#coming up in either spring or my third year of graduate studies

[savage-rhi]

Sorry for all the pink variations, guys!

[girlfriendofwinchesters]

imagine dating and marrying Snape (without Dark Lord, without Voldermort)

The first time I write on tumblr

It was just some that I had in my head that I had to relieve and I'm sorry if I wrote a lot

when she saved him from a joke in the transfiguration class after they went in pairs for homework (you don't like it either), making James, Sirius and Peter detained.

You were dressed that you were in love when he defended you from Lily, after you cast a spell on James and the two were already dating

He dreamed he was in love, when in the midst of all he defended him against Sirius and James

The first kiss happened when you were in the astronomy tower, followed by the first sentence:

- Sev, do you still like Lily? - I don't know, I'm not sure, but I still feel a little strength for her! - You should start trying to like someone else! - I wanted it to be easy, but it's just me! - I interested in you, you are my type! - Such that? You are beautiful, intelligent, more sociable than me, even Sirius has already given up on you! - I don't know, I don't know if I fell in love with my best antisocial friend, emo, big nose, and according to him he was ugly! - What? - Hey? - Do You like me! - Specifically, I love you Severus! - I love you too, S / N.

The first time they had a relationship was in the Slytherin dorm, it was Christmas and you knew that Snape was sleeping alone in the dorm and you ask if he could and he says that taking you to your room, he was clinging and getting hands silly

You met his mother last year at King Cross station, you two got along really well

- Y / N, this is my mother, Eillen Snape! - Nice to meet you, Snape talks a lot about you! - Nice to meet you, Snape also talked a lot about you, but did not say that you were so beautiful! - Thank you too! - It seems that the two of you are doing very well together!

He only made an official dating request when you graduated from Hogwarts:

- Y / N, you know very well that when we get off the train, we may never see each other again. - No! I will never let you demand 10 owls for you! - Yes, I know, but diverting done this before. Wants to date me? Officially? - Yes right! Just the end of the world to end what I feel for you! - You are the best thing that happened in my life!

you were insecure about Snape with feelings for Lily

But her insecurity when you realized that Snape wasn’t looking at her anymore

And also the way he loved you, seemed to be stronger than anything

Snape understood that Lilian was now his past and what he felt for her was nothing compared to what he felt for you

His life was changing with you around, he was no longer a teenager, he was sure he wanted you on his side

You got a job in one of the stores in Beco Diagonal, while Snape worked as a potion preparer

you can if you can, after the father's death you stay longer at home, he still preferred to live with his mother

Choose a proposal to teach at Hogwarts, but do not accept it because you did not have patience with children

he asked you to marry the two of you on a walk:

- honey, I was thinking about taking a new step in our relationship. - Hmm, what are you thinking? - Do you want to spend the rest of your life with me, so that we can be together? - Sev, this is what I want, I love you! - I love you, sweetie!

you marry a small officer with your close relatives and friends

a honeymoon was in Paris

you moved to an apartment in London completely different from edging street, it was a dark airy style more airy

you had never talked about children, you thought it was too early to think about having a baby, but that doesn't mean you didn't walk around the house it seemed like the desire had increased after the wedding

you were established, he was at the top level of a porter and you opened your own magic store for the students, they earned very well

you or maybe you just passed Eillen's new house that she had moved to see how she was doing.

you were beginning to have the idea of ​​being a mother, of having a baby in your arms, but that was a sign.

with nausea in the morning, nauseated by Snape's perfume, slightly dizzy and you don't remember your last period, you can only be pregnant, you are going to have a test. It was just positive, you were very nervous, you had never spoken to Snape about children, and you knew he was afraid to pull his father. After dinner, you decided to tell:

- Love, your food is wonderful! - Thank you dear! I need to tell you something, this is going to change a lot! - What there was? - Snape, I'm expecting a baby! - Is he sure? - Am I right! I took a test when I went to work! - So I'm going to be a father, now I'm the happiest man in the world! - This baby is the fruit of our love! - Yes, but if I stop like Tobias? - Sev, you never were and will look like him, you are different from him!

- But how ? I thought you took all the contraceptive portions after our relationship.

- If I'm wrong, it was when we went out to celebrate the store's new business, we drank and had sex on the living room rug!

- It's not my fault that that whiskey made me believe that you were better than usual!

Snape has taken extra care of you now that he is expecting your child, he managed to stay with you in the store and in the details of the layette and the bedroom

A girl, you were pregnant with a Snape girl, Snape was completely happy, he was like that whenever you felt or laid him down and spoke to the baby:- Hi my little girl, how are you? Dad is so eager to see your face !It would be Eileen S / N Snape, the name of his little girl, with the passing of the months in Severo's care only came up, did almost nothing, he proposed to do everything to do.On delivery it was quiet, except for the perfect options. It was planned for the beginning of spring, with husband that you have everything happened smoothly Regarding baby care, you share your duties, you planned to stay up all night. he loved the baby very much, he simply played and dedicated the little girl, he was definitely different from his father. Eileen had just turned one year old, when she woke up sick with Eileen and Snape by her side, when Severus saw you heard you were pregnant you two expected to have two babies at the same time, but still the happiness had come to your home and stayed.

- I do not believe, we will have another child! - We are faster than we think, we are breeding like rabbits!

The second pregnancy was calm, a little more agitated by having another baby to take care of, but nothing to worry about. her house hers was full of toys and more colorful, Eileen was three years old, she was already manipulating magic needed care and Sebastian with two the routine was during the week taking care of the children, tidying up the mess, working and taking a few minutes to date, at the end of the week it was about walking or visiting grandma Eillen or her family after a trip in left the children with their parents, the result was no different, you were pregnant again. and for the third time I was experiencing nausea and dizziness, but Snape always had a portion near by You considered that Rowena would be the last of three siblings, your family had grown fast considering for people who never thought about having children Only five years later, Wade was born, now it was definitely the last with four children all witches, Eillen was eight years old and only had a few years to go to Hogwarts, Sebastian was seven, he was a badass, Rowena was five too and Wade only needed to worry about a few

- Dad, how is Hogwarts? - It's a wonderful place, that's where I met your mother. - Swear? - Yes, I remember how it was today, our first kiss was in the astronomy tower. - Go on, please, Daddy!                                                                                   

It was Eileen's year to go to Hogwarts, everyone was anxious, the six of them went to take the girl to the station

- Bye mom! Bye dad! Bye, Sebastian, Rowena and Wade!

- Take care, we will send you letters and sweets you like! - Thank you, I love you! - I'll be happy if you enter Slytherin ... - Severus Snape! - Or any other house. - I want to go now. - Sebastian, you know your year is going to be next year. - Me either! - Rowena in a few years.

Eileen joining Slytherin, Snape was so happy, he was not so happy because he knew that the sounds of Potter and Black would study together with his daughter.Eileen proved to be good in equal portions of her father.In the following, it was Sebastian's year to everyone's surprise or not, he went to Gryffindor. Snape had a small heart attack when he heard.In the third year, Snape almost died when he learned that Eileen was seeing James' son Harry.

- So Eileen, does anyone call you on your first trip to Hogmeads? - Yes, Mom, it was cool. - Who? - Harry Potter  - WHAT?

Sebastian joins the Quidditch team as the top scorer in the second.

Rowena went to Ravenclaw, she was simply one of the smartest of her year.

Wade went to Hufflepuff, he became a monitor

Your children less at home, making you proud. You could be older but you still felt tension and desire for each other.

You two were with your family formed, you were happy.

[seacottons]

Find a Reason to Smile

pairing: choi san x reader

summary: you help an amnesiac named san find his way back home, and in return he helps you find a reason to always smile.

genre: sci-fi, dystopian au, horror, angst, language

words: 16.9k

warnings: excessive violence, blood, mental instability, mentions of smut.

The wind and rain felt like tiny little pricks against your skin and hair as you hastily rode back home on your yellow bicycle. Dark clouds blanketed the coastal town of yours, washing it an eerie, yet somewhat comforting darkness. Despite the gloomy weather, your mood was still beaming due to just wrapping up the last exam of your third year in university.

The streets were almost nearly vacant in this part of town, thankfully. You slowed down slightly whilst crossing roads and intersections, puddles of water splashing harshly against your shoes. Your hair clung onto your face, and a few strands flew into your mouth and eyes as you turned corner after corner. You flinched as the sound of thunder shook the ground underneath you. The street lamps and illuminated street signs flickered rapidly, and a flash of lightning followed shortly afterwards.

Your mind only registered what just occurred after a few seconds too late. A flash right in front of you blinded your sight, and a big lump of a body strewn on the wet cement crossed paths with your bicycle, causing you to fly and skid across the concrete a few feet away from the initial impact.

Hissing under your breath as pebbles dug into your broken flesh of your palms and knees, you glanced up and groaned, completely confused as to what made you lose your balance. You were positive there was nothing but empty space there a few seconds ago. The rain was heavy, but not enough to blind you. Your head throbbed, and you were sure bruises were already forming. 

Your breath was caught in your throat at the sight of a man lying beside your bike, clutching his side and emitting grunts of pain, his frame writhing. The man could make out a few words through the hazy fog of his mind,"Mist...okay..."

"Mister..are...okay?"

"Mister, are you okay?"

You scrambled up onto your feet, mind frazzled and bewildered,”I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t see you there! I- ..what were you doing lying down in the middle of the sidewalk. Oh my god, are you okay?” you blithered loudly, hands reaching down to grab onto the man’s own frail ones.

Your rambling seemed to make the man’s headache even worse, and you hastily helped him onto his feet. He was a few inches taller than you, a well built, lean frame adorned with dark clothing and a leather jacket. A striking patch of green decorated his ebony locks, which clung to his flushed face as his pained eyes bore into your own, “Where am I? Who are you?”

You visibly blanched upon hearing the male’s words, hesitant hands reaching up to clutch the air in front of you, panic soon welcoming itself into your eyes and voice, “I gave you amnesia..,” you clutched his wet, black leather jacket with desperate fists, brows knitting in distress, “Please don’t sue me! I have one more year left to graduate! I’ll help yo-“

You were thankful that no one was driving by to witness the scene, you on your wobbly legs, screaming desperately in a stranger’s face. Before you managed to finish your plead, the man’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his frame collapsing onto your own jittery one. Yelping in fright, your hands flew to steady his body, which felt cold and deadweight in your arms. You rested your fingers against his jugular, your shoulders deflating in relief at the prominent heartbeat.

Spending the night of your last day of the semester was intended to be scheduled with partying, watching movies, going out with acquaintances, but fate decided to grant you a man who popped out of whatever that flash was, only to faint in your arms in broad daylight, feet away from your apartment complex, and rain drops creating frequent ripples in the puddles surrounding you two.

You were paranoid that somehow you’d be imprisoned or fined if you called the police for giving a stranger a possible concussion, so the next best thing you came up with is to take said stranger back to your apartment, wrapping him up in several towels and lying him down onto the couch. Droplets of rain cascaded down his high cheekbones, and onto your leather sofa, but that was the least of your concern at the moment. You debated whether or not to call your mother for help. She will certainly give you an earful if she found out you allowed a stranger into your own home.

As you were in the process of constructing a reasonable sounding text, a groan escaped the man’s mouth as he reached up to press the heel of his palm onto his forehead. You panicked at the sight, frame stiffening as the male sat up slowly, pausing to gaze at you in confusion. He tilted his head, eyes blinking in curiosity. His dark orbs studied your form, flickering around to examine his surroundings before turning back to you, “Hello?”

You offered an awkward smile, shrugging your shoulders and putting your phone down, “Uh.. hi. I’m (y/n). Are you feeling better, Mister? Do you remember anything?”

His dark eyes glanced around the room once again, before looking down at his wet attire and hands. He peered at his reflection from the mirror across from him and turned to you with a look of distress, “I don’t seem to recall anything other than when you crashed into me. By any chance, do I know you? Do you know who I am?”

There were a few moments in your life you were proud of. Few, meaning you can count them with one hand. This was not one of them. You found yourself crying in the middle of your apartment, with a complete stranger attempting to comfort and console you, when in fact he was the one who most likely needed it most. He smiled sheepishly, his attempt at consoling you only twinging a bit of hope in the pit of your stomach. He explained that it wasn’t logical for you to be the cause of his amnesia, due to the fact that you only managed to hurt his side as opposed to his head. You winced at the memory, nodding shamefully and offering him some ointment for the mark on his side, courteously left by the wheel of your bicycle. About half an hour of ceaseless reassurance from the man, you managed to regain your composure, asking him if he had some sort of identification.

To your disappointment, and his also, there was no source of information to identify him with. Pockets empty, no phone in sight either. You ran a hand through your hair, eyes downcast as you scrambled to think of plan b, only to catch sight of the the marking behind the man’s left ear. You raised a brow, leaning forward and tilting your head, startling the male from the sudden proximity,”You have a tattoo? San? Is that your name?”

There doesn’t seem to be any spark of recognition in the man’s eyes as you say the name, but he scratches the nape of his neck sheepishly,”I am honestly not too sure, but it’s safe to assume that it is? I’m sorry, I wish I could just remember one thing at least..”

You offered him a smile of pity, shaking your head to disagree with him,“That’s okay, San. I’m sure we’ll figure something out. In the meantime, you should change before you end up getting sick. I think my clothes will fit you somewhat. It’s the least I can do for crashing into you. Is that okay?”

“Ah, thank you,” you nodded at him to proceed,”I appreciate it. Do you mind if I stay here until the rain stops?”

You dug through numerous names of people named San on social media within your town, but you had no luck in finding a match. If your parents knew you kept a complete stranger in your home out of pity, they would’ve called you a lunatic.

He was very bashful about the offer to stay the night, denying it at first and telling you he’ll find his way somehow. Days later, you spotted him sleeping on one of the bus benches near your apartment as you made your way to the convenience store. He was reluctant at first, but finally agreed to stay for a short term with you.

You hadn’t even meant to but the poor guy had nowhere to go, no money on hand, and no memories whatsoever. What a predicament to be in.

Several days passed, and you’ve yet to tell your anyone of the incident that occurred that spring night.

It was no lie that over the course of several weeks of summer, the man had grown onto you. San was extremely humble, aiding you in any way he found possible. He took charge of cleaning, cooking, and even ironing your clothes on some days. The days when you had work, you would come home to find the apartment sparkling, and the smell of dinner wafting through the entirety of the small complex.

There were a few strange quirks you’ve noticed about him, though. For starters, he called the planet Earth, Utopia. You sat down for a good half hour over dinner one night, arguing back and forth regarding the name, but he just couldn’t explain why he thought that, and where that piece of information came from. He flung a pea at your nose as you pulled out several maps on your phone, proving your point, a pout resting on his features as he gave up his argument.

You were mildly paranoid that San was secretly a slimy alien disguised as a handsome, young man, from a different planet who somehow dropped down onto Earth, but you pushed that thought away several days later when he showed zero signs of being extra terrestrial. ( You forced him to sit down through reruns of alien related films, gauging and studying his reactions only to disprove your conclusion when he grimaced and complained he didn’t like the concept of aliens. )

However, he always seemed fascinated by the twinkling stars at night, occasionally asking if you’d like to sit and watch them, instead of movies, every now and then.

He enjoyed warm cups of tea as the cool breeze from outside fluttered into the apartment, the two of you pointing out which constellations you recognized.

—

“This is cute,try it on!" you threw a fuzzy, white sweater at San over the door of the changing room.

He took it off his head and inspected it, eyes blinking rapidly. He then threw it back,"It seems itchy."

"Come on! How about this?"

"The color is reminiscent of the time you threw up the leftover sushi.”

"Just say it’s an ugly shade of green and shut up," you grumbled, stomach flipping at the mere thought of the incident that occurred days prior. This wasn’t the first time he bought it up, only to laugh and tease you for it when you quickly shut him down.

San, albeit surprisingly being a playful and mischievous guy, was very modest and humble when it came to your shopping trips. Guilt would wash his features as he argued about you spending money on him for clothes and other necessities, often making excuses of why he didn’t want the items you chose for him, but you never missed the sparkle in his eyes as he placed the articles of clothing back on the racks.

He would pull items from your hands before you had the chance to purchase them for him, sometimes starting embarrassing scenes in various stores. When you have him a hard time, he would cling onto your arm, whining into your ear and attempt to pull you out of the store.

You did get kicked out of a plushie store that one time in which you accidentally kicked over one of the shelves while wrestling over a shiba inu plushie, tipping it over only slightly, but just enough for stacks of puppy plushies to fall into a heap on the floor.

He would often scold you when he finds the same item he’d been ogling laying innocently onto his makeshift bed in the tiny living room. San profusely apologized for being a nuisance to you and your wallet, and every time, you threatened to wrestle him down to take back his words.

“You said you wanted this one, and you’d name him Shiber. So give him a proper welcome to our home.”

He did ask to help him find a job, but you insisted you were fine with spending your money on him for the next month. Tuition and books were not a problem thanks to your scholarship, rent wasn’t too high, and you didn’t even own a car for you to spend money on gas. You also had several years of saving up from numerous jobs to help you put your mind at ease, but that did not stop the gnawing feeling of guilt that succumbed San every time you traded your money for something to give him.

You did take him to see a specialist, and he’d gone under several tests and examinations, but all the test results came back normal. There was no indication of head trauma, and he was very healthy for his age, which you two assumed to be in his early to mid twenties.

Nobody in town recognized him when you two had your weekly shopping trips, either.

He did promise to only spend two months with you and go about his way, if he managed to recover his memories. If not, he would land a job while you returned back to university for your senior year.

You never did tell him, but you left your bedroom door ajar ever so slightly to gaze at him in sympathy during the nights he woke up restless, silently staring out the window of the living room, arms clutching Shiber to his chest tightly for comfort. You knew he didn’t enjoy feeling lost and helpless, even if he never liked to admit it. His eyes held a heavy, silent sadness, one so deep that you think not even time will mend.

Learning to read and understand San came naturally and seamlessly. You caught every flicker of his eyes, every change in his tone, and every expression he makes. Every twitch of his lips did not go unnoticed by you.

He soon warmed up to your comforting presence, much like the summer weather.

"Ahhh! It burns!"

You fell in a tangled mess of sheets and limbs, startled by a screech. You were acutely aware of the pain blossoming onto your bottom as you landed ungracefully on your wooden floor. Beams of sunlight shone brightly in your room, welcoming the new day.

"San! Are you okay!?”

You piped hurriedly,  stumbling up to rush towards the male, tangled sheets clinging around your ankle, your hair a mess and eyes puffy from sleep.

You failed to notice a roll of toilet paper flying towards your head.

The impact startled you, heart leaping in your throat at the sudden attack, your adrenaline pumping through your veins as you raised your arms for defense.

It was San on the bathroom doorway, mouth red and puffy and eyes glassy with unshed tears.

"Where the hell did you get this mouthwash? It's like I'm swishing fire in my mouth!" he cried, profusely rubbing at his mouth the back of his sleeve. He grumbled, turning around to lightly slap the bottle of green liquid on the bathroom countertop, fidgeting around and running his hands through his hair in exasperation.

"Fucking hell, San. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I nearly burned my tongue off, but thanks for asking!”

You dropped your head in your hands, contemplating your life choices for a few seconds before walking back to your bedroom to get an hour more of undisturbed sleep.

Summer was nearing an end, and the two of you fell into a simple routine. He would iron your work clothes the night before, wake up early to cook a light breakfast, and help you tidy up for your day.

You had joked one day, asking if his profession was a chef due to his great cooking skills.

“Maybe you’re secretly rich and hired me as your personal chef, but we argued one day, and you hit me so hard with a pan that I lost my braincells, and-“

You quickly stuffed his mouth with a loaf of bread to shush him up. He blinked, flabbergasted at the sudden intrusion, before hastily swiping a jam covered finger onto your cheek in retaliation.

Not only was he talented at cooking great food, but he was also amazing at styling hair.

He scoffed as a stubborn strand of your tresses curled up from the nearly perfect hairstyle he struggled to create. Licking his lips, he pressed them into a thin line as he leaned forward, gel slicked hands working meticulously to smoothen out your locks,”San, I work at a coffee shop, not at a fashion agency. Don’t you think this is a bit much?” your back ached from being stuck in the same position for nearly forty minutes.

He ignored your comment, scolding you for attempting to distract him, eyes trained onto redoing the intricate braid in your hair, adding several tiny diamond clips, and a golden ribbon lacing through your locks. You tilted your head at an angle, struggling to catch sight of his beautiful work in the mirror, your eyes practically twinkling in delight at the sight.

“San, you’re so talented! I should’ve hired you as my hairdresser months ago,” you marveled happily.

His heart leaped in his throat, much like the acrobats he’s seen in movies, whilst you crushed him into a tight hug. He stared down at the crown of your head, jaw slackening  and eyes growing wide at the first physical gesture of affection you’ve ever given him. His frame felt like it was doused in gasoline and lit on fire, but before he had the chance to ask himself why, he caught sight of his reflection. His ears were an embarrassing shade of pink, like the tiny cosmos he helped you grow on the balcony. He hoped you hadn’t noticed.

A gentle smile found itself onto his features as he raised a  respectful hand to the dip of your back, returning the hug fondly, his lids fluttering shut as he basks in the moment of having you cling onto him. This was better than hugging Shiber, he noted to himself.

“I’ll do it for as long as time allows it,” he curls a strand of your hair around his pointer finger, before delicately pinning it behind your ear, his gaze unfaltering as his eyes bore into your own.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, and you simpered at his bashful expression,”I’ll see you tonight, then. No need to cook anything, either. Today we’ll try out the new barbecue place across town, yeah?”   His eyes widened, your bright tone snapping him out of his dazed state, eyeing you in mild embarrassment for staring much too long than deemed necessary. He pulled away abruptly, hands busy attending to the brushes and combs across the counter, anything that was within his grasp really– the green patch of hair concealing his eyes from your sight,”Y-yeah. I’ll be ready when you come back home,” he responded, voice meek and delicate as he flashed you a small grin.

His tender smile was reminiscent of spring mornings: fresh, warm, and welcoming.

—

The oil sizzled as you gently laid down a slice of chicken onto the grill, your hands startling as tiny droplets of oil met the flesh of your hands. The steel tongs fell from your grip, mouth pulled back as you emit a hiss of pain, your other hand flying to rub away at the burning sensation.

Delicate hands wrapped around your own, the pads of his fingers rubbing soothing circles onto your skin, his eyes holding a weight of disappointment,”I told you, you’re supposed to do it gently, or else you’ll splash yourself with all that oil, dummy.”

“I was being gentle!” you shot back, only for your words to die down into a small whisper once you locked your eyes with his. Clearing your throat, you pulled your hands away from his hold, allowing your tresses to frame your face in hopes of concealing the blossoming pink of your cheeks. ”Alright, I’ll be more cautious next time,” you added quickly, picking at the side dishes with your chopsticks, sheepishly avoiding his teasing stare.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when exactly San’s gazes affected you the way they did now.

They left a soft, bubbly feeling inside the pit of your stomach, reminding you of his favorite powder scented laundry detergent he became very fond of.

“It cleans Shiber’s fur better than the lavender one.”

You didn’t know why you now noticed small quirks of his that you found attractive.

The way his skin dips as he smiles, displaying the cutest set of dimples you’ve ever set your eyes on. The way his eyes glimmer at the sight of a new episode of his favorite tv series. The way his voice rises an octave in excitement at a clear night sky, displaying twinkling diamonds over the town.

And also the tiny freckles that were beautifully paraded thanks to his v-neck shirts. The mole on his cheek. Or when he gnaws his bottom lip in concentration when either cooking or attempting to rid his shirts of a stubborn wrinkle.

The way the veins in his arms are more pronounced whilst he cooks up your favorite dish, or when his muscles ripple as he reaches up for something on the shelves.

And the sound of his contagious laugh as you proposed the idea of him becoming your roommate and helping him hunt for a job, despite having no known credentials or work experience as soon as you move to Seoul.

Initially, you didn’t think much of these small seeds of attraction you felt towards him. It wasn’t a crush. You were merely fond of his cute, clingy behavior.

You ignored them when they sprouted.

And now it seems they have blossomed, and you think there’s no denying it anymore, however you decided for the sake of the steady and well-built friendship, you’ll bury those feelings in a small, dark corner of your mind, tucked safe and away from prying eyes, specifically his.

“(Y/n)?”

You jumped in your seat, eyes widening and a ghost of a breath escaping your parted lips as you crashed back down to reality. San’s eyes were furrowed in concern at your silence, his hand hovering over the grill, tongs stretched and ready to latch onto the meat. You were quick to whip out an apology, offering him a sheepish grin,”Sorry, did you say something?”

He jabbed a thumb to the flat screen t.v, quickly changing the subject to save you from further embarrassment,”They’re talking about University of Seoul. Isn’t that the one you’re planning on transferring to next month?”

Physics Professors of US, Dr. Jung and assistant Dr. Kang, announce successful test in the relation between their theory of quantum physics and alternate reality; They say the world is ready to witness something grand.

You glanced at the long headline, eyes then trailing up to the news anchor, and then back to San. A black haired professor began an interview with the hosts over video call, but you soon tuned it out disinterestedly while spooning a few grains of rice and seasoned seaweed, only pausing mid-bite as you noticed the twinkling reflection of the lightbulbs in tear drops falling from San’s eyes as he stared silently at the screen.

“San? Are you okay?”

He quirked a brow in confusion, only then following your line of vision towards his side of the table. Peering down at the droplets, he raised dainty fingers to brush against his cheeks, examining the wetness as he pulled away, confusion decorating his features,“Oh? I’m crying?”

You settled your spoon down, eyes, filled to the brim with concern, roaming to study his features, and for the first time since you met him, you couldn’t read the expression on his face, couldn’t decipher what he was feeling. Your appetite suddenly dissipated, worry filling hunger’s place instead,”Is something the matter? You can tell me, you know?”

The lights in the restaurant flickered continuously, tv screens pixelating and distorting. Customers and the employees paused their ministrations to look around in confusion.

Your face glitched and pixelated, and his eyes widened at the sight.

Go back home!

As if watching a poorly captured, grainy video, he suddenly found himself in a pitch black room. He was aware he was standing above a fallen figure, even with the lack of light. A beam suddenly flashed down upon him, casting a dim ring of light around his frame. His pupils dilated and quivering at the sight of the pale visage void of any signs of life staring blankly at him from the bloody mess on the floor. Upon closer inspection, he realized the corpse he was staring down at was an exact replica of himself, face gaunt and frozen with terror stricken eyes.

Go back home, San. I’m so sorry.

The corpse’s ghostly face blurred and pixelated, before he felt lips press against his own, a giggle following shortly after. His breath caught in his throat as he gaped down at your smiling figure,”Of course, I’ll marry you, Sannie. Who else would I want to spend the rest of my life with?”

Home.

And then you vanished in fade of colors, your body dissipating with the breeze.

Everything came to a gentle still.

Suddenly, the sight of a fist gripping a gleaming syringe rushing towards his direction and painfully digging into his wrist—

He jumped, startled knees crashing into the underside of the table, the utensils clattering upon impact, making you also jolt in place, hands hastily reaching up to clamp onto your chest in surprise.

“San!”

Unbeknownst to him, something akin to severe horror flashed within his orbs for a millisecond, silent terror haunting the dark depths of his eyes as his gaze flickered from the tv screen to your face, the ambiance of the restaurant becoming nothing more than a faint, muted buzz in the background.

You were alarmed by the sudden rapid rise and fall of his chest, shallow breathing overlapping with the sounds of utensils clattering in the background.

“San? San, tell me what’s wrong.”

He took a moment to assess your expression, hesitantly shaking his head moments later, voice small, hands fidgeting with his chopsticks, before reaching up to grasp the sides of his head, suddenly unaware as to why his hands were trembling,”I don’t know? I don’t know why I’m crying, (y/n). I have a terrible migraine too.”

You were quick to send a glare at the nosy customers who took a sudden interest in you and your friend, eyes narrowing in triumph as they hastily averted their gazes.

“Do you think I’m having an allergic reaction to something?” you heard San mumble into his palm.

You weren’t sure how to answer him.

“Yeah, maybe.. it’s the radish?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen sheer, raw terror in one’s eyes like that before.

That look on his face will forever haunt you.

Weeks later, that night was buried away along with the other nights you’ve spent with San in your coastal town. He helped you pack your belongings, taping box after box as the two of you prepared to move inland into the city for your final year of university.

San surprised you two days after you moved into your new, spacious apartment with the announcement that he obtained a job at a local floral shop just down the street, owned by two friends, Jongho and Yunho. You blanched as soon as he informed you that he explained to them he had no idea of his identity and held no official documents, but had a knack for delicate and intricate styling of materials, ranging from flowers, to food, and hair. He even challenged them to a bouquet arrangement match.

“Is that seriously how you convinced them? No fingerprints or anything? No documents? How will they pay you? You can’t just go around telling people you lost your memories, San. What if someone takes advantage of you?” you chided gently, brows creasing as you worked at adjusting one of the paintings on the wall.

He feigned a pout, fingers reaching to brush a strand of hair from your eyes,”And here I thought you’ll say let’s go out to celebrate. Are you not proud of me? I’m getting paid in cash to avoid the documentation requirements, if that’s what’s bothering you. I told you I need to start helping with the bills,” he crossed his arms, back resting against the wall and head turned the other direction as he silently sulked.

You didn’t know if that was even legal, but you decided to brush it off at the sight of his crestfallen expression, your hands quickly finding their way to his own, grasping them and giving them a gentle squeeze,”Of course we’ll celebrate! Over drinks and barbecue!”

If the Sun had feelings, you were sure it would feel a massive amount of envy towards the male in front of you, with the way his face shined and glowed with every smile that reached his handsome features. Your heart will never become accustomed to the sunshine-like smile, no matter how many times he beams at you like that.

