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sunfleurry · 3 years

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Hold Me

Click here for part 1

Part 2 of Fires and Flames.

Disclaimer: I write stories and use Harry Styles as a face claim. In no way shape or form does my writing reflect how I perceive the actual Harry to be. These are my characters, the face is just a bonus!

“Have a nice evening!”

“You too!” I yelled back before clocking out of my shift and making my way out the door.

It was dark outside, the king of night that begged to be breathed in and admired. Normally after a nine-hour shift, I would be exhausted and more than ready to go home. For some reason tonight, I wasn’t in the mood to turn in just yet. It was summertime and I loved the city lights when it was dark out. I eyed my car parked on the curb and ignored it, opting to go for a walk along the pier not too far from MediBrooke Pharmacy where I worked.

A year ago, I was at a low point in my life. I tried not to think about it too often, but every now and then, I would compare my life now to then and it reminded me to be proud of myself. I got through it, didn’t let it affect my grades, and now I was set to graduate with my PharmD degree in less than twelve months.

There weren’t too many people around as I made my way to the boardwalk, the clicking of my heels on the wooden path echoing in the quiet night. I checked the time on my phone. 20:30.

The pier was big. It was more intimidating during the wintertime when the water was turbulent, but today, it was still as a predator.

There was a man at the end of the pier, right across my destination but I did not pay him any mind. He was leaning against the railing, head hung low as he stared into the dark waters.

I was almost at my destination–a spot on the pier right under a lamppost with a built-in heater. I had left my jacket at home. At the sound of my approaching, the man across from me looked over, and my steps faltered as I beheld his face.

“Shit,” I mumbled when my phone slipped out of my hand.

Trying desperately not to look at the man, I held the strap of my purse against my shoulder and bent over to pick up my cell.

“I got it,” his deep voice said.

I hadn’t heard him approach, but I watched as he crouched down and wrapped his fingers around the device before standing back up and holding it out for me.

Harry looked different. His hair was longer and he seemed bigger–broader. I could tell he spent a decent amount at the gym since the last time I saw him over a year ago.

I jumped at the sound of my name coming out of his mouth, and seemed to remember he was still holding my phone.

I grabbed it, carefully avoiding touching his skin. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

He watched me and I watched him–both at a loss for words. I never expected to see him after our breakup. I applied to transfer to a pharmacy school away from the city, yet there he was, at my favourite spot in town, looking at me like he was seeing a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” I asked finally, almost breathlessly.

He blinked and looked over my shoulder at the water behind me. “My nan lived here. She passed away last week.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Harry glanced back down at me with heavy eyes. Grief. “Thank you.”

A lump formed in my throat as I felt his pain like it was mine. I wasn’t sure if he even had any family left. He never gave me details when we were together.

With him standing there in front of me, I felt an internal dam break, and memories and emotions started flooding to the forefront of my mind. Pain, happiness, heartbreak, love… It was all rushing back to me.

“How are you?” The words came out of his mouth with care but also with wariness.

“Fine.” Five minutes ago, I wanted to add. Because I wasn’t fine anymore, not with the source of my heartbreak suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

He nodded.

“You?” I wanted to slap myself. His grandmother just died; of course he wasn’t doing well.

He saw the look on my face and smiled reassuringly. “Habit.”

I smiled gratefully at his understanding.

Harry suddenly grabbed my elbow and pulled me towards him. I didn’t get a chance to react as my body fell into him before a group of teenagers ran by us right where I was standing. Had he not reacted, they would’ve toppled me over.

“Sorry!” One of them yelled half-heartedly over his shoulder.

I breathed heavily as I watched their bodies get smaller and smaller the further they ran away.

I didn’t realize how comfortable I was engulfed in Harry’s scent with my cheek pressed against his chest before he started pulling away, releasing my elbow.

I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

He rolled his lips inward and rubbed the back of his neck. “You look good. Very professional.”

I looked down at my pleated pants and button-down shirt and offered him a small thanks. “I work at the pharmacy down the street,” I explained.

He smiled. It was the first genuine smile I’d seen on him since we ran into each other. “I always knew you would succeed in what you do. You’re still studying?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to mimic his smile, but I was too busy trying not to cry in front of him. “One year left.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he said. I knew he meant it.

I bit my lip. “I know you are.” He always used to tell me how proud he was of me. Despite the way he treated me, the way I let him treat me, I knew deep down that he cared for me. He just didn’t know how to show it.

His smile fell as the memories of us came back to him. I was positive he was thinking about all those times he cooked us meals or did the dishes while I stressed over my notes, preparing for my exams. He was always supportive of my career choice and did his best to make me comfortable while I doubted myself and my capabilities of succeeding in my program.

“Look, can we just—“

“Harry?”

I whirled toward the foreign voice to see a woman whose beauty rivals any Hollywood actress approach us with a relieved smile.

“Harry,” she said again while wrapping her arms around his waist. I watched as he wrapped his own around her shoulders and held her at his side. “I was looking everywhere for you,” she scolded. “I convinced myself you fell in the water.”

He chuckled. “Sorry, I got caught up.”

It was then that the woman looked at me, as if just noticing my presence. Her blue eyes were so bright they were mesmerizing even in the minimal light offered by the pier in the darkness of the night.

She held out her hand, displaying short manicured nails. “Hi! I’m Christina.” She held up her other hand that was clutching car keys. “His chauffeur, apparently.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.” Then he addressed me. “Christina and I met around nine months ago. She wouldn’t leave me alone since.”

“You would be lost without me,” she scoffed.

Harry only looked at her with fake annoyance for a few seconds before nudging her playfully. “Yeah, you’re right.”

She laughed.

I watched the interaction between the two with more care than I would’ve wanted to admit. A part of me felt hot jealousy start boiling from the pit of my stomach, another part of me was over the moon seeing a smile on Harry’s face that didn’t seem forced.

My eyes flicked to Christina’s hand that was clutching his forearm. I used to do the same when I caught a girl staring at him–I would touch him to silently warn her he was mine. Was that what Christina was doing at the moment?

I couldn’t suppress frowning as I forced my eyes to look away.

“We’re going to be late,” I heard her whisper.

Harry cleared his throat and said my name.

I didn’t want to look at him. I wanted to hide the tears that had already formed in my eyes that I knew must be already as red as my cheeks.

He touched my shoulder as a second attempt to get my attention.

I finally blinked up at him.

He inhaled. I shook my head with as much subtleness to make it noticeable to him only. He seemed to understand.

“Christina and I need to go.” He said, sympathy coating his voice.

I cleared my throat. “Okay. It was nice seeing you, Harry.”

He took a step toward me then seemed to stop himself. Were you going to hug me Harry? Kiss me? Why did you stop?

My eyes flickered to Christina who was texting someone on her phone with one hand, the other still clutching Harry’s forearm.

“I’ll see you around,” he said. It almost sounded like a question so I nodded.

I stood under the heating lamp post and watched the pair walk away.

_______________

“Just one shot, come on!”

My friends cheered when I finally gave in and took the shot glass from Jeremy.

I laughed at their antics before throwing my head back and welcoming the burn in my throat.

“To our final semester!” Someone yelled. We all cheered.

I made a nice friend group in my new university. I met Jeremy first when we were assigned to work together for one of my courses, and he introduced me to his friends who turned out to be great people. Today, we wrote our last final exam of the semester. We all agreed to go out and treat ourselves to a more expensive club for some celebratory drinks before the winter break separated us.

A popular song started playing and suddenly the bar blew up in cheers and synchronized singing. People rushed to the dance floor like a herd of elephants. I watched them stumble over each other, trying to find their friends to enjoy the song when a hand cut into my view.

I glanced up to find Jeremy’s brown eyes on me waiting for me to put my hand in his. When I did, he pulled me off the stool and I swiped my purse off the counter as he dragged me towards the crowd of moving bodies.

Being in the crowd made me realize it wasn’t as dense as it seemed from our table. Jeremy wrapped an arm around my waist and held my hand up to the side as he encouraged me to move to the beat with him while keeping a respectful distance between our bodies. That last detail didn’t go unnoticed by me. I appreciated it.

The song ended but another played, and the crowd screamed to the loved and familiar beat. Even I couldn’t help but sway my hips and mouth the lyrics as Jeremy lifted our joined hands and twirled me. I squealed at the motion and slammed into his chest clumsily, the both of us giggling before we continued dancing with everyone.

We stayed on the dance floor for two more songs before I told him I needed some water. He nodded and walked behind me as we started making our way to our table when I heard him ask, “What’s up, man?”

Frowning, I turned around and found him speaking to someone whose hand was on his shoulder.

I risked a glance at who caught his attention and my heart stuttered when I recognized Harry. As if feeling my gaze on him, Harry’s eyes landed on me and mind fogged up. I didn’t know what to think as I took in his soft wavy hair and green jumper that made his eye colour brighter than it actually was. I could hear him ask Jeremy if he could steal me for a second, eyes never leaving mine.

Jeremy looked hesitant at him, unsure who Harry was but then turned towards me, passing the decision on to me.

I nodded and Jeremy’s bent his head to be at eye level with me. “If you need anything…”

I offered him a smile. “I know him.”

He seemed to relax and smiled back before making his way towards our table where the rest of our friends were watching the exchange.

I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was left alone with Harry. My breath hitched when I chanced a glance at him and realized he was already staring at me.

“Harry,” I said quietly, enough that he could hear me over the music.

“Can we talk somewhere more quiet?”

He seemed to have noticed my hesitation. He took a step forward. “You can tell your date if it makes you more comfortable.”

I frowned. “More comfortable? You think I’m scared of you?”

Harry bit his lip and looked away.

I touched his arm. “I would never…”

I felt his bicep lose tension under my fingers as he let out a breath, as if he was afraid I didn’t trust him with me alone. It broke my heart, if I was being honest.

I followed Harry to the entrance and he held the door open for me to walk outside. The air was cool, nothing I couldn’t handle under the summer night with my skirt and long sleeve blouse. The quiet of the night hit me like a brick as we stepped out of the crowded club into the silence of the almost empty street.

Harry led me to the nearest bus stop, silently asking me to sit on one of the wooden benches before joining me. I smoothed out my skirt, nervously playing with the seam.

He cleared his throat. “So… How have you been?”

I inhaled, and the scent of his cologne overwhelmed my nose. I welcomed it. “I’ve been good,” I said honestly. I was. I moved to a new place, made great friends, got the job I wanted and I was set to graduate soon.

Harry smiled, looking almost like he was relieved. “I’m glad.”

I played with a frayed end on my skirt. “You?”

“Same.”

I peered up at him, thread forgotten. His piercing eyes were already looking at me, wide and he started nodding.

“I mean it. I am good,” he smiled. “I’ve been getting help, I changed jobs, made friends.”

My heart swelled for him. I put my hand on his and squeezed. “I’m proud of you.”

He separated our hands and I suppressed my disappointment. “I just wanted to bring you out here to check up on you. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Thank you.”

I couldn’t deny that everything about the interaction was awkward. I could’ve asked Harry about what help he’d gotten, about his new job, his friends… But when we were together, over a year ago, I learned not to pry when it came to his personal life. I wasn’t sure if he still felt that way.

We were swallowed by an uncomfortable silence, neither one of us sure on how to approach any subject that came up in our minds. I started focusing on my breathing as I prepared myself to stand.

“I think I’m going to head back inside,” I said, eyes everywhere but him as I picked up my purse and smoothed down my skirt.

He relaxed into the bench. “Your date must be worried about you.”

I stopped. “Jeremy is not my date.”

