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friendly-neighborhood-boricua · 2 months

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Seeing Each Other Around Town

Summary: James discovers his favorite student and his mom are his across-the-street neighbors and now he can't stop seeing her everywhere.

Notes: Marauders modern elementary school AU, kindergarten teacher!James Potter x nurse!reader, mom!reader x son!OC (Liam), inspired by this post by @ravishinglavishingluvr. Tiny little bit of angst in this one but it's negligible. Y'all this is gonna be a slow burn but we'll get there. Also I'm updating sorta regularly now yay!!!

Poor James is completely infatuated with you after parent-teacher conferences

He just can’t get you out of his head

And Sirius and Remus are usually the ones who suffer the consequences

Their apartment is on the way to school from James’ house, so they almost always carpool

And lately, the entire car ride, James Cant. Shut. Up. about you

(“Boys, you should’ve seen her—she’s so sweet—of course she’s Liam’s mom—Pads, you don’t understand—they’re so similar—Remus, she’s gorgeous—did you see her????”)

By the end of the week, Sirius and Remus are very amused with James’ adoration for you

But it also gets kinda irritating after a while, so they’re pretty thankful when the weekend rolls around and they (hopefully) get a small break from his incessant enamored babbling

Saturday rolls around, and James is up at six thirty (hard to break out of the habit when he has to be at school at eight) and shuffling out in his pajamas, robe, and slippers to get the mail and the newspaper

But just because James’ body wakes up early doesn’t mean James’ brain wakes up at the same time so he’s out by his mailbox looking confusedly at the newspaper and wondering why he suddenly can’t read

And after like a solid thirty seconds of him just squinting really hard he finally realizes it’s because he left his glasses inside

He’s doing his best

So James is about to turn around and go back inside to get his glasses (and probably a cup of coffee) when he hears his own name— —just … well, kinda

“Mr. Potter?”

James just about jumps out of his skin because what teacher expects to see one of their students outside of school???? Like no thank you

But then James realizes it’s Liam and he’s lowkey relieved because like

If he has to see a student outside of school, he’d rather it be this one

And then it occurs to James that if Liam is outside his house at six thirty in the morning, then he probably lives around here

And if Liam lives around here, then …

“Liam?”

Poor James can’t help the full-body flush that rushes through him at your voice

His head snaps from Liam (or at least the blurry shape that sounds like Liam) to where your voice comes from, and it hits him that you’re shouting from the front door of the house across from his own

How the hell didn’t he notice you lived right across the street from him????????

(Not that he’s complaining ofc)

James realizes he hasn’t actually responded when Liam asks if he’s alright, and he’s just like “Yeah!!” and utterly beaming

And then you realize your son isn’t just talking to some rando, and you say good morning to him as well (from your front door) and James is pretty sure he’s about to melt

So you and him exchange pleasantries from across the street while Liam gets the mail from your own mailbox and walks it back to you

(he says “here you go, mama” in his sweet little voice as he hands the small stack to you and you say the gentlest “thank you, baby” back and James’ heart feels like goop in his chest)

James barely makes it back inside before he’s squealing and doing a goofy little dance out of overflowing joy

Over the next several weeks, James begins to notice you everywhere around town

He sees you and Liam at the grocery store (you’re there with Liam and give him the choice between dino nuggets and spring rolls; he decisively choses the later)

And on his way to work (on one of the few days where Remus and Sirius aren’t carpooling with him, James sees you in your own car on your way to work)

And when you and Liam go on walks on the weekends (James had taken to mowing the lawn shirtless every Saturday morning—for entirely unrelated reasons, of course …)

James still isn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed you before because how could he have missed you?? You’re gorgeous????

(Of course, poor Remus and Sirius get to hear about his fawning even more now)

(They both find it cute though, so it’s fine)

So eventually one Friday night, James can’t sleep and is done with his lesson plans

And he’s just bored, so what does he do?