A month flew by as quickly as the leaves changed color during autumn, and soon, you two found yourselves constantly huddled underneath a large blanket, hands holding steaming mugs of tea while you watched new movies his co-workers  recommended him. You smiled fondly at his excited announcement of finding a new movie to share with you. Your heart swelled at the sound of his giggling throughout the film.

You confided to him after one particular movie regarding homesickness, suddenly finding yourself tearing up at the thought of your old town and apartment and how much you missed them.

He prodded your cheek in a playful manner, tapping away your tears with a tissue before running a soothing palm onto the back of your head,”You just have to find a reason to smile. It won’t fix the problem per say, but it’ll make the situation easier for you until you find a solution,” he mused,”Like me, for example! I don’t have a clue about who I was or am, or where I came from, but you’re the reason I still smile.”

Your brows rose up high at his words, and you couldn’t tell if the flush on your face was the result of crying anymore. You also felt ashamed all of a sudden, realizing your situation wasn’t nearly as bad as his,”I make you happy?”

“Of course you do,” he chuckled, hands patting his chest proudly,”I don’t have to be reason for you to smile, though. Maybe it can be that big star that twinkles every night out your window, or the smell of that nice bakery down the street.”

Your stomach fluttered.

“You make me smile more than anything and anyone, San.”

Some days, he’ll come home to find you face first in one of your heavy books, hand still gripping your pen while a monotonous voice from your laptop plays out throughout the kitchen. He chided your sleeping form as he picked you up, carrying you to your bedroom and huffing when you immediately snuggled into your sheets and pillows,”What will you ever do without me, dummy.”

The third month in, and you eventually became accustomed to the new environment, city, people, and university. It was a lot larger in comparison to your previous one, and it accommodated not only local students, but international ones as well. You were offered an internship with one of the university’s top leading music professors, and you contemplated accepting the offer or not for months. It worked out in your favor, though. San had a stable job now. You weren’t as worried about your finances as much as you were before, you were enjoying your last year of studies, your apartment was spacious enough to fit the both of you, and it wasn’t too far from your university either.

Your manifestations of a simple and happy life became reality, and there was no room left to complain.

There was one problem though.

You learned that San was not to be trusted with money. He either spent it on food or yourself. You begged, pleaded, and chided repeatedly that you really did not need every color of the sweater you liked at the shop, or the fancy teacup you saw at the market, but he insisted on buying them all,”But all these colors suit you! Besides, it’s getting too cold, you need to dress warmly!”

Saturday night he presented you with a glittering, amethyst necklace. You paled at the sight, cheeks stuffed with the remaining spoonfuls of dinner as you gazed from your plate, to the necklace, and then back to his face,”You didn’t. San, not again..” you shook your head.

At your words, he rolled his eyes, scoffing and skidding his chair as he stood up to walk towards you,“You have the audacity to complain? Have you forgotten you’ve bought all my clothes and kept me well fed over the summer?” he leaned over your frame, polite hands clasping the necklace around the column of your neck, grinning in satisfaction as it glimmered underneath the fluorescent lights,”You make it even more beautiful than it already is, (y/n).”

He gasped as you choked on the remnants of your food, hands hastily slapping your back in aid, loud voice bouncing against the walls of the apartment, scolding you for not being careful enough with your food.

One night, he came home pleading for you to visit the amusement park that opened in town. San knew that one certain look of his that made your resolve crumble into nothing but a heap of emptiness within a matter of seconds, and that jerk used it to his advantage every damn time. And it worked every damn time.  You were ashamed of how easily you fell for his tricks, but in most circumstances, it was worth it.

If one day, the Sun were to cease existing, it will be okay, because San’s smile is its greatest rival.

You swore San’s eyes twinkled brighter than any of the stars in the night sky. Happiness looked best on San. He had bits of cotton candy still stuck on his cupid’s bow, pockets filled to maximum capacity with tickets. You couldn’t help but emit a snort of amusement at his behavior as he dragged you from booth to booth, demanding you to a challenge every time.

He was the embodiment of happiness and sunshine, all things soft and delicate. He begged you to enter the photo booths with him, and then proceeded to have a bet on who can win the most prizes.

“I’m telling you, these games are all rigged. I just know it,” you grumbled angrily, harshly chomping down onto a handful of popcorn.

He peeked up, arms struggling to carry the amount of plushies and prizes he won. A green hat sat on his head comfortably, his eyes teasing as you placed a few pieces of popcorn into his gaping mouth,”Sorry, couldn’t hear you from all the plushies I’m holding. What did you say?”

“San, that makes absolutely no sense.”

“I know, you’re just fun to tease.”

He managed to win at nearly every game you played, and you gaped in disbelief as he won at the fishing game for the fifth time in a row. Crossing your arms, you turned around, hand sticking up to shush him as he called your name,”Rigged!”

You felt something cold and hard poke your cheek, and you turned to be met with a pouty rubber duck that was much too close for comfort. He repeated the action, along with a soft quack, and you attempted to swat his prize toy away from him, only for him to mimic the duck’s expression, your heart nearly falling to your feet at the sight,”Don’t be angry. I promise I’ll let you win next time.”

Having San work at a floral shop meant being gifted with a new flower every day.

He would beg you to stop writing in your notebook just to listen to him ramble on about what a certain flower meant, and so forth. Curse Jongho for getting him into this sort of thing, but you couldn’t deny the fact he appeared so endearing while blabbering passionately about why he thinks white roses aren’t meant to be related to death, or why cosmos deserve more love after Yunho trash talked them one day.

“Jongho, what are you doing?” San asked one day, arms placing the new shipment of glass vases down in the corner of the room. Yunho peeked up from tying a ribbon onto a pink bouquet, snickering at the sight of Jongho ripping petal after petal of a yellow flower.

“He wants to know if the girl that visits the shop every Friday likes him back,” Yunho teased, ducking as a piece of floral foam was thrown in his direction.

San leaned over Jongho’s shoulder to study the flower inquisitively, eyes wide and curious,”How do you determine that?” Jongho’s miffed expression soon was replaced with a stoic one as he explained to San how it works,”So, all I have to do is pluck them and whichever is the last one..”

Jongho nodded, elbowing the ebony haired male in the chest,”Are you thinking about the girl you live with?”

San’s flustered expression gave him away. He hid the white daisy behind his back defensively, shrugging his shoulders and announcing he has to get back to work. Jongho and Yunho shot knowing smiles at his retreating figure.

“She loves me not. She loves me. She loves me not.”

Hiding behind a stack of boxes, San was finally at the last petal, his fingers hovering above it with widened eyes and parted lips,”She loves me.”

You were too engrossed in editing an audio file, that the sight of a gerbera daisy flying into your face startled you nearly to death. San laughed as you yelped in fright, hands immediately ripping the headphones from your ears, before repeatedly smacking his hip in anger,”Are you trying to give me a heart attack!” you hissed in frustration.

He placed the daisy behind your ear and leaned back up to examine his work,”So pretty.”

You didn’t know whether he was referring to the flower or yourself, but either way, that didn’t stop your ears from flaring up.

A month later, you managed to survive the exams, and your second to last semester came to an end. The university held a party a week later in celebration, just before winter holiday, and you asked San over dinner if he’d like to attend. He shyly denied it at first, saying he never learned how to dance, but you insisted you wouldn’t have to if it made him uncomfortable,”We can just relax and eat the food there. I promise it’ll be fun!”

You wore a well fitted, knee length black dress, and insisted on San wearing something formal as well, much to his displeasure. He reached a hand to readjust his tie for the umpteenth time that night, glowering at your snickering form,”Oh stop, you’ll mess it up. You look perfectly fine.”

“Fine? Is that all I get?” he prodded your cheek, playful lilt to his tone,”You should pay me, Prince San, for attending this party with you. I will only accept cash or kisses.”

His grin stretched further as you stumbled on your words, a faint scowl reaching your features as you thwacked him on the chest lightly,”Stop being embarrassing!”

You loved his teasing.

He knew you did, and curse him for taking every opportunity to make you a blushing, babbling mess, especially in public. The university’s courtyard couldn’t be recognized from the dangerous amount of people within the area, music blasting off in several directions, and drinks and food being served left and right.

San shot you a smile as he noticed the glimmering pendant resting on your collarbones,”Did you want to dance, (y/n)?”

You glanced at him curiously, head tilting back as you took a sip of your soda,”I thought you were too shy to dance in public?”

“That’s where you’re not wrong,” he chuckled, taking you by the wrist and behind one of the building’s corners. People still walked by, but there was a curtain of privacy that provided him with a subtle boost of confidence. He mimicked the princes in his favorite movies, head bowing and offering you his hand, to which you laughed and accepted. Your arms rested against his firm chest, lithe fingers curling onto his shoulders as his hands hesitantly found their way to rest onto the dip of your waist,”I don’t know if I’m doing this right.”

“I can’t believe we’re slow dancing to club music,” you couldn’t help but laugh, head thrown back in glee as San took stiff, unsure movements, a sheepish smile gracing his features as he ducked his head shyly, his earrings glimmering underneath the moonlight.

“It’s the only dance that seemed easy enough online,” he mumbled, unsure of his movements now that he held you in his arms,”I watched five videos.”

You flashed him a grin, pausing slightly to lean forward onto your toes, pressing a chaste kiss onto his cheek,”You’re doing so well. You never cease to impress me, San.”

You watched his jaw go slack, hands now hovering over your waist as he peers at you unsurely. For a split second, you were worried if you crossed the line, however, he released a chortle of amusement, leaning down to press his lips flush against your forehead,”And to you the same, dearest (y/n).”

The party was nearing an end, and you smiled fondly as San pouted beside you, watching someone take the last slice of chocolate cake on one the large tables. You took his hand, walking a few steps and ushering to another table across the courtyard,”That’s okay! I know another table with dessert. Maybe there’s—“

“San?”

The two of you paused, catching sight of a man only a few feet away, whose eyes were wide behind the pair of bronze rimmed spectacles. His shaggy, black tresses curled beautifully over his eyes, a mole prominent underneath one of his orbs. His mouth was ajar as he stared at the two of you, your interlocked hands, and then specifically onto you. You quirked a brow, noting how his eyes lingered a second too long onto your chest, making you shift uncomfortably beside San.

With long and quick strides, San was ripped from your embrace and into the other male’s chest as he crushed him into a hug.

San gazed at you pleadingly, seemingly uncomfortable with the sudden gesture of affection from the stranger, his arms glued to his sides, unsure whether or not he should return the hug,”Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since May! How can you just disappear into thin air without telling any of us?”

Your eyes widened at the information, and suddenly, the strange stares you two have gotten from your peers here made sense now. Ever since you walked into campus with San by your side, you’ve received curious and confused glances. And here you thought people were only shocked at how handsome the male that accompanied you was.

San could only stare in shock at the other male, his eyes searching an. searching for any flicker of familiarity, only for his shoulders to sag down as he found not a spark whatsoever,”You know me?” his voice was small and almost breathless.

The other male’s longing gaze morphed into a confused expression whilst he peels away from your friend, head tilting and brows furrowing in thought,”What do you mean? It’s me! Wooyoung. We’re childhood friends. You were a professor here. We worked on a project together before you ran away.”

You didn’t know whether to intervene or not, not knowing if it was your place to even speak on behalf of San. He peeked at you in question, and you nodded albeit your shocked state, understanding his silent question,”I’m sorry. I don’t recall any of that information. I’ve been living with (y/n) here. It seems as though I’ve lost all of my memories prior to meeting her.”

The black haired male’s eyes flickered between the two of you, and he points an accusing finger at San, a boisterous laugh falling from his plump lips, “Nice one. Don't tell me you ran away to be with your secret girlfriend, Sannie. Was the project too much pressure on you? You could’ve told me you know?”

When San’s confused expression didn’t change, Wooyoung’s bright expression faltered, smile falling into a concerned frown.

“Is it true? He doesn’t remember me?”

Your head perked up at the sudden attention that was now on you, a look of pity falling onto your features as you nodded silently,”Yes. I met San in Hwaseong months ago. I transferred and moved here recently. We’ve been searching for months about his identity. Was he not reported missing?”

Wooyoung blinked at your sudden question, shaking his head and emitting a sigh, gazing at his friend as he spoke,”No, he didn’t exactly go missing. He left a note and ran away, saying he didn’t want to be apart of the project we worked on any longer,” he grasped San’s limp hands, tugging him forward and cocking his head in another direction,”Come with me. I’ll prove it to you! Maybe your pictures will help spark some memory, yeah?”

The campus was fairly large, and walking in heels did not aid you in the slightest. Wooyoung looked back over his shoulder and smiled sheepishly, almost apologetically,”I still haven’t organized the office, so excuse the mess you’re about to see. My assistant was supposed to meet me last week to help tidy up, but..”

He flicked on the lights, and he ushered you to one of the three desks in the room. He grabbed onto a small picture frame, handing it to San to observe,”Do you know who this person is?” Wooyoung asked softly.

You peered over San’s shoulder, gaze catching sight of the three people in the picture. It was San, Wooyoung, and a shaggy haired, blonde man whose hair was tied into a small ponytail. Your eyes widened in recognition. These were Dr. Jung and Dr. Kang, the two professors from that one interview you watched that night.

San wordlessly peered at the picture, minute after minute, and he finally sighed moments later, placing the picture frame down while shaking his head in defeat,”No. He’s not familiar either.”

You rested a hand onto San’s shoulder sympathetically, whispering reassuring words underneath your breath. He turned his head to offer you a melancholic, but grateful, smile. Wooyoung cleared his throat, brows knitting in thought,”That’s Yeosang. Our partner,” he placed pointed to another frame, one showcasing the three men swimming at the beach,”We met him four years ago, San.”

An awkward silence fell upon the three of you, and moments later, San walked around the office, fingertips brushing against multiple papers with his name and handwriting scribbled onto them,”Choi San? That’s my full name?” he said almost breathlessly,”This is all my work?”

“The one and only, Choi San,” Wooyoung nodded grimly, arms crossing over his chest as he proceeded to sit down, running a hand through his dark locks,”Wait ‘til Yeosang hears about all of this,” he moaned into his hand, before peeking up and pursing his lips in thought,”You should come back to our apartment. Your stuff is still there. It’ll be a start at getting your old life back together again?”

Your brows knitted, shoulders tense in defense, and you opened your mouth to quip back an answer, only for San to beat you to it,”I’m already staying with..” he hung his head, troubled thoughts weighing him down before he glanced at you almost apologetically,”I mean, our plan was for me to move out, after I figure something out right? It was never supposed to be long-term.”

“You can have time to think about it and work things out,” Wooyoung piped in, gaze softening at the sight of your crestfallen expression.

You attempted to contain your tears, your eyes now glassy and red. You offered a shaky smile, hand squeezing San’s reassuringly,”I don’t mind if you stay with me, San. I love having you around,” you saw Wooyoung’s head perk up in amusement,”But that doesn’t mean I’ll hold you back from returning to your home.”

San couldn’t return the smile, his lips sloped in contemplation and confliction. He shook his head to rid himself of haunting thoughts. Moments of silence later, he sighed, looking back up to meet the hopeful gaze of his forgotten friend,”I’ll have my stuff ready after tomorrow.”

Your heart felt heavy in your chest as Wooyoung and San continued to speak, both exchanging information and addresses.

—

The news hurt you as much as it relieved you. San, Choi San, is back where he belongs, with people he knew and grew up with. And on top of that he was a Physics professor, too?

You were happy and beyond proud of his endurance, and also proud that you had helped him this far, however, a small part of yourself, a selfish part of yourself, clawed and lashed out at the thought of losing him, even as a roommate.

Your heart ached, and a dangerous sense of bitterness bled throughout your system.

"I’m so happy for you, San,” you offered a small smile, and although the sight of him left an ache in your heart, your truly attempted to mask the pain that was settling in your veins, leaving an unpleasant taste in your mouth. “I’ll miss you. I’ll miss scolding you about tidying up your plushies, your pancakes in the morning– I.. our movies night, too. But it’s okay.. I’ll visit you, and you’ll visit me? Right? Even if we won’t live together anymore we can-“

Throughout the months he’s lived with you, you’ve failed to realize how well he’s learned to pick up on your demeanor and attitude. He reads you as easily as his favorite Harry Potter books.

“(Y/n). Stop.”

The sudden, sharp tone caused you to clamp your mouth shut.

He reached down to grip the mug of tea out of your trembling hands, his gaze then trailing up to brush against your cheek, frowning at the sight of your quivering bottom lip and misty eyes. Your teeth bit at the inside of your cheek harshly, determined to keep yourself contained.

Usually, at such proximity, you’ll turn into a fidgety, blushing mess, but the way he’s gazing tenderly down at you from your spot on the couch, you felt your heart splinter and crack in sadness. You tried your best to look at the brighter side of things, because you knew how selfish it was of you for wanting him to stay with you.

He wasn’t a stray animal that needed to be loved and protected.

He was a man with a life behind him, and denying him that would be the cruelest thing you can ever do to someone, especially one that had no idea of his past.

You were suddenly aware of his warm chest against your face, his hand carefully cradling your head ever so gently. His shirt darkened with wet patches of your tears, and it was the sight of them that made you realize you were crying. He held you as your walls broke down, brick by brick. Your small, shaky voice, muffled by his chest, still managed to shoot a wave of pain through his heart,”I don’t want you to leave me, San.”

“(Y/n),” he started, “I will never leave you. Just let me build my life back together, and after that, everything will turn back to normal.”

He caressed your messy hair, pressing faint kisses onto the crown of your head.

“We’ll get an even better apartment after you graduate and a cat named Byeol. Our balcony will be filled with all shades of cosmos, and I promise we’ll have enough space to build blanket forts for our movie nights. This is merely the beginning of it all, okay? Please don’t cry, or you’ll make me cry,” his voice was soft but reassuring, trembling in the end.

It’s funny, because here you always thought at the moment like this, when you finally found the answers San’s been looking for, that you will be the one comforting him, and not the other way around.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, words unable to leave your mouth as you pulled him in tighter, face buried against the freckled side of his neck as you nodded in silent agreement.

He held you close and tightly like this for the last two nights you had together, and every touch of his felt right against your frame.

So right, just like the last remaining puzzle piece left to finish a picture.

He held you in his arms the last night on the balcony facing the city, and he smiled at the sight of the twinkling diamonds in the night sky. He squeezes you tightly, breath against the crown of your head as he promises to always be with you as long as there are stars in the sky.

“Let’s find a reason to smile, yeah?”

—

Days passed without a word from San, and you grew increasingly upset. You struggled so hard to hold onto the promise he left you with, but with every missed call or ignored text, it became even harder than you had originally thought. You tried to make use of days of winter holiday by tidying up your apartment, a bitter frown etching your features when you pull something out from underneath the couch cushions or in a tight corner that belonged to San.

The day before Christmas, he finally called you, apologizing profusely and informing you that he was so busy with both Wooyoung and Yeosang, both of whom were credited for proving their claims of an alternate dimension existing beyond your world. San rambled over the phone about the project they wanted him to help with, and you weren’t sure if that was a good idea at the moment. You wanted him to prioritize healing first, but you didn’t want to crush his happiness, and you opted not mentioning it at all.

He asked if you can make it for the Christmas dinner the next day, and you were quick to agree.

You were huddled over the living room table, struggling to wrap a few gifts for him. After a few failed attempts, you made decent progress.

The next day, you scrambled to get ready, throwing on one of the glittery sweater dresses he had bought you and boots. After making yourself look presentable, you grabbed the gifts, locking your apartment and ushering for a taxi soon later.

The trip to Wooyoung and San’s apartment wasn’t too long. He lived a few blocks away from your home. With excited and shaky fingers, you rapped the door almost too quickly, bouncing on your feet almost nervously. Before you could process anything, your hands flew to wrap around the person behind the door, gifts long forgotten on the floor,”San! I missed you!”

When an unfamiliar tuft of blonde hair invaded your vision, you tilted your head up to meet the flushed gaze of the man you recognized from the picture in Wooyoung’s office. His spectacles dangled crookedly off his nose, eyes wide and blinking.

You scrambled back and profusely spat out apology after apology, the male only stuttering out a shy ‘It’s fine. San’s friend?’, causing you to nod in embarrassment. The blonde offered you a polite smile, hand extended politely in which you grasped after a moment of hesitation,”I’m Yeosang. I’d like to personally thank you for taking care of my friend for all these months. If there is any way Wooyoung and I can repay you, please don’t hesitate to let either of us know.”

You beamed at him, shaking your head gratefully, informing him there was no need for compensation. A familiar head of ebony and green peeked out from the noisy kitchen, and suddenly you were lifted in the air, crushed between a firm chest and strong arms. San’s familiar laugh filled the air as he swayed you from side to side, before dragging you towards the kitchen where Wooyoung was currently waging a war with the sizzling pan of oil and a batch of seasoned and breaded chicken. The black haired male shot you a wink in the midst of flipping a piece of chicken, only to squawk in protest as Yeosang came forth to steal a piece from the paper towel lined tray.

“You’re just saying that to impress, (y/n).”

“Watch yourself, Kang- before you end up getting fried next.”

The two bickered amongst themselves as you helped San with the drinks and other dishes he prepared with Wooyoung.

After eating, you exchanged gifts, and sat around for Wooyoung to tell the adventurous stories he shared with San as a kid. Throughout the whole ordeal, San’s eyes widened in surprise, orbs flickering from Wooyoung to Yeosang, a finger pointed to himself questioningly,”Did I really do that?”

You hadn’t realized how much you really missed San’s laughter. Studying the spacious living room, your eyes caught sight of a familiar patch of fur, chuckling to yourself at the sight of Shiber decorating the rocking chair as a cushion.

Another thing you noticed was that Yeosang’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he laughed along with the other two males. You brushed it off as a sign of reservedness. Not everyone was as boisterous as San and Wooyoung.

“No, that didn’t happen over summer break it happened during spring!” Wooyoung affirmed, jabbing his finger against Yeosang’s chest, who huffed in retaliation.

“You’re the one forgetting the whole story! Maybe I should tell it instead,” the blonde quipped smartly.

San could only emit a laugh as the two attempted to wrestle each other down instead, his gaze flickering over to you from across the room. You beamed back at him, nose scrunching up in delight at the sight of his smile.

His grin swiftly vanished, morphing into somewhat of a grimace, before his jaw slackened, the colors and shapes in the room distorting into large, blurred pixels while the lights of the apartment flickered rapidly.

“Let’s build a treehouse. It’ll be our secret hideout where we make missions and lock away the bad guys,” a young, voice bounced around the vast, empty white space. SAN’s eyes widened in confusion, eyes flickering left and right, before turning his frame around to catch sight of a very young Wooyoung, brows furrowed in determination whilst clutching a hammer,”Are you just gonna sit there and stare at me! Come on!” The boy ran off and vanished into thin air, San’s fingers reaching towards the boy in a desperate attempt to stop him.

Desperate fingernails dug into the flesh of his back, leaving behind pink lines in their wake. Low, guttural moans slipped past his lips at the sight of you writhing beneath him, your face flushed and contorted into one of bliss, your lips shaping his name with every movement of his frame. The sensation of having your muscles flutter and clench around him nearly drove him to the edge.

Why did you do it?

Pleasure was soon vanished as he found himself laying down in a dark room, two hands gripping the girth of his neck and squeezing with malicious intent, choked gasps emitting from his mouth, and a trail of saliva pooling down from the corner of his lips onto the concrete. The only light in the dark room, coming from behind him reflected the round, golden spectacles resting on the person’s face.

Why are you killing me?

The pressure on his neck vanished, and an ominous silence surrounded him in the dark room. He was acutely aware of something warm, red, and sticky gurgling out of his throat, coating his lips and spilling down his chin. His eyes caught sight of the gleaming edge of a knife as it was bought down repeatedly, slicing through his flesh as easily as softened butter. Pain did not blossom in the areas of impact. His half-lidded eyes gazed up, confusion pooling in them as tear drops fell onto his face from above, faint, broken laughter sounding out from his assailant.

“Why are you killing me!?”

His hand shot out to swipe at the hands on his shoulders, his eyes screwed shut tightly, wheezing for much needed air. Suddenly, he looked up to meet your stunned expression, hands recoiling from his touch,”San!? What’s wrong?”

Three pairs of eyes were trained on him, and all he could do was stare back at your panicked ones, silent tears streaming down his face as he attempted to pull your hands to his frame, softly apologizing for striking you,”I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-“

“Who’s killing you, San? What are you talking about?” you ignored his words, your brows knitting in worry as Yeosang exchanged a hard look with Wooyoung from behind you.

San’s lips parted momentarily, as if he was deep in thought. As quickly as they opened, he sealed them once more, his brows furrowing in disarray,”I.. I don’t know? No one? I don’t know what I’m saying?”

You pulled him into a tight hug, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as hesitant arms wrapped around your frame. You were suddenly taken back to that night at the barbecue restaurant. That look of terror on San was one you wished to never witness again, and for months you forgot about it. Something was definitely wrong.

“Did you remember something?” you tried, hands cupping his face, your thumbs working on wiping his tears away.

Frustration colored his features as he gently pried your hands off of his face, before burying his head into the palms of his hands,”No? I’m not sure? I can’t recall anything-“

“Has he had episodes like that before?”

You turned to meet the concerned gazes of his friends. Nodding sorrowfully, you sat besides San, arms pulling into your embrace,”This is the second time. Do you know what’s happening?”

Wooyoung shook his head grimly, walking over to brush San’s hair out from his eyes,”No idea. He.. has episodes like that in his sleep, I’ve noticed. And when I wake him up to calm him down, he immediately forgets what made him yell like that.”

“San, maybe we should go see a—“

“No,” came a swift quip from Yeosang. Stunned, you peered back at him in confusion, mouth hanging open at the iciness lingering in his tone,”I know a friend who can help. Wooyoung and I have already discussed this. He’ll be seeing Dr. Song in a few days.”

You could only nod reluctantly at the answer, your concerned gaze falling onto San as Wooyoung helped him up to get a glass of water.

The night passed much too quickly for your liking, and you found yourself standing at the doorway of Wooyoung and San’s apartment, coat in tow, eyes shining with unshed tears as you forced a wobbly smile onto your features,”Will you be alright?”

San’s eyes softened at the sight, dainty fingers reaching to brush the tears away before they stained your cheeks,”Yes, I will. I promise. I’m sorry for what happened today,” he smiled apologetically, “Hopefully, next time it won’t happen, and I’ll even show you my baby pictures and photo albums from when I was a kid. Would you like that?.”

You nodded, despite the heavy lump in your throat, squeezing him one last time. A certain blonde cleared his throat behind San, and the two of you pulled apart to gaze at Yeosang, who was currently tossing his car keys repeatedly in the air,”Need a ride, (y/n)?”

You said your goodbyes, bidding San a farewell with a quick kiss onto his cheek, arms squeezing him tightly.

Yeosang’s car smelt of new leather and cologne. The ride was comfortable, despite him being a mere acquaintance to you,”So, (y/n).. are you and San, y’know?” It took a few seconds for you to process his words, your brows furrowed in defense as he scrambled to deny his claim, but he hadn’t missed the way your voice raised an octave. He hummed, lips pursing in contemplation, one hand resting on the steering wheel whilst the other fiddles against his mouth, clearly deep in thought,”Oh, that’s a relief. Wooyoung didn’t know how to tell you this, but before San’s disappearance, he was seeing someone. She’s.. currently out of town, visiting family for the holiday.”

In middle school, during a soccer match, one of the opponents kicked the ball, accidentally striking your gut. The information that slipped past Yeosang’s lips left the same breathless, painful feeling in your chest.

Suddenly, the sound of your heartbeat in your ears became much louder than the muffled noises of the car’s engine and tires. A breathless ‘Oh’ slipped past your parted lips, voice wavering and hard.

Yeosang casted you a look of sympathy, his hands tightening around the steering wheel, silently sucking against his teeth before breaking out into a sigh,”I’m sorry, (y/n). I thought it would be best to let you know now.”

—

San did not keep his promise. Your texts were always met with apologies and excuses, even after the new semester began. He couldn’t meet in person, and every time you paid a visit to Wooyoung’s office, you were either met with him or Yeosang, explaining that San was too busy catching up on the large project he missed out on for several months.

A month had passed and the messages became even more scarce.

You attempted to visit him at his apartment on the weekends, or whenever you didn’t have as much studies to catch up on, only for a tired Wooyoung to open the door, explaining that San wasn’t home, and probably either at the university library or the office. Today was no different as a sleepy eyed, disheveled Wooyoung leaned against the door, dressed in a loose, sleeveless top and sweats. If you weren’t so annoyed, you’d compliment how cute he looks, a striking difference from the usual ironed dress shirts and slacks he normally adorned at campus.

He invited you in, offering to make a mug of coffee while you waited in the living room. San wasn’t here, and either due to pity or friendliness, Wooyoung offered to listen to you rant about your mutual friend. He set two steaming mugs of coffee down onto the tiny table, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter following suit. Lighting a stick, he bought it up to his lips, inhaling the smoke, before tilting his head back and slowly puffing out.

You didn’t take him to be a smoker. When he offered you one, you politely denied, hands tucking the mug of coffee closer to your frame, the warmth of the ceramic providing you some level of comfort,”San’s been busy, y’know? You should cut him some slack.”