Harry’s head snapped up. “I didn’t mean to assume…”

I huffed a laugh. “It’s okay, he’s just a friend from school. I’m here with a group of them.”

I could tell he was recalling the people at the table Jeremy headed to before we went outside. “They seem nice.”

“They are,” I smiled. I decided to take the bait. “What about yours? Do I know them?”

He shook his head. “Just Christina. I, um, I met her in therapy.”

I had to swallow down the rising jealousy at the mention of her name.

“She was kind enough to wait with me even after her appointment was over,” he continued. “I was rude and cruel towards her, at first. I think I was trying to chase her away. I didn’t want anyone’s pity, but she stuck like a bucket of glue.”

I chuckled. “It’s hard to stay away from you,” I admitted.

His face fell. “I felt like I didn’t deserve anyone’s attention, not after what I did to you.”

It was like a bucket of water was dumped onto my head, my expression immediately morphing into one of sadness.

“Christina became a big part of my healing. Sometimes I felt like I didn’t deserve her help because I’m a grown man. I don’t need someone holding my hand along the way, but she was there. And I’m grateful for it.”

Hearing him talk about another woman like that had my feelings in a puddle. I wanted to be happy that he found someone who he could relate to and guide him through his pain and his past but I couldn’t quash the betrayal for the simple fact that he refused my help but accepted that of a stranger’s. I didn’t say anything though. No, I would never even think of interrupting him. I watched him with wide eyes as he explained everything because this was the first time my Harry had ever spoken this much about himself so freely. It made me want to cry.

“She was also dealing with some things of her own. For some reason, she still wanted to stay by my side and I kept her around. For selfish reasons, she reminded me a lot of you.”

I stiffened at the confession. He studied my reaction but I tried to pretend like it didn’t affect me. I knew I failed when my voice came out shaky and disbelieving. “Why?”

“I don’t know… She was stubborn, always forcing me to do what’s right for me even though I fought it. She checked up on me all the time, and she just…” He held my stare. “She cared.”

My eyes started watering and my anger was slowly rising. “And why, Harry, if she was so much like me, did you not think of me and all that I did for you, instead of finding someone who was just like me?”

His shoulders slouched and I watched as he fiddled with the pendant against his collarbone. “Because I didn’t deserve you,” he said pointedly. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to mother me. I was holding you back from being happy all because I refused to take care of myself.”

The tightness in my chest worsened. “You don’t get to decide what’s right for me.”

Harry’s jaw clenched. “You’re the one who left.”

I gasped. “You’re really going with that argument?!”

He sighed and slumped back against the wooden bench. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you let me leave to instead be with another woman who reminds you of me?” I rolled my eyes.

Harry rubbed his chin as he regarded me with lines forming between his eyebrows. “Be with… Are we still talking about Christina?”

I wanted to scoff with disbelief. “Are we having the same conversation?”

“You think I’m with Christina? As in…she’s my girlfriend?”

I felt my jaw slacken. “Are you not?”

It was then that Harry threw his head back, laughter escaping from his mouth. I watched him with my widening eyes as I replayed our conversation in my head to figure out what was so funny.

He said my name with laughter in his voice after a few seconds of trying to calm himself down. He cleared his throat and turned his body to face mine on the bench. I tried my hardest to ignore the hand he laid on my knee. “Christina is just a friend.”

I shook my head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “Besides, I don’t think her girlfriend would appreciate her cheating with me, a man.”

“Girlfriend?”

Harry’s smile widened. “She’s gay.”

I was at a loss for words. “Oh.”

My stomach fluttered when Harry lifted his hands and held my face between his palms. “You think I would replace you?” He asked quietly.

I prayed he couldn’t hear my rapid heartbeat. “I—” I tried to communicate with my eyes that I didn’t want to answer that question. I didn’t know the answer to it. He’d been unpredictable throughout our relationship and I wasn’t sure if he had changed or not and I refused to believe it until I saw it.

Harry gave me a mirthless smile and let go of my face. I felt heat in the spots where his fingers touched my skin and I almost asked him to put them back. “I miss you,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes then, and the tears I tried holding back fell down my cheeks. I tried stopping them, but they started coming faster and I didn’t have the choice but to drop my head into my hands to silently cry. Many thoughts and emotions were flying through my mind and I couldn’t keep up with their overwhelming pace. I felt Harry’s arm wrap around my back and pull me to him until I was flush against his side.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice broke on the last syllable. I felt him kiss my hair and squeeze me harder as I cried harder. The past year, I pushed my emotions back. I suppressed any thoughts and feelings left behind by Harry and focused on work and school. I ignored all stimuli that reminded me of him. At this moment, I knew that it was a bad idea as the heartbreak flooded my senses and I couldn’t escape it no matter how much I tried. Harry never let go as he wrapped his other arm around me until I was pressed against his chest, the fabric of his jumper muffling my sobs.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, holding me for the next few minutes until I finally stopped crying. I didn’t let go right away, I wasn’t ready to. I missed him immensely and didn’t have the willpower to separate from the familiar feeling of being so close to him, or the smell that is so distinctly Harry that it comforts me no matter where I am. After I controlled my breathing, I finally mustered up the courage to push off of him and face him.

“You didn’t bring me out here to just check up on me,” I said, not leaving room for the statement to sound remotely like a question.

Harry sighed. “No, I didn’t.”

I stared at him while holding my breath in anticipation. I knew what was coming before he even said it, but I still felt anxious.

He swallowed audibly and craned his neck to the sky as he gathered his words. “I want to try and win you back.”

Heat tingled in my heart and it spread like wildfire over my skin until I was covered in a mix of relief and desire. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I figured,” he nodded. “I don’t want you to make a decision right away.”

“I wouldn’t be able to even if I wanted to,” I said honestly.

Harry’s head dipped to his chest and he started fiddling with his necklace again. He expected my answer, but still hoped I wouldn’t say it. “I understand. Which is why I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

“A date?”

He smiled. “I want you to get to know me–”

“But I already know you.”

“No,” he said. “I want you to meet the new me. I want you to give me another chance to prove to you that I am not the Harry you knew.”

The reminder of who he was reminded me of who I was with him. I was happy to be with him, I loved him. I still do, I realized, but the love I had for him overshadowed the anger and pain that our relationship carried for the year and a half we were together. He was full of self-loathing and that only took a toll on who we tried to be–who we used to be. There was Harry, in front of me, promising a second chance for the relationship we had sans the pain and I didn’t know if he was serious or not.

I looked at him with helplessness. “I don’t know…”

He rubbed his upper arm, a nervous tic I recognized a long time ago. “Please. Do you still love me?”

His piercing gaze was suddenly too intense for me and I looked down at my lap. “Why are you asking me that?” I stammered. The day I confessed my love for him was the day I left him. The memory only brought a squeezing sensation to my heart. Heat prickled in my eyes.

“I just need to know, if you still do. Because, I was too much of a coward to tell you,” he took my hands in his and held them up between our chests. “I love you too.”

I felt lightheaded as my mind processed the last four words he’d just uttered. A whimper escaped me before I threw a hand over my mouth.

“Don’t cry,” Harry whispered, bringing my hands to his mouth and pressing kisses to my knuckles. “Please.”

I expelled a shuddering breath. “I think it’s the shot I took an hour ago catching up to me.”

Harry laughed, only because he recognized my attempt to lighten the mood.

I stared at our joined hands as I tried to regain my breathing. My palms started sweating when I thought more and more about the two of us together, something I never imagined becoming a possibility ever again. I glanced at him to see nothing but genuine hope in his eyes.

Harry confessing his feelings to me was something so foreign, my body had no idea how to take it and create a reaction. It was unknown territory and I promised myself that I must tread lightly all the while keeping maximum defence surrounding my already fragile heart.

Knowing Harry, he would never lie about something like that, he had always been a straightforward man. He was against bullshitting and it was with that thought in mind that I finally stared back into his eyes and said:

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

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notcorrect-persona5 · 4 years

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In Defense of Yosuke’s Parents

I’ve seen so many posts about Yosuke having bad parents which really surprised me because I didn’t get that impression at all. I’ve been meaning to make a post in defense of his parents, but I’ve been working on a Yu analysis. After I saw @personuhh’s post I thought I’d offer an alternative perspective. I’ll be addressing some of the things they brought up first, and then I’ll get into additional evidence. I have edited this post since I originally posted it because I I wanted to elaborate and reword some things.

My Response

You’re right, Yosuke does take on way more responsibility than a part-timer should. However, I don’t think that’s his parents doing. It seems like Junes is extremely understaffed. In his social link, Yosuke says his dad was “bugging him to find helpers.” I volunteer at a small location of a large church (much like the Inaba branch of Junes), and I have been asked to find more volunteers over and over again because they’re desperate for more help. It’s a lot of work and not enough people. Additionally, both Yu and Chie come in to help due to the lack of staff. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Hanamura helped out too as Teddie’s under the impression that Yosuke’s parents are always together (which I’ll talk about later).

On top of that, Yosuke mentions part-timers ditching work and slacking off. When an employee doesn’t show up, Yosuke (and Teddie) are often called in because their managers know they’ll show up. People who are reliable are given more responsibility, period. It sucks, but if someone needs help they aren’t going to ask someone who they don’t see as dependable. I volunteer at church every week, and I have been asked countless times if that’s okay because they don’t want to overwork me. Every time I say I don’t mind, and I assume Yosuke would have the same reaction if asked. Not only is it Yosuke’s natural instinct to help people, but he was kind of a pushover before the events of (and at the start of) Persona 4. In his third awakening, Yosuke says he was overworked and taken for granted. That’s not okay, and it’s a huge problem, but Mr. Hanamura isn't the cause of that. Mr. Hanamura is the general manager; his job isn’t to create the part-timer’s schedules.

It’s true that Yosuke tries to work out the problems of other employees and listens to their complaints. There is no indication that Yosuke was told to do this, and I don’t know why he would be. In his social link, there are two girls who act as if he has more power than he does. They demand a raise, ask him to give them the day off, and assume he has knowledge about another employee’s schedule. Yosuke says he doesn't have the power to help them, and in a manga page he says “I may be the manager’s son, but I’m still just an employee.” Yosuke is doing much more than the average part-timer, but he isn’t being given the responsibilities of a manager.

As for the Junes concert, Mr. Hanamura did not tell Yosuke he was going to be fired. Yosuke came to that conclusion himself. Mr. Hanumura did not ask Yosuke to find a solution or ask Rise for help. Yosuke only asked Rise for help because he was scared of moving again. I understand how the phrase “awfully nice for some reason” could come across as odd, but I don’t think he meant his dad isn’t usually nice. In the Persona 4 Manga that scene is translated as “My Dad’s been extra nice to me” meaning his dad is nice, he’s just being extra nice, and I’m not surprised. Yosuke was extremely unhappy when he moved to Inaba. Despite trying to hide his feelings, you can see in The Magician that he didn’t do a very good job of it. And now that Yosuke is finally happy, they might be forced to move again. Of course, Mr. Hanamura would feel guilty. Oftentimes, when people feel guilty, they start acting nicer - unnaturally so - to make themselves feel better. Chie (who is already very kind) even does it after she and Yukiko spend Yosuke’s money on clothes for Teddie. Yosuke notices the shift in her attitude and tells her that he’s worried. It’s the same reaction he had toward his dad’s behavior.

The only reason I bring up Chie is to show an in-game example of someone being overly nice due to guilt. What Chie did was wrong, that’s why she feels guilty. The reason Mr. Hanamura would feel guilty is his job may have to move his entire family again. The cause of their guilt is different, but they are responding the same way.