Go to the grocery store, of course

So James ventures out, once again in his pajamas, to the grocery store to get some treats to eat while he watches Antiques Roadshow until he falls asleep

And of course—he should’ve predicted it honestly—there you are

(Also in your pajamas)

And James says hi before he can really stop himself, and you look a little spooked for a second (because who in the world would be talking to you in the grocery store at ten at night?) but then you realize it’s him and you say hi back

Apparently, Liam is at Alfie’s birthday sleepover and you don’t have a shift at the hospital tonight, so you decided to indulge in some celebratory ice cream

James ends up helping you choose which ice cream you want (chocolate chip cookie dough—a classic) and as thanks, you go with him to the candy aisle to help him pick out treats

James ends up getting a container of pretty much every candy, cookie, and chip the grocery store because he didn’t want to leave yet lmao

And when you’re in line to check out, James mentions that there’s a job fair at school in a month and he’s wondering if you’d maybe want to come and talk about being a nurse????

Pretty please??????

James doesn’t notice how your face falls ever so slightly. You kind of forgot for a second that he’s your son’s teacher and not just some pretty guy that you’ve sorta had a crush on for the past few weeks. Nothing could happen between the two of you—not if it mean hurting Liam’s education, or even impacting it at all. But it’s okay. You’ll just suck it up and stick to your job and your son. It’s fine. It’s okay.

You’re agreeing in an instant, and James promises to email you the details so you can plan around it

James leaves the grocery store with his bag of fifty dollars worth of treats feeling full to the bursting with warmth and his eyes are glowing the rest of the night

He sees this really pretty pearl and gold necklace on Antiques Roadshow and catches himself thinking about how pretty it would look on you, but he doesn’t bother trying to stop himself at this point; it wouldn’t be any help anyway

#teacher!james potter #teacher!james potter x reader #james potter x reader #teacher!james potter x you #james potter x you #nurse!reader #james potter x nurse!reader #teacher!james potter x nurse!reader #james potter x mom!reader #mom!reader #librarian!remus #librarian!remus lupin #school librarian!remus #school librarian!remus lupin #secretary!sirius #secretary!sirius black #kindergarten teacher!james potter #background wolfstar

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tennessoui · 4 months

Note

Number 19 for the prompt thing. The parents meeting because of their kids. I’m kinda imagining Korkie being like a tutor/school reading buddy for the twins or something but you can just ignore that if it doesn’t match your thoughts on it.

hello!! i thought back as much as i could, and i don't think i actually did this prompt the first time around a couple of years ago, so there's nothing to link to save for the prompt list!

i stuck with korkie as obi-wan's kid and the twins as anakin's, but made the kids the same age and then took...a few more liberties with the prompt haha

(19. parents meeting while taking their kids to class) (sort of)

(2.8k)

“Leia, baby, why do you always decide to get into fights at school when it’s my week with you?” Anakin asks the steering wheel as he buckles himself in and turns over the engine. “They’re going to start thinking I’m raising a truant. Then they’re going to start asking about your home life, then they’re going to bring in experts to ask me more questions, then Padmé’s parents are going to throw their considerable legal weight around and get my partial custody revoked and then where will we be? Is that what you want? To only see me on your birthday and Christmas?”

Anakin pauses and reconsiders. Knowing his daughter, she may very well only want to see him for birthdays and Christmases. It would mean double the presents.

Thankfully the silence of the car doesn’t offer much in the way of constructive critique.

At a red light, he puts his head down on the steering wheel for a long enough moment that the car behind him honks when the light changes to green.

“They’re going to stop letting me leave work to come get you,” Anakin mutters a few minutes later as he turns the car into the school’s parking lot. “I have a partner meeting in thirty minutes that I really can’t miss, baby. Can’t you at least schedule your schoolyard fights around my calendar?”

It’s all rather pointless, but it feels good to grumble and bitch in the time it takes him to leave his office and arrive at the school, before he has to put on his adult face and demeanor to sit through another round of We’re Worried Your Five Year Old Is Too Violent As She Seems To View The Monkey Bars As Sacrificial Zones.

“Maybe she’d like hockey,” he says under his breath as he grabs his jacket from the other seat and swings it over his suit. It’s fucking freezing already, not even December. It’s indecent, that’s what it is. Surely a place as cold as this has a peewee hockey team in need of another angry little girl.

“Thank you,” he says when a woman holds the door open for him on her way out the building.

He’s stil sort of freaked out that the elementary school his children are going to is fancy enough to have an entrance hallway with a chandelier hanging from the ceilingk, but it’s not him that’s paying for their private school education that doesn’t offer discounts for all the collective hours they’ll spend napping on the floors.

