anonymous requested: for the soulmate prompt thing at first i was like aww for number 18 but then i just imagined modern reddie and eddie has fucking all star by smashmouth stuck in his head who the fuck is singing all start oh it’s richie (also on ao3)
Everyone knew that if a song was stuck in your head, it was because your soulmate was singing it. Eddie had always thought it was cute until it began happening to him. Now the main reason he wanted to meet his soulmate was to strangle them for singing such annoying songs.
Eddie struggled to concentrate on the textbook in front of him. He groaned and closed the book, resting his face in his hands. Bill gave him a concerned look over his laptop.
“Something wrong, Eddie?” he asked.
The brunet looked at him in exasperation. “They’re singing again. Why do they always have to start singing whenever I’m doing something important!?”
Bill smiled sympathetically. “What is it this time?”
Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me / I ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed / She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb / In the shape of an “L” on her forehead
“Fucking ‘All Star’ by Smash Mouth. I hate my life, Bill.”
His friend laughed. “You say that now but you’ll change your mind when you meet your soulmate.”
The hypochondriac rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Bill. You’re not the one with a soulmate that sings meme songs and weird indie shit. I wish my soulmate sang pretty songs like yours,” he grumbled.
Hey now, you’re an all-star, get your game on, go play / Hey now, you’re a rock star, get the show on, get paid / And all that glitters is gold / Only shooting stars break the mold
Eddie whined again and buried his face in his arms.
“I want to die.”
He shot Bill a glare when he laughed.
“Are we rehearsing tonight?” Bill asked the lead singer and founder of their band.
Richie groaned. “I don’t want to but we have to keep practicing that song we’re gonna cover for the show on Friday, which is two days from now. So yeah, we’re rehearsing.”
Bill snorted. “Alright, I’ll let Bev know then.”
He left to call their bassist and Richie leaned back in the lounge chair in the Student Union. He began to hum the tune of their new song. The trashmouth pulled out his notebook and scribbled down some notes and lyric ideas.
I come home in the morning light / My mother says when you gonna live your life right / Oh mother dear we’re not the fortunate ones / And girls they wanna have fun / Oh girls just want to have fun
Richie smiled wide as he stilled his hand. He really wanted to meet his soulmate. From what he could gather by their taste in music, they’d be fun to be around.
“What are you smiling about?”
He looked up. Bill sat down across from him, eyebrow raised knowingly. Richie’s cheeks reddened as he looked back to his notebook.
When the working / When the working day is done / Oh when the working day is done oh girl / Girls, they wanna have fun
“My soulmate’s singing.”
Bill nodded, a smirk forming. “Beverly’s on her way,” he told him. “She’s bringing dinner, also.”
“God bless her fucking soul.”
Eddie watched as Stan threw himself dramatically on the couch in his apartment. He groaned loudly before regaining his composure and sitting up.
“Everything okay, Stan?” Eddie asked, genuinely concerned for his friend.
The curly haired teen looked up at him. “Yes and no.”
The brunet raised an eyebrow in confusion.
“Yes, I’m fine as in there isn’t anything actually wrong with me. No, I’m not fine because my soulmate won’t stop singing love songs.”
Eddie gave him a jealous look. “I’d take that over getting ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ stuck in my head every hour.”
Stan snorted. “I really want to meet them but it’s unlikely. I just hope the chances are good enough that we go to the same university.”
“I get what you mean. I want to meet my soulmate and beat the crap out of them for getting all those shitty songs stuck in my head, but yeah, I also want to meet them for the obvious reasons.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, Eddie, but your soulmate sounds like a fucking nightmare,” his friend said. “Anyway, ready to start this dumbass history project?”
Eddie groaned and went over to the TV and turned it on.
“By the way, my roommate might be back, like, halfway through this documentary,” he explained as he inserted the DVD.
“I’m warning you now but history is honestly the most boring subject so don’t get mad at me if I fall asleep, which is very likely. Just pay extra attention,” Stan told him, pulling his feet up on the couch.
Eddie rolled his eyes and sat with him on the couch, pressing the play button. He tried to focus but the dull voice of the narrator explaining the French Revolution was making it hard. That and the new song stuck in his head.
Your sister thinks that I’m a freak / She’s been ignoring my calls, we haven’t spoken in a week / I get so drunk that I can’t speak / Yeah, nothing’s working and the future’s looking bleak and I say
“Really? Now of all times?”
“Song stuck in your head?” Stan asked as he repositioned himself to lie down.
Eddie nodded miserably. “Yeah, and it sounds loud. You know what I mean.”
“No, not really.”
Three beers and I’m so messed up, get drunk and I can’t shut up / She says that I drink too much / I fucked up and she hates my guts / She says that I need to grow up
“It always happens when I really need to focus. I feel like they know,” Eddie explained.
“Well, block it out and pay attention. I can feel my soul dying as this documentary progresses.”
The hypochondriac laughed at his friend and drew his legs up on the couch so he was sitting crisscross.
I’ll drink ‘til I’m staring at the ceiling / I’ll be just fine I’m numb and losing feeling / I can’t tell lies anymore
“What are we even supposed to do for this assignment?” Stan asked, looking over at Eddie.
He shrugged. “I think we’re supposed to watch the documentary and then write some questions? Our professor said he’d pick the best ones and use them as essay questions for the next test.”