I don’t think Mrs. Hanamura not wanting her son to own porn is unreasonable. My mom doesn’t like magic, so I wasn’t allowed to read or watch Harry Potter growing up. Similarly, a friend of mine wasn’t allowed to watch iCarly. As for Mrs. Hanamura burning Yosuke’s porn in Arena, that’s the third time (that we know of) that she’s seen his porn. I assume she’s told him she doesn’t want him looking at pornography, but he continues to do so anyway. Burning his magazines may seem dramatic, but she was likely just frustrated that he kept disobeying her.

I don’t think Yosuke’s parents are the reason why Yosuke wants to be seen as manly. I haven’t seen anything that implies that. I think Yosuke’s desperation to be seen as a man comes from Japanese society and his fears regarding his sexuality.

Mr. Hanamura came up with this slogan because they were selling jinbei's which are traditionally worn by men. It’s a play on words. This isn’t the first time Mr. Hanamura has come up with a cringey slogan.

It seems Mr. Hanamura has that stereotypically “dad humor” which is typically associated with positive father figures (it’s not always). Yosuke saying his dad is still saying the “MANsoon” slogan gave me reminds of kids being like “Dad, that’s a bad joke, stop”, but the dad continuing to make his bad jokes regardless. It’s very Disney Channel and sit-com like.

I don’t remember Teddie saying he watches violent war movies with Mr. Hanamura, but I don’t see how that connects to the idea of Mr. Hanamura pushing Yosuke to be a “more masculine, traditional, unshakable, unemotional man.” The idea that only those types of men watch war movies is the type of thinking Kanji’s and Naoto’s shadows were trying to address. I don’t think Mr. Hanamura cares about being that type of stereotypical/traditional man because of his relationship with Teddie. Teddie is not very masculine (he even says so in Persona Q, screenshot will be later), and he isn’t hiding it.

This exchange is from Kanji’s Persona 4 Club Profile. Teddie went to the store to buy female clothing, and he asked Kanji to make him a dress (the one from the cross dressing pageant). He already owned his “Alice dress” before the cross dressing competition, and I assume he’s worn it. In Arena, you can see the dress is hung out in the open in their bedroom. He also wears hair clips.

This is not “masculine behavior” yet the Hanamuras don’t seem to have a problem with it. If anything, I’d say they’re pretty open-minded. If they disliked that way Teddie behaved, Teddie would change himself to fit the way they want him to be. I mean, the kid literally grew two new bodies in effort to get people to like him. Due to Teddie’s low self-esteem and need to be loved, he takes any sort of criticism to heart and does his best to act the way others want him too. In Persona Q, Yukari says he’d be cute if he was quiet, so Teddie stops talking.

In Persona Q, Teddie says he’s realized that to steal hearts he needs to be manly. He gets this realization from Koromaru. He did not think this prior.

Teddie saying Koromaru gave him this realization means the Hanmuras never said anything to him about his less masculine behavior.

As for the song lyrics you posted, I don’t really think that means anything. Yeah, people often relate to the music they listen to, but they don’t have to relate to every lyric or even song. My favorite artist is Taylor Swift, but I don’t really like romance. I don’t relate to most of her songs, but I still jam out to them. I could be super wrong about the song thing though because I’m not a huge music person.

My Own Additional Analysis (with some elements of response)

In this section I’m going to talk about Mr. and Mrs. Hanamura’s character and personality, their relationship with each other, Teddie, and Yosuke.

Let’s start off by talking about their personality. They seem to be very carefree people. Yosuke has less than average grades. In the Persona 4 Animation, he didn’t even show up to one of the exam days. Academics is extremely important in Japanese society, yet his parents don’t seem to be pushing him to get better grades. Considering how carefree Yosuke can be, it makes sense that he may have gotten that trait from his parents.

Yosuke’s family is pretty wealthy. It’s mentioned more than once. They also live in a pretty big house (you can see it in The Magician), Yosuke’s cell phone seems to be a newer model, and he has a large, flatscreen TV in his bedroom which wouldn’t be very common when the game took place. Despite this, Yosuke works for his own money. He complains about being broke and needing save up. I think the reason why Yosuke has a job despite being well-off is because his parents want him to have work experience and grow up to be a hardworking person, so he can succeed in life. It makes me think that hardwork is important to them.

Due to this conversation, I think Mr. Hanamura is a very honest man. Yosuke says he was surprised his dad was against selling gas masks, likely because from a business standpoint, that’s a really big missed opportunity. I think it’s also worth noting that ATLUS talks a lot about how people naturally fit into the masses, including the main characters. That’s why it’s surprising that his father is going against the masses. Although he’s losing money and has faced many hardships running Junes, Mr. Hanamura refused to do something that was against his moral compass.

In Persona 4 Drama CD #1, Junes is closing down half of the electronics section due to a lack of sales. Despite this taking place in March, Teddie panics and hopes to sell a TV set in a month in exchange for keeping the TV they enter the TV World through where it is.

Yosuke isn’t afraid to ask his dad two huge favors with a not very good reason (side note: Yosuke had to lie because the truth is that’s the TV he and his friends used to go into the TV world and fight shadows). Despite Yosuke’s best efforts, his father says no. He doesn’t really have any choice but to close part of the electronics floor. Junes is losing money by keeping it open. I think Mr. Hanamura gave him the vouchers because that’s the only other way he can help. Teddie made a deal that if he sells one TV set by the end of the month, they’ll keep the TV that leads to the TV world. He’s trying to advertise the TV set by promising other surprise items coming with it. These Junes vouchers are part of those surprise items.

It’s no secret that many of the shopping district families despise Junes and the Hanamuras. Many horrible things have been said about their family, yet Junes still teams up with the shopping district in the YasoInaba Case File to help keep them afloat. Whether or not this was Mr. Hanamura’s idea, he’s the one who has to approve it, and he does. Despite being treated horribly by them, he still wants to help the shopping district. Junes teaming up with shopping district might be a good business move, but they didn’t really need to do that. The problem is that Junes is taking away the shopping district’s business. Junes doesn’t need to team up with the shopping district to do well. The two of the teaming up benefits the shopping district way more than Junes. It doesn’t do much for Junes other than the shopping district maybe not hating them. At the end of the day, the shopping district families would still shop at the shopping district to keep their businesses afloat, so Junes isn’t getting a lot more business.

When Teddie came to the real world, Yosuke offered to take Teddie home with no hesitation. He didn’t think it would be a problem with his parents or show any concern about how he would convince them. I think this goes along with them being pretty carefree as well as showing that they’re kind and generous people. Not everyone is willing to take others in like that. Yosuke’s also comfortable with asking his parents such a huge favor.

Teddie talks about Yosuke’s parents in a really positive light, and I would say they treat him like their own son. For example, on January second Teddie says, “I got New Year’s gifts! Yosuke’s mom and dad gave them to me!” (edit: Someone said “notice how Yosuke doesn’t say the same thing.” He doesn’t need to. It’s Japense culture to give younger family members gifts for new Year’s. Yosuke saying something would be the equivalent of, “omg my parents gave me a birthday present!!” It would have been weirder if he did say something then. Teddie is excited because because this is his first New Year’s. He’s never experienced this before. Also, Yosuke did get New Year’s money. He talks about saving it on 1/10 when walking to school).

I think I remember Teddie saying he watches movies with Mrs. Hanamura, but I have no idea where he says that. There’s a 50/50 chance I made that up and convinced myself it was canon, so don’t take my word on that one.

Teddie breaks A LOT of rules at Junes. He steals topsicles, rode a handi mover through the store, slept on both a display bed and the floor of electronics department, been yelled at for eating samples, been chased by store security, and Yosuke had to monitor Teddie during his late night shift because they didn’t trust him to work alone. Teddie’s a terrible employee, yet he hasn’t been fired. I think the reason for this is he’s basically the manager’s son. I do want to say that just because they consider Teddie as their own child doesn’t mean they treat Yosuke as anything less. I haven’t seen a single thing that has implied that there is favoritism going on.

Yosuke and Teddie act a lot like brothers (Naoki even suspects that they're related), and Yosuke’s parents seem to treat Teddie like their own son. He even wears their family crest in offical art. I looks like ATLUS wnted the four of them to be a family. And If that’s the case, it wouldn’t make any sense for Mr. and Mrs. Hanamura to be bad parents.

Additionally, if Mr. and Mrs. Hanamura treated Yosuke badly, and Teddie noticed, I think Teddie would say something.

The second Yukari said something slightly mean about Yosuke, Teddie defended him. He doesn’t like when other people say mean things about Yosuke. Not to mention conflict really stresses him out. If Yosuke’s parents treated him badly, I there’s a chance Teddie might see the problem.

I think it’s also worth noting that Yosuke’s parents have a really healthy marriage.

This quote implies that they’re rarely apart and get along really well. A happy marriage doesn’t automatically equal a healthy household or good parents, but it really increases the likelihood.

For context, Yosuke is talking about Teddie in this picture. I’m not from Japan, so I don’t know if most families there eat breakfast together, but my family - despite being very close - does not. We all eat and start our day at different times. In my mind, eating breakfast together is a very domestic thing to do. Even the phrase “Hanamura family breakfast” screams domestic to me.

This conversation gives me the sense that Mr. Hanamura has a great deal of trust and respect for Yosuke. I mean, I don’t think he would accept Yosuke’s idea if he didn’t. Adding a kid’s menu would be pretty exspensive. Not only do they have to print the kid’s menu, but they have to design them, create new menu items, and depedning on what’s on the menu buy more food or ingredients. That adds up, and if it isn’t successful then they’ll lose money. Mr. Hanamura has to approve that idea, and he’s putting in trust that it’s going to be successful. Also, Yosuke is comfortable enough to “push really hard” for his idea.

All in all, it is my personal opinion that the Hanamurs are a really close family. It would make sense for ATLUS to go in that direction to create a contrast to the Narukami’s, after all. That being said, neither headcanon is wrong. It just comes down to how we interpret the very little information we’re given.

#yosuke hanamura #teddie persona 4 #persona 4 teddie #teddie #not a quote #analysis #persona 4 #p4 #Hanamura bros

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sunflovverharry · 3 years

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Friends with Benefits - Chapter 3

a/n: hiii, sorry it’s been a while since I posted chapter 2, but I’m finally back with chapter 3! It’s a bit shorter, but an important one. will hopefully be writing a lot more now that exams are almost over :)) anyways, enjoy this chapter and please feel free to tell me what you think and reblog <3 pairing: police officer!h + Alex word count: 5k warnings: it’s pretty clear from now there will be language, alcohol consumption, smut and trouble with body image in basically every chapter so from now i’ll only write M (mature)

Seemingly, both Harry and I had gotten what we wanted out of each other. Two breathtaking fucks and the intimate moments after where we cuddled and basked in the afterglow of the sex.

It really wasn’t enough for me though. He was like an addiction and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of him. Not that I have a way of contacting him or meeting him except meeting him at the bar again - if we even go at the same time. As he has said; he isn’t one to party a lot nor go clubbing too often. We both spend most of our time at work and it seems like we don’t mind that.

Saying goodbye the Sunday morning two weeks ago I thought it would be the last time we’d meet. Now, standing in the same club as always, staring into Harry’s eyes I couldn’t let the smile grazing my lips go. It was as if all my hopes and dreams were heard when Harry gave back the same smile and made a ‘come here’ motion with his hand up in the air so I could see over the bodies between us. Grabbing my pint of beer, I left the bar and swiftly made my way over to where Harry was sitting. The group I was with had just entered the club and they were still at the bar waiting for their drinks as I didn’t say a word when I walked off.