To the immediate left of the door is the receptionist’s desk—behind her, the nurse’s room. He’s quite familiar with both. Mrs. Whitsdale even waves when she sees him, which means, unfortunately, she’s just made the shortlist of people Anakin needs to make Christmas cookies for. She joins the ranks of everyone else that’s been made to deal with his son and daughter in the tumultuous year after the divorce.

“Hi, ma’am,” he says dutifully, sticking his head into the receptionist area. “Do I need to sign in or can I just go up?”

She waves him away. “I’ve already got you, sweetheart. You’re late anyway, they’re waiting for you upstairs.”

“You’re a miracle amongst men,” he calls out as he turns instead to the right of the door and up the old staircase that leads to the principal’s office. This is also a route he is incredibly familiar with.

How can he be late? He practically flew here on light feet and broken speed limits. It’s enough to take his mood from bad to worse, which isn’t optimal for a meeting with the principal of the school when it’s his kid who caused the fight. Anakin’s role is to nonconfrontational, contrite to the point of groveling—because he knows his daughter won’t.

That’s already hard enough when he’s feeling normal. It’s practically impossible when he’s feeling foul.

But Padmé did always say Leia got her stubbornness and temper from Anakin.

Anakin’s always said Leia never really had a chance considering who her parents are.

After all, someone threw a hairdryer at the hotel mirror before they got divorced and it wasn’t Anakin. But he’s not stupid enough to even think that when Padmé’s around.

The big oak door at the end of the hallway on the second floor is elaborate, looks heavy, and stays closed. He knows that this is the headmaster’s office, but he’s never seen the guy around. He doesn’t even know what the guy does. What’s a headmaster of an elementary school doing every day?

It’s an elementary school.

But, again. Anakin’s not paying for all this pomp and circumstance.

He takes another right instead, down the corridor in the opposite direction to the principal’s office. The door’s left ajar, and Anakin knocks politely before entering at the call to.

A couple of things bring him up short as soon as he steps into the room. For one thing, it’s not Principal Cinoff behind the desk, but a stranger who has the remnants of a three-piece suit on, jacket hanging neatly on a coat rack in the corner of the room. His vest is a deep red that should do nothing but drain his complexion—all pasty white skin, freckled and sun-starved, paired with his reddish hair and beard. It doesn’t, which is unfair to the point of duplicity. Or–something.

The way he’s sitting at the desk, hands spread wide on the wood and shoulders back, leaves no doubt in Anakin’s mind that the stranger is in a position of power here at the school. And probably in, like. Life. He looks like the kind of guy who gets his groceries on discount even without providing a loyalty card. He also looks like the kind of guy the system bends to accommodate. As a lawyer, Anakin is offended and deeply disturbed. That’s why his stomach does two or three flips in quick succession when they make eye contact.

The stranger’s eyes are cool and focused as they run over Anakin, and he gives him a perfunctory incline of his head. At least his eyes are warmer when they fall to the kids in front of him.

And that’s the other thing that shocks him.

The amount of children in front of the desk. One pouting ginger kid off to the side, arms crossed and staring down at his light-up sneakers.

And then two very familiar heads of hair on the other side.

“Luke?” He asks before he can stop himself, surprise dripping from his tone. “What are you doing here?”

At this rate, he’s going to give his daughter a complex, he knows it.

But Luke has never been in trouble before. Sure, they’re only five, and it’s only been three months of school, but in that time, Anakin’s been called down here six times to deal with Leia-related emergencies. He’s always imagined that meanwhile, Luke was in his classroom, chewing on crayons or diligently helping the teacher pass out homework assignments.

The stand-in principal coughs slightly and rises. “Ah, Mr. Skywalker-Amidala. Thank you for being able to join us today.”

Anakin scowls automatically before schooling his face into something far more diplomatic and pleasant when his children whirl around in their seats to look at him. The last thing he needs is for his children to think they can sneer at authority figures, given that he’s one of their main authority figures.

Luke leaves his chair to hug onto his leg, pressing his small face into the fabric of his pants, presumably seeking comfort and also to wipe his face dry of tears and snot.

Anakin puts a hand on his head and strokes through his hair, darting a curious glance at Leia, who has turned around to glare forward again, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s just Skywalker, actually,” he tells the stranger. “Amidala is their mother.”