He took a small sip of his coffee, before dragging another puff of smoke. Your eyes narrowed slightly at the subtle hints of accusation tinting his words,”I was never one to deny that, Wooyoung,” you spoke back, voice firm, “I know he is, but it wouldn’t kill him to acknowledge me every now and then. I haven’t seen since Christmas.”  A sudden veil of aloofness washed over Wooyoung’s features as he crossed a leg over the other, eyes half lidded whilst gazing unamused at you. You were taken aback with the sudden change of atmosphere, your brows furrowing as his shoulders shook with bitter laughter,”(Y/n), don’t you see why he’s been avoiding you?” he tsked, tapping away at his cigarette and watching as the ashes crumbled into the ashtray,”How would he flat out tell you he’s making amends to repair his relationship with the woman that loves him? He couldn’t bear to weigh that news onto you. Not after everything you’ve done for him. His conscious is eating away at his very being.”

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion,”Why is it that you seem to think I’m trying to get in the way of his relationship? The one he’s never mentioned in the first place, might I add. All I’m asking is for time with my friend. You’re the one who seems to get it twisted.”

He chuckled, leaning forward on one knee, pointing the lit end of the cigar in your direction,”Are you calling me a liar?” his hand cradled your knee, frame leaning closer to you as he tilts his head to the left to blow out the smoke, eyes never leaving your own,”Y’know, I won’t mind if you came here to visit me. I’ll make all the time in the world for you, sweetheart.”

Scoffing, you set the mug of coffee down, so harshly, the liquid swishes around the rim,”You sound so-“

Before you could make your way up from the couch, he called your name, frame turning around to showcase the screen of his phone, which read a familiar name.

Kim Hongjoong.

Your eyes bore into his own amused ones,”My internship mentor? What are you insinuating?” you spat, arms crossing over your chest defensively.

He tutted, putting out his cigarette in your abandoned mug of coffee before standing up to hover over your frame, his fingers propping your chin up to gaze into your orbs. You felt his breath against your face as he whispered, words venomous and laced with poison, but tone soft and gentle,”You seem to forget I am a professor, don’t you? I have connections. I asked you nicely to stop disrupting my and San’s work. He doesn’t need any more distractions than he already has. I will take it upon myself to not only have your internship revoked, but also expelled from the university, hm?”

Swatting his hand away, you shoved him back with a glower,”What the hell is wrong with you?” he caught his balance, a laugh of amusement ringing from his chest at your abrasiveness. You did not find this situation amusing in the slightest,”You’re sick.”

“Don’t test me, (Y/n),” he curled a finger around your locks, lips quirking up into a fond smile,”Be a good girl, mind your business, and maybe I’ll consider taking you out. You can forget San. He’s already taken.”

You purposely slammed the door shut on your way out, eyes burning with rage.

Later that day, you found yourself mulling over Wooyoung’s words, hands gripping the grocery cart, knuckles white and crescents left on your skin. Bringing up a fist, you harshly rubbed at your misty eyes with the sleeve of your coat. You ignored the squabbling of an elderly woman as you accidentally bumped into her while walking out with your grocery bags.

Walking down the street not too far from your apartment, a pang or hurt shot through you as your eyes made contact with Jongho, San’s previous employer, who was standing on a ladder, watering the flower baskets hung in front of his shop. He gave you a sympathetic smile as you passed by, pinning a flower behind your ear and reaching up to pinch your cheek,”My flowers need more sunshine, so is it okay if they see your smile?”

You two spoke for over fifteen minutes, only for him to flash you an apologetic smile as a few customers walked in the store,”You can stop by anytime if you’re ever feeling lonely. Yunho and I would love the company.”

Continuing your path towards home, your eyes caught a flash of movement in an alleyway, further up by the parked cars in front of your apartment complex. The people walking by hadn’t seemed to notice the movement, some busy on their phones, whilst others laughing along with their partners.

Maybe I’m seeing things from all the crying and tears.

You checked your phone for any notifications, only for disappointment to wash over your features at the lack of any. That same morning, in a fit of rage and overwhelming emotions, you bombarded San with text after text of how disappointed you felt, at how you didn’t care if he was with someone else, and how you just wanted to have your friend back, and how much a prick you think Wooyoung is.

You always imagined how it would be like to help San find his way back into his old life again, but this was far from how you pictured it to be in your mind.

You hastily changed into a pair of sweats and t-shirt after putting away all of the groceries, the tv playing in the background to fill the deafening silence that became apparent ever since San left.

While adding a new load of laundry into the machine, the lights in your apartment flickered rapidly, your ministrations ceasing as you looked up in confusion. It wasn’t raining. The bulb above you shattered, and you jumped in fright, hands frantically brushing the glass out of your hair.

A loud knock on your door startled you, and your eyes widened in hope, hands faltering and laundry suddenly forgotten.

San?

Your first mistake was assuming the person was San.

Your second mistake was not checking through the peephole.

Your third mistake was leaving your phone in your room.

The door merely opened a few inches, when suddenly the  flimsy security chain broke upon the sudden thrust from the other side of the door. The doorknob dug into the adjacent wall, leaving an ugly dent in its place whilst three figures clad in black shoved their way into your home.

The tallest amongst the three, a redhead, shut the door hastily, while one man with striking black eyes and dark hair walked past you, his other friend striking you down and pinning onto the floor face first. You struggled in his tight grip, heart thumping with adrenaline and shock,”Get off me!”

Throwing your head back, you heard a thump and a faint hiss, your assailant’s grip loosening only slightly, but enough for you to roll around to face him. One hand was gripping his jaw whilst the other held you by the neck against the floor, his eyes burning with fury and malice. The scowl on his features soon withered away into a look of surprise, and your expression seemed to mirror his own. The pressure on your neck was lifted, and the tallest of the three, the redhead, paused, eyes wide once taking note of your face,”Is that (y/n)?”

His voice was deep and unfamiliar.

“Professor Hongjoong!?” you cried in disbelief as you recognized the man above you, anger evident in your voice as you shoved his chest with your palms,”Who do you think you are barging into my home like this, you asshole!?”

The redhead helped your professor up, looking back at you with a blank expression as he leaned down to whisper in Hongjoong’s ear,”Do you really think she’s working with him?”

“I can hear you,” you quipped, stepping forward and jabbing a finger in the redhead’s chest, your head tilting up to glower menacingly at him, lips pulled back into a scornful scowl,”And how do you know my name! And you–“ you grabbed a fistful of Hongjoong’s cloak, pulling him down to your eye level,”Explain all of this before I call the cops for trespassing my home. I don’t give a shit if you’re my employer.” The redhead startled at your sudden act of aggression, eyes wide and mouth agape. 

“Hongjoong! He’s not here!” a voice called from behind you. Your head turned to see the black haired male walk out from the hallway, stress painting his features. He froze mid-step, eyes widening as he gazed at you from his step, before turning to Hongjoong questioningly.

You didn’t know these two, so why were they so shocked at your mere presence?

“(Y/n), where is San?” Hongjoong gently pried your hands off his shirt, the black haired male eyeing the wrinkles they left behind. Your brow twitched in annoyance.

“Really?” you mused,”You came barging into my apartment, unannounced, just for San? Why don’t you ask Wooyoung?” you seethed in annoyance, stepping behind a few steps to make space between yourself and the men.

Hongjoong peered behind you towards the man, distraught eyes holding a battle of conflict,”Seonghwa, are you sure you felt his aura here?”

“This is the only place, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa’s voice was firm, his eyes narrowing and hardening afterwards,”She’s lying.”

You gaped, turning back to your mentor,”What reason would I have to lie!? He doesn’t even live here anymore.”

“He moved?”

“Yes. With Wooyoung. You know that already. You’re friends with him,” he quirked a brow at your sassy reply.

“Not with that Wooyoung,” ducking his head, he removed the black fedora and pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes flickering back up at you, studying your features meticulously,”Are you working with Wooyoung?”

“What!? I’m your inter- what is this all about?” furrowing your brows, you crossed your arms, patience flying out the door faster than you can blink,”Why would I work for that prick?”

“I like Earth’s (y/n),” the redhead snickered behind Hongjoong, earning him a sharp glare from Seonghwa.

Your eyes suddenly widened in thought.

“(Y/n), why does this map say Earth? It should be Utopia.”

Your mouth parted open, voice hesitant and drawing out the words unsurely and slowly,”Are you from Utopia?”

The three men gaped at you, all falling silent.

“I told you she’s working with him,” declared Seonghwa, reaching down into his cloak for what you can only perceive to be a weapon.

Hongjoong was quick to throw an arm out, halting the older’s actions. Your frame went rigged, shoulders tensing in defense and breath becoming shallow. Hongjoong studied you warily, choosing his words carefully, his ashy brown hair falling into his line of sight as he spoke,”How do you know that?”

“San had once mentioned it to me.. months ago,” you pondered quietly, mostly to yourself, as if trying to wrack your brain for other pieces of information. Your eyes narrowed and zeroed in one the three men, in particular Seonghwa, whose shoulders deflated in relief at your words,”Do you know why he lost his memories? He’s been having these episodes- and he yells, but-”

Hongjoong’s expression turned grim, your words resonating a bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach,”It’s a long story. We don’t have much time, so-“

“I’ll help you in any way I can if you would just explain all of this to me,” you breathed out, stepping closer to him with a frown on your visage.

Seonghwa sighed, mumbling something into Hongjoong’s ear, before crossing his arms and leaning against the wooden door, brows knitted and eyelids fluttered shut.

Hongjoong sat you down, contemplating on how to start off. Testing the waters carefully, he began to explain how every human on Earth has a counterpart in another dimension named Utopia.

“So, there’s another Hongjoong- Earth’s Hongjoong, and he’s my employer and not you?”

Hongjoong’s replica only nodded before continuing, blithering like the rushing waters of a river.

A year ago, a human named Choi San managed to enter Utopia, and was thrilled to find his counterpart. He explained how he worked for years studying about dimensions, findings manuscripts and notes, eventually creating a device that allowed the two worlds to intertwine. He, along with his friend, Jung Wooyoung, convinced the Utopian San to enter Earth for a few test runs.

Human San’s intentions were good-hearted, but greed blinded Wooyoung. He wanted to take advantage of the beings in Utopia. He wanted power and profit, wanting all the credit all to himself. San disagreed with Wooyoung’s wishes, and tension grew between the two. While running a few scans on Utopian San, Wooyoung managed to corner and kill San. Utopian San was the only witness present.

Wooyoung’s plan was to remove San out of the picture, and threaten Utopian San with destroying their world unless he agreed to work with him and do as he says. Forging numerous letters under his human half’s name, Utopian San attempted numerous times to escape, not exactly knowing how to use the device created by his late counterpart.

“Wooyoung managed to trap him in your world, running experiments on him that most likely led to his memories being wiped clean,” Hongjoong leaned back on the couch, eyes stone cold,”You mentioned something about him having.. what? Breakdowns? Can you explain what you meant?”

His gaze hardened as you explained what occoured with your friend, Mingi’s helpless expression making you frown with pity.

“I can’t say for sure, but what I think is happening is that he’s getting flashes of both his memories, as well as Earth’s San’s memories,” Seonghwa concluded, voice wary,”I’m surprised he hasn’t gotten mad at this point. His aura is getting weaker by being in another dimension.”

“Is it treatable?” Mingi’s concerned voice spoke before you managed to form any words.

Seonghwa’s lips pressed into a thin line,”Most likely, in Utopia, it is. If he stays in Earth any longer, than I highly doubt it. He’ll lose his damn mind.. and death seems inevitable too.”

Your hands trembled at the words, eyes frantic and in search of answers as you looked back at Hongjoong.

They’ll have to take San away from you.

San will die if he remains with you.

”We attempted to save San, but with Wooyoung’s newest aid– Yeosang, I believe– they improved their systems, and things became complicated for us back in Utopia. The portal leading back to our world glitched, and it seems somehow it opened up to where you were at the time..”

“Your Utopian half and San are together, so I’m not surprised the portal led him to you. Fate works in strange ways,” Seonghwa mused, deep in thought from across the room. You swore your heart skipped a beat at the words.

This is the first time in months they’ve been successful in opening a portal to Earth, and they’re not sure why.  

“It seems that Wooyoung managed to find a way to conceal San’s aura in his home and workplace. We need your help to find him and take him back to our world, along with that damn device. Have you seen it? An hourglass?” when you shook your head, Hongjoong sighed in frustration, hand running through his hair,”Okay. It’s most likely in his study. I’m positive that’s also where he’s keeping San. Is there anyway you can help us get into it? We have no idea how to track it without sensing San’s aura.”

—

Wooyoung was surprised to find you standing in front of his office, bowing your head apologetically for your behavior yesterday, and asking if it was okay for you to tag along with him throughout his day, curious to see his work.

“Hongjoong said there wasn’t much to be done today, so he gave me a break.”

He agreed, but only after you promised you wouldn’t touch anything.

You permitted the arm that slithered around your waist to rest comfortable against your hip as he led you throughout the large campus, his eyes occasionally following the curve of your clavicles and swell of your chest, and back to your eyes as you replied back to one of his comments. Entering the code to his laboratory, you were quick to notice the lack of cameras in any of the corners of the room. There were files stacked neatly onto a few desks, folder strewn about, and other large machines and desktops decorated the back of the room.

You listened to him gloat, his hands tugging you to showcase the numerous certificates and achievements under his belt. Resentment and anger bubbled dangerously in the pit of your stomach, your fingers twitching at the thought of wiping that smirk off his visage.

The fluorescent lights flickered once.

Your smile was strained, nodding and tuning out his words, only for you to jump back, startled, as his face was mere centimeters from your own, breath ghosting your lips,”Did you not hear me, precious?” Emitting a nervous laugh, you reached up to push his face away playfully, his hand grasping your wrist and placing a tender kiss onto your skin,”I asked if you’d like to join me for dinner tonight?”

“Dinner? Well, I-“

“I think she’d rather go with me,” a voice piped from behind you two.

Furrowing your brows, your mind reeled at the familiar voice. You gaped at the sight of a mirror image of Wooyoung, clad in black, resting comfortably in one of the swiveling chairs across the room.

When did he get in?

A curse fell from Wooyoung’s lips as he dropped your hand immediately, reaching forward into the nearest desk to pull out a pistol.

Your breath was strangled in your throat as you took several seconds to process what was happening, your feet taking hesitant steps back to avoid the end of the gleaming, black weapon. A rough tug onto your sleeve, and you found your back pressed against Wooyoung’s chest, the cold metal of his weapon resting against your temple,”Go back to your world-“

“Or else what? You gonna kill her like you killed San?” the other Wooyoung cackled, propping his two legs onto the desk, black leather boots kicking at a few documents. He gazed in amusement at your trembling legs,”Nice to meet you, Earth (y/n). Sorry my human half is a dick. I wouldn’t dare treat a lady like-“

“I didn’t kill San!” You jumped at the ferocity in Wooyoung’s voice, your form tensing against his frame as he breathed heavily against the back of your head,”He’s alive. San is alive- you don’t know what you’re talking about.” This tone- desperate, broken, and determined sent chills down your spine.

“Where is he then?”

You recoiled back, face scrunching and arms flying up to shield your face as the sound of a gunshot left a loud ringing in your right ear. Your wobbly knees struggled to keep your weight up, hesitantly peeling your eyes open and expecting the sight of blood. A bullet hole punctured the chair Utopian Wooyoung once occupied.

“Wooyoung, would you stop running your mouth for once!?”

A blur of black shoved your assailant away, hands hastily disarming the manic eyed professor. You stepped back in surprise, nearly falling down upon impact, Wooyoung’s frame colliding near your feet,”Sorry-“ the curly haired brunette snickered underneath his breath, flashing you a smile and wink. Gaping, you realized that man was Yunho’s counterpart. You were suddenly pulled back by Hongjoong, his eyes cold and void of any sympathy as he stared down at the struggling male.

Mingi had him pinned to the floor, the man fruitlessly attempting to free himself underneath the crushing weight of the red-head.

“(Y/n)! Help me!” Wooyoung growled, cheek painfully pressed onto the floor, eyes trained onto the black weapon which rested innocently feet away,”What are you standing around for!?”

“You should leave, (y/n). Seonghwa found the device in one the rooms here. All that’s left is to find San—,”

Once Wooyoung realizes what’s occurring, his movements cease. His jaw slackens and then he glowers in your direction,”You bitch!” the broken sound of betrayal almost leaves you feeling pity towards Wooyoung,”You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into! There’s no way you’re getting–“

His taunts only increased the pressure of Mingi’s fist in his hair, the smaller male letting out a rough grunt of pain as his face is slammed down roughly onto the floor, pearls of red dripping down his nose. Hongjoong’s orbs flickered between you and Wooyoung,”(Y/n), things are going to get ugly. If we have to use force, so be it. I don’t want you here witnessing that. You’ve been more than enough to help us.”

Your gaze softened, the prickling feeling of tears welling up in your eyes evident from their glassy appearance. Shaking your head, you took in a shaky breath,”No. I need to find San. I’m not leaving without him.”

Wooyoung’s counterpart eyed you curiously, his foot stepping onto his human half’s ankle,”Seems like you put a strain on my friends and their human halves too? I’m so embarrassed to have you as my half, fuck,” he chuckled humorlessly whilst grinding his boot against the male’s ankle, the other still squirming underneath Mingi’s weight, cries of pain only amusing the Utopian Wooyoung even more,”Oh, sorry. Didn’t see your leg there. Does that hurt?”

Hongjoong was quick to turn you around, tugging you and scoffing underneath his breath,”Alright, fine. You’ll see him, when we find him, but please, don’t make it hard on yourself when it’s time for us to depart. Do not get in the way, is that understood?”

Tears streamed down your face as you nodded reluctantly, your attempts to contain your emotions failing after facing the harsh reality of your predicament. While Mingi, Wooyoung, and Yunho began tormenting the pinned male, Hongjoong and Seonghwa accompanied you in searching every curve and crevice of the building to no avail. You winced as Seonghwa’s fist left a dent in the wall out of frustration, and you found yourselves back in the lab, where the leather clad Wooyoung was resting onto his human half’s chest, legs propped on either side. A sadistic grin took over his features as he watched the blood dribble down the male’s lips,”I can do this all day, Wooyoungie.” He paused mid-punch, sharp eyes flickering in your direction. When he noted the absence of his best friend, he proceeded to land several more strikes onto the fallen man’s face,”You fucker.”

Yunho and Mingi’s hopeful expressions deflated as they noticed you returned empty handed,”We can’t find him.”

“Where is he!?” Hongjoong demanded, crouching down to meet Wooyoung’s eyes.

“You’re not..” He spluttered, droplets of blood striking Hongjoong’s angered face,”You can’t take him away from me.”

The sound of the door opening ceased every breath and movement in the lab, and your panicked filled eyes flew to Hongjoong as Yeosang stepped into the room, ironed lab coat and glasses pristine underneath the lights.

A second ticked by, silence enveloping the room as Yeosang froze to assess the situation.

Seonghwa was quick on his feet to tackle him against the wall, knife digging painfully into the curve of his neck,”Ah, about time the other rat appeared. What do you think we should do with this one, Hongjoong?”

Yeosang’s eyes were confused as they landed on you, his hands raised up in defeat, adam’s apple bobbing against the edge of the dagger, which rested painfully close to his jugular,”Wait!” he cried, voice emitting in rapid, panic pants,”I removed the barriers that stopped you from entering our world! I only plan to help you, I promise. I can take you to San!”

Wooyoung weakly lifted his head up to spit in Yeosang’s direction, glassy, panicked eyes narrowing, his voice cracking with betrayal and distraught,”Have you lost your mind? You wouldn’t, Yeosang. Don’t you dare— you know San belongs here-“

Yeosang inhaled sharply as Seonghwa roughly shoved him away after Hongjoong’s request, shoulders deflating as he gazed at his bloodied friend,”I’m sorry. I don’t really have much of a choice now. I’ve already decided where my morals lie.”

You were expecting Wooyoung to shout in anger, to scream, to yell. What you weren’t expecting him to do was sob, voice so helpless and broken, sending a cold chill down to the marrow of your bones,”I regret it! Is that what you want to hear? I regret killing him and– the other San! He’s supposed to take his place- I want him back,” his cries sent a shiver down your spine, his words slurring together as he cries out in grief, panicked breaths cutting his sentences,”I want him—  I want San back! I- I need him back!”

“Take us to him,” Hongjoong’s hard gaze fell onto Yeosang, completely ignoring the crying male. The blonde professor nodded, ushering him out of the room.

You were the first to catch sight of him, rushing forward and crying his name out in relief. He appeared to be drugged, wires and other devices sticking into various parts of his body. You hadn’t realized you were crying, until Yeosang gently pushed you back into Hongjoong’s arms as he removed the various wires and needles attached to the tired man.

You pulled San into a hug immediately, a sob wracking your form as you apologized for not being there for him when he needed you most. You concluded that after Christmas, Wooyoung took over San’s phone while trapping the male here, hence his emaciated and pale appearance.

His eyes met yours, an apologetic smile finding its way onto his features,”(Y/n),” tears welled in his tired eyes, his voice quiet and weak,”You’re here?”

You nodded, repeatedly mumbling in agreement through your tears, pulling him even tighter and shaking your head, claiming that this was all your fault. Hongjoong watched the exchange with a strained expression, before turning to Seonghwa,”Get the others. It’s time to leave.”

Your eyes widened, frame turning to gape at Hongjoong, and then back to San, your throat closing up. He only offered you a faint smile, hand reaching up to cup your cheek,”Wooyoung told me everything while he kept me here,” his thumb worked at wiping away the few tears that  cascaded down your cheeks,”There was no way to reach out to you, I’m so sorry,” his words were slurred, tongue heavy and mind slightly foggy,”None of this is your fault. I tried.. I tried to get to you. Believe me, I did..”

“It’s not your fault either. San- I.. They’re taking you back to Utopia, San,” your voice cracked, strained and tight in your throat,”They said you need to go back or else-“ you failed to finish your words, jaw slackening as you let out a pained sob at the thought.

His shoulders deflated, head hung low as he buried his face into the crook of your neck,”I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” he held you tighter as you sniffled, whimpers muffled against the side of his head. He held your trembling hands,”I will never find it in me to forgive myself for putting you through all of this.”

His warmth suddenly left you as he was helped up by Yunho and Mingi. Snapping your head to your right, you noticed a swirling light against the wall of the room, where the counterparts of Wooyoung and Hongjoong spoke with Yeosang, the blonde only nodding reassuringly in reply. Their attention snapped to you as you let out a desperate cry, fingers reaching to grasp San’s hand in protest, attempting to pull him towards you. You weren’t aware of your shrill, panicked laced voice, mind too focused on returning San into your embrace.

The sounds of muffled shouting from the taller two didn’t deter you from wrapping your arms around San’s shoulders, defeat and sadness painting his features as he took in your form. Arms tugged you away, planting you firmly in place, and you writhed and struggled in Yeosang’s hold as you watched with frenzied eyes as Wooyoung leaned forward, his form dissipating into the portal, followed by Seonghwa. Hongjoong turned to give you one last glance, frown on his face,”I’m sorry, (y/n).”

He held onto San, who not once took his teary eyes off of you. Mingi and Yunho disappeared, and with one last attempt, you kicked back at Yeosang, the blonde yelping in surprise at the sudden rush of pain on his shin, flailing forward and catching you by the ankle roughly, preventing you from moving forward,”Stop, (y/n)!”

The last thing you saw as the diameter of the portal shrunk was San’s heartbroken expression, along with the hourglass in Hongjoong’s arms. The portal vanished, leaving tiny specks of light in the air, a gentle breeze kissing your wet face.

“Yeosang,” you mumbled, turning back to the blonde,”take me there. What do I do? I need-“

“He took the device with him, (y/n). There’s no way any of us can reach their world anymore,” he ran a hand through his hair, voice steady and firm.

You don’t know how long you sat there, crying and yelling profanities at him. The rush of footsteps throughout the building ceased your sobs, and you watched from the doorway as officers forcefully dragged an injured Wooyoung out of the other room, his panicked eyes filled with disbelief boring holes into Yeosang, who already had his arms up in submission,”Yeosang? You reported..” The blonde was restrained and taken away as well.

“Miss?” an opened palm invaded your blurry vision, and you peered up to meet the concerned, brown eyes of an officer, uniform hugging his large frame,”Are you okay?”

Silent tears pooled and streamed down your cheeks, your head shaking weakly.

No, Seonghwa. I’m not okay

.

—

Your half lidded eyes bore holes into the tv as the news anchor spoke, showcasing two mugshots of both Yeosang and Wooyoung. Your eyes flickered down to your lap, unable to even look at Wooyoung’s face.

“A new update regarding the disappearance and death of Choi San, the physics professor of University of Seoul. After almost a year after leaving a note and disappearing, police have confirmed that the letter was forged.“

Kang Yeosang, an assistant professor who joined Jung after Choi’s disappearance complied with police, informing them every detail regarding the case, and providing written evidence and memoirs from both the late Choi and Jung. It’s been reported that Choi was the first to discover Utopia, working years on building the device that managed to connect with the alternate dimension, creating portals that challenge both time and space. It is said that every human on Earth has a counterpart in the other dimension.

In hopes of taking all the credit, Jung murdered Choi, disposing of his body, which has yet to be recovered. Officials say they are still attempting to interrogate the information out of Jung, who is expressing clear signs of distress and manic episodes at the mere mention of Choi’s name.

This counterpart was staying with a woman we will go by A. Choi and A met up in another town, shortly before both moving to Seoul, where they encountered Jung at the University of Seoul. Reports state that Choi moved out from A’s apartment and back with Jung. After numerous reports, officials have declared A to not be involved in Jung and Kang’s crimes, Kang testifying in her defense.

Choi’s Utopian counterpart was forced into our dimension, his memories from his Utopian life disappearing after Choi’s death. A statement from Kang concludes that Jung was the cause of that.

In an attempt to undo the murder of Choi, Jung attempted to implant memories into Utopian Choi in hopes that he will take his human’s place, which only aided in creating discord between our world and Utopia. When the Utopians attempted to re-enter our dimension, Kang implemented new sets of devices that aided in sealing the two worlds apart from each other. It was only recently that Kang eliminated these tools, thus permitting the Utopians from intervening.

The Utopians did not intend to harm or hurt anyone. Their only intention was to rescue their friend, and also take the device the late Choi created to cease their world from being further tampered by us.

Jung and Kang have both been stripped of their titles according to the university. Their first court date will be announced later today to determine their senten—“

You closed your eyes, hand hastily clicking the power button on the remote, before wrapping yourself with the blanket tightly. Curling into a ball and throwing the the fuzzy sheet over your head, you decided you were tired of hearing the news reports, opting for the deafening silence you grew to hate. Fluttering your eyes shut, you stilled, inhaling San’s scent that was left lingering on the blanket. The amethyst necklace tickled your cheek, your hand reaching up to move it away.

A sweet, floral scent filled the space of your living room, a beautifully arranged bouquet resting on the coffee table. The card still stood in the middle of the arrangement, words of encouragement and support written by both Jongho and Yunho in bright green ink. Underneath it, your untouched dinner sat cold and forgotten, clumps of wet tissue paper scattered onto the table and floor.

Your phone chimed, and you peered down, already knowing it was Professor Hongjoong sending another voice message of support. He’d been a strong pillar for you to lean on ever since the news broke out. You made a silent note to respond later, as the time was growing late anyway.

Minutes ticked by and soft snores, along with shallow breathing filled the vacant space, your hair sticking out from the heap you’ve made of yourself and the blanket.

Above you, the lightbulb flickered repeatedly.

[serenityseventeen]

Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before

The Eleventh Letter

----------------

To: Boo Seungkwan

From: Y/N

Dear Seungkwan,

now that school is about to begin again, I've been thinking of you a lot. I just kept reminiscing the sweet moments we had and now, after all that reminiscing, though it's only been a few days since I rejected you, I realized this. I love you.

First things first, how are you? I hope you're doing fine.

Back to what I was saying, after this realization (that I loved you), my heart began to thump out of my chest. I feel so stupid. I'm a college student and yet, why does it seem like I do not know love? I was so sure I didn't like you as a lover but now that you and I aren't seeing each other, I miss you like crazy.

However, as much as I want to see you, I don't think I'll have the courage to talk to you. After I rejected you, I'm sure things are way too awkward between us.

I know you probably don't know this but I looked back on our text messages and sometimes, you were also online. I would see you typing out a message only for you to delete it and not send anything. Inside, I hoped that you would send me a text and see that I was viewing our chat the entire time.

I want to tell you first, I want to do everything first, but for some reason, I can't pick up the courage to do it. I know that maybe it will be better for me to make the first move and confess that I've loved you all along, but I just can't do it. Even after knowing that this love is mutual, I can't do it.

I don't know why either. I believe it's because I truly want to focus on my studies and leave college on a good note. However, at the same time, I wonder if I'm just being cowardly. I have made the first move before and I am quite confident that I can, but I just... I can't. It's a confusing feeling, Seungkwan.

I don't want to be selfish and keep you for myself but I want to be selfish and hope that maybe this selfishness would make both of us happier. We've only known each other for a few months and since summer is so short, the timing wasn't that great for us.

The only way we really met was at the cafe I worked at and the volunteer event that was hosted every week. When we did get to know each other and started hanging out, it still wasn't that much time because you enrolled in summer vocal lessons.

With so little time to get to know you, I'm not confident that we can truly become a good couple. To me, it seems like you and I are complete opposites. You're funny and loud and you can easily brighten any kind of atmosphere meanwhile I just blend in with it.

You told me that you liked me for a while and I'm sorry I didn't notice it. You continued liking me because you wanted to but even so, I feel a bit bad because, in the end, you don't even get to be with me. I like you too, Seungkwan, I just can't confess.

Is it really because I can't? Or I don't want to? I'm not sure and this feeling confuses me as well, I just can't describe it. I've always been indecisive even when I'm confident in my answers, which I know sounds stupid. I am a stupid person. I don't know how to love someone properly and it's my fault.

Anyway, back then, when you were beginning to show interest in me, I should have taken the hint. Was it near spring when you started coming to the cafe?