Harry was seated at the end of a booth close to the corner, his back turned to his mates as I came to stand in between his thighs to be able to hear each other over the loud music blasting over the speakers. I took a drink of the beer before sitting it down next to what I assumed was Harry’s pint.

“Hi, pet. You alright?” Harry placed a soft kiss to my cheek in greeting as he basically screamed into my ear. I leaned away to look at him while giving him a small shake of my head, yeah, I was just fine. He looked smashing in his colourful button-up missing a couple buttons at the top, making me see the top of his butterfly tattoo when I let my eyes gaze down to take him in.

“You celebrating or something?” I took a quick sweep over the rest of the table he was with and there was an expensive bottle of champagne being passed between them. Not the most sanitary or anything, but who was I to judge when I’d definitely done the same when I was drunk. Who exchanged spit and drinks with who, weren’t on the top of our heads when we were drunk and only wanted to get more drunk I guess.

“Nah, the mate who broke it off with his girl some weeks ago dragged us out and he’s making them down everything he buys. I’m driving today though, so only a pint for me. What’re you doing here again?” His hands were dangerously close to the tops of my thighs as they held me close and his thumb pressed patterns in my skin. I was wearing a skirt and a quite revealing top tonight, though not expecting to meet anyone, especially Harry. Maybe in the back of my mind I thought there was a possibility as this is the place we’ve met both times - and now a third.

«Oh, good to see he’s doing alright then. Just here to have a couple pints, didn’t wanna get too drunk or stay out too long tonight. Have quite a lot of paperwork to get through this weekend.» Harry groaned when I mentioned work, not wanting to think about it for tonight I guess. I didn’t really want to think about it either.

«Don’t remind me. I have to go in at six for a couple hours to finish a report, but then I’m off for about a week thank god.» He finished off with a smile thinking about some - I’d say well earned - days off.

«Well then, to celebrate that, how about we go back to yours to have an even better time than we’ll have here?» It was bold of me and I knew it, but that’s how it had been since the first time we met. I took initiative and went in full force and there were absolutely no regrets.

Harry sucked his lips into his mouth as he dwelled over what I’d proposed. There was a slight shimmer to his eyes as he moved his head back to get a good look at me. I didn’t mind his eyes travelling over my body, only enjoying how he didn’t hold back from showing me he liked what he saw. It gave me the last bit of confidence I felt I needed being with a man like Harry.

Not giving a verbal answer, he took one last drink of his pint before getting off the leather seat. His hands turned my body around, settling on my hips as he walked us straight past the bar and made our way outside. The parking lot he’d left his car in was on the other side, quickly jogging over the road when no cars were coming.

It was a lovely night, warm and just humid enough to not break out in a sweat. Perfect start of summer weather. His car was nice and looked expensive at first glance. The inside was clean, no dirty napkins or bottles on the floor. He must take good care of it cause most other lads’ cars I’ve been in haven’t been nearly as clean as Harry’s. I gather that he doesn’t want to talk about it when he doesn’t even look at me to see what kind of reaction I had to it.

«You drove here when you could've walked the fifteen minutes? That’s lazy of you, mr. police officer.» I hadn’t used the nickname last time and I missed it. Harry didn’t exactly seem to mind it either as he took in a harsh breath after hearing it. Even more of a boost for me.

«I thought I would have to drive my mates home as they clearly are getting wasted out of their minds.» Of course he was the sensible one of the group, he’s a fucking police officer. Knowing how he cares for his friends and has his life set makes me feel a bit angry at myself. Why did I have to get an obsession over someone I’d never be enough for? «And to be honest, I’m glad it’ll get us home quicker cause I’m already bulging after you calling me that, pet.» I only giggled and looked out the window, not wanting to be caught staring at him.

The car ride went by in silence after that. The quick five minutes were agonizingly slow and I couldn’t stop thinking about getting to feel Harry again. It made my thighs clamp together to try and get some sort of friction to satisfy me.

Having parked the car, both of us jumped out and almost ran to the door wanting nothing more than to get inside and rip our clothes off. God I can’t wait to feel his achingly perfect cock inside me for a third time. I should probably try to forget about him after this time, knowing we’ll stop seeing each other at the club as often during the summer as I’m planning to be gone for most of it anyways.

«I’ve been dreaming of meeting you again. Honestly can’t get you out of my head, pet.» Harry seemed a little hazy as he quietly let the words tumble out of his pretty pink lips I still haven’t got to taste tonight. Good thing it’s only just passed ten and we have all night to enjoy each others taste.

«Shut up and kiss me already.» He closed the short distance between us as he pulled me to him, front against front. His rough grip on my waist made me grow more want for him. Maybe he finally realized after last time that I wanted it rough though I might come off as someone who wants to take control. I don’t mind but god do I like being thrown around at times and Harry did it really fucking well.

My bottom lip was between his in a second, sucked into his mouth and left his lips with a pop. I couldn’t help but already pant at the anticipation and need for him. My lips were slightly open, ready for Harry to slam his lips back on mine and tongue taste the inside of my mouth, licking into it. He didn’t waste a single moment on teasing me or waiting till I couldn’t anymore - dominating the kiss before we even touched lips nevermind tongues.

It made my stomach turn in excitement for the night and lust for the man in front of me. There weren’t any sparks, most likely because we didn't even know each other besides the basics. Well, not even the basics - not even knowing his age. Names and workplace are the only two things we’ve told the other. It felt fucking good having this platonic stranger with benefits. I guess that’s what I would put us as? There were no feelings ruining things or other people's opinions as we were still strangers.

«I want you to cum in my mouth this time.» I barely managed to get the words out of my mouth as Harry was too eager to get his mouth on mine. When he heard what I said though, it was like his eyes got darker and his grip tightened around me showing how much he also wanted that without saying it.

Feeling his tongue get familiar with my mouth again was intoxicating, making me want to make out with him for hours on end. I wouldn’t mind if we dropped sleeping and just moved our lips together until the sun rises.

«You wanna.. upstairs?» Harry was already breathless, either because he knows what he’s getting or because of the kiss. I hummed in response, guiding us to the stairs leading up to his room. If this is going to go how I want it to, I’ll want to be comfortable and though the couch was good, his bed is the best option.

I trusted Harry to be careful and considerate but also push limits which was exactly what was needed tonight. No ‘are you sure’ or ‘i don’t want to hurt you’ talk, just straight to it. No, I wouldn’t get to feel his length inside me - unless he thickens up again right after which I doubt - but maybe before he has to head out. Maybe his fingers will suffice for tonight.

«You’re going to fuck my mouth, officer, and I’m gonna take it like the good girl I am.» There was no point in not being direct from the start, teasing unnecessary and unwanted from both sides. He looked like I told his biggest dream was coming true as he bit his lip and rolled his eyes back as he tried to collect himself for a moment. My fingers danced over his neck and shoulders before tugging his shirt over his head.

«Lay down. Head this way, pet.» The pet name he had called me since we first met had grown increasingly on me and I couldn’t imagine being called anything else. Following his orders I got on the bed, facing him, head almost dangling off the bed. It was risky to let him take control over my airways, but it was a risk I was willing to take.

There was no doubt he was hard and ready to burst if he just got a little lick to his slit, but there is also no doubt he’ll hold out for as long as he can. Leaning down, he slotted our lips together in a more than messy kiss that was hard to navigate as we were upside down. His hands caressed my cheeks before moving to pull my top down, letting my tits spill out on top. I knew he liked them and since depriving himself for longer than needed last time, he was making up for it this time. Pinching my nipples he got a moan out of me telling him to keep going. I loved when my tits were played with, the sensitivity a great feature.

My fingers trailed down his sides languidly, feeling his abs flex at the sensation. Gripping the front of the trousers he was clad in, I somehow managed to open it up before pulling it down along with his briefs as far as I could. Harry moaned into my mouth as his cock freed from restraint and I got my hands on it only tugging lightly.

Biting my bottom lip he pulled away to make sure I was comfortable where I laid before shuffling the few centimeters closer so his tip rested on my lips. I was excited to taste him again and to feel his impressive length down my throat. It being something I don’t usually do unless I trust the person or really want to.

He left it to me to take him in and start licking and sucking him deeper into my mouth which I gladly did. Starting with a kitten lick to his slit he groaned and twisted my nipple between his fingers at the feeling of finally being touched where he needed it. I closed my lips around his tip focusing on sucking it and licking around it, but knowing he’s sensitive already I put my hands on his hips trying to get him to move closer. Feeling the welcome weight on my tongue as his cock drove deeper into my mouth, stopping at the start of my throat, I sucked and bobbed my head only slightly as it was hard to move in my position. Not yet knowing exactly what he likes in terms of blowjobs, I listened for sounds he’d let out or if he rutted his hips more at something I did.

«Fuck that’s it.» He murmured before letting out the loudest moan I’ve heard as I helped him go deeper, reaching down my throat. I liked the sensation, knowing I - or Harry - could control something so dangerous as my breathing.

Harry began thrusting his hips more, guiding his cock himself down my throat, keeping still for a second before letting me breath and doing it again. I removed my hands from his hips, wanting him to take full control and let them lay flat on the bed. It was intoxication listening to him pleasure himself with my mouth, only making me wetter by each groan.

«Shit- oh god!» It was as if he was losing his sense to keep himself at bay, the feeling of being down my throat too good. I didn’t mind, loving the fact that he felt comfortable enough to completely be himself for me.

Harry fucking my mouth was intense, the feeling of him pushing his cock as far down my throat as possible, cutting my airways for seconds at a time made me dizzy and want to succumb to every need of his right this moment. I loved laying there, taking everything he gave me without the ability to stop him except if I really needed to of course.

There was no need to stop though. He knew exactly when it was enough and pulled out and when I could take more.

«Agh.. Your mouth feels so fucking good Alex-» It was like he didn’t quite know how to express himself, too far gone in his own head. «I’m gonna cum.. Mmh, you want it down your throat, pet?» Even when he was gone he still called me pet and I reveled in it. It made me smile around him, but quickly going back to shutting my lips around him as he was back to only putting the tip in. I sucked and licked at his slit wanting him to get his release. It didn’t take much before he was shooting ropes after ropes down my throat, moaning as he filled up my mouth with his cum.

I’m sure I had tear streaks down from my eyes to my temples, but to be honest I hadn’t paid attention to anything except Harry’s cock in my mouth for the entire time. I enjoyed it just as much as he did.

«Fucking hell, pet.» Harry’s slowly softening length slipped out between my lips and I opened my mouth to show him his work before swallowing all of it. He groaned at the sight and bent over to catch my lips for a sweet kiss mustering up the little energy he had left before falling on the bed right beside me.

Laying next to each other trying to catch our breaths, Harry’s fingers delicately trailed up and down my thigh laying next to his torso. It felt nice to have the cuddly, cute aftercare I so badly craved for with every other lad who only wanted me gone after emptying inside me. Which is mostly the reason I began only letting them cum on my tits or arse. It was a fair deal I thought, seeing as a lot of them didn’t even get me off.

His chest was still somewhat heaving, begging for more air when I sat up dizzy from the blood coming to my head and not regaining my breath completely either. His eyes opened to see if I was going anywhere. I was still fully clothed, only my tits hanging out next to a naked Harry who seemed to have kicked his pants off all the way. His cock laid slack against his thigh, tired from the intense orgasm.