The man’s eyebrow goes up and he picks up a pen to make a note on the papers before him. An actual note. Regarding Anakin’s divorce. “Ah, apologies then,” he says. “Our contact list notes you as the father, Skywalker-Amidala, and their mother as Amidala-Organa.”

Anakin squints, trying to decide if the stranger is just trying to correct a clerical error in the school’s records or fishing for gossip. He gives him the benefit of the doubt. “Amidala is their mother, recently remarried to Organa. Organas. And she’s always been better at remembering to file paperwork than I am.”

The stranger keeps his face admirably placid. “Ah,” he says. “Well, Mr. Skywalker. Should we begin?”

“Uh,” he says. “What about the other parent?”

The stranger blinks at him, both eyebrows raised. “I’m a widower.”

“Uh,” he says. “I meant…” he gestures at the other child, the surly looking ginger kid.

“I’m afraid it will just be us, Mr. Skywalker,” the stranger says. “Please, sit.”

Anakin sits, and Luke is quick to scramble up into his lap with a very plaintative, “I didn’t really mean to.”

“So at recess today, the children were playing on the swings,” the stranger who must be the principal for the day says. “And—”

“Sorry,” Anakin interrupts. “Can I get your name please? I was expecting Principal Cinoff.”

The man pauses. “Sheri has been put on sudden maternity-leave a few months early,” he says. “For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be dual-hatting as both principal and headmaster while we continue to search for a temporary replacement.” He raises an eyebrow at Anakin. Anakin really doesn’t appreciate that. “This was in an email the school sent out to all the parents recently.”

“Yes, well,” Anakin says. “I get a lot of emails.”

The man looks unimpressed. “I encourage you to prioritize the communications from your children’s learning institute.”

Anakin bristles. What a dick. Who the fuck says learning institute?

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” he asks in his best unimpressed voice.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man’s unimpressed voice is ten times more chilling than Anakin’s, which is also not fair. “Please, call me Dr. Kenobi.” Anakin scowls. “I appreciate the fact that you feel as though you can cover the extremely busy roles of both headmaster and principal of an elementary school, but I would really rather wait until the other parent gets here so we can most productively discuss the altercation, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Please, Mr. Skywalker,” Kenobi says. “Leave the litigation to the court rooms, we—”

“It’s Esquire, actually.”

Kenobi’s face grows very pinched around the mouth and eyebrows. Anakin feels a vicious thrill course through him even as his stomach flips again.

“I suppose I should have made it clearer at the beginning of this session,” Kenobi says, tone dripping in you idiot. “This is my son, Korkie.”

Anakin’s mouth falls open. His immediate thought is, of course, Korkie Kenobi? And he thought Luke and Leia were too cutesy for twin names.

“Korkie is a family name,” Kenobi adds rather dryly. “My late wife’s grandfather’s.”

Anakin doubts that’s even true. He bets it’s not actually, that Kenobi just plays the dead wife card to get out of judgemental questions about his naming abilities.

But then another, worse thought occurs to Anakin. “Wait a second, you can’t be the parent and the principal!”

“I assure you, I am impartial.”

“Like hel—heck you are!” Anakin straightens in his seat and Luke lets out a grumble, clinging tightly to his front. “I demand a different authority.” “No,” Kenobi says firmly, as if the matter is at rest. This, of course, is absolutely infuriating.

“It’s unfair bias and I will not see either of my children punished in a tyrannical and self-serving institution—”

Kenobi pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Skywalker, unless you would like to have me call Mrs. Cinoff away from her pre-mature baby, I am the best option this school has. Please. Settle down.”

“Dad,” Leia says, “I don’t want to miss reading time.”

Anakin breathes out in disgust. Shitty, overpriced private school. This sort of thing would never happen at a publicly funded school.

“The fact of the matter is that Luke pushed Korkie off the swings,” Kenobi says with a stern look at both Luke and Anakin. He holds up his hand when Anakin opens his mouth. “An incident that many were witness to. And before you make an accusation, there were many witnesses who were not on the school’s payroll, Mr. Skywalker.”

Anakin closes his mouth sullenly.

“Korkie could have been very hurt, Luke,” Kenobi says, clasping his hands in front of him and looking down at Anakin’s son. “He was swinging pretty fast when you pushed him, and he could have broken his ankle in the fall.”