I just don’t know what to do, I’m still fucked up over you / She says that I drink too much / Hawaiian red fruit punch / She says I need to grow up
“It shouldn’t be too bad considering the French Revolution is pretty straightforward,” said Eddie.
His friend groaned again, leaning his head back against the couch. “Kill me.”
True to his word, Stan fell asleep about ten minutes in. Eddie tried his best to pay attention, scribbling down possible ideas for questions, but four more songs came and went. The documentary had just ended when he heard the apartment door open. He looked up from the TV where he was removing the disc.
“Hey,” Eddie waved. “How was practice?”
Bill dropped his bookbag on the ground and headed into the kitchen.
“It was good,” he told Eddie as he poured himself a bowl of cereal before draping himself over the armchair. “We got a lot of stuff done and perfected the two covers we’re doing for Fridays show. Which you better still be going to.”
Eddie rolled his eyes when Bill gave him a pointed look. “I’m going.”
He grinned. “Good. Anyway, what the hell were you watching?”
“It was for a stupid assignment for my history class. Speaking of, Stanley, wake up! It’s over.”
He shoved Stan with his foot, jerking him awake.
“Okay, first off? Rude. Secondly, your couch is very uncomfortable, please tell me you don’t make guest sleep here.”
Eddie shrugged at him. “Do you wanna, like, stay and get take out or something?”
Stan stood up, stretching his arms over his head, causing his shirt to ride up a bit. “No, I should probably get back to my apartment and hope my roommate hasn’t burned it down,” he replied.
He seemed to just now notice Bill. “Oh, you must be Eddie’s roommate. I’m Stanley.”
Bill smiled at him and Eddie noticed Stan’s cheeks flush. “Bill.”
“Nice to meet you. Anyway, I should head out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”
Eddie said his goodbyes as he walked out of the apartment. He noticed how his roommate’s eyes lingered on the doorway.
“Hey, just out of curiosity, is he single?” Bill asked, looking back at Eddie.
“Unbelievable,” he shook his head as he walked back to his room.
“What, Eddie? Are you going to answer my question or not?” his roommate shouted after him.
He ignored him in favor of his phone vibrating. He checked to see that it was a text from Stan.
[ from: bird boy ] Okay so uhh
[ from: bird boy ] Your roommate is hot as fuck
[ from: bird boy ] Like,, raw me please
[ to: bird boy ] never ever ever make me read those words ever again in my life
[ from: bird boy ] Pass the word on to him I’m begging you
[ to: bird boy ] im blocking you
“Is it okay if my roommate joins us for lunch? I promised I’d go with him last week but obviously forgot and then made plans with you. He just texted me asking where we’re meeting.”
Richie looked up and Bill and laughed. “Fine with me, Big Bill. You talk a lot about your roommate. I’m excited to meet him.”
Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you / Slow down, they don’t love you like I love you / Back up, they don’t love you like I love you / Step down, they don’t love you like I love you / Can’t you see there’s no other man above you? / What a wicked way to treat the girl that loves you / Hold up, they don’t love you like I love you / Oh, down, they don’t love you like I love you
He cracked a smile. “I really want to meet my soulmate.”
Bill raised an eyebrow.
His friend snorted and rolled his eyes before returning to texting his roommate about his whereabouts.
How did it come down to this? / Scrolling through your call list / I don’t wanna lose my pride, but I’m a fuck me up a bitch / Know that I kept it sexy, and know I kept it fun / There’s something that I’m missing, maybe my head for one
“Okay, he’s on his way. I told him I’d order for him so let’s get going.”
Richie nodded and followed Bill into the restaurant. They ordered their food, with Bill ordering also for his roommate, before diving deep into conversation.
“Bill, I swear to god, if you ask about him again I’m going to kill you.”
A short brunet stopped abruptly behind Bill, unaware of Richie’s presence. He took this time to admire him. He was cute. Really cute. Richie grinned.
“Hiya,” he said with a grin, taking the newcomer’s eyes off his friend.
“This is my friend Richie. Richie, this is my roommate Eddie,” Bill explained. “He’ll be having lunch with us if that’s okay with you.”
Eddie gave Richie a quick once over and a small smile before sitting down next to Bill. Their food arrived shortly after and they began to eat.
“So, Eddie,” the trashmouth began. “Are you coming to our show on Friday?”
Eddie looked up, his look a bit skeptical. “Our show?” he repeated.
“I’m sure you’ve heard all about the band from Bill.”
“You’re in that band?”
Richie laughed. “Eds, I formed that band!”
He grimaced. “Don’t call me Eds.”
The dark-haired teen reached over and pinched his new friend’s cheek. “But its cute, like you!”
Eddie slapped his hand away, only looking mildly embarrassed. He glanced at Bill.
“Is he always like this?” he asked.
Bill looked at his friend and sighed. “Sadly.”
Richie placed his hand on his chest in mock offense. “You hurt me, Bill. This isn’t how you were treating me last night. Why do you always have to act so different when we’re in public?” he whined as he began to pretend to cry dramatically.
“Beep beep, Richie.”
Richie grinned wide and pushed his chair back. “I have to go. You’d better be at that show tomorrow, Eddie, or I will be very sad!”
He slung his bag over his shoulder and headed toward the exit.
“He didn’t pay,” he heard Eddie say to Bill.
“This isn’t the first time.”
Richie waved over his shoulder and blew Bill a kiss. He winked at Eddie, his grin widening when he saw him blush.