«Did you enjoy that?» I don’t know why I felt like asking this time. My confidence was always up when I was with him and it sounded and felt like he really liked what I was doing. My tits were red with his marks and I hadn’t felt a thing being too busy reveling in Harry. He could get it with me anytime he liked and I would comply and do exactly what he wanted.

«Did I enjoy that?» He chuckled and moved to hold his weight up on his elbows. «That was unreal. I was so fucking gone in my own head I didn’t even think about you. Are you okay, Alex?» Course he cared for how I was feeling, it was like second nature for Harry to care about the people around him. Probably the reason why he became an officer.

«Yeah, I really liked that.» I hadn’t even been close to reaching an orgasm from that alone, but damn it if I hadn’t enjoyed myself more than with any other lad - who I’ve never even let fuck my face like that.

«Do you wanna sit on my face? Honestly don’t know if I can move right now.» He was good to look at so I let my eyes wander, his tattoos shining along with the rest of his skin with a light layer of sweat. I shook my head no, telling him I was good for now.

«I might wake you up tonight if I can’t sleep though.» Winking at him as I got out of bed fixing my tits before going downstairs to get a bottle of water. My throat was rough and the aftertaste of his cum wasn’t that nice any longer.

Bringing a bottle of water up for Harry to drink, I jogged up the stairs only wanting to fall asleep as soon as possible. Not getting much sleep during the last month has gotten to me and the one weekend I have off I want to make up for some of it.

«Is it alright if I sleep here?» Again, don’t know why I felt the need to ask Harry if I could stay the night when I’d done it the last two times.

«I was kinda hoping you’d stay and I could return the favor when I get back from work in the morning? I’ll be done by nine at the latest.» Harry didn’t look like he was scared of getting rejected, almost talking as if it was the most normal question. Maybe he recognized there was something up with me and was trying to act as normal as possible for me to relax again.

«Mm, I think I can do that.» Harry smiled from where he was still laying, telling me to ‘come here’. I didn’t object and fell straight into his arms with a quiet sigh. His hands grasped my body tightly to his, fingers going up and down my spine. «Think I’m gonna fall asleep in a few seconds if you continue doing that.» It felt incredible having someone dote on you without any pressure or hidden feelings behind it.

«Let’s get up and get ready for bed then, yeah?» I nodded and reluctantly removed myself from his arms pulling him up with me.

Standing in the bathroom brushing our teeth together felt oddly relaxing. A thing normally viewed as intimate between a man and woman when they’re sleeping together at least. There had been intimacy between us since our first night together I feel, so we might’ve gotten used to it - not thinking about how this isn’t normal for people who only have sex.

Deciding to push the thought to the back of my mind, I got undressed to my underwear before jumping under the covers waiting for Harry to get in behind me and pull me close.

— Morning after

I wasn’t aware of my surroundings as I was still asleep and only barely waking up when I felt the unforgettable feeling of someone going down on me. Slowly opening my eyes as I let go of the moan I couldn’t even try to hold back, I saw the duvet was still covering my body, one leg sticking out while my right knee was sticking up under the duvet.

It was undeniably the best wake up call I’d had in years. Maybe even since the morning of my fifth birthday which was twenty years ago. Lifting my arms to lay above my head, my hips started moving along Harry’s tongue wanting to get as much pleasure as I could out of it. Since when were men this good at eating a woman out?

He smiled against my clit as I continued to sound my pleasure and circle my hips against his mouth, obviously liking how much I enjoy what he was doing. And I sure did enjoy it, a smile finding its way on my face as well before more sounds took over and I couldn’t find the energy to moan through a smile.

His tongue flicked my clit once, twice before sucking it between his lips, tongue still flicking. It was warm and wet when he released it going down my slit, pushing his tongue in me. I don’t understand where Harry learned how to eat someone out when literally no other man even knew where my clit was. His arm hooked around my thigh moved down so his thumb could circle my clit, pressing into it at times to get more heavy breaths from me.

I didn’t last long, Harry going at it like he was starving, reaching my first high this morning from oral with a soundless moan. My hips didn’t stop grinding into his lips and he didn’t let up until I moved my hand to push him away. I was sensitive and not quite awake yet as I came down from an orgasm I couldn’t compare to anything else.

Harry came up from under the blankets, fitting himself between my still open legs. Seeing the smile on his face, chin and lips glistening with my release on them, made me pucker my lips together wanting to taste myself on him.

«Mm..» Harry moaned into the kiss, his body fully leaning down on mine, barely holding his weight up as I took most of it. It felt nice - his warm body encompassing mine fully.

Keeping him close we spent the morning in bed, kissing and ultimately slipping him in when he spooned me. The position being intimate and sensual, but the morning stillness and tired bodies made it the best way to get off in this moment.

After rolling around in bed for an hour, enjoying another orgasm or two, our hungry stomachs made us get out and make our way to his kitchen. The sun was shining through the windows making the room light and the slightly warmer wind blowing through the open french door made it so the shirt I had put on was just enough to not get cold.

Sitting down on one of the dining chairs I watched him move around in his kitchen making us french toast for breakfast. The clock had just passed ten and I was planning on going straight back to bed when I got home then hopefully finishing up my paperwork. I needed the sleep or I don’t think I’ll function the week coming up.

«I wanted to talk to you about something.» We had been sitting in silence as we ate the toast until Harry’s words broke the comfortable silence. I nodded and moved my eyes to connect with his showing him I’m all ears.

«We’ve had sex a few times now and first of all I want to make sure we’re not giving each other anything. I know I’m not sleeping with anyone else.» I understood where he came from. We don’t know what the other does when we’re not together and because we’re not using a condom we could easily bring an STD into the picture.

«I told you I haven’t been with anyone but you the last year, so I’m clean. Even went to the clinic last week.» It was a necessary conversation, but telling him I’d been checked after we’d slept together was a little awkward.

«Good. I’m clean too, checked on tuesday.» Harry nodded, but didn’t seem done with the conversation. To prepare himself for the second part of the conversation, he took a bite of his toast before swallowing it down with some water.

«I wanted to ask you one more thing. It’s absolutely fine if you say no, but know I’m one hundred percent up for it.» He looked me in the eyes as I waited for him to ask what I had a feeling he would.

«Would you wanna make this a regular thing? Exchanging phone numbers and meeting up whenever we want a release instead of not knowing if we’ll ever see each other again? I think we’re pretty compatible in bed and I’ve had a better time with you than any old fling I’ve ever had.» He was laying our options on the table, suggesting we become friends with benefits. It had crossed my mind, knowing I wouldn’t object to having a benefit relationship with him. Honestly think it’ll be more beneficial for me and I never thought he’d bring it up.

«I’d be up for that, yeah. Not to make things awkward but you’re a pretty decent lad with a more than satisfying member to be fair. Would be stupid to turn you down - anyone would.» My cheek grew hotter as I spoke, a tint of red covering them I’m sure as I’m clearly not as bold and confident when we’re not in bed or drunk.

Harry only smiled at me as I basically confirmed our new relationship - friends with benefits. It’s been five weeks and too many wet dreams since I met him and knowing I can have him almost whenever I want - and when he wants - is just perfect. If I can give him half as much pleasure as he gives me I’ll be a happy lady, but I will aim to give him mind blowing orgasms every time.

«Didn’t think you’d be up for this sort of deal with the whole police thing.» Looking up from my plate as I ate the last bite of my delicious toast, Harry squinted his eyes at me.

«And why’d you think that?» He didn’t sound irritated or confused but intrigued to know what was going on in my head. Putting my trust in him and being honest is a huge part of us - I think at least - so I washed away all anxiety and worry. Not that he made me have a reason to be anxious around him.

«Just thought you’d be a bit proper and all. Guess that went out the window - along with my knickers - the first time we met, huh?» Snickering at the memory of him throwing my knickers out his window, Harry joined in also thinking back to five weeks ago. Being able to have banter with him is good, makes things less serious as it should be between friends with benefits - I think at least.

“What are you saying then? Wanna give me your number, pet?” Harry looked at me with the happiest smile on his face; there is no way I’m letting neither of us down by denying us having regular hookups. I’d be causing myself pain to not let him fuck me as much as he wants.

“Happily. One tiny condition though, we always meet here cause I have a roommate and I want to keep this between us. Not because I’m ashamed, but because she likes to meddle in my business and it’ll be easier if she doesn’t have proof of anything.” Harry agrees, not wanting anyone else talking about our - not quite so normal - relationship.

It was easy being myself with Harry, he made me feel safe and relaxed. There was no need to keep my guards up around him though we’ve not known each other for long. Not that it mattered much, there were people who got married after only a couple months of knowing each other - which we most definitely will not do.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles ff #writing #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #fwb!h #fwb!harry

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fibrowarriorgirl · 3 years

Text

Toxic positivity & chronic illness

This post is aimed mainly for the people who aren't chronically ill themselves, but for those who know someone dear to them is chronically ill. Although I think a lot of chronically ill peeps will be able to relate to this post.

"Stay positive." It's something that pretty much everyone hears in their life. In our darkest moments, we will always have someone telling us to be as happy as possible. Remember the last time you were upset, and someone told you something like this. How much did you appreciate this?

Sure, it can definitely help under certain circumstances. Let's say you failed a test at school. Your parents telling you "it's okay, better luck next time!" could actually cheer you up. But what if it wasn't just any test, but an important exam you failed. "Better luck next time!" is a lot less pleasing to hear. You failed your exam, you won't be able to go to your next year, all your friends did pass so you won't be in their class any more, and the next time you do the exam will be over a year from now. The phrase "better luck next time" sounds bitter more than anything. And definitely isn't appreciated.

We as humans often feel inclined to turn anything bad into something positive. It's a natural response. You see someone you love in pain, you want to be able to say something that will make it better. But we have to be realistic, there will be times when someone is in pain (physically, mentally or both), and there is nothing to say to make it better. And you trying to make it better, only makes it worse.

I've only had my fibromyalgia diagnosis for almost a month, but I've had episodic pain for over a year now and constant pain for almost 5 months now. Especially this last month has been rough with toxic positivity.

Receiving the fibromyalgia diagnosis was hard. At the time of being diagnosed, I didn't know too much about it. I had read about a few symptoms, but I honesty didn't think I could have it. So once I did some research, I was devastated with my diagnosis. And something I noticed, is that a lot of people were trying to help me by saying uplifting things.

"But Elke, what's so bad about that?" What bothered me the most, was that I wasn't even diagnosed for a week and people were telling me to cheer up. Telling me it could be worse, telling me what has helped them when they had pain once, it will get better, it will pass. And I always had the same response: "Let me be sad for a while."

I had just heard I had chronic pain. I have a very frustrating diagnosis. Doctors can't tell me what it is in my body that is causing all of my symptoms. There is no medication. I need mobility aids to get around. I will need a very intense form of rehabilitation. So yes, I was pretty depressed for a few days. The last thing I needed, was to hear it could be worse. I was grieving, grieving the life I once lived. I was in denial of the life I was forced to start living.

Maybe you're thinking that even though your positivity isn't welcome, but it can't hurt, right? Unfortunately, you're wrong. Being told that something could be worse, tells me I am bothering you, that my pain isn't severe enough to be upset about. Maybe that isn't your intention at all, but it is somewhat implied. We also internalise this way of thinking. I tell myself "it could be worse" so I can't feel bad. Even though my head can be pounding, my joints burning, with no energy in my body to do even the simplest of tasks, I'm still not allowing myself to feel bad. Because there is someone out there who has it worse.