You would always crack a joke whenever I was the one who delivered you your coffee or took your order, and every single one of them made me smile, giggle, and laugh. I should have looked a bit closer at your expressions when you told those jokes. It wasn't until later during summer that I started noticing your sparkling eyes, heart-fluttering smile, and the way you gazed at me.

I think our romance involved only around time. When I spent time with you, I felt like I could spend all the time in the world with you, but eventually, reality hit me. We met during the summer and I have my final year of college coming soon, would being with you be a benefit? No, it shouldn't be a benefit.

Love is about loving someone just because. It's not about benefits. I think now, as I'm writing this letter, I've come to a conclusion. I just don't want to confess to you.

I think it's because I don't want the hardship of a relationship. It's not that I loved you any less than everyone else I fell for, because I do love you, but I don't want to have a relationship. My career path is chosen and I'm creating a road in front of me, will I have time for you?

Every relationship comes with hardships and sweet moments. Would the hardships be worth the sweetness? I think it will, but right now, I have to be the one who knows myself best; and I know that I need to be able to focus. Love can either help me or interfere with school.

It's not going to be easy for both of us. You told me that you wanted to go to graduate school and that you're also currently in college. If we did start dating, it would have been hard anyway. After college, I'm also going to graduate school, and I plan to go to one far far away from here.

Even if we decide that a relationship isn't for us, I want you to remember the sweet times we had. In that little time, you made me so happy without me even realizing it.

Whenever you volunteered, you were one of the hardest workers. I also always wanted to compliment your hands because to me, they looked so beautiful.

Sometimes when I needed help putting on an apron, you would not hesitate to help me. I would remember how you placed down everything and came to me to help when you saw me struggling. Instead of awkward silence, you talked to me casually while tying the strands behind my back, your touch so gentle.

That's why whenever I saw you struggling, I wanted to help too. Sorry I couldn't keep a conversation though, the silence between us was a bit awkward, but for some reason, it was also sweet. You thanked me afterward with your voice all shy and at that moment, I was a bit surprised by your cute expression and hidden shy nature.

Well, of course, I got to see more of it too.

Remember when that grandma told us we looked good together? It was during a volunteer event where we run a coffee truck and give out freebies from the cafe. You and I were operating the freebies section with a few others and an old granny came up to us.

Her eyes were a beautiful brown and she had her hair tied in a bun. She gave us such a sweet smile as we handed her the free cookie.

“I want this for my grandson,” She said, smiling sweetly.

“Your grandson? Then take another one!” You replied. You're such a smooth speaker. You can get along well with anyone, I envy you, Seungkwan.

“Really? Thank you, you must be a great son.”

As she was about to leave, her back slouched, she turned back and said, “By the way, you two match each other quite well. Are you guys perhaps...”

I remember you glancing at me with a gentle smile the shaking it off shyly. “No, we aren't...”

She apologized with another smile and then left.

It was that night that you confessed to me.

You offered to take me home and under a streetlight, you told me while scratching your head shyly, “I like you, Y/N.”

I wasn't sure of my feelings then, that's why I agreed when you offered to take me on three dates to see if I would change my mind; thinking about it makes me smile because all those three dates were fun, memorable, and warmly sweet.

The first date we went on was a bit awkward at first, but it was mainly fun. You took me to an arcade where we played a variety of games. You were extremely competitive and naturally funny. You made me laugh a lot that day and you made me comfortable. I enjoyed the time with you.

For our second date, you took me to a volleyball game. You continued rambling on and on about how much you loved sports. Even though you were just talking and watching the game, I didn't feel bored. Since you were so into the game, I became interested in it too.

After the volleyball game, you took me to a stadium and helped me learn to play. At first, each bounce would get you worried that I hurt my hand. You would keep brushing your fingers against mine. Playing volleyball was fun with you too, Seungkwan.

Our last, third date was at the amusement park. You were scared of many rides but got through with it because of me, you said. I found it cute whenever you were whining or sulking. I'm glad that you were being yourself around me.

When you were sending me home after that date, you asked me to hold hands. Your voice was so quiet and shy that I almost didn't hear you. I could tell that you were a bit doubtful that I would comply, and when I did let you hold my hand, you were smiling so brightly. I can't forget that shy, bright, beautiful smile.

Your hand was so warm.

We continued to see each other because you're a regular at the cafe. You order the same Americano.

After a few days of letting me think, you finally came up to me as I was leaving the cafe.

“Y/N,” You said, your voice sounding somewhat hopeful. “About my confession...”

I was quiet because, at that moment, I didn't have my feelings sorted out yet. I just thought that the timing wasn't right and that I shouldn't be in a relationship, and that I should focus on preparing for my last year of college.

Stupidly, I replied, “I'm sorry, Seungkwan.”

I could tell you were hurt. I couldn't explain any further about how much I liked you because I was idiotic and didn't realize it.

“It's okay. It's completely fine. I respect your choice... do you want me to walk you home?”

You continued smiling at me and talking with me but you sounded so hurt so I sent you away.

My father told me, when I visited him in the hospital a few days ago, that love is all about timing. With the amount of time we had and the amount of time we were going to get, it didn't seem like it was going to be a flower road.

The timing wasn't right.

If only I had met you not during the summer, but during a time where I had all the time in the world to spend with you... If only I had time.

I don't want to forget the memories we made. I know I'm a bit foolish and this bitter ending is partially my fault. I didn't have the right timing back then, now, and even in the future, I just know it.

Now, all I can do is sigh and reminisce.

-----------------

If only there was more time for us, maybe love could have been expandable.

From,

Y/N

© serenityseventeen

7/8/21 - 11:09 am

a/n: I have to go take a test later because I'm moving to a public (high) school... I'm nervous but I'm sure it'd be fine. + Hoshi getting scared while practicing spider is so funny lol

[spiralingsoftly]

Proud

*This is my first time writing fanfiction in a long time. It's also my first BNHA and TodoDeku fanfiction period. Critiques welcome!*

Izuku Midoriya sat on the couch in the living room, his phone held against his ear as he stared absently out the window and listened as his mother went on about one topic after another. He loved his mother, truly he did. Ever since his father had left, his mother had been his biggest supporter even if she was overbearing at times – even now that he was in his thirties.

“Izuku? Honey? Did you hear what I just said?” his mother Inku asked, her worry ringing loud and clear through the phone.

“Hmm?” Izuku asked in reply, inwardly shaking himself out of the daze he’d fallen into as he listened to his mom’s voice and gazed out the window facing the couch upon which he was sitting.

The apartment was small, much smaller than one most people would consider appropriate for an up and coming hero like he was. But it was home and Izuku loved it. After he had graduated from UA, he’d worked at the Endeavor agency with Bakugo and Todoroki for a while until he had moved on to more freelance work. It wasn’t the glamourous hero life he’d envisioned when he had first began training with All Might, but it was fulfilling and Izuku honestly loved what he did every day.

“I’m sorry, mom. I spaced out again. Can you repeat that?” he said with a slight sigh, absentmindedly scratching the back of his neck even though his mother couldn’t see him through the phone.

“Oh Izuku. Are you sure that living in that apartment is still a good idea, honey? I know you love it there and have made it home, but I just worry….” Inku trailed off, not quite sure how to continue and not wanting to upset her son.

“Mom, I promise I’m fine. Things are slow with work right now and so my mind just wanders a bit more than before. But I’m okay.” Izuku replied, smiling softly despite how sad he truly felt inside. He hoped that the sadness didn’t seep through into his words, although he knew that it probably had.

Leaving the Endeavor agency to be a freelance hero had been the most difficult decision of his life, and almost every day he questioned himself as to if he had made the right choice or not. The work under Endeavor had been difficult and unrelenting. But it had shaped him into the hero that he was today. At the same time, it had also brought one of the best parts of his life crashing to the ground in the process.

“I know, honey. I just worry. I’ll let you go so that you can get something to eat – I know you haven’t been eating as well as you should be. Don’t even try and convince me otherwise, young man. I’m still your mother.” Inku said with a soft laugh before they bother said their goodbyes and ended the call.

Shaking his head and smiling softly, Izuku put his phone on the table beside the cough as his eyes turned back toward the sky outside. It was a crisp, cool fall day in mid-October. The leaves on the trees were turning brilliant colors and the air was turning colder by the day. This used to be his favorite time of year. Being able to walk down the street, wrapped up in his warmest coat, a scarf wrapped around his neck and his hands kept warm by a pair of hand knitted gloves. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun on his face as he walked thru the streets, hand in hand with his significant other.

Shoto.

That’s why his mind had wandered as he had been talking to his mother on the phone. The sky was the exact color of Shoto’s eye on his left side. While he loved looking into Shoto’s eyes, it was always his left eye that Izuku loved looking into most. Icy, beautiful blue.

They had publicly gotten together during the winter of their third year at UA. To their surprise, none of their other classmates had been too terribly surprised when they announced that they were now dating. It had been Bakugo who informed them that the whole class knew that they had secretly been dating since the previous spring. The brash blonde had gone on to say that they were both stupid to think that the rest of their classmates wouldn’t have put two and two together when the two of them kept having “study session” in one of their bedrooms. Apparently, they hadn’t hidden their relationship as well as they had hoped they had.

Working together at Endeavor’s agency had been great at first, even if it was also very awkward. Enji Todoroki had never been a kind or cuddly man. He had gotten ‘nicer’ over the years as he atoned for his wrongs against his children and wife – going so far as to bring Shoto’s mother home again to be with her children. But the elder Todoroki was still a cold man, bordering on somewhat cruelly emotionless at times. But, despite all that, being able to work as a hero in an official capacity with his boyfriend was something that Izuku had all but leapt at being able to do.

It had happened slowly overtime. An offhand comment here, a rude remark there. Enji wasn’t homophobic – Shoto’s older brother had a boyfriend as well and Enji was accepting of them and his children’s friends who had same sex significant others. However, there was always a tenseness when it came to his relationship with his youngest son. More than once, Izuku had brought the topic up with Shoto. Explaining to his boyfriend how uncomfortable the comments made him. Shoto, to his credit, had grown so much as a person since Izuku’s words at the sports festival their first year at UA had broken through his hesitancy to fully embrace the fire side of his quirk. However, little things like his father’s comments didn’t always register with him in the same way they did with the rest of the world.

After once particularly difficult rescue mission, he and Shoto had been sharing some quiet time together in one of the breakrooms at the agency when Enji had come in and made some rude comment before leaving again a few minutes later. That comment had been the straw that broke the camels back. After an emotion filled conversation, an argument really, he and Shoto had decided that they weren’t working as a couple. They still loved each other deeply but being a couple while working together at his father’s agency just wasn’t working anymore. Between tears, they decided that Izuku would stay at the apartment they shared together and Shoto would return home to live with his mother and siblings.

Blinking a few times, Izuku brought himself out of the memory he had just been reliving. Reaching a hand up to his face, he wasn’t surprised to learn that he was silently crying as his mind replayed the memories of the day that his world had completely changed. He had stopped by his mother’s house on his way home that day, and by the time he got home Shoto had already been there, collected his things, and left. The only way Izuku had known that the other man had been there at all was a note that had been left on their kitchen counter. It was written on a small square of pink paper. In Shoto’s unique script were the words “I’m so proud of you, Zuku. I love you – Sho”.

Izuku knew that he probably should have thrown the note away. Part of him still wished that he would, even though almost six months had passed since they parted. But he’d kept it. It helped ease the ache a little bit, even in some macabre way.

**************

Shoto Todoroki sighed heavily as he reached the floor where the apartment, he shared with his boyfriend Izuku was. He was tried and warring with himself internally as to if he should actually go inside or not. Slowly he approached the door, his fingertips lightly brushing against the cool metal of the door before he gently knocked and pushed the door open slightly. Izuku never locked the door during the day, even though Shoto had begged him repeatedly to do so.

Sticking his head in slightly, Shoto smiled as he spotted the green haired man curled up on the sofa sound asleep. Opening the door enough so that he could walk inside the apartment, Shoto toed his shoes off and gently sat his bag on the floor next to the door. Straightening back up, he took off his coat and hung it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs as he walked softly toward the living room and over to the couch. Kneeling down in front of the sleeping man, Shoto gently ran the pad of his thumb across Izuku’s cheek.

“Zuku? Hey Zuku. Wake up, babe.” He said softly, retracting his hand from the others face as Izuku’s eyelashes began to flutter before opening to reveal beautiful green eyes.

“S-sho? Shoto? W-what’re you doing here?” Izuku asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I came home. If you’ll still have me, that is….” Shoto replied softly, looking into Izuku’s eyes with silent hope.

“But what about your dad’s agency?”

Shoto shrugged before answering. “I left. He begged me not to. Told me that the agency would be mine after he retired. But I told him I didn’t want it. I wanted to build my own agency, my own legacy. It’s my quirk, right? Not his?”

Izuku’s face lit up with the most stunning smile that Shoto had ever seen before the green haired man flung himself into the other’s lap.

“It’s your quirk, Sho. It’s always been yours. He might have been the one to give it to you – along with your mom’s quirk of course. But it’s yours.” Izuku replied before leaning in and kissing Shoto deeply.

Reaching forward, Shoto held the smaller man to him as he lost himself in the kiss. This was where he was meant to be. Sharing his life with the up and coming number two hero, Izuku Midoriya. Not trapped in some stuffy office in some agency being led by his father. When the kiss broke, their eyes remained closed as they both sat in silence, just soaking in the moment before either of them spoke.

“Does this mean I can come back? I can come home?” Shoto asked quietly, part of him dreading that the answer would be no.

Izuku’s eyes snapped open and he smiled before affectionately rubbing his nose against Shoto’s.

“Yes, Sho. You can come home. To our home.”

The bi-color haired man decided to forgo a verbal reply, instead opting to lean in again and capture the smaller man’s lips with his own again. They shared several additional sweet kisses before parting again. Sitting in silence again, Izuku once again remembered the note that Shoto had left the day that he left. Pressing another quick kiss to Shoto’s lips, Izuku silently got up and walked over to a cabinet that sat near the door into the kitchen. Opening one of the drawers, he took something out of it before closing the drawer again and returning to Shoto. Sitting back down on the other man’s lap, Izuku looked up at the other and smiled again.

“I kept it. I don’t know why, but I kept it.” He said, holding the paper up for Shoto to read.

Quickly reading it, Shoto blushed a soft pink as he looked down toward the floor. Huffing a quick laugh, Izuku reached out and lifted the bi-color haired man’s chin so he could look into his eyes.

“I’m so proud of you, Sho. Always have been, always will be.” He said before once again kissing the other man.

As they kissed, the paper was forgotten when Izuku wrapped his arms around his now returned boyfriend’s neck. As Shoto shifted them and rose from the floor in order to head to their bedroom, the last thing that Izuku saw before being kissed again was what was written on the note.

“I’m so proud of you, Zuku. I love you – Sho”

[sevenfactorial]

Info about applying to PhD programs in pure math

This is... basically what it sounds like. I’m sure a lot of this is applicable to other PhD applications but I’m only very familiar with pure math. This is aimed at current seniors about to apply, but there is a section about prepping for applications in advance.

The highlights:

Recommendation letters are the most important thing. Most schools ask for 3ish. Try to get people who know you well, not just a student in the class. Someone you've conducted research with and one from a different institution are ideal if possible

Ask for rec letters at least a month before the due date is a good rule of thumb.

Research experience is probably the second most important.

Get the opinion of multiple professors who know you in order to build a list of potential schools. Then widdle it down to your will-actually-apply list (probably 8-14 ish). 

My opinion but please apply to at least 3-4 safety/match schools. Even when you're fully qualified, acceptance rates are simply low enough that a bit of bad luck means getting rejected or waitlisted from a few of them.

Most pure math due dates are in early-mid Dec but a few schools are in Nov and some are as late as mid-Jan. 

Schools will generally have their own graduate application portals. Some are better organized than others. Some require you to submit all your material before you can send a request for submitting rec letters so plan accordingly.

Acceptance letters will very slowly start going out in mid-Feb but the vast majority of programs won't send out anything until like, March and not be done until later than that. Accordingly, wait until at least mid-March to begin freaking out if you haven't been accepted anywhere.

You should 100% be expecting a tuition waiver and stipend from a program if you're applying for a PhD.

The rest of the posts is.... ridiculously long so I’m putting it under a cut. I mention things to do in advance to help you decide if grad school is right for you and things that make your application look good, give a full time line of the process, a list of things applications commonly ask for, and some miscellaneous notes. (The points above are repeated in more detail).

In addition, some links to other resources math students may appreciate:

an old post of mine about grad school apps (overlaps a lot and features some ranting from during the application process)

about REUs including my addition specifically about math ones

summer programs for undergrads that aren’t REUs by @counter-example and @jungleuniversity

Tips for prospective grad student visits 

Also about prospective grad student visits by @thisurlhasbeenleftasanexercise

Also for context, I went to a large state school in the US for undergrad. I started as a CS major and added on math as a secondary major after my first year and dropped CS during third year. I’m primarily interested in discrete and algebra, though I have a significant topology background from undergrad too. I got most of my advice from people around the department, as I became pretty involved during my third year. Now, I’m a first year grad student at another large state school in the US, generally considered pretty decent though not a “top math program” at all. Not that much else has happened so far.

Things in advance (aka things to help you decide if grad school is for you and things that look good on an application)

Take the standard classes. For pure math, this is at least one semester of linear alg, abstract alg, and analysis each. Linear and analysis are also good for applied math but I'm not sure what else if anything is considered standard.

Take some grad classes if you have the option. Most people are not ready for this until senior year, but some do manage as juniors. Talk to people who know you well and the prof teaching the class before you do this though.

Try to get involved with research whether this is through independent studies at your home institution, REUs, internships, or other stuff.

Be involved in your department. This helps with getting you more personalized advice for applying.

The rough suggested timeline (assuming junior yr is your second to last year and senior is your last of undergrad)

Junior April: Take the math subject GRE so you can take it again in Sep or Oct if desired (perhaps not applicable atm). The general can be taken kinda whenever; I suggest fall of senior year.

Junior April/May: Start talking to professors/post docs/mentors/etc. about programs you may be interested in. Write/type it down. Don't worry if it gets long, you will shorten again later.

Summer: Do some research if possible; an REU or research at your institution (if an REU, also get your mentor's opinion on potential schools towards the end as well)

Senior Sep: Start whittling down your list. 8-14 seems to be the "normal" range of schools to apply to but some people panic and do more. Remember that asking for waivers is completely acceptable but applying is still just generally expensive (I spent around $800 for 10 schools)

Senior Sep: Apply for the NSF GRFP. You can apply as an undergrad senior and once during your first or second year of grad school if you didn't already get it. The due date is in mid-late OC but ideally you'll have a draft of your essays and ask for rec letters by the end of Sep, if not earlier.

Senior early Nov: Ask for rec letters if you haven't already. The rule of thumb is a month before the due date. Provide them a list of schools you want to apply to including due date and where/how to submit as soon as possible (as well as anything else they request of course; many ask for a resume and a draft of your personal statement).

Senior Dec-Jan: Submit stuff! Pure math programs typically have deadlines in Dec or early Jan. I think the big days are Dec 10th, Dec 15th, and Jan 15th but some are earlier or later. (applied math masters tend to be earlier I think; in Nov). I suggest putting them all into a list or calendar. In addition, some schools won't let letter writers submit until all of your stuff is submitted so start applications early, even if you don't finish them immediately.

Senior Feb: Programs will slowly start sending out offers in early Feb and pick up in mid Feb, but don't fret until AT LEAST the beginning of March! Grad programs are just way too slow at getting out offers for it to be worth worrying until then (and even then, it's definitely not time to panic but mathematicians are frequently anxious people so I get it). Waitlists are slower to come out; usually starting in early March. Also note, there are many programs that don't actually send out replies to everyone unfortunately.

Senior late Feb-early April: prospective student days! They might be online in 2021 unfortunately but try to attend whatever form they're in if you can (only one of my visits during spring 2020 was online since the others happen to be very early and safely beat covid in the US). Be warned, it's very possible to get offers of admissions and to visit very last minute. I do not have advice for how to make that less stressful.

Senior April 15th: Common reply deadline. If you got your offer in the first round or two, this is probably your deadline to accept. In addition, this means more offers will likely come out shortly after once more people have declined. 

Senior summer: graduate. Send a completed, official transcript to your new institution. Check your new email account for stuff you're suppose to do. Some programs have some sort of program during the summer for in-coming students. Most places have graduate student training of some sort for a week or two before semester starts. 

Some common things to be asked for in applications

Not actually a thing asked for but many graduate schools have their own portal for which you will have to make an account to submit an application. A few use a common system that kinda sort shares a database of accounts? Some are fine and some massively suck.

Personal Statement/Statement of Purpose: Occasionally called something else and once in a while actually separate things; will usually have a prompt of wildly differing specificity. Sometimes, the prompts come from the department itself and sometimes from the university's graduate school. I suggest having one or two "base" essays then tweaking them for each school. Sometimes a word/page limit is specified but if it's not, around 2 pages/1000 words is pretty reasonable.

Transcript. Some accept unofficial but some require official but generally not an unsealed one. I ordered myself one official transcript and sent it to multiple schools instead of paying for them to be sent to each school during the application process.

Resume or CV: Most ask for either a CV or is fine with either, in which case I give them my CV. I sent more or less the same one everywhere.

Some other notes

Yes, ask for application waivers. Just be polite about it.

Your goals for your essays are primarily to show that you're interested in math and math research and are capable of like…. writing things that make sense

Do not start out an essay with either "I loved math since I was little" or "I actually didn't like math when I was young" or any variations of those. (I had one essay that started with a mildly humourous anecdote from undergrad combinatorics and another that talked about how my undergrad department has greatly affected me).

You should 100% expect to get a tuition waiver and living stipend as part of a TA fellowship (or more rarely, an research fellowship) as part of your offer of acceptance for a math PhD program (pure or applied). Health insurance is also frequently part of the package. This is not true of masters programs unfortunately.

How schools do waitlists depend wildly though most don't have super long ones like prestigious undergrads do. If you're still interested in a place you're waitlisted at, follow their instructions to confirm your placement on the waitlist then wait until April before following up again, expressing your continued interest and asking for an update. You might even want to wait until around the common deadline, April 15th. The number of people who declined before April is just really really low so nothing really happens until then.

[knightofameris]

sweet beginnings — hanamaki takahiro

Setting: Spring Inter-high Aoba Johsai vs. Karasuno Gender: Female Contains: n/a Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: With endings come new beginnings. 

a/n: i,,, actually kinda really like this part. It’s simple but sweet, like the title. i actually still need to write the last three but i haven’t posted in a hot minute so ehhh lol but i got the ideas so its chillin

bitter endings (pt. 1) || sweet beginnings: matsukawa || sweet beginnings: iwaizumi || sweet beginnings: oikawa

Enjoy! || Requests are open!!

❝ being stuck on what ends too soon will leave you blind to the future ❞

“Here, I’ll walk you home since your brother isn’t here.” 

A hand reaches down to grab your bag and you finally look up to meet Hanamaki’s eyes, a lazy smile sits on his face. 

“I can carry it myself,” you say, slowly getting up so that your knee doesn’t freak out. Your eyes widen and you let out a small yelp as your knee gives out and you fall forward. Hanamaki’s quick to catch you, despite the bags he’s carrying around his shoulder. 

He chuckles, “Sure, I can carry you too if you want.” 

“Wha-no! No, you can just carry the bag,” you sputter out as you try to create space between yourself and Hanamaki, but his grip on you is strong. 

“Well,” he smirks, “don’t go falling for me then, alright?” 

You feel your cheeks flush and you then raise your arms to hit him against his chest, “You suck!” 

Hanamaki’s laughs out loud, his laughter reverberating through the gym as he takes your punches. 

“Since when were you a flirt like Oikawa?” You slightly pout with a frown on your face. The two of you start heading out of the gym. You give it one last glance before closing it.

“Hang around the guy enough and you pick things up,” he replies casually. You make sure to lock it and then turn back to face Hanamaki. His hand is outreached to you. You stare at it. Then back up at him. And then back at his hand. It’s gentle and inviting, despite the callouses from his time with volleyball. “Come on, so that you don’t go falling for me and I don’t have to pick you up.” 

You gingerly take it and Hanamaki adjusts the bags to the other side so that he can pull you close. Your fingers interlock and you also grasp his arm with your other hand. You know, so that you don’t fall. 

“Yeah, but you’ll catch me, right?” You say back. You stare straight ahead, not really wanting to make eye contact with the boy even if you feel him staring down at you. 

“Yeah, I will,” he muses, something else was laced behind his voice but you couldn’t quite make out what it was supposed to be. 

The two of you fall into a casual conversation, the pace you’re walking at is a slow one, as if you’re both taking your time to get back home. It seems to be a common theme but the two of you are trying to prolong the night for as long as possible. It is a nice night after all, with the moon shining down on the two of you and the stars flickering in the sky. 

“What are you doing after graduating, Maki?” You ask. It’s a question that all the third years have yet to talk about. One that holds too much uncertainty and sadness. Yet, it’s a question that holds excitement for the unknown, for the pursuit of something more. 

The question hangs in the air and Hanamaki takes a few seconds before he replies. 

“University, probably. Honestly, I’m not sure what I want to do after this. You?” 

“University for sure,” you answer. “Might want to study abroad, too.” 

Hanamaki lets out a small whistle. “Abroad, huh?” You nod your head before your thoughts go elsewhere. 

You purse your lips, another question lingering in the back of your mind but you’re not sure if you want to ask it. 

“Got something else on your mind?” 

“Always the perceptive one, aren’t you?” You meet his eyes with a smile and he shrugs. You bite the inside of your cheek before you decide to ask. “Do you think we’ll still talk after graduating?” 

Hanamaki’s hand squeezes yours after hearing your words and you can’t help but lean a little closer towards him. 

“I want to,” he replies. “I’d hope so.” 

You hum in response, your house coming into view. 

“Me too.” The beating of your heart quickens and you’re sure that he can feel your heartbeat. And if he does he doesn’t say anything about it. Hanamaki hasn’t even said anything about your slightly clammy hands, if anything his hold on you has tightened. 

To you and to him, it just feels right. 

You both reach the front of your house but both of you guys don’t want to end the night here. So you’re both standing there, with you now in front of him and staring up at him. His thumb rubs small circles on the back of your hand. You’re glad that he hasn’t let go yet. 

Hanamaki takes a small step towards you, a soft smile on his face and you can’t help but smile back. 

“I don’t know if it’s obvious but,” he trails off, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your knuckles, “I’ve liked you for a while now.” You feel your cheeks heat up, from the simple act of him kissing your hand to his confession.

Though, it doesn’t come off as a surprise. For either of you, really. Suddenly, you feel bits of regret settling within you and you realize now exactly what you wish you did differently, even if it couldn’t have changed the outcome of the match. 

You wish you and Hanamaki didn’t dance around each other’s feelings these past years. 

“I, uh,” you stammer, “me too. I mean, I liked you too! Or, well, I mean I still do. Oh my God. Sorry.” You bury your face with your free hand, too embarrassed to say anything else. 

Hanamaki laughs and you can feel your face heat up even more but you still peak through your fingers at him and the moment you meet his eyes, you notice something deeper hidden behind his. Adoration, maybe. Probably. 

With his free hand, he slowly pries your hand away from your face. He pushes some of your hair behind your ear and then caresses your cheek. 

“I know we’re graduating soon but, if you’re willing, I’d want to make this work.” 

You place your hand over his and nod your head, “Even if I went abroad?”

“Even if you went abroad,” he murmurs. You don’t notice how close his face is to yours until you feel his breath on you. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes.” 

Hanamaki leans down, closing the gap and he places his lips on yours. You close your eyes and you’re surprised at how soft he is against you despite how his lips are partially chapped. He gingerly moves his lips against yours as you kiss him back, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You feel him pull you closer to you and you stroke the back of his hand that’s placed on your cheek. 

Just like the match, the season, and the night, the kiss ends too soon and you’re both pulling apart. 

Slowly, you open your eyes, mouth still slightly parted from the kiss. You find Hanamaki smiling down at you and you smile back. 

“So?” You’re the first to break the silence.

“So what?” He arches a brow at you. You roll your eyes. 

“You haven’t asked me yet, to be your girlfriend, Takahiro.”

He grins, loving the way his name rolls off your tongue. “Well, go out with me, then. Let’s make it official.” 

“Wow, what a way to phrase it, but sure, okay.” 

“We should have done this sooner.” 

“Yeah, but let’s make the most of what time we have together before everything changes.” You lay your head against his chest, hugging him. Hanamaki runs his hand through your hair as he hums in response. And though everything was going to come to an end, you knew that something better, sweeter, was beginning. 

a/n: hnng on one hand i dont like this one too much on the other i think it’s short and sweet??? IDK but i like the idea i have for matsukawa and iwaizumi :3c but i might revamp oikawa’s to something else lOL also i hope i wrote hanamaki alright 🥺 👉👈

taglist: @makkihoe​

[lyssismagical]

moments of gold and flashes of light

Parkner Week Day 3: “I am very small and I have no money.” / college au / no-powers au

(This is like a Rhodey/Tony!MIT Parkner AU)

(TW: Implied Child Abuse)

 Working at a café on the outskirts of a college campus meant good business, decent tips, and weird hours. A good job for Harley who needs to work weird hours to keep up with his classes, and he makes enough to afford essentials and to keep his head above water in the debt.

It also means he sees a lot of very tired students at those strange hours.

He gets an elbow in the ribs from his coworker, Cassie, who points across the café at an occupied table.

“An order?” Harley asks, forehead creasing. They don’t normally take orders from tables.