Luke’s bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he mumbles, turning his face back into Anakin’s sleeve. “He was being mean. I just wanted him to stop.” “I wasn’t!” Korkie cries, sitting straight in his chair for the first time since Anakin’s arrived. “I wasn’t being mean, dad!” “You said Leia’s hair looks like cinnamon buns on her head!” Luke shouts back, pushing away from Anakin’s arms to glare at the other boy.

Anakin winces. When it’s Padmé’s turn with the kids, Leia always turns up to school with elaborately braided hair, twisted on top of her head in elegant formations that look effortlessly pretty. He knows that’s not Padmé’s work, but he also can’t figure out if Breha or Bail is responsible. It’s not something he wants to ask.

The fanciest Anakin can do, after all, is two buns on either side of Leia’s head.

That do, truth be told, look rather like cinnamon rolls.

“Ah,” Kenobi says. “I believe I understand the miscommunication here. Korkie, would you like to tell the Skywalkers what you meant when you told Luke that Leia’s hair looked like cinnamon buns?”

If possible, the kid turns even more red, blushing furiously. “I really like cinnamon buns,” he mutters, crossing his arms tighter. “They’re my favorite.”

“He’s started asking for them for breakfast several times a week,” Kenobi tells Anakin with a smile lingering around his lips. “I’ve been wondering why.”

Anakin isn’t sure he likes the explanation. Sure, Korkie can have whatever sort of crush on his daughter that he wants to have, but likening her hair to cinnamon buns isn’t very kind, and he’s pretty sure that if someone else was the judge in this trial, they wouldn’t be so quick to justify the other boy’s words.

Luke seems to agree with him. “Your hair looks like carrots,” he snaps, crossing his arms.

Because Anakin is an intelligent adult who understands that making enemies with the headmaster’s son isn’t the best move, he adds on the Skywalker family’s behalf, “Luke loves carrots.”

Luke, in fact, hates carrots.

“There is still the matter of Luke pushing Korkie off the swing,” Kenobi says, eyebrows raised like he understands exactly what’s going unsaid here. “We do not encourage physical violence of any sort here, and it was dangerous. Korkie could have been hurt much more badly than a scraped knee.”

The words are very serious and grave, and Luke wilts under the headmaster-principal-father’s disappointed stare. Anakin bristles.

“Well, it’s his first infraction,” he says. “And he was sticking up for his sister. I think that’s fair. He won’t do it again.”

“Hm,” Kenobi says, pushing papers aside and pulling out a glossy leaflet. “Now, I cannot force you to consider this, but I noticed that neither Luke nor Leia are currently enrolled in any of our extracurriculars.”

“They’re five.”

“We have many on offer at Jedi Prepatory School,” Kenobi continues as if Anakin hasn’t said anything. “And I wanted to highlight our peewee hockey league. I think both Leia and Luke would enjoy the rigorous schedule, and they may…benefit from the…structure it offers. And team activity.”

Anakin glowers. He can read between the lines. Kenobi’s just called his parenting style structureless and lazy. It makes him want to grab the pamphlet and rip it to shreds in front of him. “I would have to talk about it with their mother,” he says stiffly instead.

“Of course,” Kenobi says cheerfully. “When you do, please give Bail and Breha my well-wishes as well. It’s been far too long since I’ve had the time to see them, given how exhastingly busy it is to be the headmaster and principal of an elementary school.”

“Right,” Anakin grits out. “Yeah. I’ll let my ex-wife’s new partners know.”

Kenobi’s smile is all teeth. “I look forward to seeing you in the rink, Mr. Skywalker Esquire. My son plays on the team.”

Anakin wonders if there’s another peewee hockey team he can have his kids join. Just so they can beat Jedi Prepatory school and then laugh in Korkie and Dr. Kenobi’s faces.

Yeah. That sounds really nice.

He’ll look when he gets back to work.

This takes priority.

#asks #prompt fill #obikin #i actually love writing aus where they're assholes to each other from the start and also insane about the other #anakin definitely finds a different peewee (baby hockey) team for teh twins #and makes sure he can make it to their every game #especially those against jedi prep #so he can spend the entire time sniping at kenobi #this time with gloves off because their kids can't hear them from the ice #rude and mean and barbed enough that all the other parents throw kenobi startled looks #and given them a wide berth #they hate each other they're flirting like mad they sneak away from the school cupcake sale to fuck in the computer lab #anakin has never been more involved in his twins' kindergarten education #neither has dr kenobi

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