Not only does this phrase negatively impact me, it impacts my surroundings. Let me take a friend of mine, who I will call Jane Doe for the sake of anonymity. Jane suffers from an undiagnosed eating disorder and body dysmorphia. And a few weeks ago, she told me she felt bad whenever she talked about her struggles with her body to me. "You're actually in constant pain, you have it so much worse." Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear that? She is struggling with something I know can be so challenging. She is in (mental) pain, but "it could be worse." I am still here for Jane, I don't think of her pain as less or not as important as mine. I don't want her to feel like that.

Of course, there are many things chronically ill people are frequently told that do more damage than good. "I had pain here once, so I did x and y and it went away." We already tried x and y. We tried the whole alphabet. "It will pass." No, it's a chronic illness. It can get better, maybe. I could go on and on.

Discussing toxic positivity is awkward. Because I realise all of these things are said with love, with the intention to help, to put a smile on my face. So I don't want to point out that you're actually hurting me by saying this. I often will just smile and nod through it. And I get it, I really do. I too have done this in the past, I probably still do without even noticing. And I also understand that my loved ones also have to adapt to my new life. You don't get a handbook on how to deal with your chronically ill daughter/partner/friend/etc. So that's why I'm posting this, to educate.

Instagram account @unchartedmalady posted a quote a few days ago that inspired me to write this post. "We don't seek solutions or treatments from friends or family. That is what medical professionals are for. We want support, understanding and empathy." This perfectly describes how I feel about this.

I'm in pain, every day. Some days, I get a lot done. Maybe I'm in a little less pain, but that isn't necessarily the reason. I could be excited to do something, I could have rested a lot the days beforehand, maybe I just somehow woke up with more spoons than usual. There are also days where I am not able to do much. There are even days that I can only get out of bed to use the toilet. Maybe this is a really bad pain, but that also isn't necessarily the reason. I could have received bad news, I have just done something 'big' the days before and need to rest, maybe I just woke up with less spoons.

On my good days, I don't need much support. But on those bad days, I need you. And I don't need you to help me. I need to be able to tell you "today fucking sucks, this is why" and for you to listen. Seeing your loved one is in pain is uncomfortable, you will feel the need to say something positive to cheer them up. This might sound blunt, but learn to deal with that uncomfortable feeling. Some appropriate responses could be:

"Do you know what to do on days like this?"

"Have you been able to discuss this with (medical professional)?"

"I am here for you."

"I'm sorry you're going through this."

"Can I help you with anything?"

Something that I personally think is a great alternative to saying something positive is: "I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better." This acknowledges that you want to say something to help, but that you realise there is nothing you can say to help. And also, be honest if you don't know what to say. "That sounds awful, I genuinely don't know what to say." There is nothing wrong with being honest about that.

And to finish this post off, I am not here raging against everyone who has every said something 'toxically positive.' I am here educating about this. It's okay to make mistakes, especially if you didn't know about this. And maybe you will still make this mistake every now and again, that's okay. As long as you're trying. We're all human, we all make mistakes. If you're ever not completely sure how to handle a situation with your chronically ill loved one, please just ask (respectfully).

(Credit for image goes to uncharted malady on instagram. Click here to visit their profile)

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blu-archer · 3 years

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Mr. Park’s return

So, I’m not sure what to make of this really... like it’s not really a sickfic thing - I don’t know.. it might be, I’ll just say it classifies, it’s more of like a little continuation bit in this series and because I felt like writing about it... I’ve had this sitting with me for a while, so I may as well post it.. it felt a bit everywhere, there’s some knew characters I just tossed in because I needed too and we’ll just see where that leads, yeah?

[there is probably grammatical errors, my first language is English I just can’t proof read - its a rough life] anyway, I hope this is somewhat enjoyable, its kind of a mess

This is supposed to be just a small filler type thing I guess

Snz based but like its rather mild.

‘Sickie’ : Jimin / [Felix? its faint really]/ [Yoongi is mentioned, but yeah]

Hybrid AU

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 3

Word count: 5376

I tossed some Stray Kids in here because I love them too.

“Good morning everyone.” Jimin smiled at the class of juniors settling in their seats as warmly as he could considering that he was still trying to recover from days of fever. He still felt tired and a weak, with some lingering symptoms, but he was tired staying at home doing nothing. He needed to work again, get back into a routine so that he wasn’t lazing around all the time. So, he had suited up in warm clothes and more makeup than usual to hide the dark rings that had still not left him.

The class stared at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity before greeting him with about the same enthusiasm he had done to them. He supposed that was fair, it wasn’t like they knew who he was really.

He cleared his throat, dropping the exam booklets onto the desk set up in the front of the room, before continuing on with as much forced giddiness as he could manage. No one wanted to head into an exam with a dark unwelcoming mood, so if he could brighten it by even an inch then he would be happy.

“I’m Mr. Park, I’ll be your teacher for this exam.” As if to serve as a reminder, something caught in his throat and he smothered a small bout of coughs into his arm. “Please excuse my voice, I’ve been a little under the weather.”

It didn’t take long before a few voices rose up, which was not surprising considering majority of the class had probably never seen him before. it had become blatantly obvious that most of the students had wanted to spend much more attention on their paper. He didn’t blame them, anyone would want to be distracted from exams and he usually wouldn’t mind, he loved to gossip and get to know the students and they always seemed to be as interested in him as he was in what they were like, but even with the amount of lozenges he’d sucked on that morning already, his voice was definitely going to give out if he spoke for long.

“What do you teach Sir?”

“You look so young.”

“Mr. Park! What are you doing here?”

“Are you new?”

“What type of Hybrid are you?”

Jimin looked to students who had spoken up. Most dressed or styled slightly different from the standard uniform, clearly these were the usual extrovert favourites. He tried to ignore the more intrusive questions and focus more on the ones of innocent curiosity. A wide grin split across his face and his sight narrowed as he recognised one girl that he taught in modern contemporary. Jimin pressed his square framed glasses further up his nose, his tail flicking as the girl waved her arm wildly from the back of the class.

“Sana? Oh, it’s weird seeing you out of class.” Jimin chuckled lightly, giving a small wave in return. “Most of you probably won’t know me, but I’ve been a part of the dance faculty for I think about three years now. I usually only interacted in the other art departments during these times, but this year the school thought it would be better to shift things around a bit. I think I only know Sana… oh wait, Soobin’s here too. Wow, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you two…” His chest warmed with the pleasure of seeing at least some of his kids.

“Sir, what are you doing back?” Soobin grinned and leant forward from when he sat on top of his friends desk. “Mr. Jung said that you probably wouldn’t be back for at least another week.”

“Not quite.” Jimin corrected, moving closer to his student. “It’s just not as heavy a work-load as usual. Are you ready for your exams? And you Sana? I feel so bad for not being there in your final sessions.”

“I think we’re both glad that you rested rather than pushed to be there with us.” Sana grinned, packing away her English textbooks. “I haven’t done mine yet but Soobin had his exam yesterday.”

Jimin’s eyes shot to the boy who merely shrugged, although the bright flash in the fae boys eyes led Jimin to believe he did better than he wanted to portray. Which was good. Great, actually. His students were amazing.

“Ahhh… why do I get the feeling that none of you did any real dancing while I was away… Anyway, don’t stress over it. Deep breathes and smooth lines. It’s nothing you haven’t done before.” Jimin countered to Sana before stepping back to address the class once again, coughing into his arm again – slightly harsher this time. He answered and entertained a few more questions from the students that he didn’t know before finally calling it. “Okay, we should probably start soon. May everyone please start packing away any studying material. And is everyone present for this exam?”

“Mr. Park, Sir.” A trio of girls, each with unique traits that led him to believe they were all either warlocks or fae, waved to him from the side of the class closest to the wall of windows.

“Yes?”

“So, you’re a dancer, Mr. Park? Can you show us something?” The one with golden eyes smirked and Jimin’s chest tightened, knowing that her suggestive tone wasn’t one of humour or general curiosity. Kids. They were kids.

“I am, but we have more important things.” He chose to ignore the low whining that erupted from them. “Clear your desks please, you don’t seem to be going over notes anyway. I am assuming that everyone is here, which means we are going to begin.”

He returned to the desk without glancing at the girls again. The session had officially started.

Once desks were clear he began to hand out transcripts, only letting them turn through the pages once each student had one. It was a bit of a struggle, with how hoarse his voice was quickly becoming – given that he hadn’t needed to use it as much in the past few days as he was now, but he managed to read through the paper with them to make sure there were no immediate errors then set them forth on the 3-hour paper. Even though it made him drowsy he snuck a few pills in after he stifled a sneeze into his wrist. He wanted to try keep any and all symptoms to a minimum as to not distract anyone, but it was difficult when the class only had the scribbling sound of pens on paper to fill it with noise.

He sipped the tea from his flask that he was certain Yoongi had spiked with some type of herbal energy booster before Jimin had left that morning. The hybrid couldn’t help the wholesome warmth that ran through him at the thought of the worrisome warlock. Despite Yoongi being powerful and often intimidating to those who didn’t know him, Jimin knew that the elder was in-fact a big softy that was usually too shy to address things that stressed him out. Especially if it was about the people he cared for. Instead he was prone to small actions that he thought would help lift any burdens or stressors, for both him and whoever he helped – in this case, Jimin. Yoongi hadn’t even wanted him to start at the school again yet, even for short hours, but after the hybrid had spoken some sense into him – that it was Jimin’s job and everyone, including Yoongi himself, had worked while sick at some point – Yoongi eventually caved.

Although that didn’t stop him from being a bit clingier than usual, and definitely didn’t stop him from wrapping Jimin entirely in the Warlocks clothes so that his scent was with him all day. Not that Jimin minded being completed drenched in the elders scent and the clothes that were just a bit too big for him always made him feel warm and comforted. The last week that Jimin had spent at home with his boyfriend had been amazing, even if he had been a miserable mess for most of it.

Jimin had just finished firing off emails to the other dance staff members about how everything was going with the dance exams and if there are still students looking for last minute help when he felt the sad realisation that his med’s had been easing off. He hadn’t brought enough for a second dose and he could already feel his nose starting to run. The exam was almost over, just another hour or so and then he was free to be a mess again. But that wasn’t what his body had in mind.

He’inxshew… hih..Hieshxngt hXNGst..

Damn it.

Jimin sniffed and wiped at his nose with a tissue. Thankfully he had thought to bring quite a few of the tissue travel packs with him, Yoongi had tried to slip an entire box of Kleenex into Jimin’s bag but the hybrid found that to be a bit excessive. His tail curled around his waist as he felt the gazes of a few of the students that were already finished or were checking through their work, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. He sniffed repeatedly, trying to be as soft and quiet as possible but it only seemed to make matters worse as he snapped forward with another sneeze that he caught by pinching at his nose. Stifling was a bit painful, especially with how congested he had been, but he would bear with it.

He stifled four more before he had to come to terms with the fact that he could not try to sniffle to keep it at bay anymore. So he claimed fresh tissues to blow his nose, wincing and sending apologetic eyes to the students at the wet gurgling sound that filled the room. Jimin’s face was heated and he swallowed hard trying to work past his embarrassment. The students probably didn’t even care that much. But he still felt like the floor should open to let him fall through it.

He perked as a hand shot up, the student mouthing for more paper. Jimin threw away his tissues, doing his best to ignore how gross he was momentarily felt, and after a quick squirt his trusty hand sanitiser that Jin made him carry, he was up and handing out pages. Taking that moment of already being up to slowly walk around and check if anyone else needing anything from him. He tried not to linger too much when he noticed Soobin gnawing at his bottom lip. A quick glance and Jimin could tell that the boy was struggling with understanding some of the things being asked of him and he didn’t want to add any extra pressure of being hovered over. Clearly the boy was unfortunately – in this case - closer inclined to the creative arts than he was to general studies.