Friday finally rolled around and Eddie decided to invite Stan to Bill’s band’s show. He made sure to specifically mention that his roommate was in this said band because he knew Stanley would never go otherwise.
“Can you please stop talking about you and my roommate fucking,” Eddie pleaded, pressing his fingers to his temples. “And are you sure you still want to go? You weren’t looking too good earlier.”
“It’s the depression,” Stan replied, giving him a look. “But I’m okay now.”
Eddie nodded. “Okay. Let me know if you want to leave at any time and we will.”
Can I get your number? / Can I get you into bed? / When we wake up in the morning / Will you give me lots of head?
“Oh, that’s nice,” Eddie sighed as they got closer to their destination.
“Me too. Or at least parts of a song.”
Everybody wants to love you / Everybody wants to love you! / Everybody wants to love you
They approached the venue, easily identifiable by music and cheering. They paid the entry fee and walked inside. Eddie was immediately greeted by sweaty, dancing bodies and loud music. He saw Richie up on stage, strumming a guitar. He spotted Bill in the back on the drums, and two other individuals: a girl on bass and a dark-skinned guy on another guitar. He couldn’t help but stare at Richie, who caught his gaze. The dark-haired boy grinned and winked at him before continuing with the song.
“Will you lend me your toothbrush? Will you make me breakfast in bed? Ask me to get married And then make me breakfast again!”
Eddie watched as the rest of the band joined in for the chorus.
“Everybody wants to love you.”
He froze. The Richie sang the next part alone.
“Everybody wants to love you!”
Eddie felt as if his skin was on fire. His hands started shaking and checked his pockets, cursing internally because of course he didn’t bring his inhaler.
“Eddie!” Stan snapped him out of his daze. Distantly he heard the band sing another line. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to throw up. Do you need me to take you to the bathroom?”
He could only nod. He didn’t think that he would react this way to meeting his soulmate. Stan grabbed his hand and led him through the crowd. He was dimly aware of the song ending and people cheering. He didn’t notice the look on Richie’s face when Stan pulled him into the bathroom. He turned the sink on and wet a paper towel, dabbing it on his face to cool himself down.
“Want to tell me what’s going on?”
“The lead singer of that band? The one on the guitar?”
“Richie? Yeah, he’s my roommate and best friend. He’s also terrible. What about him?” Stan asked, genuinely concerned for his wellbeing.
Eddie stared at him. “He’s your roommate? You live with him?”
“Unfortunate, I know. Wait, how do you know him?”
“Bill introduced me.”
Stan rolled his eyes. “Oh, god. You’re the guy he’s been gushing on about for the past twenty-four hours. It’s disgusting.”
“Says the guy who won’t shut up about my roommate,” Eddie accused.
“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, what does you almost having an asthma attack have to do with Richie?” Stanley questioned, crossing his arms.
“Well he’s, uh, he’s my soulmate,” Eddie confessed.
The curly haired boy’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. How do you know? God, he’s going to be ecstatic when he finds out.”
Eddie reddened. “That song. It was stuck in my head on the walk over here. It sounded like it got so much louder when we came inside.”
Stan nodded. “Well, you have to tell him because he looked hurt when I had to drag you in here.”
“I literally only met him yesterday,” Eddie whined.
Stanley rolled his eyes. “Yet you like him! Man up and tell him that he’s your soulmate.” He gave Eddie a quick hug before exiting the bathroom.
Eddie took a deep breath. He moved to open the bathroom door but it was pushed open. Richie grabbed his hand.
“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.
He short-circuited for a second. “I have to tell you something.”
Richie rubbed his thumb over the palm, making Eddie shiver. “Okay.”
Eddie looked away, cheeks red. “You’re my soulmate.”
“On the walk here, I had that song you just played stuck in my head and I’d never heard it before,” Eddie admitted.
“What did you listen to before meeting Bill for lunch yesterday?” Richie asked him.
“Um, I listened to Beyoncé. Lemonade specifically, but I don’t know what this has to do with anything.”
Richie pushed him back against the bathroom wall and grabbed the sides of his face. He kissed him hard, hands moving from his cheeks to his waist. Eddie was thrown off guard but immediately regained his composure, kissing him back earnestly, his fingers curling in his shirt. Richie coaxed his mouth open, the wet sounds of mouths and tongues pressing together filled the small room.
“I can’t believe you just made out with me in a fucking bathroom. Do you know how germy and disgusting these places are?” Eddie panted as they broke apart.
“Relax, babe. It’s not like I’m fucking you in a stall,” he grinned and pressed his forehead to Eddie’s. “Unless you want me to.”
Eddie pushed him away. “Beep beep, Richie,” he used the phrase he heard Bill say yesterday to get him to shut up. “Absolutely disgusting.”
Richie laughed and kissed him again, this time gentler. He pulled back and placed a kiss on his temple, intertwining their fingers together.
“I gotta get back out there,” he said, pulling him toward the exit. “I’ll dedicate the next song to you, darlin’.”
Eddie smiled wide as his soulmate led him back out into the crowd. He’d strangle him for singing all those annoying songs another night. Tonight was all about them.
-inherited the family business so he grew to be a businessman
-He’s a SHREWD one. Always looking to make deals, raising the stakes, knowing when to back off. Makes him an excellent Gambler still can’t sell babies for shit but when he switched specialty wOW
-if Egos INC. really WAS a corporation, he would be the one running it. Not Wilford, not Dark, but Ed Edgar. besides those two don’t know jack about running a company
-He’s pretty much a tough southern guy in terms of personality. He’s strong, got a good hand in taking care of animals, and is used to sweat jobs.
