, violent sex. But Glenn & I have a magnetizing connection and mind-blowing passion, all while being each other’s best friends. Our relationship is rooted in JOY. And it’s the most beautiful thing.
Other non-negotiable qualities are support and empathy (particularly when it comes to understanding my anxiety) and of course, loyalty.
What is your idea of a perfect date?
I love a traditional wining & dining. I’m not a fan of activity-based dates if you’re just meeting the person. Something about it feels awkward to me. I’d rather just sit in a relaxed environment, enjoy some good food & drink and chat away.
What legacy do you want people to remember about you after you’re gone?
I’d like to be remembered as a bright spot in people’s lives.
Have you ever asked a guy out on a date?
No way. Not because I subscribe to gender roles or anything. But simply because I’m not a move maker.
What was the most important lesson you’ve learned from your past relationship?
Where to even begin?
-You shouldn’t ever have to beg for attention or affection from your partner
-Love should be celebrated & shared, not hidden like a dirty secret
-Crying during/immediately after sex is not healthy
-A man’s refusal to stop when you explicitly ask him to is the definition of ASSAULT
What book influenced you the most?
I could never pick just one
What’s a deal-breaker for you in a relationship?
Well I’d like to say abuse or assault is a deal-breaker, but my response from a few questions ago proves that’s not the case. Although, I’ve learned my lesson since then. Also any kind of infidelity is unacceptable.
Are you a morning or a night person?
I’ve become more of a night person lately
How important is trust in a relationship?
It’s the backbone of any healthy relationship
How do you feel about infidelity?
There is no room for it in a healthy relationship
Do you believe that the day will arrive when humans will be replaced by machines in almost all aspects of life?
Not entirely. I think machines will replace lots of menial (or even extraordinary) tasks but I don’t think humans will just cease to exist.
What do you think is humankind’s greatest invention?
I’m not trying to be snarky but the first thing that came to mind was pizza. Delivery pizza, to be specific. Do you ever think about how dope it is that you can get the greatest food in existence delivered to your door with just a few clicks of your phone? PRICELESS.
Do you think that humans are doing more harm than good to the planet?
Oh 100%
What is your take on telepathy?
I think some people have stronger intuitive senses than others but I don’t believe in straight-up telepathy
What is your favorite workout routine?
I don’t do shit, my dude
Would you rather be called vain or insecure?
I’ve been called both. And to be honest, I *AM* both. Although I’m only vain in the context of myself.
What important lesson did a close relative teach you?
Be generous with your “I love you”s. You can never say it too much.
What part of your body do you find attractive?
My collarbones are my favorite feature
Which would you choose to be: law-abiding citizen or rule breaker, and why?
I’m a law-abiding citizen. I function best when strict rules are in place.
What is your ideal vacation?
My dream trip is Poland or Iceland. But I’d take a vacation almost anywhere at this point.
What superpowers did you wish you had when you were a kid?
Teleportation or time-travel. Tbh, I still do.
Are you a mountain or a beach person?
Beach!
What mythical animal do you resonate with, and why?
A mermaid maybe because I love to swim? Funny
Which member of your family do you feel closest to, and why?
My sisters & my cousin Rachel. My sisters are kinda self-explanatory and my cousin Rachel & I are close in age and have very similar interests so we’ve always gotten along.
Who do you consider your best friend in your workplace?
I like all my coworkers for the most part but my best friends no longer work here.
What three adjectives would describe you?
Sensitive, imaginative, flighty.
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you choose?
I’m pretty content with where I live now, in all honesty.
What are you passionate about in life?
Spreading love & joy
What quality in a person do you fall in love with?
Humor, wit, compassion, sensitivity
Have you had your heart broken before?
Sure have. Do not recommend it!
What is your take on astrology?
I find it fascinating but I take it all with a grain of salt. And I certainly don’t let it dictate my life. I just have fun with it.
What is your life’s soundtrack?
Ideally it’d be something dreamy & whimsical! Slightly Disney-esque.
When was the last time you spoke with a classmate from high school?
I’m texting with my high school best friend right now
Are you left- or right-handed, and would you want to switch?
Right handed.
What subject were you good at in high school?
English
Do you find it difficult to admit that you are wrong, and why?
I always take the blame & have no problem admitting I’m wrong. Even when I know I’m not...
Do you get excited or scared when meeting new people?
Both but probably more nervous than excited
What is your secret hobby that others would consider weird?