“Si-Sir?”

Jimin followed the soft whisper to a thin, pale dog hybrid who looked anxious just to have to look Jimin in the eye. Jimin cleared his throat to try get rid of the insistent itch that seemed to plague him and leant down so that the boy wouldn’t have to look up at him when he spoke. It wasn’t often that someone reacted intimidated by Jimin, so he was left a bit unsure. The few handfuls of times that he could remember being anything close to scary were strictly associated with his dancers or the few times he got into arguments with his friends, but usually everyone saw him as a soft and gentle hybrid that they could either try to walk all over or have pleasant easy conversations with. No real threat.

Jimin rested his hand on the edge of the desk to steady himself, then silently inclined his head to indicate that the boy could continue.

“I-I don’t feel.. feel well.”

Jimin gently rested a hand on the boys back only to frown at how sharp the hybrid’s bones were beneath his clothing. “What do you mean? Are you stressed? Sick? Do you feel nauseous?”

The boy merely nodded and swallowed loudly, sinking further away from Jimin.

“Do you want to go to the nurse?” he asked softly. Looking more closely at the boys’ face, his oddly sharp facial structure and sunken cheeks. He had originally seen the bruises under the boys eyes as a part of the exam season stress but maybe there was something else happening.. When he got the nod of approval Jimin set his hand on the boys exam paper. “Do you want to keep this for now, or should I take it?”

“Take it.”

Okay then. Jimin stood up, slipping the exam paper from the students desk, and bringing it back to his station, making note of the foreign name, ‘Felix’, filled in at the top right corner. Then he moved to the intercom attached to the wall behind his desk chair and held the button that connected him to the head office. “Hi, could we please have someone come to room 48? I need a student to be taken to the nurses office.”

A garbled reply came back at him that he could only hope meant that someone would be sent soon. In the meantime, Jimin dug in his bag until he retrieved a sealed bottle of water. It wasn’t as cold as it had been when he had bought it, but it would do. He returned to the boy who had now buried his face into his hands, taking deep shaky breaths.

“Felix… can you try taking some small sips of water for me?” Jimin knelt beside the desk once more, twisting off the cap of the bottle. “Just a few? When last did you eat or drink something?”

He didn’t get much of a response other than the hybrid lifting his head enough to look at the open water before shakily taking it from Jimin. He took the smallest of sips before just sitting there with his eyes tightly shut.

“Okay.” Jimin rubbed Felix’s back and stood up again, coughing into his arm before letting out a restrained groan. “Everyone, you have 40 minutes left. If you’re finishing off or just sitting there, then go through your answers again and make sure you’ve read the questions carefully.”

It was almost ten minutes before Jimin heard a soft knock on the door.

Felix had been sitting with his hands pressed tightly against his eyes, leaning heavily on his elbows while taking stuttering breaths. Jimin had been hovering with concern, but there wasn’t anything he could really do to help. The dog hybrid pretty much shunned him every time he murmured a gentle question or soothing words.

Jimin left his spot next to the sick boy, giving a quick glance over the class to find that at least a third of them were watching him and not going over their work like he’d encouraged, but he called out a brief ‘half an hour left’ and moved to open the door.

“Jimin?”

“Jin.” Jimin let out a heavy breath, running a finger under his nose before leaning closer to the concerned elder. Silently thanking that their office employees had thought to call the school nurse directly and not some random other teacher to walk the boy to a better environment. “Hi, I’m not sure how sick this boy is, but he has a fever and I think he might be nauseous. He couldn’t tell me if it was from anxiety or something else so… He didn’t seem too keen on talking to me at all actually. I just gave him water.”

Jin nodded, wiping his hands on his jeans before stepping forward to move into the class. For a moment he looked like he wanted to question Jimin on something else but thought better of it.

“Where are they?”

Jimin pointed him out and then stood back, trying his best to watch over the rest of the class and not interfere with Jin as he prompted a few words out of Felix – mostly about what he felt like and whether he was okay to walk - before helping him stand. The witch had to wrap an arm around the boys waist to kept him steady and they were forced to move at a slow pace, but Jin just murmured soft barely audible words of encouragement until they’d reached the door. Jimin lay a steadying hand on Jin’s arm before biting at his lip.

“Do you need help getting back? I can ask the office to send another person..”

“We’re fine Jimin.” Jin reassures, his hand rubbing gently at Felix’s side. “I know him, I’d rather just move slowly and not stress him out too much. You can come by in a bit if you’re worried, but I’ve got it.”

Jimin let them go, closing the door softly behind them trying to ignore the tears that had sprung to Felix’s eyes as soon as the pair had left the room. Distracted, he gave a final slow walk through the rows of students. Most of them were finished now, some had lain down over their desks while others fiddled with their stationery. He gave a pleased nod to see that at least two students where carefully reading through their work and added to certain places, and then he passed Soobin. The boy had completely drawn over the back of his exam paper with dark detailed sketches that couldn’t have been done quickly. Jimin winced at the thought of how the boys answers must look, and took it has a hint to sit the rest of the time at his desk where he sipped at the final bit of his now lukewarm tea.

He sent a few carefree texts to Yoongi, who had been complaining bitterly about having to stay at home for the day. Apparently he had tried to talk Namjoon into letting him work but the clumsy witch had threatened to jinx the elder if Yoongi came in to work. Jimin smiled at his boyfriend’s irritated messages, knowing that the warlock was probably still in bed despite him having his studio there if he really wanted to work.

He still felt a bit bad about getting Yoongi sick, but the warlock had thankfully always been a quick healer, so hopefully if he rested for a day or two then he would be fine. Jimin sent a final ‘see you in a bit! Love you!’ before he readied up the exam folder to retrieve the papers.

He coughed once into his fist, pushing up his glasses instinctively afterwards, then gave a soft smile. “Okay guys, if anyone is still writing I’m going to need you to stop.”

“Jin? You in here?” Jimin peeked into the small nurses office only to find it empty, ignoring how his voice had cracked. The desk had been pushed neatly to the side and had an open medical bag with some scattered medications on it but other than that and the locker off to the side that held Jin’s personal things, the room was impeccably clean. Although that shouldn’t surprise him, it was a nurses office. “Soekjin?”

He heard a soft reply and then Jin appeared, ducking through the white curtain that basically blended into the wall. The sectioned off area for those that needed a bed to lay down in, if Jimin remembered correctly.

“Yeah, hey.” Jin smiled and tugged at the collar of his shirt before collapsing into his chair with a sigh. “Sorry, I’ve been running everywhere.”

“Mr. Popularity.” Jimin teased and entered properly into the room to lean against the second chair across from his friend. He flipped a small backpack up and dropped it onto the empty seat. “Felix left this. I didn’t want to leave it there in case there was something important inside. He can just fetch it from here whenever he’s back at school.”

“He hasn’t left yet.” Jin let out a breath much heavier than before. His expression darker than what Jimin was used to seeing on him. “He stays in a foster home with a whole bunch of other kids, his guardians are always a bit preoccupied with the younger children. I think they like to think that the older kids can fend for themselves a lot better than what they actually can, but yeah. They were called, but his foster brother will probably be the one to fetch him after his classes for uni end.”

Jimin frowned deeply. His chest ached in sympathy for the timid hybrid that had seemed close to passing out earlier. “Is he… okay?”

“Mostly.” Jin shrugged, glancing back to the curtained area he had come through. “He threw up a few times and put up more of a fight than I thought possible when I tried to get him to drink a potion. I had to resort to just standard medicine, but it won’t be as effective. Seems like a flu.”

“I felt awful that I couldn’t really help earlier.” Jimin admitted with a small sniff, rubbing at the tip of his nose swiftly. “He seemed scared to tell me anything, but I don’t know… maybe he just really wasn’t feeling well.”

Jin shook his head. “This isn’t his first foster home, he got moved around a lot. From his file and the times he’s spoken to me, he has a bit of a rocky history with cat hybrids – of course his experiences kind of dealt more with predatory breeds but I suppose he just kind of categorised.”

Now Jimin felt worse. He bit at his lip and locked his eyes onto the curtain as if he would be able to see the boy through the material. Was he asleep, or was he listening? Jimin’s throat tightened at the thought of having scared the dog hybrid. He didn’t really like causing someone else unnecessary stress, especially if there was a history of something … what, abusive? Maybe?

“I didn’t realise… Why was he sent to school if he wasn’t feeling well?”

“Beats me. Probably didn’t say anything, he’s only really comfortable with a few people and I don’t think he expects to rely on his foster parents.” Jin says quietly. “He’s a good kid, though. Very funny and loud when he wants to be. He just needs to open up to others a bit more, stop feeling like a burden and maybe participate a bit more.”

Jimin nodded, twisting at one of his rings. “It’s hard sometimes, I get that. If he ever wants to he’s more than welcome to come by the dance studio’s. We sometimes hold after school classes for those that are curious or need extra practices. It might be a bit late to switch to it as a subject, but I’m willing to teach him a few things when he’s feeling better, maybe it will help in terms of meeting new people. Or I can ask Hobi if he can teach him a few things if he’ll feel more comfortable with a human teacher.”

“I’ll let him know.” Jin let out a huff of a laugh. “How are you? Feeling better about being back?”

Jimin grinned widely, leaning heavily onto the chair. “Loads better, Yoongi helped me a lot. I’m still a bit stuffy –“

“And your voice is super hoarse.” Jin said, then smiled teasingly as Jimin whined, his ears drooping a little.

“Yeah, I know… But I really do feel better. I’m tired now but I’m happy to be back at work, I missed my kids. I got see two of my students during the exam, although I don’t think I have a lot of faith in the ones English skills. … its fine though.” Jimin straightened up and gave a dramatic wave of his hands. “He won’t need good marks in standard school, he’ll go far in dancing.”

Jin pulled a face at Jimin’s words causing the younger to let out a small giggle.

“Maybe not fail the standard schooling, but you get what I mean. He’s going places whether he gets those marks or not.”

“Sure, Minnie. Just don’t tell him that he doesn’t need to get good marks in other things.” Jin advised teasingly. “That’s not the best way to educate the next generation.”

A gentle knock on the office door had Jimin jumping in fright, his ears drawn back, and fur raised, only to see two boys hovering outside. He vaguely recognised one from seeing him in hallways but the shorter one was unfamiliar, they both had soft fae-like features and wide innocent eyes. The taller was still dressed in the academies uniform while the other was dressed entirely in baggy black clothes that reminded Jimin of Yoongi. Although he doubted Yoongi would willingly get a lip and eyebrow piercing… maybe Jimin could talk him into it…

“Hey, Chan. You got here fairly quickly.” Jin rose from his seat. “ I think he’s asleep right now, but I’ll wake him up and give him a final look over.”

“Thank you so much Mr. Kim.” The dark one said, smiling brightly at Jin before nodding a greeting at Jimin.

He gave a soft ‘Hi’ before he pulled the light backpack off of the seat and handed it to the one Jin had addressed. “Here’s his bag.”

“Thank you.” Chan accepted it quickly and gratefully.

“Aren’t you one of the dance teachers? On the other side of the school?” The student, who looked about the same age as Felix despite being taller than both Chan and Jimin. “I saw you in that theatre performance thing like three months ago… right?”

Jimin nodded, assuming that the boy was talking about the fundraiser that the school did that was mostly a time for the students to see the staff make fools of themselves doing dances or skits – or in his and the rest of the performance arts staffs’ case, their talent and skills being flaunted in their natural habitats.