-OH MY GOD THE HORSES. Well, he only owns one, but when he was looking for a horse to be his mate, aLL OF THE HORSES THAT HE WENT UP TO LOVED HIM. They were all crushed when they weren’t chosen. @alcordraws I challenge you to find a horse for him
-legiT GOD AT HORSERACING
-goes into town on a horse. No car. Everyone stares at him, but he just looks so goddamN GOOD
-keeps the fireplace going at home. Everyone won’t admit it, but they love it
-totally in his element out in the fields and woods.
-uses the whip
-in contrast to the Host’s warmer/moving, bittersweet and feels-y violin playing style, Ed Edgar’s got the soUTHERN FIDDLE IN HIS BLOOD. Ex: hoedown from rodeo by Copland
-uses waaaayyy too many cute nicknames when addressing people, ESPECIALLY when he’s trying to be charming. Ex: darlin’, honey, sugar cube, brother, haystack, etc etc
-independent and alone to a fault
-wilford likes him (he’s fun).
-Ed feels alienated by the Googles (did I forget to mention he’s not exactly in-tune with technology?)
-Dark feels repulsed by him. The Host is not fond of his energy
-Dr. Iplier has to constantly check up on him since he has like absolutely no sense of self-care. Gotta make sure he’s eating right, treating himself right and not injuring himself, etc etc
-probably knows a thing or two about raising crops/plants. maybe why Bim is okay with him
[ sneak peek of the curse of, or; the dramione soulmate au that’s based on this ]
Draco is fourteen when he meets his soulmate.
He’s sitting in a sterile white doctor’s office, wearing a flimsy paper gown over his neatly-pressed uniform khakis and listening to a nurse lecture him about antibiotic ointment—the Mark on his arm, brand-new and blistering, is still bleeding, and there’s a stainless steel analog clock hanging above a laminated poster detailing the female reproductive cycle. He watches, jaw clenched and lips trembling, as the minute hand wobbles and ticks. His pain tolerance has always been for shit, but even he’s surprised by how visceral—how deep—the ache splintering through his bones is.
“Draco,” the nurse says now, a little too patiently. A little too kindly. “We’ve found her. She was in the homeroom next to yours. Are you ready?”
He isn’t sure how to answer that without lying, so he just nods, jerky and fast, before scratching at the back of his wrist. He hasn’t looked at his Mark yet. He wonders if his soulmate will think that’s romantic; wonders if she’s waited, too, and whether or not she’ll expect a traditional unveiling.
The office door swings open.
Another nurse steps forward, towing an unfamiliar girl behind her, and Draco swallows around the tension suddenly clogging his throat.
His soulmate is—
He closes his eyes and tries not to think. The pamphlets—the literature—this is supposed to be overwhelming, he knows that. He’s supposed to feel like this. Like his chest is being torn open, like his insides are being rearranged, repurposed, like all the superfluous parts of himself are being claimed, or shared, or broken up, shuffled around, put back together with gentle hands and quavering smiles and—
His soulmate is pretty.
Draco is aware, vaguely, that he’s staring. There are faint sounds as the nurses leave the room, locks clicking and hinges squeaking—but he can’t be bothered with any of that, not when his vision is tunneling and his pulse is thundering and the Mark on his arm is tingling.
A plaid headband and a pink mouth and crescent-shaped furrow in her brow.
She’s studying him, red-rimmed eyes flickering with something odd and decidedly angry—her skirt is rumpled, her blouse only half tucked-in, and there’s a dark, syrupy bloodstain on the front of her tie, a splotch of cherry-tinted violet clouding flat navy satin.
“I don’t believe in this,” she finally says, gesturing to the gauze taped haphazardly to her arm. “Any of it. I think it’s archaic, and—and invasive, and I have no intention of letting it dictate a single aspect of my life.”
Draco wishes, suddenly, that he couldn’t feel her.
That she wasn’t registering as a thumbtack-sharp thorn scraping at the nape of his neck. Bristling. Uncomfortable. Vindictive.
His Mark thrums, burning hot around the edges, and he grimaces.
I was rewatching “Arnold’s Valentine” and of course Craig’s ultimate goal is to get the two married, so I thought it would be great to draw the end moment of that episode with them connected by a red string - which symbolises a soulmate.
Stay tuned for tomorrow’s work:
Tony not only looked at everything Peter texted him, he remembered. The old lady with the churro, quitting band- he was watching out for Peter even when HALFWAY ACROSS THE WORLD, flying his incredibly intricate metal suit USING A PAIR OF GLASSES, muttering to passerbys “teenagers” and then giving the scolding of a lifetime when he made a mistake. He believed in the 15 year old because he knew how it felt to be ignored.
And then the 15 year old believed in him right back- and not only did he believe, but he did it with such strength and passion that it gave him Actual Physical Power to do what he thought was impossible.
In their own messy way, they kind of complete one another
Summary: You and Jungkook plan another date after exchanging numbers. Since you’re under house arrest, Jungkook decides to spend the evening at your place. And things seem to go perfectly–until they don’t.
Word count: 2.1k words
After you hobbled home from the music building, your body was exhausted. But you were still thrumming with excitement, clutching your cell phone tightly in your hand. You had finally gotten Jungkook’s phone number, and he finally had yours.