“No, we have a policy about sitting in here without ordering. I need you to ask him to either buy something or leave before our boss notices,” Cassie says. She glances down at her watch, frowning at the time. “There’s only a few hours until we’re done, anyways.”

Harley hates the policy. It makes sense why they have it, they’re going to lose a lot of business if the café is always full but nobody’s buying anything, but it doesn’t make it any easier to kick tired teenagers out in the middle of the night.

He sighs and lets Cassie take over the registers as he makes his way to the boy at the table, straightening his deep purple apron as he goes.

“Excuse me?” he says, wincing when his voice cracks.

The boy at the table’s head jerks up, eyes wide behind a thick pair of glasses. He looks young, younger than most people Harley sees coming into the café, but he’s hunched over a stack of textbooks and papers, what looks like a year three astrophysics textbook on top. There’s no way he’s old enough to be in his third year of university.

“Yeah?” the boy asks. He tips his head to the side in question, the light hitting his face and showing off the deep, dark bags under his eyes.

“We have a policy here, you have to buy something to stay.”

The boy winces, hands patting the pockets of his jeans. He pulls out an old wallet, faded Stark Industries logo on the back barely visible, and pops it open.

He rifles through the things in his wallet, dropping a few on the table including a library card, a Booster Juice loyalty card, and a Stark Industries ID. He finds a dollar bill, but otherwise comes up emptyhanded.

“Shit, sorry, I don’t have any money,” the boy says, eyes wide and glassy. He grabs his backpack from between his feet and starts going through the pockets, but they seem just as empty. “I’m so sorry, I guess I used the rest of my cash on rent, and I don’t- I’ll just pack up and head home, no worries-”

“You like coffee?” Harley blurts before he can stop himself. It’s not like he really has much leeway with his budget, but a couple dollars for an obviously stressed, very cute boy seems like a good investment. “I’ll cover it for you. Give me just a moment.”

As soon as he gets a confirming nod, he heads back to where Cassie’s working, and makes a quick coffee with extra caramel, and digs out his wallet to drop a few dollars in the register.

“You’re buying coffee for him?” she says, amused and shaking her head.

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder at where the boy is still watching him with his wide, doe eyes. “He had a third year astrophysics textbook. I felt bad.”

Cassie laughs, rolling her eyes at him. “The store’s pretty quiet anyways. You should make yourself one too, and take a fifteen.”

Harley’s not about to pass up that opportunity, so he moves quickly to make himself a matching coffee, and then he heads back over to the boy.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks, sliding one of the coffees over to the boy. “I’m in my second year at MIT, so maybe I could lend you a hand? Or at least be a nice distraction?”

The boy smiles, nodding and gesturing to the chair opposite him. “I’m Peter Parker. Third year at MIT.”

“You seem… young.”

Peter laughs, fingers curling around his coffee with a pleased hum. “Yeah, I’m eighteen. Graduated high school at fourteen, started here at fifteen.”

Harley’s jaw drops open in surprise. He’s nineteen, and in the year below Peter. It’s a bit of a shock. “You’re graduating university at nineteen? Isn’t that a bit scary?”

“I’ve got a job lined up at Stark Industries in New York. I’ve been an unpaid intern every summer for four years, so it’s not as scary as you’d think.” He looks down at his homework, textbooks and binders and loose papers, and frowns. “Stressful, for sure. But scary, not so much.”

As much as he wants to comment on a lot of that, especially about how he’s apparently been interning for SI since he was thirteen, he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries and he doesn’t have a lot of break left.

He sips at his drink, listening intently as Peter starts rambling about how annoying one of his profs had been the other day, the reason he’s up all night studying at the café. Peter’s pretty, especially when he gets passionate about something, eyes lighting up behind his thick frames, blush high on his cheeks, hands gesturing vaguely. Harley hasn’t made many friends since he left Tennessee, only Cassie and Kate from an off-campus extra-curricular. Peter seems like the kind of person Harley would really enjoy being friends with.

“Harley!” Cassie calls out, much too soon for his liking. “Your fifteen’s up.”

Peter frowns noticeably, finishing off his coffee. “I’ll probably stick around for a bit, if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, of course. And come back whenever, yeah?”

“I’m sure I’ll be back in no time, in need of quiet and caffeine.”

* Turns out, Peter’s not lying. He starts showing up every Thursday night and every few Wednesdays like clockwork, always with his old backpack filled with books and binders, and always with enough for a coffee to make sure he can stay.

Whenever Harley takes his fifteen, he spends it at Peter’s table, sitting across from him and chatting about anything and everything. They trade numbers after three weeks, texting every so often whenever they’ve got the chance. It’s nice to have finally made a friend outside of Gwen and Kate. (Especially a friend as kind and pretty and genius as Peter Parker.)

“Everything okay?” Harley can’t help but ask when Peter shows up, nearly two months after meeting.

Peter’s the same as he always is, backpack slung over one shoulder making his posture lopsided, eyes wide behind his pair of thick glasses, hands shoved into the pocket of his oversized MIT sweater, buying a coffee with extra caramel. Except his eyes are red-rimmed and his voice is thick and scratchy like he’d been crying.

Peter shrugs, shoulders hunched up around his ears. “Not really. When do you take your fifteen?”

“He’s taking it right now,” Cassie buts in, elbowing Harley in the ribs. She’s already got Peter’s coffee ready, sitting on the counter, and she’s pouring a second for him. “Take your thirty, I’ll cover for you.”

Harley won’t argue with that, wanting to comfort his new friend. He links their arms together and heads for one of the booths in the far corner instead of their usual table, worry squeezing his chest. It’s only been two months but he cares about Peter a lot. More than he thought possible.

“It’s stupid,” Peter says, but he clutches his drink close to his chest, eyes watery and hands trembling. “My parents want me home for Winter Break.”

“So?”

Harley would kill to be able to afford a flight home to Tennessee for Winter Break. He has to save up all year just to afford making it home for the summer, winter and spring breaks have to be spent on campus or with Gwen who has an apartment in the city. He misses his mom and sister like crazy when he’s away for so long.

Peter scoffs, glassy eyes rolling. “They suck. I’m sure you’ve heard of Richard and Mary Parker before. Yeah, they’re not about to get Parent of the Year awards.”

“Why not?” Harley asks. He certainly knows the two of them, they’re famous scientists, alumni from MIT as well. It’s hard not to know them. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“They don’t care, they never did. Most of my childhood was spent with nannies or babysitters while they were out for business or other things they wouldn’t tell me about. The only time they ever cared was when they were telling me off for blemishing their reputation, or to tell me I needed to work harder if I was ever going to be allowed to get their company.”

Harley frowns, trying to empathize with his pain. He’s never been in a situation like that. In Rose Hill, you could get away with doing pretty much anything, nobody had reputations at stake, consequences were few and far between. Harley once landed himself in jail for a stupid night with people who weren’t really friends. Nobody cared, Harley even became pretty good friends with one of the officers who arrested him. His mom didn’t even have to pay to get him out.

“That really sucks, I’m sorry,” Harley says.

Peter shrugs again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I got a B on a test in astrophysics a month ago.”

“I remember.”

“They’re going to kill me for that. A B is essentially an F in my house. To them, I failed.”

Harley’s frown deepens and he reaches across the table to grab Peter’s hand. “You studied so hard for that test, you were sleep-deprived and upset because of that argument with your roommate. That wasn’t your fault. And either way, a B’s still a good grade.”

“Not to my parents, it’s not.”

“Why does their opinion matter? You’re an adult, they don’t have to control you anymore.”

Peter lets out a humorless laugh, eyebrows furrowing as he tries not to cry. “I don’t have a choice. I have to go home for the holidays and I have to take over their company and I have to do what they tell me to do. They control my money, they pay for my tuition, they’re all I’ve got. I don’t have anything else.”

“I’m sorry,” Harley says again, he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say, doesn’t know how to make this any easier for him. “Well, if you need anything, feel free to call. I’ll be here all Winter, so I’ll be available to talk if you need to.”

“Thank you.” Peter’s voice breaks and he doesn’t catch the tear in time for Harley not to see it. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. It probably looks like it, but I’m not just using you for coffee.”

Harley smiles, squeezing Peter’s hand. “And I promise I’m not using you for answers to future tests. You may be a genius, but I’m not a cheater.”

“Good because I have a proposition. I only leave on Saturday, and I need an extra set of hands to pack up my dorm room? My roommates already gone, so it’ll just be us and we could watch some movies afterwards? If not, don’t worry about it-”

Harley grins, finishing off his coffee. “I’d love to. Tomorrow afternoon? I have the day off work, but I’ve got a class until two, so I’ll come over after that?”

“Sounds perfect.”

* “I’m going to miss you,” Harley says, watching Peter make a little pile of the bags they’d packed the night before from his bed. Peter’s got a mid-afternoon flight, so he needs to be out by noon. “That’s three Thursday nights without you at the café.”

Peter smiles softly, turning from where he’d set down his backpack at the door. “I’m going to miss you too. Three weeks and I’ll be back to bothering you all the time.”

Despite knowing it’s a joke, Harley rolls his eyes. “You’re never a bother.”

“I’ll call you? I live out in California, so I’ll try to remember the time zone differences, but don’t hate me if I accidentally call you in the middle of the night.”

Harley turns his head into the pillow, smiling dopily at Peter. “I told you, call me whenever. I want to hear all the gossip about your stupid parents.”

“Well there will be plenty of gossip, so be careful what you wish for.”

There’s a pause as the reality of everything sets in. Three weeks without each other after only two months together seems unfair. Harley’s going to miss Peter a lot. He’s been ignoring the crush that’s been festering over the past couple weeks especially. He doesn’t want to hurt their very new, budding friendship, especially not when Peter’s under so much stress as is, but last night, watching movies on Peter’s bed together on his laptop, it really solidified the crush.

“I should get going,” Peter says miserably. He slings his backpack over his shoulder again, glasses askew on his nose, dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes, hands shaking.

“You want me to drop you off instead of taking a cab? I wouldn’t mind driving. We probably even have time to stop for a quick coffee.”

Peter smiles brightly, big enough to show off his dimples and light up his eyes. Harley gets off the bed, taking off his red MIT sweater, leaving him in an old t-shirt from the diner his mom works at, and hands the sweater over to Peter.

He wants to say so you’ll remember me or a reminder you’re not alone but he can’t say it. Instead he says, “You look a bit cold.”

“Thanks,” Peter murmurs, flushing softly. Harley reaches out and straightens his glasses before slinging the duffel bag on the floor over his shoulder.

“Let’s get going then.”

Peter picks the music, old Disney movie soundtracks, and Harley drives, paying for coffees on the way to the Boston airport. They don’t say much, humming along to the music to keep from saying too much, but linking their hands together which says just as much.

When they get to the airport, Peter insists on Harley staying in the car.

“Three weeks,” Peter promises, blinking back tears.

Harley offers a smile, squeezing Peter’s hand. “Call me, it’ll feel like no time at all.”

The younger boy opens his car door and looks like he’s about to slip out of the car, but he turns back to Harley, eyes wide and glassy. He leans across the center of the car and kisses Harley hard.

“I’m sorry-”

Harley reaches over, cups Peter’s face and pulls him back in to kiss him again. “I really like you, like a crazy amount, I didn’t want to say anything because I love having you as a friend, but I do really like you.”

“I really like you too. I didn’t tell you but before you talked to me that one day, I was always going into your café just to see you but I didn’t think you noticed me.”

“You’re going to miss your flight,” Harley says, brushing his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone and frowning disappointedly.

Peter huffs out a breath, pushing open his door. “I’ll call you? We’ll talk about this?”

“Of course. Call me whenever,” Harley says, stealing one last kiss. “Go before you miss your flight.”

The younger boy grins so bright, finally slipping out of the car, backpack over one shoulder, leans back to blow a kiss, and then he’s gone.

Harley has to pause for a second, smiling up at the ceiling of his car, before he feels ready to leave the airport, and Peter, behind.

Three weeks.

* It takes a week and a half for Peter to call, and when he does, he’s crying.

“This sucks,” Peter starts, voice trembling and thick with emotion. “Being home sucks and missing you sucks and everything sucks.”

“Hi to you too, and merry belated Christmas.”

“Sorry, yeah, merry Christmas, happy holidays, hi, how are you, and all that. I wish I were in Boston so much.”

Harley lets out a short laugh, sprawling out on his bed, phone pressed against his ear. “I wish you were here too, if that helps. What happened?”

“My parents were totally pissed about my B like I knew they’d be. And when I tried to tell them about you because I was excited, they told me I’d find a nice girl to settle down with soon enough.” Peter chokes out a sob, voice tipping towards angry. “I know I’m bi, so maybe, but it’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not fair. Some people are like that. I remember coming out as gay in a small town in Tennessee, it wasn’t received very well.”

Peter sighs sympathetically. “I just- I don’t even want their company, you know? I want to work at Stark Industries like how I’d been interning, but I don’t have a choice. I’m the heir, the papers were signed, it’s mine as soon as I graduate so they can retire.”

“You’re a genius, and legally an adult, find a way to un-sign them. Or when you get jurisdiction, terminate the company. There’s still options, there’s still ways you can get where you want to be.”

“I know, I just- I don’t know. I wanna go home. I want to see you.”

Harley smiles softly to himself, shaking his head. “I know, I miss you too. But you’re halfway done, you can do it, and I’ll be there at the airport for you when you get back.”

“I know we said we’d talk about it but I really don’t think I can handle-”

“No, no, of course.” Harley doesn’t mind. He’s kind of liking this in-between stage they’re living in. Not dating, no labels, but definitely something more than friends. “In case you needed a confidence boost, you’re a genius. You’re the smartest person I know and I know a lot of people. According to Gwen, you’re the nicest person too, and I agree. You’re very sweet and kind. Plus, have you seen yourself? You’ve got a lot going for you.”

Peter laughs quietly, tears finally fading. “You’re too nice to me. Maybe being around you is going to make my ego too big.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Harley says, lightening up. “You’re too humble for that. Oh, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but apparently, Gwen did notice you first, and she purposefully sent me over to your table that first day.”

“Really?”

“Yep. She thought I was getting too lonely, after spending over a year in Boston and only making two friends, and not seeing anybody, so she was hoping something would happen between us, which I guess it did, so I owe her one.”

Peter laughs again, then goes quiet for a moment. “I need to get going soon. Dad’s taking me to meetings all afternoon. I hate going, people only see me as a stupid kid or as competition.”

“Prove them wrong, stand up for yourself, or at least get me on the phone so I can stand up for you.”

Far away from the door there’s a shouted, “Get your ass out of bed! We leave in thirty and if you’re tie’s on wrong and I have to reteach you, I swear to god, it’ll be the last thing you do!”

“Was that your dad? Threatening you?” There’s already a protective edge to his voice like Harley will fly all the way to California just to stand between Peter and his dad.

“They’re normally empty threats,” Peter offers like it’s no big deal. “He prefers yelling more than anything. Mom says he’d probably do worse if it weren’t for the cameras on us all the time.”

Harley’s mouth falls open, anger flooding through his chest like a wildfire. “You should stay with me this Spring Break and Summer. There’s plenty of extra space in Gwen’s apartment and in my childhood home. I don’t want you back there.”

“You’d want me around for that long?”

He nearly chokes in surprise. “Of course I would. I want you always, whenever. I don’t want you home again if I can help it. It’s obvious it’s not good for you.”

Harley doesn’t know how their relationship will fare, how they’ll be in two months, in six, he doesn’t know if he could convince Peter to stay away knowing the anger it would cause, he doesn’t know if it’ll be enough to keep Peter safe. But he knows he’d do anything to try.

“I’ve gotta go before my dad’s head explodes. I’ll call you as soon as I can and we’ll talk more about these plans, ‘kay? I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Only another week and a half left.”

* Harley has to wait at the airport for three hours because of a flight delay and the longer he waits, the more he itches to see Peter. They still haven’t talked, so Harley isn’t even sure if greeting him with a kiss is allowed, but he doesn’t know how much he cares. He’s been thinking about it for three weeks, lord knows Gwen’s losing her mind with his constant rambles about Peter, and he’s pretty positive Peter will be just as desperate.

He sends another text to Peter, letting him know the area he’s waiting in, and waiting to see if it switches to delivered which would mean he’s landed. It does and Harley can barely contain an excited squeal.

If I run, I can be there in 3

Harley sends back a quick, please, which goes unanswered.

He keeps half his attention on his watch, slowly ticking down, and half on the people walking around him, waiting for the mop of brown curls to make their appearance.

At two minutes, thirty seconds, he sees Peter.

“Peter!” he calls out, ignoring some of the dirty looks people shoot him, and lifting a hand into the air.

Almost immediately, the boy starts running faster down the last stretch of hallway, dropping his duffel a few feet away, before launching into Harley’s awaiting arms.

Harley has to take a few steps to rebalance them, arms winding around Peter’s waist and kissing him hard. Peter’s legs are around his waist, hanging onto him like a lifeline, hands in his hair. Eventually, Peter’s smiling too wide to continue kissing, pulling back to let out a giddy laugh.

“I missed you so bad. I know it was only three weeks and I know we’ve only known each other for a few months, but I really like you, and I didn’t think I would miss you as much as I did, but every day without you felt like a marathon. I don’t want to skip the conversation, but I just want to know that this is real,” Peter rambles.

Stealing another kiss, Harley tightens his grip on the younger boy. “Yes, god yes, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day for the past three months, and I want this to be real too. I want to be your boyfriend, I don’t care how soon or crazy it is.”

“My boyfriend,” Peter echoes, lighting up in a smile. He kisses Harley again and then hides his face in the crook of Harley’s shoulder, nodding. “Yes please. I would love that.”

They hold each other for a while longer. Long enough for the majority of the baggage pick-up to clear out, long enough for Harley’s knees to start cramping and his cheeks to hurt with how wide he’s smiling.

“I’m not letting you go back there,” Harley says because it feels necessary. “I’ll find a way for you to stay until you graduate.”

Peter smiles pulling back enough to kiss his forehead. “Good, thank you, I didn’t want to go back.”

“Time to go home, boyfriend?” Saying it makes Harley giddy with pure joy.

His mama’s going to freak when she hears about Peter, she’s only ever wanted what’s best for Harley, and Peter’s that. He’s the best for Harley. It doesn’t get better than him. And he’s going to do everything in his power to be the best for Peter too.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina  @spideygirl2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[quicksiilver]

In My Father’s Eyes

A new series!

Summary:  An amateur New York City artist in her freshman year of college is journeying through life alone without a mother or father.  At nineteen she’s been through more than anyone older than forty could say.  Passionate about her art and her best friend, she finds one late night at work begins the story of her path to becoming the savior of many worlds.  Unexpected news of her family strikes her hard, but a new potential love interest with shared life experience eases the pain.

Part One: The Artist

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: I’ve been writing this for some time now.. It’s not on any specific timeline, but if I had to place it it’d be as if Infinity War and Endgame never happened.  First time I’m posting a fic! Enjoy!

It was midnight on Saturday in New York City.  The bar I worked in religiously was getting ready to shut down for the night, the second bartender and my best friend Shaun and I getting started on our closing tasks.  We were on a street corner in the heart of Manhattan and we were always slammed, but tonight was unusually quiet.

Squatting down behind the bar I started stacking clean cups as Shaun wiped down the counter top.

“Pretty weird tonight, huh?” He asked.  Glancing to him and his shaggy blonde hair I nodded.

“In my years of working here I’ve never seen a night like this,” I sighed standing to my feet hurrying around the bar to turn off our lit up ‘open’ sign in the window.  Just as I got to it two men came in the door letting it violently swing shut behind them.  Slowly lowering my hand from the light switch Shaun gave me a sarcastic pout making me smile.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Shaun greeted them happily, setting up coasters in front of their chairs.  Both men had disciplined looks upon their faces as they spoke to one another.  The dark haired man with odd glasses on his face gave Shaun a subtle wave as they took off their coats and sat down.

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” Shaun nodded and took a step back.  I met him behind the bar and we both went into the kitchen.

“Just when I thought we’d be outta here kinda early tonight,” I groaned rubbing my hands over my eyes, “I’ve got such a busy day tomorrow, and it’s my only day off this week.”

“I got them, don’t worry,” Shaun shrugged his shoulders, “Why don’t you head out of here, shut off that sign and go home?” He turned to start scooping some ice into a bucket to take out to the men, and shot me a look over his shoulder raising an eyebrow.  I just watched him for a second before shaking my head.

“Are you sure?” I asked sweetly, feeling a tad guilty.

“Yeah,” He said with a smile, “I know you’ve got school stuff to deal with.  I got them,” He said again playfully, making it more clear to me.  I gave him a nod and a smile.  He returned it and then went to work taking the ice out to the guys ready to take their order.  Peeking around the corner of the kitchen I looked at the guys curiously.  They looked important and spoke secretively to one another, nearly on each others laps but not in a gay way.  One was dark and brooding, and the other seemed jockey and poised.  Neither were dressed as if they were people of importance, but they sure gave off the vibe they were.  The man in the glasses glanced up at me.  We held eye contact for only a moment before I felt a chill down my spine and the urge to turn away.  When I looked back Shaun was making their drinks and caught a look at me.

“Rachel,” He said sternly with a smile, “Go home,” He said at a whisper.  Sighing, I smiled, and uncomfortably made my way around the men at the bar to finish cleaning the place up.  I went around the place stacking the chairs on top the tables, making sure our menus were in the right places and switched off the sign in the window feeling eyes on me every now and then.  As I came around the counter for the last time so I could clock out at the monitor on the bar, I made eye contact with the other man and slightly stumbled over my feet.  He had soft eyes, and dirty blonde hair that fell perfectly on his head.  He had a polite poise to him, yet gave off a strong energy of raw man.  He was gorgeous.  His eyes were familiar, however, as if I had seen them before.  When I finished at the monitor I gave Shaun a quick hug, grabbed my keys and took myself home.

Midnight streets of the city used to scare me as a kid.  My friends used to tell me stories in school of homeless people who would turn into zombies once the clocks hit twelve, or how dangerous things get, especially once it’s dark out.  The stories would scare me so bad I ended up sleeping in my mom’s bed most of my childhood.  It was just her and I growing up, the two of us in a crappy apartment here in Manhattan.  She had me when she was young, only nineteen years old, but she made it work when she wasn’t in any trouble.  I adored her and loved her more than anything.  As a young child before I was in school we spent a lot of time outside walking the streets of the city or playing in Central Park.  Walking around the trees with flowers on them was my favorite place to be.  I can remember spring time and how we would go collect the flowers and put them around the apartment.  Sometimes we would lay down on the grass looking up into the sky and she’d pick petals off the flowers setting them on my nose or forehead.  She’d tell me stories, mainly fairytales, of far away places and magical beings.  I was obsessed with her rendition of The Little Mermaid.

She was great to me, we were best friends, but at the end of the day she was terribly messed up.  As soon as I was old enough to walk to and from school alone I would come home and she’d be passed out either on the couch or our bed.  Alcohol was her choice of poison.  The first time I found her I was seven years old.  I can remember putting a blanket on her and kissing her cheek saying goodnight as I went on to do my homework and eat Cheetos for dinner.

Around eleven it was mainly me in the apartment.  My mom went through a constant cycle of getting sober, then falling back in, then getting sober again.  I did my best to help her through it all while getting myself through middle school.  She had a job, she was a waitress at a diner for many years and it was her working there that gave me some experience for the bar.  The other women who worked there never seemed to mind if I sat there for hours waiting for my mom to finish a shift.  They would check up on me, bring me mac and cheese and sometimes desserts if I drew them a few nice pictures on the paper placemats.

When I was thirteen I started doing anything to make a buck.  Seeing an empty fridge and my mom struggling to pay our bills really forced me to grow up, fast.  I was taking out garbage for the tenants in our building for three dollars a bag, and babysitting anyone for five dollars an hour.  I tried to sell some of my moms drinks she had in our fridge, but I quickly learned that wasn’t a great idea.  I was a brand new teenager experiencing change alone when I should’ve had my mother there to help me.

By sixteen she was dragging.  It had become visibly clear to me that I no longer had a mother and that I was taking care of her instead of her taking care of me.  I got my full time job at the bar on the corner cleaning dishes, and she was stealing some of my money.  Confronting her about it was never an answer, and if I did she would break down.

I was seventeen when she died, and it broke me.  To grow up and watch someone you love fall apart in front of your eyes is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.  Walking into your home after a night of work to your mother on your kitchen floor.  She was thirty-six.  She didn’t get to see me graduate high school, she wasn’t here to watch me get accepted into a community college here in Manhattan, and she won’t be here for anything else.

Now at nineteen, the age she had me, I work full time at the bar doing everything.  I’m in my second semester of college studying art, something I’ve always loved, and I’m keeping myself on my feet in the apartment.  I swore to myself that day two years ago that I would never pick up a drink, and that will forever be something I stand by.

Pushing the building's gate open, I fought to close it because of how rusty it was and jiggled my keys around searching for the one for the front door.  I got myself inside and then started up the stairs taking them two at a time to reach the third floor.  I could hear music coming from my neighbors and a strong smell of marijuana which never fazed me, that's been normal since I can remember.

I locked my door behind me with my key and then slid the safety lock shut.  Kicking my shoes off at the door I took a deep breath and tossed my keys onto the table by the door.  I made my way into the living room, turned on the tiny tv and then turned into the kitchen to search the fridge for something to eat.

Settling for leftover cold pasta, I tore off the lid of the Tupperware and flopped onto my ancient couch.

The New York City news was going on about its upcoming spring festivals and I couldn’t help but feel excited for them.  I normally kept to myself now, but the few friends I have were into a lot of the things I was.  Shaun, who‘s my age, goes to the same school and is an English major, and two of our other friends, Jessica and Elliot, are art majors with me.  They’re a year older than Shaun and I.  All three of them still live home with their parents, and they’re all well informed with my situation and have been nothing but supportive.  This time of year we loved going out to parks and spending time in between our classes outside.  I couldn’t wait to be out in a green, grassy area drawing one of my friends as they posed for me.

My eyes were falling in love with the shots of flowers the news was showing that when my phone rang I didn’t even look away.

“Hello?” I answered distractedly.

“Rach!” It was Shaun.

“Hey, you seem a little too happy.”

“You know those two guys?  That came in?” He spoke quickly.

“Yes,” I answered and shoved two cold noodles into my mouth.

“They were... well I’m pretty sure that they were those guys?  You know the ones that did the whole thing?” He fumbled on every last word.

“Shaun... what!” I laughed audibly, adjusting myself in my seat.

“Avengers! Rach! Avengers!” Shaun shouted and I froze.  Avengers was a word the public hadn’t heard in years, at least me since I was in school.  New York City nearly went to shit years prior, but thanks to them we managed to bounce back, and even the last time they were big in the news the city could’ve been wiped out again.  I was thankful to still have my mom around during that time, and that none of my friends' families were affected.  It still amazed me we lived in a world where these people were real.

“Shaun... what?” I repeated my words in disbelief.

“Rachel, I swear.  The guy with the short dark hair and glasses? Tony Stark.  Iron Man,” He paused and I could hear a door shut and keys jingle.  He was just now leaving the bar, “And the other guy? Captain America!” He said proud of himself.  An image of the blonde guy at the bar popped into my brain and I nearly choked on a noodle.

“You good?” Shaun asked as I coughed.

“Yeah,” I said quietly once I could speak, “I’m just... holy crap!” My stomach did a flip.  Kids in school would brag about meeting an Avenger, some would even go as far as to pretend they had powers themselves and that they were one of them.  Shaun was a huge Avengers fan.  It was never in my lucky stars to meet an Avenger and I just so happened to be in the presence of two of them tonight.

“Ya know, I knew they seemed important,” I said shaking my head looking back to my tv screen, “Did you see the way they were talking?  Do you think something is going on?” I asked Shaun who gave me a simple answer back.

“Who knows, anything could happen.”

“True, remember the attack a few years ago? Who saw that coming,” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m sure Cap did,” Shaun said confidently.  I could hear the smug smile on his face.

“Shaun, do you love the man?” I asked, both of us laughing.

“Maybe I do!” He scoffed, “Something the matter with that?”

“Not at all,” I said, “Get home safely please.  Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Of course we can,” He said.

“Okay,” I smiled then felt butterflies in my stomach once I remembered the men at the bar, “We saw Avengers!” I nearly screeched and Shaun laughed.  We cheered a bit more before saying goodnight and hanging up.

I cleaned up my spot in the living room heading into my bedroom.  Pulling my work clothes off of me, I tossed them to the floor beside a laundry basket that was nearing its limit, and walked into the bathroom meeting my reflection in the mirror.  My tired blue eyes were staring back.  Rubbing my fingers under them a few times I groaned at how dark the circles looked against my pale skin.  Turning on and leaning over the sink, I scooped some cold water in my hands and splashed it over my face looking back up into the mirror.

There was a long day ahead of me tomorrow.  Two projects are due next week by Friday and tomorrow is my only day off from working down at the bar.

I reached for a hair tie on the counter and pulled my dark hair into a bun on top of my head with a sigh.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face properly I turned back into my room, pulled a sweatshirt over my head and rolled onto my mattress burying myself in all the pillows I had come to collect over my nineteen years of life and fell asleep.

Thunder shook my apartment and I jolted awake, springing straight up in bed.  Lighting as bright as day struck the sky and soon after was another clap of dangerously loud thunder.  Muffled voices came from the living room, and after another rumble of thunder the voices turned into screams.

“Mama?” I called out, feeling my stomach start to flip.  I could hear her scream again as if she was shouting to someone else inside with her.  Swinging my legs over the side of the bed I jumped to the floor, my purple nightgown hanging below my knees.  My nails and toenails were painted pink and I had a temporary tattoo of Blues Clues on my arm.  My room continued the shake and the lightning kept striking.  I heard the wind outside pick up, the whistling coming through the windows.  Peeking out of one of them all I could see was the darkness of the sky and the tops of a few buildings, but no rain.  I wasn’t tall enough to see down to the ground yet.