I love reading inmate’s profiles on writeaprisoner.com and then researching their crimes
How do you cope with stressful situations?
HA HA HA, not well...
Is there anything that you would like to change about yourself?
Quite a lot. I’d like to be calmer and more disciplined.
What musical instrument do you know how to play?
None, although I’d love to learn something
Which would you prefer in a romantic partner: a dreamer or an achiever?
An achiever.
What is your favorite part of a house, and why?
My bedroom. It’s calm & cozy and decorated perfectly to my liking.
Who is the fictional character who closely resembles you in terms of attitude?
Elle Woods, on my best days.
When you were a kid, what did you say you wanted to be when you grew up?
An author. And that’s still true!
What was the title of the first movie you watched in a movie theater?
I think it was The Hunchback of Notre Dame but I’d have to confirm with my mom
When was the last time you slept outdoors?
A little cat nap on the beach not too long ago
What is something that you are proud of about yourself?
I’m proud of myself for making it through this ten hour shift today. Gotta take all the little victories I can get!
What song do you often sing in the shower?
I don’t sing in the shower much anymore since Glenn’s moved in. He’s a legitimate singer and I don’t want him to hear my voice
What do you feel is the right age for people to get married?
There isn’t one. Simply whenever you both feel ready & willing.
What would be your super villain name and your powers?
SuperSensitive Girl, and I’d get my way by crying.
What three non-electric or non-automatic items would you take on a deserted island?
Provided I already have food & drinking water, I’d bring a journal and pen (I’m counting that as one), my baby blanket and my book collection (also counting that as “one” item).
If “hello” were to be replaced by another word as a greeting, what word would that be?
Hey?
What is the weirdest thing that your family does together?
I don’t know, we’re pretty weird...
What was the most embarrassing thing that you’ve done for a friend?
I cannot disclose that here :X
What would be the title of the movie showing your life from birth up to present?
Work in Progress? I know, I know, that’s cheesy. But I’m too fried to think of something more creative. This survey has been LOOOONG!
What fashion piece would you invent for women?
Pants with functional pockets is a CONCEPT
What is the single most important thing people should do for the planet?
Um, recycle I guess? Truly, I don’t know.
How do you define evil, and do you believe that a person can be evil?
Of course I believe people can be evil. Anyone who intentionally inflicts harm on another person/animal/infrastructure is evil.
What do you think are the two things that prevent people from realizing their dreams?
MONEY and access. As much as I’d like to say it’s our own limiting beliefs & bullshit that prevents us from achieving our goals, it’s really access to resources that makes or breaks you.
Would you lay down your life for someone?
A few people
What word or term do you wish to know the meaning of?
I can just Google the definition of any word I choose. The internet is a magical place!
What makes you nostalgic?
Girl, what DOESN’T make me nostalgic?
Do you believe that each of us has a soul mate?
I do, but I don’t necessarily think that person is always a romantic partner. And I do believe in multiple soulmates.
How would you live your remaining days if you found out you had only a week to live?
Oh God, I can’t think about this!
Do you listen to other people’s advice, or do you prefer figuring things out yourself?
I’d prefer if I could hand off all my problems to someone else & have them solve them. I don’t like being responsible for myself!
Imagine that you are tasked to re-design society - what changes would you make?
I absolutely would not want to be assigned that task. (Lol- copping the previous survey’s answer because SAME).
What’s the perfect day for you?
Sleeping in, hitting up the beach for some reading & swimming, then maybe a nice dinner & drinks somewhere fun?
Would you wait for the sun to rise or for it to set, and why?
Both are beautiful and majestic!
If you were born in another era, when would that period in history be and why?
There’s so many concerts from the 80s and early 90s I would’ve killed to see!
Have you made someone cry?
Never intentionally but nonetheless, yes.
What is the most astonishing act that a person can do for you?
For me it’s all about the small but significant gestures. What I love about Glenn is that he takes note of things about me that I don’t even notice myself, and then acts accordingly. For example, apparently I always complain I’m freezing when I get out of the shower (I never realized this) so he always turns the AC off while I’m in there so that I’m a comfortable temperature when I get out. Stuff like that means the world to me.
What is more important: being true to yourself regardless of who gets hurt or considering the consequences of your actions on other people’s lives?We should all consider the impact of our actions on other people. It’s selfless and irresponsible not to.
If you die tonight, would you pass away fulfilled or unsatisfied with life?
Can we not....?
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dollopbed
all i think about is you
kyupidos
in other words ,
o-nexa
o.nexa