With great difficulty, you managed to pry off your shoe and make it to your bedroom. After carefully setting your crutches aside, you fell back onto your bed. Holding your phone above your face, you couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across your lips.
You opened your contacts, pulling up Jungkook’s profile. He had snapped a silly selfie when he put his number into your phone, and you stared dazedly at your soulmate’s photograph, feeling more fond than you thought was appropriate.
Hesitantly, you composed a new text message. You began to type a quick greeting, but it seemed too formal, so you erased it. “Hey soulmate,” you tried, then immediately cringed. Backspacing quickly, you stared at the blank text. Maybe it would be best to wait for Jungkook to text first.
Letting your arm–and your phone–fall to the bed, you stared up at the plain ceiling and tried to remember Jungkook before the car accident. After racking your brain relentlessly, you were left with a headache and no answers.
That only made you more curious–what was your first encounter with Jungkook really like? He seemed to like you enough now, so surely it must’ve gone well.
With thoughts of Jungkook on your mind, you slowly drifted to sleep, the world around you fading to black.
You woke with a start, your eyes shooting open. Beside your ear, your phone was vibrating loudly. Exhaling shakily, you placed your hand over your racing heart. Eventually, you picked up your phone from beside you, checking the lock screen for notifications.
When you saw what had set off the alert, you nearly dropped your phone.
Jungkook had texted you. Excitedly, you unlocked your phone and opened your messaging app.
RECEIVED 1:43 PM Hey Y/N 💩
You laughed at Jungkook’s poop emoji and quickly composed a response.
SENT 1:44 PM Hey 🍪
RECEIVED 1:45 PM What’s with the cookie?
SENT 1:45 PM It’s u
SENT 1:45 PM Kookie
You blushed, wondering if the nickname was a bit too much. Suddenly, your phone buzzed, but this time, it was a text from Jieun. Confused, you opened the new chat.
RECEIVED 1:47 PM Are u talking to Jungkook? He’s sitting a row in front of me. He’s staring @ his phone and MAD blushing
Laughing, you felt your embarrassment fade away. You quickly replied to Jieun with an affirmative and closed the chat. Returning to your conversation with Jungkook, you saw that he had already responded.
RECEIVED 1:47 PM …cute
RECEIVED 1:48 PM So I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime. Haven’t seen you in while
SENT 1:49 PM Like a date? Or are we aiming for platonic soulmates?
Another alert from Jieun appeared on your screen, and you cackled as you went to check her update on Jungkook.
RECEIVED 1:50 PM WHAT DID U DO?!?! HE’S COMPLETELY RED
RECEIVED 1:50 PM ARE U SEXTING
SENT 1:50 PM Jieun wtf
You squirmed around on your bed, feeling happier than you had since you left the hospital. The smile on your face seemed permanent, and you grabbed your pillow and squealed into it. Still, it was kind of depressing that texting your two friends could make you so excited.
Grabbing your phone again, you checked to see if Jungkook had summoned enough courage to respond. He had.
RECEIVED 1:52 PM Yes, like a date.
SENT 2:01 PM JIEUN!!!! JUNGKOOK IS COMING OVER FOR A DATE TONIGHT!! PLS HELP ME CLEAN THE APARTMENT AND MYSELF
When Jieun had come home, she frantically shoved the mess in the living room into her own bedroom while you limped around the house, dusting things. It was the most you had ever cleaned since you had moved in together, which was saying a lot.
Then, she had helped you into the shower, making sure you stayed upright as you bathed yourself. Your friendship with Jieun was a true one–both of you had long graduated any feelings of embarrassment around each other.
By the time everything was said and done, it was almost time for Jungkook to arrive. Jieun helped you onto the couch, setting your crutches against the wall beside you.
“I’m going to go to Lisa’s place for awhile,” Jieun said as she flopped onto the couch beside you. “Just call me when you’re ready for me to come home.”
“You don’t have to leave, you know,” you frowned, turning to look at your friend. Jieun just rolled her eyes at you. “I’m serious! I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, but I’m sure Jungkook would,” Jieun snorted. “I’ll let you soulmates do your thing. Just…be careful, okay? Don’t jump headfirst into something you’re not ready for.”
“I’m not going to sleep with him,” you replied, a little incredulously. Jieun winced at that. “We’re just going to watch a movie and talk, I guess.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Jieun said, standing up. She walked over to the foyer and grabbed a jacket from the closet. “Don’t let yourself get swept away by the emotions of the moment.”
“Wow, you’re pretty insightful today,” you commented, trying to lighten the mood. “You should write this shit down.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Jieun laughed. She slipped into her coat. “I’m going to head out now. Call me later, okay?”
On cue, there was a knock at the door. Jieun shot you a serious look before she turned to open the door, but you couldn’t read it. Then, she swung the door open, revealing a slightly nervous Jungkook, still dressed in all black.
Jungkook glanced down at Jieun, who said something quietly to him. From where you were sitting, you couldn’t hear, but you just hoped Jieun wasn’t threatening him. Jungkook frowned and said something back, and then the two brushed passed each other.
Jieun left, shutting the door behind her quietly. When you turned your gaze back to Jungkook, he was smiling lopsidedly at you.
“Hey Y/N,” he said, holding up a plastic bag in his hand. “I brought some Chinese. Hope that’s okay.”