“Mama?” I called out again, a bit louder this time getting closer to the closed door.

“Rachel,” She shouted, “Go to sleep!” Her voice was broken, she sounded like she was in trouble.  My stomach flipped again and I felt my heartbeat pick up.  If she was in trouble I wasn’t going to go back to sleep.  She taught me that if I was ever in trouble that I should call 911 and answer their questions.  I knew all of my information and everything about my mom.  I lifted a hand and turned the doorknob.  The phone was on the counter in the kitchen.  The bedroom door creaked open slowly and I looked out into the living room but didn’t see anything.  Taking two more steps out I found the phone on the counter with my eyes and felt proud.  I was going to make it.  As I was running for it, I looked toward the front door and saw my mom sitting on the floor against the door with her hands and legs locked up in a metal band that looked like they were shaped like snakes.  She was crying and she looked like she was hurt, she was bleeding on her face and her arms.  I slowed my running.

“Mama?” I pouted reaching a hand toward her.  The room fell silent and it seemed as if the entire world did too.  The thunder and lightning stopped, and so did the wind.  The noises that caused my mom and I to shout had all gone away.  I froze and watched her and she shook her head quickly side to side and cried.

“Rachel, go,” She begged, agony in her voice, “Go, go, go.”

“No,” A deep, gravely voice spoke.  Slowly looking beside her I found a man so tall he looked like he wouldn’t fit inside of our doorway.  It was dark so it was hard to figure out what he looked like, but it almost looked as if his skin was blue.

“Rachel,” He spoke again, coming closer to me.  My small feet walked me backwards as he came toward me, backing me against the living room wall.

“Baby, run!” My mother screamed, but before I could take off a large blue hand was grabbing onto me and picking me up.  I let out a piercing shriek at his cold touch and continued to scream the longer his icy hands held me in the air.

Suddenly I sat up in bed to the sound of my phone alarm going off beside me with a gasp.  Fumbling around for it, I shut it off and flopped back onto my pillows taking a long deep breath.  It wasn’t the first time I had dreamt something up like that.  As a kid my mother always told me how active of an imagination I had.  She influenced me to get into art by telling me to write about these dreams and draw pictures of what I saw.  There’s two notepads full of pictures of men and women like the man I just saw in that dream somewhere buried in my school things.  Elementary school teachers would scold my mom for letting me tell my stories and share with the other kids, but she allowed me to express myself and taught me to not be afraid of who I was, and I’m thankful for that because I live by it to this day.  I refuse to shrink myself for another human being which automatically didn’t make me too popular in high school.

Picking my phone up I swiped open to my messages between Shaun and I and told him about the dream.  Setting my phone back down I waited patiently for the ding and lifted it back up once I got it.

S: You haven’t had a dream like this in a few years.. right?!

I started to type a response, but he double texted me and read my mind.

R: Since my

S: Since your mom passed right?!

I deleted the words and nodded to myself.

R: Yeah.  I think it’s just me being stressed over this semester ending.

S: That seems fair enough?

R: It does.....

There was a moment before he texted back.

S: .....but?

I laughed at how well he knew me.  He knew more was coming.

R: ....but I would only dream these dreams whenever she got bad.

S: How old were you in the dream?

I paused and tried to remember the things that I saw.  The nail polish, the tattoo, the Little Mermaid nightgown.

R: Probably eight.

S: Right... and that’s when you were becoming more independent right? You were walking yourself to school and she was... starting to go through a rougher time.

R: You’re right.

A minute passed before either of us said anything.  Then we both sent a message at the same time.

R: What time do you work today?

S: You okay??

I laughed to myself and sent him a thumbs up.

S: Okay good...... and I open at 1 today.  It’s Sunday so it’s just me there.  You should swing by and hang out if you don’t work yourself too hard today!

R: Thanks Shaunyyy.  I probably will.

He sent me a heart and I smiled tossing my phone on the bed.  It was nine thirty and time for me to get started on this day.

Breakfast was the usual, an Eggos waffle in the microwave and a cup of almost burnt coffee because my pot was on the fritz.  I watched the news for a half hour to catch up on any life business I had the potential of missing, and then I showered and unpacked all of my art things on the kitchen table.  My paints were set out along with a few different sized canvases I had just bought after getting paid last Wednesday.  My two projects were simple.  One was for my color theory class, I needed to efficiently mix paint to create a proper color wheel with every color on there, and then add beside the wheel all the definitions to what each word meant.  This project being more than easy for me, I finished properly in almost an hour.  The second project, however, took me three.  It was for my regular painting class, and the assignment was to freestyle and create something that represented who we were as a person.

I scribbled for forty-five minutes on scrap paper trying to come up with a story about me and who I was and where I came from, but in the end I couldn’t see how anyone would find ‘Girl Grows Up Alone with Drunk Mother Who Dies and is Left More Alone’ interesting.  I was just another sob story everyone was tired of hearing.  I never even learned from my mother where we were from or how we ended up here.  It was just the two of us.  I never met any other family members.  I never even knew who my father was.  We never spoke about it, and I’ve kicked myself for it since she passed because I never asked her.

My eyes flickered between the blank canvas and the piece of paper I violated.  Grabbing the sheet I crumbled it in my hands, stood up from my chair and frustratedly threw the paper into the kitchen and watched as it bounced off a cabinet, onto the counter and rolled into the sink.  I got myself a glass of water and decided on a quick break to give my brain a rest.  Looking around the apartment sipping the cool water I let my mind wander.  I remembered the dream I had, and what I had said to Shaun.  It was clearly a stress dream.  Although, I thought, judging by the thoughts I had afterwards maybe it was a sign.  My mom influenced me to be an artist because of my dreams.  The dreams gave me an outlet, a different world to immerse myself in and create on a piece of paper.

I nearly dropped my glass on the floor.  Setting it down I hurried back to the table and began mixing some blue paint.  I was going to go back to my roots, where it started.  The visions that got me into art.

By the time I was finished I was more than proud.  My arms were covered in shades of white and blue, but I was happy.  My mind had traveled while I was mid-painting and the canvas turned into a world I had never seen before.  The people were from my dreams, but the world and scenery around them came from somewhere else inside of me.  It was clearly fantasy, but beautiful.

Glancing to my phone I had a missed call from Shaun from five minutes ago.  The time read two fifteen.  Wiping off what paint I could on my hands and arms, I tapped on Shaun’s name to call him back.

“Hey!” He answered at nearly a whisper seeming excited.

“Hey, I just got done,” I said slipping my shoes on, “I feel like a mess but I want to come hang out down there.”

“Uh, yeah,” Shaun said sarcastically and I laughed, “Rach, they’re back.” I paused and raised my eyebrows.

“The Avenger’s guys?” I asked, slipping on shoes.

“Mhm,” He said, “They just got here.  That’s why I called you before.  It’s just the two from last night.”

“That’s crazy,” I said, “Kinda weird.”

“Not weird for me, I’m loving this!” Shaun said. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was cheesing behind the phone.

“Shaun, I’m sorry, but Captain America is not going to have a crush on you,” I laughed out loud grabbing my keys and leaving my apartment.

“Shut up, Rachel,” He groaned.

“I’m on my way now, and beware!” I teased, “I’m a little hangry!”

“Nacho’s coming right up,” Shaun said and I hung up with a small thank you.

[marvelslut16]

Too Much

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x reader

Part 2 of A Helping Hand

Synopsis: Months after Billy admits that he wants to be better, shit hits the fan and (Y/N) realizes him and his attitude may be too much. Throw in an abusive father who has come to visit and Neil treating Billy like shit, making everything harder for the two before they finally blow up at one another.

Word count:4153

Warnings: Blood. Violence. Domestic violence. Swearing. Bullying. Shit fathers. Angst. Use of the word fag and other insults.

A/N: Thank you to the four lovely people who requested/asked about a part two: @speedmetalqueen​ @strangerfictions​ @noshi-chan​ @jojokoko0717​​ I originally had no interest in making this, but I got inspired. Also I’m thinking about making a part three, which would take place in the future. Let me know what you guys think about that.

“I can’t do this anymore Billy,” your eyes fill with tears. “I really thought you could be different.”

In the months following Billy’s plea for help, he really tried. You would give him that much. But as summer grew nearer, Billy grew tired of your little arrangement. While he was super nice to you, and a decent human being when you were around; he was still an ass when you weren’t. He still threatened Steve, constantly making his life a living hell whenever you weren’t in sight. He still booked nerds in the hall, threatened people that would look at him the wrong way, and fight the ones that dared to talk back. 

And if that weren’t enough, your dad found out where you were living and came for a visit, citing your upcoming graduation as the cause. Your stepdad threatened him with a louisville slugger and the terms of the restraining order your mom has against him. Your father left, but you knew from the look in his eyes that he’d be back and you’d regret sending him away in the first place.  

And boy were you right, on your way home from the video store, you were picking up a movie that Carol wanted to see, when you saw him again. He didn’t approach you, just watched you. You hurried back to your car and drove home, checking every once in a while to make sure you weren’t being followed. 

You knew that you should have told your mom and stepdad as soon as you got home, but you didn’t want to worry them. And, there was a part of you that didn’t want to seem weak, and immediately complaining would make you seem weak in your eyes. So you stay silent, hoping he will just leave on his own. 

A few days later you and Steve are babysitting the party, the two of you sneak off to eat some cold pizza while the kids watch the movie you picked up for Carol. It was Beverly Hills Cop, a movie that you and Steve had seen in the theater together. Some of it may be a tad inappropriate for the kids, but Dustin already swears like a sailor and the shit they’ve already faced, what's the point in pretending that they’re so innocent? 

“Dustin said that he’s known Carol since they were kids, but you moved here freshman year,” Steve states more than asks, leaning against his kitchen counter.

“Our moms have been friends since they were kids. My mom moved away in high school, but they kept in close contact over the years. They used to come visit us often when we lived in Illinois. After the divorce we moved around a bit before Claudia convinced my mom to move back here, and this is where she met my stepdad. So we stayed.”

“I bet you’re happy you moved here, you got to meet Billy,” Steve frowns, insinuating that there’s something going on between you and the boy with the mullet. 

“I’m just trying to help him be a better person, that’s all. He asked for help, and who am I to deny him that?” you frown at Steve. You just want him and Billy to get along, they’re more alike than either would like to admit. 

“I just think-” you cut Steve off before he can bad mouth Billy.

“That we should be studying for our math test? Great idea!” you head over to your bag and pull out your textbook before he can change the subject back to Billy. 

--

In the following days Billy grew more distant, and you heard in the hushed whispers of Hawkins High that he had been getting in more fights than he had in ages. The worst news of all was that Billy had befriended Tommy H and Carol again, something you had heard around school and eventually seen. He had originally agreed with you that they were bad influences on him, and that they only encouraged his erratic and terrible behavior.

In those days where Billy purposely, and obviously, ignored you in school and out of it; your birth father had been following you obviously. Your mom had the restraining order and you didn’t, which he used to his advantage. Everyday the same busted up silver car would loosely follow you everywhere you go. 

Your father was keeping his distance, until one day he followed you to a park. You needed a breather, needed to think about Billy and how long helping him could go on when he didn’t seem to be making any real progress in weeks. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” his acid voice dripped with sarcasm. 

“What do you want?” your voice surprisingly doesn’t break. But maybe refusing to turn and look at him is helping with your strength. 

“To take back what's mine,” his voice grows closer. 

“And what's that?” you whip around and face the man that had left you for dead on your kitchen floor all those years ago.

“My favorite punching bag,” he seethes, face inches from yours. You can smell the strong scents of bourbon and tobacco mingling to create the naeusating scent that is your father. 

“Go find someone your own age to torture,” you glare at him.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he grabs your wrist tightly, causing you to twitch in response. He laughs like a maniac when he sees how easily he can still hurt you. “I saw you with that blonde boy by his Camero at school the other day, I don’t think he’s a good influence on you.”

“Leave him out of this,” you try to sound strong, but it comes out as a desperate plea. 

“Aww, are you his little whore or something?” his grip gets impossibly tighter. 

“No,” you try to yank your arm away from him. His nails dig into your skin and are sharp enough that they leave cuts in your skin. “He’s just some guy in my science class.”

“Don’t lie,” he leers at you before his palm connects with your cheek

“I said no, and I meant it,” you blink back the automatic tears that come with being slapped. He ignores you and yanks on your arm, pulling you into a public restroom that's in the park locking the door behind you two. 

“It looks like I have to teach a little slut a lesson,” his fist connects with your side. You don’t even bother trying to fight back as his fist connects with your gut and your ribs repeatedly. There’s no use, you’ll never win. The moments start to get hazy and blur together as he pulls out a switchblade. He runs the point over your arms, causing small cuts to appear and bleed onto the ground.

You fall onto the hard concrete underneath you as he sweeps his legs through yours. He sticks the blade into your leg deeper than on your arms. The knife cuts through your denim jeans and flesh like they were a mere piece of paper. Your legs starts to bleed profusely, he steps on your arm as you go to put pressure on the wound. 

“He won’t want you now,” he laughs loudly, kicking your ribs as hard as he can one last time before leaving you on the dirty floor alone. 

Your pretty new top has splotchy crimson stains scattered on it, blood drips down your arms and there’s a gash on your left leg from his knife. You manage to pick yourself up and somehow drive yourself all the way home.

“(Y/N), where have you been?” Carol’s yelling voice greets you as you walk through the door.

You ignore your sisters calls and slide down the door after you close it behind you. A loud sob shakes your entire body as you finally feel safe enough to cry. Two sets of feet coming running towards you, but you can’t be bothered to stop crying. Your body and soul hurt too much. 

“(Y/N),” Carol gasps. “Oh my God, MOM!” she screams, running off to the kitchen. 

Your eyes follow the shoes standing in front of you, up until you see the red headed girl staring at you in shock. “Don’t tell anyone,” you hiccup between sobs. Max quickly nods her head, not knowing what to say

“(Y/N),” your mom breathes in horror when she sees the small puddle of blood coming from your wounds. 

“He’s been fo-foll-following-ng me-e. He c-c-corn-nerd me at a p-par-rk. S-s-sai-id he-e mis-ssed hi-is f-fa-favorite-te pu-pu-punching bag,” you sob out.  

Max was sent home after promising she would never breathe a word of what she saw or heard, even if she wanted to tell Billy. Carol was sent to her room while your mom cleaned you up and your stepdad gave your leg stitches, his military background coming in handy. After convincing your stepdad that he couldn’t go kill him, you decided to sleep and pretend that the events at the park never occurred. 

--

It’s unseasonably warm in Hawkins Indiana this spring, you’re the only one still wearing long sleeves. You have on one of your striped turtlenecks and a pair of well worn overalls, it successfully hides every inch of your body. 

There's a group of kids standing in a giant semi-circle in the hallway you walk through to get to third period. Kids are murmuring so quickly all you pick up on are the words Harrington and Hargrove, causing you blood to run cold. You push your way through the crowd, and instead of complaining like they normally would, your peers parted like the red sea as soon as they saw it was you. 

“Billy!” you gasp, when you come face to face with him pushing Steve into the lockers. Your heart drops to your stomach as your last little bit of faith you have for Billy disappears. You wished that you heard the kids wrong when you were making your way through the crowd, but now your worst fears have been confirmed. 

It seems like the men in your life just keep disappointing you. At least you have Steve; trusty, dopey, kind hearted Steve. Who apparently did something so bad that it warranted he get beat up for it?

“(Y/N),” Steve mumbles, still trying to get air back to his lungs from Billy’s shove. 

“I can’t do this anymore Billy,” your eyes fill with tears, ignoring Steve and looking straight into those blue eyes. “I really thought you could be different.”

“(Y/N)-” he reaches out for your wrist, but you quickly move out of his grasp.

“It’s too much,” your voice drops to a whisper. “You’re too much.”

“Like I need you anyway,” he laughs viciously as the crowd that was gathered around him and Steve now laughs at you. “You’re just a pathetic little freak.”

“I’d rather be a pathetic freak than be as miserable and lonely as you are Hargrove,” you frown as words you don’t even mean tumble out of your mouth. “What happens when we graduate and your just another has been bully that peaked in high school? At least Steve and I have potential in our futures.”

You grab Steve and pull him out of the building, needing to put as much space between you and Billy as humanly possible. The fresh spring air hits you as you hear the muffled sound of the bell ringing from inside the school. You’ve never skipped school, but there’s a first time for everything. 

Steve’s wide eyed gaze on you makes your brain process what you just said in the hallway. A traitorous sob leaves your mouth as you fully comprehend how rude you were to Billy. And how rude he was to you. 

“Hey, hey,” Steve pulls you into a hug, running his hand over your hair to calm you. “It’s going to be okay, but for now let's get you home. I’ll pick Carol up from school later when I get Dustin.” 

Steve helps you into his car and drives you home, your too empty home. Your mom and stepdad are on vacation celebrating their anniversary, leaving you home with Carol. Normally you would love it, but with everything that's happened lately you hate it. Granted, you had insisted they still go last night, you didn’t plan on being home alone. 

“I just wanted to help,” you whisper to Steve. “He wanted help and I wanted to help him.”

“I know, and you're an amazing person for it,” Steve says lightly, and you pull on your sleeves that started to rise up during the commotion with 

--

Loud knocks on the door pull yours and Carol’s attention away from Tom Selleck running around in a pair of short shorts on your tv. You quickly mute the episode of Magnum P.I. and head for the front door. “Stay there and don’t make a sound,” you warn Carol. 

You look out the peephole and see a mop of red curls pacing the length of the porch. “Max?” you question as you throw the door open.

“Billy came home from school fuming that he ruined everything. He was listening to his music too loud when Neil got home and he started screaming at him. Billy screamed back, saying that it was Neil’s fault that he can’t be normal. It’s so bad (Y/N),” Max’s voice breaks. “It’s never been this bad before. I’m scared he’s going to kill Billy.” 

Max’s mouth continues to move, but you can’t hear anything after the words kill and Billy. Your heart rate picks up quite substantially as you run out of the house in slippers and just your keys, no jacket, no drivers license, no anything. You see Max and Carol watching from the doorway as you back out of the driveway and speed down the street. You don’t care how fast you’re driving, if Max believes Billy is in serious danger he probably is. 

You whip into the Hargrove driveway, not caring if you hit Neil’s car. You run to the door finding it strangely unlocked. As you get closer to the door you can hear Neil screaming so loud you can hear him clearly through the closed door. His voice becomes impossibly louder as you throw open the front door and enter uninvited or that you're in a Hawkins high basketball t shirt and plaid pajama pants. 

“You. Stupid. Fucking. Fag,” you hear skin loudly hit skin between every word. “You. Ruined. Your. Own. Life.”

“Get off of him!” you scream as soon as you see Neil straddling Billy. Neil was randomly switching between smacking and punching Billy randomly. You wrench Neil off of the beaten Billy with strength you don’t know you possess. Adrenaline you suppose.

Neil’s anger quickly switches to you, and he slaps you across your face, just like your own father. You can feel the familiar sting from flesh on flesh. 

“That all you’ve got?” you antagonize him, trying to keep his attention away from the broken boy that you love.

Love? Now is definitely not the time to have some emotional breakthrough. You’re newly discovered feelings need to be put on the back burner, all that matters is getting Billy out of this house alive. 

“This is the worthless whore turning you into a pussy?” Neil laughs loudly as he turns back to Billy, who is now sitting up. “Max’s friends older sister? She must be damn good in the sack.”

“Don’t talk about her like that!” Billy screams. He gets up quickly and pushes Neil into the wall so hard that the picture frames rattle, and some fall to the ground and shatter on impact. “And don’t you ever lay a hand on her again!” Billy winds his arm back to punch Neil in the face, but you grab his arm to stop him. 

“It’s not worth it, it won’t make you feel any better in the long run. Take the high road Billy. Please,” he looks at your desperate face and the adrenaline that helped him stand immediately dissipates. 

He falls into your arms, the only thing keeping him standing is you. You wrap his arm around your shoulders and snake your arm around his waist. You glare at Susan, who has stood in the corner quietly watching the entire thing. Neil gets between you and Billy and the door. 

“Don’t test me,” you seeth, getting ready to lean Billy against the wall so you can hit his father. Screw being the bigger person, this man is really testing your patience. “Move before I kick you so hard where the sun doesn’t shine that it’ll be coming out of your mouth.” 

Neil's about to make some smart ass remark until he sees the fresh bruises and cuts littering your arms. You narrow your eyes at him and he silently, and reluctantly, moves out of the way. You quickly help Billy into your car before speeding back to the girls.  

He’s bloody and bruised, worse than you’ve ever seen before. And he’s crying, something you weren’t even sure was possible coming from Billy Hargrove. 

“What happened?” you whisper when you’re stopped at a red light. The obnoxious red illuminating his slightly bruised face. Props to the abusive fathers for choosing hideable places to really bruise their kids. 

“I want to be normal,” his voice comes out quiet, far from the confident cocky boy that you’ve come to know. “He’s why I can’t be. Every time I’m happy he finds a way to hurt me, and then I take it out on kids at school. 

“You need to find a coping mechanism,” you advise as the light turns green. “Maybe you can practice basketball more? ‘Cause I’m sure you don’t want to write your feelings down like I do.”

“The only other woman I’ve ever loved in any capacity abandoned me. No one I have ever loved before has ever stuck around. And I thought it would be easier to push you away rather than you realizing I’m not worth it. That’s why I fought Harrington earlier.”

“Love?” you're bewildered by Billy’s confession. “You don’t love me Billy, if you did you wouldn’t have hurt my only friend to make things easier for you.” You pull into your driveway, neither of you making any move to exit the car. 

“My mom left me with Neil so she could have a better life. I’m worthless to her, I’m worthless to everyone,” Billy admits quietly. “I just didn’t want you to see me like that too, so I found a shitty out.”

“You aren’t worthless Billy Hargrove,” you say softly, hoping he believes you. “And even though we aren’t friends anymore, you and Max can stay here as long as you need.”

This time you make an exit from the car, quickly walking away from Billy and the tangled webs of your feelings for each other. Max and Carol are waiting for you at the door, eyes wide as they land on Billy who’s walking up behind you.

“Carol, go get the first aid kid,” you give her a look that says stop staring. She scurries off and you bring Billy into the kitchen. Her and Max hover quietly as you clean Billy’s cuts and bandage him up. You must have been concentrating really hard, because it feels like some sweat is trickling down your leg. 

“(Y/N), you’re bleeding,” Max sounds worried as the blood seeps through your pant leg. 

“Shit,” you breathe out quietly. “Not another pair of pants,” you whine, taking a seat next to Billy.  

“I’m calling Mom,” Carol exclaims nervously. 

“No you’re not,” you sigh at your little sister. “I probably just popped a stitch, which I can fix myself.”

You gingerly roll up your pant leg to see that you have indeed popped a few stitches. You give a long dramatic sigh as you reach for the needle and thread, but a large thick hand beats you to it. You meet Billy’s eyes and you can see the silent rage burning in them, wanting to beat the shit out of whoever did this to you. 

“What happened?” his voice as soft as yours was in the car. He carefully pulls your bleeding leg up to rest on his lap, his fingers gentle as he caresses your skin before threading the needle. 

“My dad,” you whimper at the confession, and not the needle sliding through your skin. “He’s been following me for days, yesterday he cornered me and beat me up.”

Once Billy’s down sewing you up, he aggressively paces the kitchen like he wasn’t just beat up himself. 

“Billy you need to calm down,” you say gently. “There’s no need for you to get worked up over it.”

“Damn it (Y/N)!” Billy pulls at the ends of his hair. “I’m in love with you! And nobody hurts you and gets away with it.”

“You hurt me!” voice far louder than you intended. Max and Carol’s wide eyes move between the two of you. “More than I ever thought possible. You pushed me away in every way you knew that would mentally hurt me. That’s not love.”

“I was giving you an out-”

“No, you weren’t, “ you cut him off. “You hurt me in order to save yourself pain down the road. Well newsflash, the only one that abandoned someone here is you.” 

“I’m scared!” if you didn’t know any better you would swear that there are unshed tears shining in his eyes. 

“So am I! I realized that I loved you when I was, quite literally, saving your life,” words are once again leaving you before your brain can process what you’re saying. “Hours after you started a fight with Steve for God knows what reason. It’s hard and scary being in love with the Billy Hargrove, the infamous ladies man. Especially when he’s too embarrassed to truly be my friend when we’re at school.”

“You love me?” Billy sounds stunned. Max has a small smile on her face as Carol gaps at your confession. 

“No?” you squint, hoping you can pinch yourself and wake up from this pain pill induced dream. But you aren’t that lucky. 

“I want to be better for you,” he gently grabs your hand, pulling it up to his face so he can kiss the scratches on your arms. “I’ve never felt this way before and I got scared. I wanted to really be friends at school, but I knew Tommy H. and Carol would rip into you.”

“Two broken people don’t make a whole one,” you whisper your last line of defense. 

“But they can be there for each other with love and support,” Billy’s words surprise you. He pulls you into his arms. “I’ll never hurt you (Y/N), never lay a finger on you.”

“I’m sorry,” you rush out. “For what I said at school. It was rude and uncalled for, I was lashing out because it hurt.”

“I’m sorry too, for what I said and did,” he sighs before continuing. “I’m even sorry I pushed Harrington into those lockers.”

“You have to apologize to him,” you push lightly on his chest so he looks into your eyes and not at your lips. 

“Whatever you want,” he leans forward, finally capturing your lips with his. His lips are softer than you imagined, him being such a heavy smoker and all. Typically the smell of tobacco is a turn off for you, but with Billy it’s an inviting smell. The kiss is over too soon, you pull away as Billy goes to slip his tongue in your mouth. There was no way you would go that far in your kitchen. 

Whoops coming from Max and Carol make you extremely glad that you didn’t let the kiss get any deeper. The girls don’t need to see that, and you don’t know how far you two would have gotten before you remembered you weren’t alone. You laugh lightly before placing fingers to your slightly swollen lips. 

Max and Carol say their goodnights, winking at you tow before running off to your sisters room. You lead Billy up the stairs, the energy from both of you draining as you come back to Earth and realize just how tired everything you've gone through has made you two.

“I love you Billy,” you carefully snuggle closer to his chest. 

“I love you too (Y/N),” he gently runs his hand over your hair. 

It may not be conventional, but Billy Hargrove is undoubtedly the love of your life. Both of you have been dealt some pretty shitty cards, but it helps you understand the other better. As you lay in your bed with Billy, you and him make a plan to leave this dangerous city and move to California after graduation. For the first time in a long time, you fall asleep truly happy wrapped up in Billy’s bruised but strong arms.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​​ @rexorangecouny​​

[trashfor-imagines]

My Senpai | 4

Ushijima x Reader

Summary: You’re Goshiki Tsutomu’s older doting sister, second year at Shiratorizawa and captain of the girl’s track & field team. At your brother’s first practice you sneak in to support him and end up meeting the impressive force that is his captain. Warnings: None really. Mentions sex. Spoilers: We’re encroaching on manga territory. Takes place after Karasuno v Shiratorizawa.

Author’s Note: Sorry for not updating in forever! I lost my original chapter and got discouraged. I started rewatching Ushijima episodes to refresh my grasp on his character.

[1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5]

-

It was a shock. You never thought Shiratorizawa was capable of losing this year. Ushijima appeared unaffected, but that was just him. It was always mental for him and he had the ability to act with a sort of chivalric grace whenever faced with conflict. God, your boyfriend was really cool. Your brother, however, it broke your heart to see him cry.

After the award ceremony, you raced down to wait by the bus. Ushijima walked out first, his head held high. Noticing you, he simply rested his large hand on your head before getting on the bus. Quiet hello’s and thanks for coming’s were whispered to you. Your little brother could barely make eye contact, the last one to get on the bus. Reaching for his hand, you gave it a squeeze before letting it go and heading for the bus that brought the cheer squad.

The ride felt long. You spent most of it listening to music and playing with the sleeve of Ushijima’s spare team jacket he’d given you shortly after dating. You smiled and chatted occasionally with your fellow students, but the topics of discussion were focused on how Ushijima and the third years were doing. They expected you to have the answers and quite frankly, you thought it was obvious.

Getting back, you made your way into the gym to see the team working on serves. You sat quietly on the sidelines and watched as everyone gave their all, letting out their frustrations from the day. You never knew you could find the slams of volleyballs to be comforting to where they could put you to sleep. Or maybe you were just exhausted. Either way, you woke up from being carried.

“Wakatoshi,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to his chest.

The two of you snuck into your dorm room, stripping down into your underwear and entangling under the sheets. Ushijima’s body was like a radiator, warm and comforting.You ran your fingers through his hair patiently. If he wanted to talk, then he would. Until then, you whispered little praises to him, pressing kisses to his shoulder between sentences.

“I won’t lose again,” he spoke quietly.

Months passed and things continued to go well between the two of you. They were better than ever honestly. During Christmas you visited each other’s families at his request. You didn’t even have to prompt it! Your parents loved him. They thought he was quite the protector type and approved. His mother ended up accepting you once she realized you were intelligent and genuinely loved her son. Your personality had definitely thrown her for a loop.

Graduation was soon approaching and the two of you decided on a five year plan together. Long nights were spent discussing goals and dreams, wondering if they would be compatible with one another. He intended on going pro right after school; the Schweiden Adlers seemed most likely and they were based in Oita. You still had your third year of high school to finish, but you were applying to Kyushu University for architecture. It was in Fukuoka and closer than your other options to Oita. It was just a couple of hours by train or car. You also had plans to stick with track and field and keep your spot on the national team for as long as you could. You both had your eyes on the 2016 Olympics.