“If I had any doubts that we were soulmates before, I’m completely certain now,” you replied, eyeing the bag hungrily as the scent of Chinese food wafted around the apartment. “You know the way to a girl’s heart.”
“Didn’t think it would be that easy,” Jungkook laughed, stepping out of his shoes and making his way towards you. He set the food onto the coffee table in front of the couch and sat down beside you. “So, what’s the plan?”
“Eating,” you replied immediately, still staring at the takeout. Jungkook laughed again, and when you glanced at him, his eyes were crinkled into crescents. If your heart clenched at that, no one needed to know.
“There was a really good movie I watched recently,” Jungkook said, unpacking the food that he had brought. He popped open the lids, revealing black bean noodles, sweet and sour chicken, and broccoli and beef. You could feel your mouth watering.
“I’m down for anything,” you replied, picking up your laptop from the coffee table. You turned on the screen and opened up your browser. “What’s it called?”
“The Girl Who Leapt Through Time,” Jungkook replied, breaking apart a pair of chopsticks. “Classic.”
“Seriously?” you asked, turning to gawk at him. “Are you a closet weab? How come you never told me before?”
“It’s embarrassing,” Jungkook said, blushing slightly. “I mean…do I look like I watch anime?”
“That’s true,” you agreed, reaching to grab your own set of chopsticks. You split them easily, resisting the urge to rub them together because you had heard it was a rude gesture. “Still, who am I to judge?”
“So you’ve seen the movie already,” Jungkook surmised, popping a piece of beef into his mouth. “I have a billion other suggestions.”
“I haven’t watched Your Name yet,” you commented, fishing out a piece of broccoli. “I heard it was really good.”
“Yeah, I loved it!” Jungkook exclaimed through a mouthful of noodles. “I’ll watch it again, I don’t care.”
And so you pulled up the movie on your laptop, streaming it to the TV in front of you. You and Jungkook ate quickly as the movie played before you. Paying more attention to the food, you startled when Jungkook began quietly singing the opening song along with the movie.
Discreetly, you glanced at Jungkook as he sang. His voice was beautiful, to say the least. He sang effortlessly and melodiously, his clear voice floating around the room. Eventually, the opening ended, and he nonchalantly returned to eating.
“Your voice is beautiful,” you remarked softly, still awed by Jungkook’s performance. He turned to you, his cheeks full of food, and blushed slightly.
“Oh, thank you,” he managed, voice muffled by his full mouth. He chewed with some difficulty, and once he swallowed, he spoke again. “Well, I am a music major.”
“Still,” you sighed reverently. “Some people are just born with nice voices. Damn, I could listen to you sing all day.”
Jungkook’s cheeks darkened, and he coughed awkwardly and turned back to face the movie. “I wouldn’t mind singing for you again,” he said quietly after a few moments. “You know, if you want.”
“Yeah, I’d love that,” you replied honestly. You and Jungkook turned your attention back to the movie with small smiles.
After the movie ended, you and Jungkook just talked for a few hours. You reminisced about the old memories you shared together, and you learned a few new things about each other, too. Like Jungkook was a good artist, and you could play more instruments than he could.
Eventually, you and Jungkook both realized it was time for you to part. It was getting late, but neither of you wanted to say goodbye.
“I should really go now,” Jungkook said again, although he made no attempt to move. “Like, I really should.”
“No one’s stopping you,” you replied, quirking an eyebrow. Jungkook pouted at you–a habit of his you weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to, since it seemed so out of character.
“Rude,” Jungkook said, actually standing up this time. He extended his arms and helped you to your feet, reaching around you to pass you your crutches. “But I guess I do need to leave. Jieun’s waiting to come back, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” you confirmed. “I’ll walk you to the door, since that’s as far as I’m allowed to go.”
You and Jungkook made your way to the foyer, and he began to put on his shoes. The sight evoked a strange sense of deja vu, but you shrugged it away.
“Tonight was really fun,” you said, and Jungkook smiled up at you from where he was kneeling. Once ha had finished tying his Timberlands, he stood back up.
“I thought so, too,” Jungkook agreed. “I wouldn’t mind doing something like this again.”
“Maybe we could actually go out somewhere if my house arrest is lifted,” you laughed.
“I’m fine anywhere, as long as I’m with you,” Jungkook said shyly. And it was so cheesy, but you couldn’t help but blush. When your eyes met Jungkook’s, his were serious. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
“Y-yeah,” you stammered, shocked at Jungkook’s request.
His hands came up to gently cup your face, and he stared intently down at you. Slowly, he moved forward, and your eyes fluttered shut. His soft lips pressed gently against yours, where he lingered for a moment. Then, Jungkook pulled away. When you opened your eyes, Jungkook was grinning at you.
“I’ll see you later,” Jungkook said softly, turning towards the door.
“Bye,” you said, your voice nearing a whisper. But Jungkook heard, and turned back to smile at you one last time. Then, he turned the doorknob and slipped out of the apartment, closing the door shut firmly behind him. Again, you were struck by a strong feeling of deja vu.
Then you realized–it was because you had seen this all before.
Jungkook in your apartment, standing in the foyer, putting his shoes on. Jungkook looking at you, a very different expression on his face. Jungkook, your soulmate, turning away from you and slamming the door as he left, his cruel parting words echoing loudly in your mind.
And suddenly, for the first time in weeks, you heard the whispers of Jungkook’s thoughts in the back of your mind. Quieter than before, but present nonetheless. Focusing, you were able to make out your soulmate’s voice.
“Fuck. I really, really, really like her.”
Tears began to pool in your eyes. You weren’t sure what to believe.
- Girl in Luv
Writing about Chinese food made me so hungry. But I can’t even eat anything good because I’m on a damn diet. ANyway, hope you enjoyed this instalment of the series! Sorry it took so long to write. Also this is unedited, so I’ll go back and make any corrections later. I’m going to try to wrap this story up in the next few parts. Let me know if you liked it! Thanks always for the support, and happy reading 💛
If you dye your hair, your soulmate’s hair color changes as well and you swear the moment you see your soulmate you will choke them because you just woke up with your hair colored like a rainbow and it’s your first job interview at a prestigious company what the fuck.
A/N: This is not beta read, so sorry if there are any mistakes. (Title from the Bob Dylan song Tangled Up In Blue, though it doesn’t really relate to the fic (just thought it fit as a title). Also I’m a photoshop n00b so sorry for the crappy hair edits.)
The first time it happened was when Dan was eight. At that age he only knew of one other person that it had happened to before, she had been lucky though as her hair colour had changed to a sensible colour, he however hadn’t been so lucky. One day he had woken up with bright yellow hair! His parents had gasped when he walked into the kitchen that morning.
Southern Motherf*cking Democratic Republicans (Jefferson x Madison x Burr x Reader)
Request: psst hey soulmate au with one of southern motherfucking democratic republicans? 😉
A/N: Hope ya like it anon! (and everyone else!) I apologize for taking so long, college’s been a b*tch
The universe was unfair.
It was said that everyone would meet
their soulmate at 18. And for the most part, it was true. The distinct tattoo
that everyone had would glow red and hurt whenever they bumped into the love of
their lives, and happily ever after. Of course, the ones that did not, their
tattoos would fade. It was usually due to their soulmate dying or their
soulmate giving up on love. It was not common, but it did happen. Those were
all the cases that you heard, so you wondered why it was so different for you.
You were 27, and it’s been almost
ten years since you were supposed to meet them. Ten years of wondering when
your tattoo would fade, ten years of hoping that you would just bump into them
while walking into the bathroom or buying groceries.
The first time you saw it, you were sitting in class.
It was a math class in first grade, and it was your classmate that pointed it
out to you. But as soon as he had said it, you couldn’t stop looking at the
flower that blossomed on your arm. Quickly you grabbed a pen, and wrote down: HI on
your wrist. With one the drawing stopped. A long line went from the end of the
petal across your arm, as if your soulmate had been surprised.
You smiled and waited, but nothing came. The line had
started to disappear, and the skin around it became red, as if your soulmate rubbed
it off. It didn’t work.
HI they finally wrote back, and you quickly began to
scribble on your arm.
You sat with your friends at a coffee shop when the
You frowned, and asked your friends if they had a pen.
They laughed at you, asked if it was lover boy, and then gave you one.
What’s happening there?
Sabrina leaned towards you to look at your arm while
you waited for his response. You looked up at her, and smiled innocently at
“What? Mine won’t write to me” She said, before Emma
on the other side of you pointed to your arm.
English paper due:(
But at least I got you to talk to now
You laughed when you saw the message, which caused
four girls to lean over to see your arm. Emma looked questioning at you, but
you didn’t even try to explain it. They didn’t really know Bucky like you did.
But hey, he wasn’t their soulmate.
You sighed. Your eyes drifted away from the paper and
book in front of you, and up to the clock. You scratched your head, before you
started drawing on your arm. You tried to draw an elephant, but it ended up
looking like a misshaped giraffe.
What is that?
You smiled at the question that had appeared on your
hand, before you wrote an answer.
It’s an elephant! Can’t you see that?
You didn’t get an answer, instead lines started to
appear around your giraffe, almost changing it into an elephant. You grinned,
before writing two words more on your arm.
“Why does my soulmate never write to me? “Will asked
as he looked at the lines that appeared on your arm.
“You do write together! He’s just busy with exams! “Sabrina
said while studying the pattern on your arm, that you were currently colouring.
“And It sucks” Will said with a sigh.
“Why don’t you just write something to him?” you asked
without taking your eyes off your arm. “Good luck or something? “
“That’s easy for you to say” Will sighed, but you didn’t
answer. A few words had appeared on your arm.
I’ve thought of something
"See? “Will said.
“Oh, stop complaining! “Sabrina said and smacked his
arm, before turning her attention to you again. “Answer him!”
You could feel your palms get sweaty. You were rarely
talked about serious stuff, and this didn’t exactly sound like a joke.
I’m going to ask you something
The six words appeared, and you bit your lip, but the
writing didn’t stop.
Promise you won’t get mad?
“Jeez, it sounds like he’s gonna propose to you!”
“I hope he does! Then you can both come and visit me
in fifty years when I live alone with three dogs! “Will said dramatically, but
you were already busy answering your soulmate.
Summary: In a world where everyone’s first words to their soulmate are tattooed on their soulmate’s forearm, you are cursed with the vaguest, most simplistic tattoo in history. And you hate the word “hey.”