For a year the two of you managed to maintain a healthy long distance relationship.

After graduation, there were farewell and congratulatory parties almost every day, but the most fun for you was going apartment hunting, together. It was like a vacation, enjoying the beaches and hot springs. You spent a week staying at his apartment where the lease was ending soon. He said the two of you needed a new place together, that his current apartment wasn’t fitting enough for you. On your third day in Oita, Ushijima decided on the place, a 2 bed and 1.5 bath townhome instead of a one and one apartment. When you told him it was a bit expensive, he said it was perfect because he wanted you to have your own space at home to study for school without being bothered by him. You cried right there and he handled it like a champ. The two of you moved in a week before you started school.

“Wakatoshi!” you called to him from the rooftop terrace. He appeared, sticking his head out from the sliding glass door. You wiped your cheek, smudging dirt across your face. “Can you help me move this bag?”

He slipped on his outdoor shoes and walked over, lifting the bag of dirt and moving it to one of the two raised garden beds that he built earlier today. The two of you had plans for a small vegetable garden. “I thought we were going to plant seeds after lunch. I’m almost done cooking.”

“I know, I just got really excited. I was staring at your beautiful work and couldn’t help myself,” you cooed, giving him starry eyes.

Sighing, he set the bag down where you needed it before taking your hand and dragging you back inside. “We’ll do this after lunch. Together.”

“Aw, are you jealous I tried to start before you?” He didn’t say anything in response, making you grin. “My handsome farmer, I’m so sorry.”

After lunch, the two of you filled the garden beds with dirt and carefully planted seeds for carrots, lettuce, tomatoes, peas, basil, parsley, rosemary, thyme, marigolds, lavender, and scarlet plume celosia. Ushijima had done quite a bit of research on complimentary plants. Hours really. Hours spent doing online research and drawing diagrams of how the garden should be set up for its fullest potential.

You were watering one of the garden beds when you caught a glimpse of Ushijima squatting with a spade in his hand. It was so cute how concentrated he was and how much attention he was giving this simple task. Biting your lip, you sprayed him briefly. He blinked, as if not comprehending what happened and looked up, as if blaming the sky. A muffled laugh escaped you. You went back to watering the garden bed as he went inside. Minutes later you heard the glass door slide open and didn’t pay much mind to it. Suddenly you felt chilled and were thoroughly soaked. Moving your hair from your eyes, you looked up to see your boyfriend holding a bucket over your head.

“Wakatoshi!”

Soon you were off to university, moving into a small dorm room with a single suitcase. Your dorm was littered with photographs of you and Ushijima and it was hard to cope with the fact that you wouldn’t see him through at least the rest of summer, maybe not even until the end of September if your school’s track team did well.

For a month you and Ushijima would call or FaceTime every night and tell each other about your days. He was quite proud of the garden the both of you planted and would send you progress photos and then describe what he saw in fine detail. Honestly, you didn’t realize your boyfriend was capable of being so invested in something other than volleyball. There were a few times you tried spicing up your phone calls, but honestly Ushijima didn’t get it. He was terrible at phone sex. It was fine though. Summer break was.... just a few months away.

It was a Saturday night after track practice when you got a phone call from your boyfriend.

“Wakatoshi! You’re calling early. I haven’t gotten back to my dorm yet,” you spoke, excited to hear from him.

“(Y/N), I’m lost.”

Your brows raised in surprise. “Lost, how? Do you need me to look up how to fix something?”

“No, I’m somewhere on your university’s campus.”

You felt your heart skip and you immediately ran toward main campus. “Okay well tell me what you see.”

In thirty minutes you were in your dorm taking a shower and Ushijima was reading the newest shonen jump he picked up at the train station on your bedroom floor. You came out with your hair in a towel and one of Ushijima’s t-shirts you had stolen. He set aside his magazine and pulled you down into his lap, holding you tight.

“I’m so surprised you came. I’m so happy,” you squealed, burying your face into his neck and running your fingers through his hair.

“I missed you too. I can stay for two days, but then I must go home.”

Pulling back, you let your fingers run over the stubble on his jaw, pouting a bit, “So what do I owe this short visit?”

His stare was intense and a faint blush kissed his cheeks. “I recognize that a few times you’ve tried to... initiate some things on the phone. I admit I’m not very good at it, so hopefully my presence now can make up for my... lack of experience.”

“Wakatoshi,” you breathed out in surprise, gazing at him with so much love. He literally traveled almost three hours because you were horny without him. Pulling the towel from your hair, you knocked him over onto his back as you jumped him.

Visits like these happened sporadically and soon it was fall. Track and field season was over which meant you could make your weekend visits home to Oita. You’d leave Wednesday nights and head back to school on Sunday mornings. Despite the second bedroom serving as a private study for you, you found yourself curling up to Ushijima almost always - as long as he wasn’t busy.

This was life for a couple of years. The two of you had become quite the duo. In fact, throughout your relationship, you had only argued about two things:

You broke your phone once and he wasn’t able to contact you and he freaked out from not knowing what was going on.

He forgot your anniversary and cancelled on your date for volleyball and you laid in on him for it.

Things were great until the 2016 Olympic qualifiers came around. You had broken a metatarsal in your right foot at the first qualifying meet of the 2015 season. You were out for the next eight weeks and even then, you weren’t going to be in shape to qualify because you had to go through physical therapy and get your athletic abilities up to par. Your coach told you that staying on the national team, going pro, and qualifying for 2020 was still possible for you. It didn’t stop the feeling of complete and total devastation that wrecked you and you were jealous.

Ushijima wasn’t sure of how to help you; he’d never seen you so vulnerable before, never seen you so sad, but he did his best to support you, even if that meant being a punching bag. He was consistent, despite things he had going on for his own Olympic goals.

After two months it was summer break. You had to go through physical therapy and you moved back home to Oita, transitioning to online classes for the second term of the year. Because Ushijima’s love language was different from most, you found yourself being forced to do your PT homework exercises, no matter how down and bratty you got.

“Wakatoshi, I don’t want to do stairs,” you groaned, curling up into a ball on the couch.

“You must, or you won’t be ready to start training any time soon,” he replied simply.

Your foot was throbbing and you were on your period, and everything just felt like shit. All you wanted was to watch anime and eat the small bag of chips you had hidden under the blanket you were under. Ushijima had been so strict with your diet and honestly all you wanted were trans fats, sugar, and carbs. With ease, he ripped the blanket from you, exposing you in your underwear clutching a bag of Calbee honey butter flavored potato chips.

“You should get up and walk the stairs now,” he said, prying the bag of chips from your hands, “if you want these back.”

Throwing your legs over the couch, you winced, balling your hands into fists in frustration. You got up, favoring your left foot, which he noticed. He walked up the stairs and sat on the top step, waiting for you to follow. Biting your lip, you moved slowly, trying to ignore the pain. There were 14 steps to the top and you had to go up twice and down twice. You were doing fine until your second trek up the stairs. It was a misstep and you slipped and you were clinging to the stair case, crying. It was embarrassing for you to be like this in front of him. This sweet giant quickly enveloped you in his arms and had you lying on your side of the bed, gently caressing your foot as you sobbed through it.

When you were calm again, Ushijima left for a while before returning, dinner in hand. The two of you sat in bed and had the meal he made in silence. You’d barely eaten, but you waited until he finished before you curled up to his side.

“I’m so sorry, Wakatoshi.”

“I would be surprised it you took this easily. You’re a competitive person. It’s one of the things I find attractive about you,” he replied. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, his fingers gently running up and down along your own arm.

“Really?” you asked, feeling shy. He hummed in affirmation, glancing down to make eye contact. Smiling, you played with the hem of his shirt that was beginning to ride up. “What else do you... find attractive about me?”

“You’re thoughtful, kind. The way you pursue your passions and you’ve encouraged me to pursue my own; you believe in people wholeheartedly.” A thoughtful expression settled on his face as he spoke on effortlessly. He paused and his brows furrowed briefly before settling into a relaxed expression. “You’re beautiful.”

Placing a kiss to your forehead, you watched as he got up and headed to take his evening shower.

While you couldn’t compete, you concentrated on therapy and school and finished your courses early for your degree. You picked up a simple class to stay enrolled until your four years at school were up*, this way you could go back to competing your last year of university. The summer of 2016, Ushijima took you with him to Brazil. Japan didn’t win, but the competition was incredible. You got to meet with track and field athletes and it reignited your passion for competition.

You’d graduate come spring and then your focus was on 2020 Tokyo.

-

*In Japan, early graduation doesn’t exist. It was explained to me that if you attend a 4 year university, you have to be a student for 4 years before graduating, even if you complete your degree early.

tag list: @hihiq​

[heroinepose]

commencement

Midoriya Izuku x Reader Word Count: 2,130  Warnings: I’m about to rot your teeth out with all this fluff, friends.

Falling in love with your classmate is hard enough when you’re not training to save the public -- or, you know, actively doing it. A hero’s life (even in training) is never easy. You’re more than worth the wait.

I participated in @bnhaclaimedmysoul​‘s springtime event, and after talking to my sweetheart of a match, @gabbygee928​, I decided this was the only springtime story that could ever come out of this (since the Japanese school year ends/begins in spring, after all). Surprise, friend! I hope you love this, and thanks for being patient with me as I live that essential employee life!

Izuku told himself, when he met you during your first year at U.A., that he could do it.

He didn’t know a thing about your exam score or your grades, but as far as he was concerned, you were so smart, and kind, and -- perhaps most important of all -- you never made him that nervous. The first time you’d spoken for any length of time, he’d turned the color of a ripe strawberry and stayed that way nearly the whole time, but you were game to answer as many of his questions about your Quirk as he could fire off. It was easy, then, for the shoulders he’d hunched in borderline terror (So close!, he’d thought at the time) to relax, for you two to become fast friends. It was as if somebody had turned on a light.

You were so determined to become a great hero, to make the most of your three years, that despite the burgeoning crush he’d developed in the spaces between the peculiar concentration of earth-shattering events that had marked your first year together he could never bring himself to say anything. To distract you. He knew how much it meant to him to become a hero, after all. He could never fault you, never wanted to be the reason you lost focus.

Izuku told himself with a single-minded clarity that it would just have to wait. It would be worth it.

So, he waited.

To his credit, he was every bit the caring and considerate friend he would have been whether he’d developed a crush on you or not (although it really only seemed to get worse with time; in fact your romantically-interested roles in the play that 2-A had put on in second year had very nearly broken him). You’d studied together, in groups and by yourselves, when either of you started struggling or when exams were coming up. He had the most vivid memory of sitting next to you in the common room one night, the smell of your shampoo heavy in your still-damp hair as you pored over your work-study options, trying to find the right fit. He’d mostly listened, then, helped you as a sounding board for weighing pros and cons and trying to find a way to set yourself up for success. In the end, you’d said that the decision had really been brought on by him -- how, he didn’t know, but the thought that you’d credited something so serious to his intervention made his face flush and his body burn hot.

For your part, although you didn’t know anything about your classmate’s gargantuan crush, you certainly held him in high regard. He was so good at more or less anticipating what you needed or understanding how to help you that it made you feel … well, loved, even if just platonically. Izuku was probably the most analytical person you knew, so it just seemed natural at first that he knew you best. He probably knew most people best. It felt right to try to keep up with his level of enthusiasm, and for the most part, it was challenging, but doable. You didn’t know about One For All, of course, but you were there as he grew with it, made it his own, without ever really having the full context for his unbridled joy with each milestone he hit. Every achievement, every new step, every contagious, megawatt smile had made your heart lurch, and that was when you realized it. 

You loved Midoriya Izuku a little more than platonically.

But, you’d rationalized, if he’d felt the same way he surely would have said something. He was just sweet to just about everyone, always trying to be a good friend and be helpful. He was probably just treating you the way he would treat anyone who would let him, and as much as that hurt, you reasoned it couldn’t be helped. Not all love was requited, after all, and you didn’t want to make things weird.

You had a job offer six weeks into third year. It was contingent, of course, on your successful completion of U.A.’s Hero Course and obtaining your license within a certain period, but that all just seemed like static as you flew down the stairs two at a time to tell anyone and everyone within earshot. Mina had been the first to intercept you, commotion kicking up in an instant because you’d started yelling, and then she’d started yelling, and then Bakugo had started yelling because the two of you were yelling and getting on his nerves. Izuku had stuck his head around the corner long enough for you to notice, and you beelined for him without really thinking.

“They want me! Izuku, they want to keep me on as a sidekick!” His face was blank for a long moment, trying to keep up with the commotion before splitting into the biggest grin you’d seen on him yet. Your heart swelled, and before you could stop yourself, you’d thrown your arms around him, laughing. Izuku froze for a moment, suddenly aware of the number of eyes in the room, before you spoke again. “Thank you for helping me so much. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Slowly, carefully, he lifted his arms and squeezed back. It was brief, but full of feeling -- at least, he hoped. “You did all the hard stuff,” he managed, patting your back as you pulled away from him. “They would have been crazy not to give you an offer!”

The way your face was lit up with excitement, turning to show Kaminari and Sero the e-mail you’d received and chattering animatedly with Uraraka over their shoulders as she suggested celebrating … his heart almost couldn’t take it. That’s when he decided: this would be the year. He’d have to focus on getting in with an agency of his own, sure. Exams would be harder than ever. There were licensure exams to take, too, but by graduation, all of that would be behind you both. Graduation … he’d tell you then, for sure.

Of course, by the time graduation actually rolls around, he’s just about psyched himself out of saying anything at all. Your agencies aren’t forever away from one another, but what if it’s too complicated? What if you say no anyway, because you want to focus on getting started? Maybe he should wait, just one more year couldn’t --

It almost doesn’t matter, as mobbed as you both are all day. He catches your eyes across the courtyard more than once, but either he or you are awash in a sea of friends, underclassmen and classmates with well-wishes and flowers and requests to stay in touch. (He really has no idea how you’re carrying all of the bouquets, but it’s endearing.) The sun is low in the sky before he finally catches up to you, the near-empty courtyard bathed in yellow-orange light that makes the blossoms on the trees lining U.A.’s long path look almost red. He’s calling your name and taking off at a run before he really knows what he’s doing, the way he always has when it really matters. You stop in your tracks, looking over your shoulder just in time for him to put on the brakes and come to a stop near you. 

“Don’t -- don’t go anywhere just yet,” he pants, as if he doesn’t do this literally all the time. “There’s something I have to say. I-If I don’t tell you now I don’t think I’m ever going to get to tell you.” It’s quite the statement, to be sure, and you can’t help but be a little confused.

“Izuku,” you laugh, turning to look at him fully as he catches his breath. Despite the fact that he’d grown taller, filled out, managed to look just that little bit tougher over the last three years, for some reason you still saw him as the wide-eyed boy who spoke to you that first week and had suddenly decoded everything about your Quirk. “It’s not like I’m dying, I’m still going to be around. You can still text me, and we can still meet up if --”

“Please,” he says again, and it’s with such conviction that it stops you dead. A sort of warmth blooms in your chest, mouth full of cotton and anticipation. Something in you seems to know what’s coming before he says it: “I like you. I’ve always liked you.”

The tiny what that leaves your mouth doesn’t deter him in the least; it wouldn’t be Izuku if it did. “When we met in first year, you were always so on top of things, you worked so hard … I-I didn’t want to distract you. I thought it’d be unfair to do that to you, as much as you talked about your plans and what you wanted to do. Of course then things started getting out of hand and it was pretty easy to act like nothing was wrong, but I always -- I always thought of you as more than a friend. I kept thinking it’d be okay, but I couldn’t wait anymore.” His chest is heaving as if he’s run a marathon, heart slamming against his ribcage. Briefly, he thinks he’d rather be fighting a villain than waiting for your answer, but the chime of the school’s clock signaling the late afternoon hour is all he gets for a long moment. It’s … worrisome.

It strikes you suddenly that you feel like crying. Not because you’re upset -- far from it -- but as the tears start to burn at the edges of your eyelids, you can see the worry bleeding into his face about it, and you wave the hand not holding your bag somewhat frantically to try to get him to stop. The smile you give him is only a little bit watery, a laugh bubbling from the tightness in your throat. He starts to explain in his typical Izuku way, rapid-fire and almost too low to hear, that you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but you cut him off.

“All this time, here I was waiting for you when we could have been together all this time.”

He feels like his heart stops so abruptly he might pass out. He might, actually, pass out. “What?” It’s almost as small as yours had been, and he would be more embarrassed if he wasn’t so shocked.

“Do you just not have eyes?” His face flushes, eyes comically wide, and you can’t help the smile that spreads slow across your face. “Of course I like you too. I thought I couldn’t have been more obvious.”

Izuku is relatively certain he’s kicked the habit of bursting into a torrent of tears when he’s overwhelmed by then, but for a moment, he feels like it might make a comeback. You’re trying to keep yourself composed, laughing at the dumbfounded expression on his face when you feel his arms lock around you and drop your bag full of bouquets and gifts in shock. Your feet aren’t even on the ground anymore -- he’s strong enough after all this time to lift you with ease, you think idly, before your arms are around his neck and he’s burying his face in your shoulder like the scent of your fabric softener is the only thing he needs to breathe for the rest of his life. 

It may very well be. He spins you once, laughing into your blazer as you squeal in delight and squeeze him for security before setting you back on your feet, keeping hold of you until he knows you have your balance. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.”

“Izuku, you just told me it was three years. If you tell me you’ve been stalking me since middle school, we’re going to have to have a conversation.” Izuku chokes, and you laugh, pulling your hands from his shoulders and straightening yourself out a little where you became disheveled in his grip. For a few moments, you just enjoy each other’s presence, and the fading light reflected in the panes of glass on the facade of the school that brought you together. It’s quite something, now that you think of it, leaving it behind. 

“I wish I wasn’t leaving today,” you breathe, suddenly aware that you’ll be separated by more than a couple of floors for the first time in years. It seems too far -- maybe it’s always seemed too far, although you know you won’t be out of reach, necessarily. What’s a couple of trains between lovers?

You feel Izuku’s hands cupping your jaw, and for a moment, you think he’ll kiss you. If he wanted to, he could, but the nervous energy buzzing under his skin is telling him not yet, not just now. Soon, though. Instead, he smiles, bright as ever. It’s like daylight has come out again. “Let me walk you to the train,” he offers, and you smile back, heart full to bursting in your chest as he lowers a hand to take yours, lace your fingers together. You move to pick up your bag, but he beats you to it, hoisting it over his shoulder and grinning at you the way he always has.

He kisses you goodbye on the platform instead, chaste and sweet, texting you to make plans before you’ve even made it to your stop. You catch your own smile in the window of the train, and you wonder how you ever missed that he felt the same, already looking up activities halfway between your agencies.

[astaralys]

A Frozen modern AU oneshot

Oneshot collection can be read on: FFN | AO3

[Backstory chapter, direct continuation of oneshot #3, Searching] In which Anna officially moves in with Elsa.

-----

Anna sifts through the stranger and collects details like flecks of gold buried in the sands of time.

When she follows her sister through the airport and realises she still has to look up even though Elsa is only wearing flats: Wow, she's taller than me.

When Elsa tries to help her with the luggage and nearly drops it on her own foot: … But not exactly stronger. Got it.

When they get into a small white car: Oh, she does drive.

When Elsa struggles so badly to merge lanes she misses their exit on the freeway: Oh my God. She can't drive.

Anna tries so hard not to grip the door handle for security that she can't remember what she spends the ride rambling about. Her sister is mostly silent, all hums, terse nods and white-knuckled hands on the steering wheel. Anna tells herself it's because all of Elsa's focus is going into keeping them on the road, and not because Elsa, like, hates her or anything. That's absurd.

Right?

When they reach the city, Elsa's driving suddenly improves; Anna suspects it's because there's so much traffic they're barely moving. Sitting at a red light (Elsa slammed on the brakes when it turned yellow), Anna is so captivated by the bustle beyond her window that she nearly misses her sister tentatively asking, "Do you have your license yet?"

Anna snaps her head around too keenly, and winces when she sees Elsa flinch. Is she scared of me? "Sorry? Oh—my license? Ah, no, I kinda, um, failed the test. Twice. But I know how to drive!"

Elsa blinks, and Anna panics—crap, she thinks I'm a total dunce for failing twice—but then the lights go green. Almost immediately, the car behind them honks impatiently and startles them both.

Seeing her sister's shoulders tense up again ignites something inside Anna. She twists in her seat, stares straight through the rear window, and glares at the other driver. She can't tell if they can see her, but she likes to think it was the heat of her wrath that sent them scurrying into the nearest side street.

"What a stinker," Anna huffs as she turns back around. Then she remembers that it's not Kai in the seat beside her, and flushes as she glances towards Elsa. "Am I embarrassing? I'm embarrassing, aren't I? Hans always says so—i-in a nice way, of course. Like, you know, 'you adorable dork' or—"

"You're not embarrassing," Elsa says quietly. There's a pause as she carefully navigates an intersection. Then, "Hans is a friend?"

Oh, Anna realises. I'm not the only one playing detective.

"He's, um, a little more than that."

Elsa's surprise manifests as an especially jerky stop at a pedestrian crossing. "You're dating someone?"

The urge to defend him rises from nowhere. "You'll like Hans! He's a perfect gentleman with the sweetest sense of justice. He just graduated from law school. And he likes chocolate and sandwiches, just like me."

He didn't like you moving across the country, a niggling voice reminds her. Anna purses her lips and pushes the thought to the back of her mind.

"I'm sorry. That question came out strange." Elsa glances at Anna, adding softly, "Sometimes I forget that you're not five years old anymore."

"Well, we're lucky you remembered today, or you never would have found me in the airport. Waaait a minute… why didn't we just go to the information desk and tell them to make an announcement?"

To her surprise, Elsa laughs. "Haven't you had enough of that for a lifetime? You used to get lost every time we went shopping with Mom and Dad."

The memories come flooding in like a storm carving up a forgotten river. "Hey, you got lost all the time, too!"

"You got us both lost all the time."

The warm glow fills Anna's chest and remains there as Elsa turns into a long driveway leading down into the basement of one of the tallest apartments. Elsa takes a full five minutes to park, and then they're zipping up in the elevator.

Following Elsa down the plushly carpeted hallway, Anna discreetly pinches herself. Ow. It's actually happening. It doesn't matter that Hans planted that horrible question in her head ("You haven't lived with your sister in over thirteen years, Anna. How do you know she even loves you anymore?")—she's here. Elsa's here. They'll be coming home together from now on.

Then they reach the door at the very end of the hallway, fitted with one of those fancy keyless locks, and as Elsa reaches for it, she seems to remember something and says rather awkwardly, "It's your birthday."

She forgot.

It shouldn't be so surprising—Elsa hasn't been there for thirteen years of birthdays. Their parents would always give Anna 'a present from Elsa', but Anna knows how hard it is to pick out something for a sister she sees once a year at Christmas ("She likes books," Grandpa replied every time Anna called for research). And Elsa's presents are always a little too perfect, as if she still sleeps on the top bunk and can't escape twelve-year-old Anna gushing about skateboards. And after Anna noticed that, it became harder to ignore the voice that kept wondering if those presents were really from Elsa—a voice that is now smugly saying: I told you so.

"Y-Yeah! It was actually two months ago but time sure does fly. It was a super fun day—Hans and I went to an amusement park. I spent, like, two hours at the bottle toss trying to win this cute Baymax plushie. I've got it in my suitcase; I'll show you later. It's the best cuddle buddy ever."

This gets her an odd look from Elsa, but a beep from the lock distracts them both. Elsa opens the door. She steps back, gesturing shyly for Anna to enter first.

"There had better not be a trapdoor in there," Anna jokes. She doesn't know why she's nervous about this moment. It's a door. It's open.

She steps through.

Her first thought is that everything is minimalistic and very white. An open kitchen with an oak splashback against pale tiles. Cream carpet visible through a glass coffee table sitting in front of a light grey leather couch that looks more like a recliner for one than a place to watch Netflix with friends or sisters.

Even the bookshelves standing sentry on either side of the wall-mounted television contain neat rows of books with the stark pages facing outward. Anna opens her mouth to make a quip about finding any books—but then her curious gaze falls on the small dining table with its single placemat and chair.

Why does this detail hurt so much?

"This place is amazing! I bet myself ten bucks that you had great taste." Even Anna can tell she sounds too loud, too bright. "Remind me to treat myself. I'm craving chocolate fondue right now. Actually, scratch that. I'm always craving chocolate fondue. Any good places around here? Please say yes."

She hopes Elsa still likes chocolate and building snowmen.

Elsa hovers by the shoe cabinet, her left hand loosely gripping her right elbow. "Yes. I'll take you someday. Would you like to see your room?"

Anna catches herself on the verge of saying something stupid like 'Of course! It's the whole reason I'm here.'

"That's the bathroom." Elsa points to a door at the end of a short corridor, then gestures to two other doors on either side. "My room. Your room. I was only using it as a study, so it's very empty after I moved the desk to my room. We can—"

"Relax, sis! I'm so easy. All I need is a—" Anna throws open the door. "—bed."

It's literally the only piece of furniture in the room.

"Woooow. You really weren't kidding about empty, huh?"

Behind her, Elsa sounds apologetic. "I wasn't sure how you wanted to set it up, so I only got a bed. If the mattress is too hard or too soft for you, we can exchange it tomorrow. Or if you don't like the view, you can take my room instead. It really doesn't—"

"I love it." Anna spins around with a grin. "This means we get to go shopping together! But let's get IKEA to deliver to us, yeah? Your Mini Cooper can only fit, like, two-thirds of a flatpack. Ooh, I've seen apps that let you drag furniture onto photos to see how the room looks with—" She's interrupted by a shockingly huge yawn. "Goodness, 'scuse me. Where was I? Right—apps… Elsa? Where are you going?"

Her sister returns with the suitcase. "You just got off a plane; change into something comfortable and get some rest. Dessert and furniture can wait until tomorrow."

"But I'm not—" Another yawn swallows up the rest of Anna's sentence. "—sleepy… Okay, fine. But promise you'll wake me up for dinner, or my rumbling tummy will wake you in the middle of the night."

Elsa promises, and then the door closes with the softest of clicks.

Anna listens, but there's carpet and her sister moves so quietly that it feels like she's back in the big house. Alone. Except she's not.

She checks her phone. Nothing from Hans. She sends him a quick message to say she's arrived at Elsa's place, then looks around at her new room, and decides not to add a photo.

Her suitcase springs open as soon as she unlocks it, spilling her life across the floor. Gerda helped her pack, but none of her neat folding survives the trial of Anna digging for something to sleep in. Anna changes into pyjama bottoms and one of Hans' shirts.

Then her gaze catches on a grey, threadbare sweater.

There's a cartoon graphic of a single slice of pizza. The rest of the pizza is on her father's sweater; a matching Father's Day gift that immediately became a game of chicken. If one of them wore their sweater in the house, the other had to wear theirs, no matter how sweltering the day. It drove her mother crazy. "Can you two please stop wearing those long enough for me to wash them?" she used to sigh.

Now, pulling the sweater over her head, Anna realises in the darkness that it's the little details. It's the fact that their sweater streak was still unbroken when she answered the door to find two police officers solemnly waiting. It's electricity and phone bills that continue to pay themselves, because direct debits don't care that Anna's parents are gone. It's not being able to send videos of Elsa's horrible driving to the group chat because no one else will see them.

A knock on the door startles her. She whirls around with her head still stuck in the sweater and—oh no, bad idea.

"Anna? I forgot to give you… are you okay? I heard a loud noise."

Lying winded on her back, Anna wheezes, "Nothing! My shirt just fell."

"That was very loud for a shirt."

"Yeah, um, that's because I was kind of in it."

The door opens as she sits up. "Did you break anything?" Elsa asks as she helps Anna get her head through the sweater.

"God, I hope not. Keep all your favourite mugs away from me. Actually, keep all your expensive stuff away because I'm ridiculously uncoordinated. As you can see."

"I meant bones, Anna. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Oh." Anna lets out a laugh, rubbing an elbow. "Totally fine. Super thick skull. What did you forget?"

Elsa gestures towards the bed, where she's placed a stack of bath towels. "To give you towels in case you want to take a shower first."

"Thanks. Wow. That's… a lot of colours."

"I wasn't sure which ones you liked."

Anna blinks at her sister. Who might have given her a spare room with nothing but a bed, yet bought towels in literally every colour of the rainbow, just for Anna.

"Oh, and this." Elsa holds out a silver key. "In case the keyless lock fails for any reason. There's a panel you can slide down to open the door normally with this key."

The key feels both light and heavy in Anna's hands. She flashes Elsa a grateful grin. "I'm going to use this every day because that pin code looked so long, I'd forget it every day."

"I don't think you will."

"Hah. You don't know how bad my memory is." And Elsa really doesn't know, does she? There are so many things they don't know about each other.

But then Elsa cocks her head to one side and says, "You can't forget it. I told you: it's your birthday. Month, date, year."

When Anna stares speechlessly for too long, Elsa hurriedly adds, "When I moved in, I was told not to use my own birthday because it's too obvious, so the first thing I thought of was yours—b-but we can change it to your phone number if that's easier for you. Or maybe… Anna? Are you okay?"

The details Anna has collected scatter as she throws her arms around Elsa for the second time that day. Except this time, it doesn't feel like she's hugging a stranger.

When Elsa awkwardly rubs her back, Anna wipes her eyes on her favourite sweater and thinks: That's my sister.