Genre: Fluff + Soulmate!au
A/N: This is my first fic for an anime and I’m not even an anime blog (whoops lmao) but I saw @lazyhaikyuu’s post and I just couldn’t help myself!! Enjoy the 2.8K words :)
Hey y’all, look who decided to post (and by post I think we all know that I mean I wrote this not more than two minutes ago and didn’t bother editing) the next chapter! I apologize for being unable to update every week, as was my stated goal, but I will try harder to reach that goal.
It was moments like this where Alexander had to stop for a moment and ask why the universe hated him so much. Moments where he stared up at dark brown eyes, framed by coiled curls to display a mocking smile. At least, it seemed mocking.
Thomas returned his gaze to the textbook in his lap, fingers trailing along the words as he read the to keep track of his pace. Alexander had to hold back a cold laugh when he saw the action, because after years of dark smudges on his fingertips, Alexander had figured out that his soulmate did the same. It seemed odd, come to think of it, that a person that Alexander despised more than the sun rivaled the moon could be so much like his soulmate. That the mocking smile was comparable to the soft smile Alexander could only ever catch a glimpse of in his dreams.
Shaking his head quickly as if that would rid his brain of the thoughts, Alexander tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and returned his focus to the page of his textbook he had been reading. The words, however, seemed to scatter from his brain and onto the page, as the only thing he could seem to read were small tidbits of information, ones that barely even related to the topic at hand. Poorly drawn scenes of revolution melted off the paper, the colors gathering in his mind and mixing together.
“Alex?” Thomas asked after a moment, lifting his head and staring at Alexander.
“Alexander,” He responded, not looking up despite his current inability to process the information in front of him.
“My name. It’s not Alex, it’s Alexander, and I would like you to remember that.” He stated plainly, trying to push back the fear that was bubbling up. It wasn’t every day Alexander so blatantly talked back to Thomas Jefferson, of all people.
“Alexander,” Thomas spoke slowly, as if to test out the sound of each syllable on his lips. “Can you pass me your pen? I need to write something.”
Alexander eyed the dark green pen to his right and set his book aside, picking up his backpack and searching through it for a different pen. He had already let Thomas into his home, into his room, allowed the other teen to sit on his bed as they studied- he couldn’t have this, too. That pen was for the person of his dreams- not his worst nightmare.
The sound of Alexander searching through his backpack filled the room, and he could feel Thomas’s judgmental eyes on him as he did so. He just needed to find a pen- maybe a red one? Blue?
“I’ll just get it myself…” Thomas muttered, reaching across the bed and grabbing the pen, before Alexander dropped his bag and grabbed onto the other end of the pen, the cap digging into his palm due to the tight grip.
“No!” He exclaimed, eyes wide in protect fear. His eyes only widened as he fully realized the scenario- namely the fact that Thomas Jefferson was right in front of him, holding on to the other end of the emerald green pen Alexander used to write to his one escape from the torture of his life. “I-I…You c-can use it, yeah, that’s-that’s fine…” He stuttered, letting go and looking back down, quickly grabbing his textbook and flipping to a random page- anything to avoid what was sure to be a cutting remark or a slap or a shove or a-
“I’ll just use a pencil,” Thomas mumbled, interrupting Alexander’s thoughts for the second time today. He set the pen down at Alexander’s side, and reached into his own bag, pulling out a pencil that had obviously seen better days. Alexander lifted his gaze to watch Thomas scribble down some notes on a piece of notebook paper, edges torn from being ripped out.
Thomas’s eyes met his, for just a second, and Thomas muttered a quiet, “Wouldn’t want to touch the same thing as a freak like you. Wouldn’t want to catch something.”
Of course. Of fucking course.
Alexander broke eye contact, attempting to focus on his textbook for the time being. Although it was a poor distraction from the situation at hand, it did the trick.
Soon enough, the early afternoon sky had turned from soft blue to colors that children would be likely to point out. Favorite hues of cotton candy pink, fiery tinges of flames flying from the sun and resting in the atmosphere. The last remaining sunbeams, as if hanging on by a thread, shone through the window, light reflecting off of Thomas’s curls and resting on the wrinkled blanket atop the bed.
It was as if the world had gone still, the only movements being the dust particles floating around in the warmth of the sunlight, the only sound being scratching of pencil on paper, the taste of anxious fear on the very tip of Alexander’s tongue. Every lift of Thomas’s arm to brush a curl out of his eyes had caused Alexander to flinch in anticipation of a smack, each heavy sigh seeming to drag along as if an insult was right at the end of each breath. He wasn’t exactly sad as Thomas threw his books into his backpack and lifted it over one shoulder, the other half hanging off, and waved a small ‘goodbye’ as he left the room, and soon enough, the house.
Alexander let out a sigh of relief as soon as he heard the front door close. He laid down on the bed, arms extended out and stared up at the ceiling. He sat up quickly, as something sharp poked at his back. Reaching behind himself, he pulled the object into his line of vision and smiled softly as he recognized it as the familiar emerald green pen.
Laying back down on the bed, he tugged the cap off and set it on the opposite end of the pen. He held the pen over his skin in thought for a second, then smiled as an idea popped into his head. He began drawing soft lines, curving up at the end, but all interlocking at a center point, to create a broken spiral of sorts. He giggled at the abstract doodles, capping his pen again and setting it on his desk before closing his eyes and retreating into his mind.
He wouldn’t know until later that his soulmate had drawn a line through the curves, and a small triangle at the end, creating a quill of sorts, which appeared to be writing on a piece of old parchment, drawn all in a bold magenta.