[antigoneawake]

a n t i g o n e   k e n n e d y   g r a v e s

basics:

name: antigone kennedy graves. pronunciation: an·ti·guh·nee keh·nuh·dee grahvs. meaning: antigone- in place of a mother, unbending, against, compared to, like. kennedy- misshapen head or fierce headed. birthday: september 13th. age: nineteen. pronouns: they, she & her. sexuality: pansexual. siblings: archibald graves (triplet), ajax graves (triplet). parents: john graves & elaine graves nee kennedy. other family: darcy kennedy (grandmother). languages: english. current residence: the graves triplet’s london flat. hometown: boston, massachusetts; new york city, new york.

wizard fun:

hogwarts house: ravenclaw. year of graduation: 1979. occupation: intern at the department of mysteries. pet: none. tig does bring home many strays to care for, though. blood status: pureblood. species: witch. patronus: goldfish. it symbolizes prosperity. it brings good luck and good fortune. with its golden scales and colorful patterns, they are associated with much wealth which it will share to those it guides. the gold fish is naturally strong. a big fish for its kind, it swims powerfully to get to where it wants. it also symbolizes a dragon in ancient eastern and oriental traditions, with legend holding that it can transform into a water dragon. its transformative powers make it a sign of power and virility. they exist in naturally serene environments. to view the goldfish and koi is to be reverted into a meditative state. this brings about a feeling of calmness and peace to those that see this animal as a guide. it causes those that see it to be still as well, easing their worries and letting their minds work more freely.  boggart: the memory of her parents bodies in their caskets. the idea of her brothers there with them. amortentia:   candy apple.  one of tig’s favorite treats that reminds her of the best memories of carnivals and festivals with her brothers back at home.  lavender.  lavender has always been tig’s favorite scent. her mother wore it in her perfume and tig also wears it. they used to grow small planters of lavender in their back yard too.  sea salt.  antigone loves the ocean. she always has. it is a life long dream of hers to live her life on the beach next to the ever present waves.  wand type: 9″ willow wood, thunderbird tail feather, springy.  willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. while many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.  thunderbird wands were powerful but difficult to master, and were good for transfiguration work. wands with thunderbird tail feather cores, like the birds the feathers are taken from, are able to sense danger and can cast curses on their own. wands with thunderbird tail feather cores have been known to fire curses pre-emptively when supernatural dangers are present. affiliation: neutral.

appearance:

height: 5′4″. hair color: strawberry blonde. eye color: teal. typical hair style: antigone wears her hair long. it has soft curls that almost look beach like in their waves. she often wears her hair up in a simple ponytail with a big bow.  fashion style: tig wears sneakers, straight lined skirts or dresses, peter pan collars, and sweaters. she likes a soft palette of pastel colors. she occasionally wears overalls and high waisted shorts. her skates are always on her person. she loves floral patterns, simple colors, and plaids. [ fashion ] distinguishing features: tig has a look of otherness about her. her eyes are never quite focused on what is in front of her. she has a sprinkling of freckles on her face and a few scars on her arms from being caught in a rose bush as a kid.

personality:

positive traits: contemplative. amiable. open-minded. negative traits: unreliable. naive. nervous. theme song: something wild by lindsey stirling ft andrew mcmahon

headcanons:

tig doesn’t usually have pockets, actually. if she does, it’s because she’s wearing her overalls and if that’s the case, she has rocks and sticks in her pockets. she usually wears a dress or skirts that lack pockets, but she makes up for it by almost always having a pink knapsack with her. it was a gift from her brothers on one of their birthdays. in her bag, she almost always has a deck of tarot cards, a tiger’s eye and turquoise, bandages, dice, mints, bubblegum, an ink pen, a quill and ink pot, colored pencils, ribbons, sheet music, and there is always an assortment of sticks, leaves, and flower petals.

antigone has always been partial to the spring. she likes to watch the world bloom. tig has always had a special and loving connection with nature and it certainly feels the most powerful during the spring. the air is refreshing and breezing, and she will spend hours just laying in the grass on those days. 

she’s a rainy day kind of girl. is there anything better in this life than being caught in a spring shower? antigone graves thinks not. rain is even more beautiful to her because it can make her divinations decidedly more clear. she will stand letting the raindrops in her face for hours and has been caught doing it before. as a younger girl, her grandmother would chide her for coming home soaking wet and catching colds from it.

biography:

TW: death, parental death

The Graves family is one of the most well-known and revered pureblooded families in America and has been so for generations. John and Elaine met through an arranged engagement. However, unlike many who found themselves in a similar position, the couple fell deeply in love. They took up residence in a large colonial house right outside Boston. John focused on climbing the political ladder at MACUSA while Elaine delved into a promising fashion career.

Their pregnancy came as a bit of a shock several years into their marriage. That is, to everyone but John’s mother, a well-known seer who had long said they would have a rare miracle arriving. While they hadn’t planned it, they were both very pleased to begin a family. The surprises continued when they were told that they would be having triplets. Elaine opted to take a step away from the world of fashion so that John might continue his work in Congress. His career was at a crossroads that could not be put on hold. In fact, the choices he made during this time would change the course of his entire family.

The triplets were born just as the Massachusetts leaves had begun to change color and fall. Autumn welcomed them to the world. Antigone was born the middle of the three. A brother on either side and all born just before midnight.

Their childhood was one filled with incredible privilege and opportunities. The triplets were very well educated. Even before they started school at the Salem Institute for Witches, they were well versed in both general education and magical theories. From the beginning, Antigone showed a particular proclivity towards divinations, herbology, and care of magical creatures. Her grandmother was happy to groom her seeing abilities. She always had an innate curiosity. Her wonder for the world often drove her to study anything that she could care for, whether it be flora or fauna. No one could deny that she had a desire to care for things. A trait that was always praised and encouraged by her family.

It was in the triplet’s third year that rumors began to swirl about her father’s political dealings. He had obviously been angling to become President for some time. However, his staunch belief in pureblood supremacy and ties to controversial movements left the public torn in opinion of him. Antigone struggled to believe that her father, one of the most loving and kind men she knew, could ever be how these people described him. They even portrayed her mother as some sort of icy woman. That’s how she knew it all to be untrue. Her father even publicly stepped back from his more controversial views, appeasing most.

What she thought of the rumors would cease to matter as they ended their fourth year of school. An owl came to their headmistress in the dead of night. John and Elaine Graves had both been found dead in their Boston home. An angry citizen who disagreed with his views was the final word, but Antigone certainly didn’t believe it. It didn’t feel right, and all seers knew to trust their instincts above everything. There were too many signs that indicated it was not any wizard. It had to have been a hitwizard, although there was no telling which side ended up hiring them.

While their mother had no siblings or much family to speak of, John had a previously estranged sister in Europe who agreed to take in the now orphaned triplets. It was a large paradigm shift for Antigone and her brothers, who had always been taught that halfbloods and purebloods who did not remain so were dangerous to their way of life. Their father had not said more than a few sentences on his sister for the entirety of their lives. Frankly, Antigone forgot that she had an aunt more often than not. For the woman to show such open kindness and hospitality has her questioning everything that she’d ever been taught growing up.

Moving to a new country and beginning school in an entirely new place still feels like the carpet was pulled out from under her. However, Antigone realized her potential for change here. The last thing she wanted was to end up like her father and mother. Perhaps there was more she could learn from being more open-minded. That being said, she is realizing that there is more to learn and unlearn than she ever realized before and at times, it was all impossible to keep up with.

Hogwarts held its own set of challenges. The curriculum was different, there were people who had known each other for a lifetime that she’d barely remember, Antigone never knew who she could trust and who she couldn’t. What’s more, the world outside was storming. There was a brewing war that they had all been thrust into, and she had no idea where to stand. What she did know was that the images in the leaves told her horrible stories of the future. Stories that terrified her.

Graduation came before she knew it. With her father’s name in politics and her grandmother’s reputation as a seer, Antigone was offered several jobs off the bat. Finally, she decided to take on an internship in the Department of Mysteries as it felt like where she was most needed and useful. Working inside a government that she barely understands in a job that is nearly impossible to explain is a trial in and of itself. Luckily, it does the job to distract her from everything which wants to pull her towards either side of the conflict surrounding her.

[artificialqueens]

The mistakes we're going to make (Jan/Jackie) - Meggie

A/N: Hey all! I had the pleasure of writing this little gem for Molly for our gc’s gift exchange. I really enjoy writing this dynamic, and I hope you all enjoy it too! Thank you to Mac, Mia, and Alex for prereading for me. Y'all are the real MVPs.

Summary: when i look at you, all i can see are the mistakes we’re going to make (the future’s so bright)

They’re graduating high school tomorrow night, but all Jan can think about is her calculus final and whether or not she can scrape by with an A.

She’s done the calculations approximately 47 times (and had Jackie check them over nine more because Jan’s shit at math now apparently), and she knows she has to make an 82 on the final to pull an A in the class. And that will get her an 89.5 which rounds to an A. She’d rather not cut it that close, thank you very much.

To anyone else, a B would not be the end of the world, but it would be Jan’s only B. Ever. To get out of high school with a perfect GPA, an unblemished transcript, a perfect record… That’s been her goal ever since she graced the hallways of R.P. Charles High School three years ago.

So after finishing Ms. West’s history final, she pulls out her calc book and dutifully studies her notes. They’re meticulous, her rounded penmanship in stark black ink. She purses her lips and wonders if she has enough time to redo them in colored ink according to her color-coding system.

Behind her, Brita mutters to herself and furiously erases a sentence in her essay. Written responses have always been her downfall. To Jan’s right, Gigi takes a mirror out of her purse and retouches her lipstick.

“Why are you studying?” Gigi whispers. “You literally just finished a test, and it’s a half day. We’re done after this.”

“Yeah, but my calc test is tomorrow, and Ms. Hytes is not as lenient a grader as Ms. West.” Jan sighs and runs a hand through her hair.

Gigi pulls a face. “God, why’d you even take calc? You didn’t need the credit.” Gigi had taken personal health instead of a math class. She said their final was about sexually transmitted infections, which apparently is the new name for sexually transmitted diseases.

Jan shrugs. “I wanted to be—”

“—valedictorian, yeah, I know,” Gigi finishes. “Well, anyway. That didn’t work out the way you planned, did it?”

At the front of the room, Ms. West clears her throat and widens her eyes at the girls. Gigi sits back in her desk and primly folds her hands. Jan is free to once again study her notes, but Gigi’s last words still sting.

She had only taken calculus because it was an AP class, guaranteed to get her extra GPA points she would need to wrap up the valedictory. What she hadn’t counted on was being terrible at calculus.

Sure, geometry hadn’t been a walk in the park, but trig had been a piece of cake. So she figured that with a little bit of extra studying, she could carve out an A and stake her claim on the title of valedictorian, something she’d wanted ever since she had learned what the valedictorian was. (Kindergarten. When her parents had taken her to see her cousin graduate. And the pretty girl at the front had gotten up to make a speech in front of all her classmates, and everyone had to pay attention to her for a whole ten minutes while she talked about things that were important to her. Jan wanted that.)

But in March after third quarter grades were calculated and the honors had been announced, she’d ended up salutatorian, literally two hundredths of a point behind Jackie Cox. It had been a two-man race between her and Jackie all throughout high school, but the difference had been that damn calculus class. Jackie had an A; Jan had a B.

Jan’s parents had doted on her just the same as they would have if she’d been valedictorian, taking her to dinner at her favorite restaurant, celebrating with cake and sparkling grape juice out of the champagne flutes usually reserved for New Year’s Eve, but Jan couldn’t help but sense a little tinge of disappointment behind their smiles. Close, but no cigar. She’d still give a speech, but it would be shorter, and no one really cared what the salutatorian had to say. She’d worked so hard for four years to achieve the top honor and now she had to stand back and watch someone else deliver her valedictory.

Even if that someone was her very close friend.

There’s a certain closeness that develops between students when you take all the same classes for four years, and Jackie Cox had been in all of Jan’s classes since freshman year. By design, their schedules had ended up being very similar. It helped that they were into the same extracurricular activities as well. They were both athletic, both involved in student government and the debate team. They even both participated in the spring musicals: Jan onstage in a lead role, Jackie backstage as part of the tech crew.

But as their friendship grew so did their rivalry, at least on Jan’s part. She’d always seen Jackie as a reminder that she had to work harder to be her best. With Jackie, everything always seemed so effortless. Her poise, her perfection, even the way she spoke and carried herself. Jan felt like she herself was constantly obsessing over everything she thought and said. When she looked at Jackie, she felt like the other girl just had a natural ease about her.

She’d tried for years to be more like Jackie. But the feeling grew especially deep after they’d received their first calculus quizzes in October and Jan’s was emblazoned with a fat, red D. Jackie’s, on the other hand, sported an A.

Ms. Hytes had asked Jan to stay behind after class so she could encourage her to either drop the class or consider hiring a tutor.

Failure was absolutely out of the question. So Jan asked for help. She asked Jackie for help.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for Jackie, she wouldn’t be pulling a B in calculus. Not at all. In fact, she probably would have failed out at semester.

So now that there’s this final that she has to prepare for, there’s only one person she trusts to help her study for it.

Jan catches Jackie in the hallway (their lockers are nowhere close because that’s the way life—and the alphabet—works, but Jan is good at getting what she wants), and asks her if she feels ready for the final tomorrow.

Jackie sighs, the exhalation blowing the dark curtain of hair off her forehead. “I mean, I think. I might look over my notes again tonight. You feel good about it?”

Jan laughs, high-pitched, a tell-tale sign of her anxiety. She hates that she wears her emotions like an oversized sweater. “No, actually. That’s kind of why I’m here.”

So anyway, that’s how they end up on Jan’s bedroom floor, calculus books open in their laps, a plate of chocolate chip cookies and glasses of Dr Pepper set aside because Jackie is a Professional when it comes to this whole studying thing.

(That’s probably why she’s the valedictorian and you’re not, a hateful, nasty voice whispers in the back of Jan’s head. Because she’s dedicated to studying and you’re worried about whether or not she likes your cookies.)

She won’t think about the fact that for the past six months, she’s also been concerned about whether or not Jackie likes her.

It’s not exactly something she’s prepared to deal with.

Jan’s dated before, of course, but they’ve always been boys. And now, all of a sudden and by some act of whatever god exists, she finds herself having a massive crush on Jackie.

So she’s bisexual. It’s fine. She’s had years to deal with this, and she’s always kind of wondered.

Honestly, she’s chalking it up to academic jealousy.

Jan just wants to be like her, that’s all. It has nothing to do with the way her long, dark hair cascades in waves down her back, or the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs, or the way Jackie had caught her backstage right before opening night of Carousel and grasped her hands and told her to break a leg and knock them dead and basically be the best Carrie anyone had ever seen before kissing her cheek.

Except it totally does.

“So to compute the three-by-three you have to multiply A by the two-by-two determinant of the matrix,” Jackie says, marking something in her notebook. “Now, how do I get that?”

“Huh?” Jan asks stupidly, brought back from her reverie by the question. “God, I’m sorry. I’m just…” She scrubs her hands down her face then immediately regrets it because her eyeliner is now definitely smeared. “I’m out of it.”

Jackie nods and presses her lips together. She breathes in quickly like she’s going to say something, but changes her mind at the last minute. She taps her pencil on her notebook.

“Sorry I’m wasting your time,” Jan says sheepishly. “You can go if you want…”

“No!” Jackie says quickly. “No, it’s not that. I just… I’m just wondering…” She sighs. “Things have been kind of weird between us ever since spring break… Since the honors were announced, and I just…” She shrugs. “I guess I just want to know if you like, hate me for being valedictorian over you.”

Jan gasps. “I could never hate you.” She hadn’t known that her disappointment was quite so palpable. Then she decides that Jackie deserves to know the absolute truth. “I was disappointed. My parents expect a lot out of me, and they… They’ve been pushing for this since, like, forever. I just didn’t want to let them down.”

Jackie’s eyes widen. “Salutatorian is letting them down?”

Jan shakes her head. “You don’t know my parents.”

“No. But I think I kind of understand. ” Jackie closes her book and pulls her knees into her chest. “You know my parents immigrated from Iran, right? So like, the American dream? That’s all they want for me. And that includes college. A good one.” She laughs. “My mom wants me to be a doctor.”

“What do you want to be?” Jan asks quietly.

Jackie’s quiet for a moment before she shakes her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think anyone’s actually asked me that before. Isn’t that wild? I’m 18, and I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life.”

Jan shrugs. “We’re 18. I don’t think we’re supposed to know what we want to do with the rest of our lives.”

“I know one thing I want to do, though,” Jackie says, smiling. “When I get to college, I’m going to kiss a girl. I’ve always wanted to. I mean, I know I’m gay so like. That’ll be nice.”

“You can’t do that here?”

“Are you kidding?” She scoffs. “My mother would kill me. And that’s before my dad finds out.”

Jan shrugs. “You could kiss me. If you wanted.” Her cheeks fill with color. She’s never this brash, this forward. But the opportunity had presented itself and she’d taken it. “I mean, or not. Whatever. It’s fine—”

“Jan.” Jackie’s looking at her, dark eyes narrowed as her hand creeps up to cup her chin gently, and Jan has just enough time to gasp in a shock of air before their lips meet softly, tenderly, slowly meshing together. Kissing Jackie is so much better than kissing any of the boys she’s ever dated before.

Jackie pulls away far before Jan wants her to, and she’s left wanting more. She shudders a sigh and opens her eyes slowly.

“Wow,” she says.

“Yeah,” Jackie replies, brushing the hair off her shoulders. “That was… Umm. We should probably study, though.”

“Right. Of course.” Jan blushes again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Distract you.”

“Jan…” Jackie’s hand falls softly over her knee. “We can kiss more when we get through matrix determinants, okay?”

Jan isn’t sure what it is, but something about this new teaching method suddenly makes perfect sense.

She makes a 93 on her final and finishes the semester with an A.

[faedawayyy]

A Useless Guide to the Carmichaels

DISCLAIMER: this is a bunch of headcanons that i’ve come up with. OBVIOUSLY since synn and katie and nadine and meg in a way have characters that are tied to their family...BUt these are my original headcanons for the family, so if things aren’t quite right or sound different, it’s bc they’re my most developed family and it’s the way i’ve written them in canon verse!

SYLVIA CARMICHAEL - GRANDMOTHER

sylvia’s family are russian and came over to england after the war. her father was a general and her mother was a seamstress and she was raised in a very, very conservative and upper-class family. she went and studied at st andrews in edinburgh and that’s where she met hank carmichael, who her  father always pushed her towards from the moment he knew of him.  sylvia carries a lot of her family values and clashed with her GEN X kids because their ideologies were so different. for example, she sturggled edwin’s sexuality and oliver’s more liberal mannerisms. it doesn’t stop her from trying to “guide” her grandchildren.

HANK CARMICHAEL - GRANDMOTHER

hank was born and raised in england. his father was an extremely wealthy banker, his mother died when he was young but he never really thought about her because his father never spoke of her. he was raised mainly by his aunt while his father worked around the clock. they were an extremely wealthy family and when he was old enough, hank attended boarding school. he never really had parental guidance and his creativity always ran wild. he was trouble at school, but smart enough not to get caught.  after he graduated from st andrews and moved in with sylvia, he invested his entire trust-fund into a book publishing business, which is still successful to this day. he’s a huge family man due to not having one when he was younger

second generation.

EDWIN CARMICHAEL

edwin is the oldest of sylvia’s and hank’s children and always worked hard to be a people pleaser. he was often referred to as the golden child and the absolute brightest star in his mother’s sky. from an early age, he showed interest in entertainment which hank inspired and supported.

things changed for edwin in the middle of high school when he decided to come out about his sexuality. he was severely bullied and his relationship with sylvia broke down. he STILL hasn’t got the best relationship with his mother, especially after he married his husband, but they stay civil for the rest of the family’s sake. 

he now works in property and lost his confidence in acting when he was bullied.

OLIVER CARMICHAEL

SYNN’S CHARACTER, BUT HERE IS HOW I INTERPRET HIM. oliver is the second oldest child of sylvia and hank. he was rebellious from the start. he never enjoyed trying to live up to edwin’s golden standard, he hated the events and the social climbing. he just wanted to be a regular kid and have regular experiences, but it never happened for him.  when he was 18, it hit him that he was an adult and sylvia and hank have 0 influence over him. he took his trustfund, travelled and got the hell out of violet springs. however, just like with everybody else, age caught him up and he ended up settling in london with a woman he met while backpacking in australia.  he likes his children knowing their family, so he reluctantly shows up to family events but you’d never catch either of them in violet springs if they didn’t have to be.

JAMES CARMICHAEL

james is the middle child and arguably the most successful of the carmichael’s. he was never the favourite and had a streak in him that caused him to clash with hank from a young age. he was a loveable rouge who grew into a loveable white-collard criminal. he was smarter than he let on and had endless ambition.  like edwin, he attended university but instead of picking a profession that hid away from his true ambition, he invested his entire trustfund into a studio in los angeles where he planned to make amazing films...it paid off. he married his wife (patricia) who he met when she worked as a set designer on one of his projects, but it wasn’t all happily ever after.  james played around with money a little too much and tried to take out his competition in shady ways. this led to things getting too much for him and he faked his death almost a year ago. all of his family beside mason believe him to be dead.

JOHNATHAN CARMICHAEL

completely synn’s character, the father of theo

SINEAD CARMICHAEL

sinead was the only girl of five children and completely used it to her advantage. she watched the way her brother’s and father knew how to dominate rooms, conversations and other people. she grew up with the mindset that she could have absolutely anything she wanted, as long as she worked (or cheated) hard enough for it.  sinead dropped out of school at 15 and almost gave her mother an hernia. she blew most of her trust fund on a sweet 16 and then a sweet 18, anything that was left went on her 21st. she’s a very “live in the moment” woman and cares little for consequences.  she actually ended up teaming up with james and starring in a few of his earliest projects before becoming an actress in her own right. she’s blacklisted by a lot of hollywood producers for her refusal to submit and listen to direction. she’s head strong and does what she likes. 

third generation.

RUBY ROSINI - ADOPTED DAUGHTER OF EDWIN.

when ruby was adopted by edwin, there was all round excitement from every single member of the family; a little, brown-eyed girl from italy arriving on their doorsteps. she was so different from the majority blue-eyed children who filled the family tree. the cousins all immediately became protective of her and loved getting to know who she was as a person. now they’re grown up, she’s viewed as a cousin and it’s easy to forget that she was ever adopted or came from anywhere else. 

THOMAS CARMICHAEL - SON OF OLIVER 

thomas is the oldest son of oliver and like his dad, he’s a bit of a free spirit but unlike his dad, he’s a lot more laidback and less likely to clash or argue with anyone. as far as carmichael’s go, he’s quite wholesome and kind and oliver will 100% say that it’s because he was raised away from the madness of their family.  however, growing up away from the others isn’t as good in his eyes as it is in his dad’s. he often feels boring and on the outside, he will always do his best to fit in with the other guys and is easily manipulated. as a child, he got into trouble so many times from listening to the shit brody and leo used to tell him to do. even to this day, he’s overly loyal and attached to them because he’s desperate to feel a real part of the family.

KATELYN CARMICHAEL - DAUGHTER OF OLIVER

katelyn is the oldest of the third generation and oliver’s daughter. she’s blunt, witty and doesn’t mince her words. unlike most of the women in her family, she cares little for appearances or staying in certain social circles. she’s a drama teacher in a high school and enjoys living a normal life, but does dip into the funds of her family name every now and then to have a bit of fun.  she’s a blast at family parties and everybody is always excited to see what scandalous or stupid thing she’ll do next to annoy her grandmother. 

ANASTASIA CARMICHAEL - DAUGHTER OF JAMES 

the oldest of james’ children and undeniably the real favourite. she’s an overachiever and type of girl who was good at everything in school and still is; she’s athletic, artistic, academic, a good mother, an amazing business woman, she’s smart, she’s intuitive, she’s healthy and rarely loses in competitions with her siblings or anyone else for that matter.

anastasia has her daughter, darcy, and is engaged to ryder banks. there’s no love there but like her grandmother, she understands the importance of appearances. you’d have to be crazy if you thought she hasn’t had a string of affairs and STILL has them. however, she also has standards and is very selective over who she lets get close. 

darcy is her #1 priority and she’ll fight fiercely to make sure she always stays that way.

LEONARDO CARMICHAEL - SON OF JAMES

leo is james’ oldest son and again, like anastasia, kind of set the bar in the early days for the rest of his siblings. when it was the two of them and mason, everything was about leo and anastasia, they grew up in constant competition; leo tended to always fall short of his sister’s achievements. however, as they grew and the two of them came into their own, it was clear that leo was never going to be one to be in the shadows for too long - starting with gaining the attention from girls as he grew through high school. even girls in brody’s and miles’s year were heart-eyes over him and he was a few years older.  yet, just like with the rest of his siblings, he was promised and later engaged to somebody that his father handpicked for him to ensure the carmichael wealth wouldn’t dwindle out and fall into the wrong, new money hands.  OOC//i could write more but it doesnt feel right bc he’s now katie’s character. obviously i have my own ideas/fiancee for original leo! 

MASON CARMICHAEL - SON OF JAMES

mason broke the trend of extroverted, go-getter type kids and ended up being the quietest and youngest of the bunch until miles was born. he was a big momma’s boy growing up, and even though he’s never really felt like the favourite, he always enjoyed the company of adults and quieter environments compared to his siblings who would thrive around kids of their own age.  mason is wise beyond his years and it’s a running joke that he was supposed to be born first. he is the only one that knows james isn’t dead and was trusted with this information because even though brody was the favourite by a longshot, james knew mason would keep it quiet and be less affected by the secret.  mason both hates and loves being a part of the carmichaels. he loves his family but also hates the madness that comes along with it.

BRODY CARMICHAEL - SON OF JAMES 

brody never really had to work to be the favourite of his parents - he just is. he had the right amount of intelligence, cockiness and charm to keep adults on side throughout his whole life. ironically, out of everybody in the third generation, he’s probably the biggest fuck up too but the adults turn a blind eye to it because it’s him.  a huge reason he’s favoured by james is because he was clearly enough for charles to allow him to marry his oldest daughter, disney. this was such a big deal for james because charles has a LOT of connections (shady and not shady) in the entertainment industry and he knew the merger between the companies would keep the carmichael legacy in tact for generations.  brody usually rises to being the favourite and is slightly smug about it, but he also cracks the most under pressure and has had dozens of meltdowns over the span of his life growing up.

MILES CARMICHAEL - SON OF JAMES

miles is the youngest...son...of james. james has no idea that patricia had an affair and that miles isn’t actually his son. miles has always struggled severely with keeping up with his siblings. he developed common but crippling mental health issues in his pre-teen years such as depression and anxiety. it started with acting out and being a “problem child” but quickly developed in being too scared to leave the house. he locked himself away and wasted away his young years not really interacting with anyone outside of his immediate family. on top of that, he had he achievements of brody, mason, anastasia and leo to remind him of what a failure is...eventually he just stopped trying.  these days his siblings are supportive and aware of how he can get. his cynicism is literally his humour and he’s just taking one day at a time.

BELLA CARMICHAEL - DAUGHTER OF JAMES

bella was dubbed the next brody. all of her siblings adore her and so do her parents and grandparents. she’s the second child who can do absolutely no wrong in anybody’s eyes. bella was a young star and worked in hollywood making tv cameos long before she started school. she had two lives; her school and dance life, and her celebrity life. she grew up with more life experience than other kids and this made her painfully cunning. she knew exactly how to get people on side and had whoever she wanted wrapped around her little finger.  she and brody were hit hardest by james’s death. bella was all over the place and gained a little weight - something she wasn’t familiar with after being petite her whole life. she’s now just trying to stable herself again.

THEO CARMICHAEL - SON OF JOHNATHAN

SYNN’S CHARACTER

HERA CARMICHAEL-RUSH

hera is the middle child of sinead. she too is inteligent and calculated but she’s also the opposite of the james’s girls. hera has never worked a day in her life and has no intention to. she’s a socialite and just like her mother, does what she wants when she wants to. she lives off of mommy’s money (because her dad bailed on them and honestly, fuck him). hera also came out as bisexual at a christmas party because she knew it’d make sylvia uncomfortable. she’s a wind up and enjoys getting a rise out of people.

OPHELIA CARMICHAEL-RUSH

ophelia is old enough to remember the messy divorce of her parents and adopted her mother’s bad-ass and care free attitude towards it from that day on. she hates her dad for what he did to their family but doesn’t let it hold her back and when she turned 18, she took him to court to keep her name on the inheritance of his million dollar winery business...and won. she’s the trailblazer for her quieter and more introverted siblings. she’s someone who knows she’s gorgeous and uses her looks to her advantage. 

LUNA CARMICHAEL-RUSH

luna has always been shy and hid behind the bolder personalities of her sister’s. she used to feel boring because of it but has quickly accepted that’s who she is and she’s happy with it. as she becomes 26, she’s starting to feel extremely embarrassed and insecure about her lack of experience with anybody. yet, her father walking out makes her find it hard to connect with and trust people. she has high standards and no standards at the same time and is really lost in terms of her romantic relationships. HOWEVER, she is thriving in her career and mason has featured her as an actress in many projects. she currently attends rosewell and enjoys the french culture.

DAMUS CARMICHAEL-RUSH

damus is a pastiche of every criminal and calculated act a carmichael before him has committed. he actively seeks out trouble and due to not being able to find his “place” in the family, he seems to like to win the affections of his elders by getting involved in dodgy dealings that they’ve set up - particularly those of james and johnathan. damus gets a rush out of being in on his family’s darkest secrets but he also feels like a spare part - the one who gets put into dangerous scenarios because the others are too precious to do so.

third generation age order: - katelyn  - anastasia  - leo - thomas - ophelia   - mason  - brody - hera - luna   - ruby - miles   - bella  - damus 

fourth generation (work in progress): - darcy and wren, children of anastasia  - fleur and dixie, daughters of brody  - victoria and peter, children of mason  - jacob and harlow, son of theo