“Yep, I’m a modern – contemporary instructor, but I help out in the hip hop sector when I’m needed.”

The boys face lit up at knowing he was right. “You’re dancing is so cool. You were so graceful on stage, it looked really beautiful.”

Jimin smiled and felt his cheek warm. Jin had disappeared behind the curtain and Chan was watching Jimin with a small smile.

“I remember now. I went and watched with him and some of our other brothers.” Chan added. “He kind of became obsessed with dance after that.”

His cheeks burned and he let out a soft nervous cough into his fist. “That’s kind, thank you. Are you… all in the same Foster family as Felix?”

Chan nodded before adding. “I don’t live there anymore, but I still spend time with some of them there, kind of become like real brothers, you know?”

Jimin nodded, stilling feeling a bit off about thinking of them in a foster home. “Well I was just telling Jin that he was welcome to come by the studios if he ever felt interested in dance. As a way to open up a bit. I’m not sure if Felix would join if I taught him, but you’re welcome to join myself or Mr. Jung as well if you want – um..”

“Hyunjin.” The boy said eagerly. “That’s so cool. I really want to, I wanted to take classes, but our guardians couldn’t pay for the extra fee.”

Jimin bit back his grimace. It was unfortunate that students had to pay an extra amount for specialised classes but there wasn’t much he could do besides over informal schooling.

“Well, we can organise once or twice a week to help you guys out. You actually look like the right build for a dancer, probably wont struggle too much…”

Jin reappeared with the small dog hybrid following close behind, looking a bit steadier on his feet than before but still nowhere near healthy enough to be at school. Felix hesitated at the sight of him but didn’t stop for long before he move to sink into Chan’s arms. Jin spoke about some of the hybrids symptoms and what he’d need to take as well as giving a few things to watch out for and what to do if it got worse just in case their guardians got busy. Jimin moved back, letting the two boys move closer to their brother in the office. It was cute to see the three of them together, so different and yet there was a clear sense of family. Jimin sniffed only to regret it as a sharp piercing lemon scent that was no doubt coming from Felix flooded his senses. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t smelt it earlier, perhaps it was because Felix was feeling safe – in any case, Jimin blinked hard. He pressed a finger secretly to his nose, but it only seemed to aggravate the itch. Damn it, he had really hoped that he had finished with this earlier – he had blown his nose enough times after leaving the class, but apparently not.

‘He’ingxt’ah.. h’ingxsh..hih..hih’IGTSHiew…’ He cringed as he felt eyes land on him but couldn’t do anything else but keep his hand covering his face. ‘hih’itchshew… h’IShiew..’

“Bless you, Jimin.”

Jimin groaned and pulled a face, giving a soft and somewhat nervous sniffle. It seemed to be the end of it thankfully. Everyone was looking at him, but thankfully they didn’t seem to really care. “Thanks…”

“Thought you were better, hmm?”

“Jin,” Jimin pursed his lips and resisted the urge flick him. “Shut up. I’m fine now, just... lingering stuff.”

Jin hummed but Jimin knew he was only trying to be annoying.

“okay well, I’ll head out then.” Jimin clapped his hands together awkwardly, no longer wanting to stay in the room in case he was going to start being sensitive to any more scents.

“Tell Yoongi to feel better for me, Min.” Jin said as he wrote down the names of specific medications that would be the most long lasting for a hybrid.

Remembering the adorable sight he had left his boyfriend in that morning, Jimin spun around with a cheery gasp and wide glimmering eyes that had Jin laughing loudly, the other three in the room just blinking with bemusement at the suddenly change.

“Get home Jimin! That wasn’t an invitation to start blabbering about your boyfriend. Actually, I’m very annoyed at you – It’s your fault that I didn’t get my extra Namjoon-day yesterday. I was devastated! Devastated Jimin!” Jin scolded him without even trying to suppress his smile.

“You can sleep with your husband whenever you want Jin. No one is stopping you.” A pen smacked into his chest and Jimin bubbled with laughter as he danced out of range of the book that had come flying soon after the first projectile. “Don’t throw things at me!”

“Yah! Don’t say inappropriate things in front of students, you bratty cat!”

“They know what sex is!” Jimin argued playfully, coughing lightly as he caught the next book that came flying at his face. “So sensitive. Has it been that long?”

“I should have never befriended you. I have to rethink my life choices.” Jin shook his head as he sent Felix an exasperated look. The dog hybrid was watching the interaction with wide, watery eyes.

“Bye, Soekjin.” Jimin laughed, handing the book he had caught to Hyunjin. “I’ll let Yoongi know you care. If you want… I can ask him to make up something special to help-“

“GO HOME, BRAT!”

Jimin pranced away, hearing the soft curses that Jin threw after him. Home. Despite how mixed his feelings were after finding out about Felix’s family life, he couldn’t help but be filled with a flood of warmth at the thought of his boyfriend waiting for him. Most likely still cuddled up into the warm nest Jimin had rearranged for him, unless the elder had decided to use energy to make food or something, but that seemed particularly doubtful after he had messaged Jimin about how lucid he felt and about the mountain of tissues creating a new city on the floor of their bedroom.

It was endearing… possibly contagious to anyone else that stepped fought into their house but somehow, very endearing.

#bts sickfic #bts fanfic #witch jin #nurse jin #hybrid jimin #dancer teacher jimin #alternate universe #stray kids #hybrid felix #I tossed some kpop idols into this mess just because I could #Its a mess #but I posted something #Its a little cute #I wanted caring Jimin #This is more plot than anything else i feel like

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makeste · 4 years

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just another long rambling post trying to explain why I, a Bakugou fan, would treasonously want him to lose his quirk

this is something I had originally intended to post about later down the line, after we actually know for sure whether or not Bakugou is going to lose his quirk. but seeing as parts of this post (see: point #5) also indirectly address some issues that people had with the latest chapter (283) as well, I decided I might as well jump the gun.

this is a topic I’ve gotten a lot of asks about, and so I’ve tried to gather all of those various arguments into one single post with my own comments and rebuttals. however, the purpose of this post isn’t really to convince anyone or change anyone’s mind. it’s pretty much just an explanation of why I am so sold on the idea. I think it’s a little defensive at times, and I definitely feel like one of the side effects of getting asks like this...

...is that I feel compelled to explain that yes, as the veritable mountain of Bakuessays on this blog can attest to, I am in fact a Bakugou fan, and have not been standing here this whole time just waiting for the perfect moment to rip off my disguise revealing my secret “#1 Deku Stan!! BAKUGOU CAN SUCK IT” shirt underneath while cackling nefariously. like. just so we’re clear on that here.

I know I’ve said this repeatedly, but it’s precisely because I’m such an adamant fan of Bakugou that I’m excited over the story potential of him possibly becoming quirkless. as for why I keep bringing it up, honestly it’s mostly just because I keep getting the asks, lol. and so my options are basically to either say “ah you know what, you’ve convinced me,” or to keep trying to explain my reasoning at the risk of making everyone increasingly mad and/or bored.

anyway, so there are five arguments which I want to address, and they are as follows:

it’s repetitive/boring/we’ve already had the plotline of a prodigy student losing their quirk.

it cheapens Bakugou’s character development by directly “forcing” him to learn something, instead of him arriving at the conclusion on his own.

losing his quirk would put him on the back-burner, story-wise, and exclude him from further fights and story development.

Bakugou doesn’t need to learn anything more/there isn’t anything important Bakugou could learn by losing his quirk that he couldn’t learn in some other manner.

losing his quirk would mean him falling hopelessly behind Deku, and playing second fiddle to him when he should be Deku’s equal. it would render his whole story and all of his development meaningless.

before I get started, please be advised that this is a very long post. like, tragically long. idk I did my best to rein it in but it just got ramblier and ramblier sob anyways so here’s a cut.

okay!

1. it’s repetitive/boring/we’ve already had the plotline of a prodigy student losing their quirk.

have you ever heard people pose the argument that all of the good stories have already been told? the idea is basically that there’s no such thing as a truly original story anymore, because humankind has been telling stories for thousands of years and we’ve exhausted any and all original ideas by this point. the problem with this, though, is that it assumes that (1) stories must always be 100% completely original in order to be good, and (2) if the basic building blocks of two stories are the same, then those stories must basically be identical. which is very much not the case. classic story structures are classic for a reason. the best stories are based around themes and conflicts and story beats which have been reimagined in a million different ways, and which work precisely because they’re familiar, and because they still resonate with people each and every time. and each and every time, it’s still a different story, because even if the ideas and themes and even some of the emotions are the same, the people are different, and no two people’s stories will ever be exactly the same.

all of which is to say that firstly, just because someone has already lost their quirk doesn’t mean it’s not an interesting enough concept to explore again. but more importantly, Bakugou and Mirio are not the same person. Bakugou is a completely different character than Mirio, with a completely different personality and history, and completely different relationships with the other principal characters. in other words it is absolutely not the same story at all. Bakugou won’t react the same way as Mirio. he’s not a character who can be faded into the background like Mirio unfortunately was. and most importantly, he’s a character whose own personal history with the formerly quirkless main character makes this an extremely personal and compelling character arc which would hit in a vastly different way than Mirio’s. I don’t think it’s repetitive at all, any more than “the heroes fight the villains” is a repetitive plotline. basically this argument, which is subjective to begin with, just doesn’t hold any water to me, I’m sorry.

2. it cheapens Bakugou’s character development by directly “forcing” him to learn something instead of him arriving at the conclusion on his own.

okay there are two counterarguments that I want to make here. the first is that this has always been Bakugou’s character development process since day one. he has never simply just arrived at a zenlike conclusion on his own through stern self-reflection or anything like that. his entire story has been him learning and growing from one humbling experience after another. examples:

he stops bullying Deku after Deku saves his life.

he undergoes a huge shift in attitude after Deku beats him in their training fight on the second day of school. he eats a healthy serving of humble pie and listens to the constructive criticisms that Momo, Aizawa and the rest pile onto him afterwards, and the result is that he becomes less cocky and starts taking his training much more seriously.

he wins-but-loses to Todoroki in the school festival and it serves as a reminder that simply winning isn’t everything. being the best is meaningless if it’s handed to you. as a result his determination is fueled even more.

he is LITERALLY FORCED POINT-BLANK to work together with Deku in order to pass his final exam. he is dragged kicking and screaming. I can’t stress enough how completely unwilling he was to learn this lesson otherwise lmao. it’s abundantly clear that he would never have done this on his own had the lesson not been almost literally beaten into his own head.

his experience at Kamino -- being targeted because he was perceived as villainous, and feeling responsible for All Might’s retirement afterwards -- is perhaps the best example of how Katsuki takes a terrible experience and uses it to grow leaps and bounds as a person. he develops a new awareness of how his actions can potentially be perceived by others (a vital lesson if he ever hopes to make it to the top). and he’s profoundly humbled (I keep using that word, so I just want to pause a sec to clarify that I mean it not in a “humiliated and crushed” way, but in a “freedom from pride and arrogance” way; in other words this is ultimately a positive thing, even if it comes about in an unpleasant way) by the experience, enough so that he finally lets his walls of pride crumble enough to have his weirdly violent heart-to-heart with Deku. and as a result the two of them grow closer, and All Might sets him down the path of Win To Save and Save To Win. something which I feel compelled to note that he still had ABSOLUTELY NO CLUE ABOUT beforehand. this is another thing that literally had to be spelled out for him before he could grasp it. it’s very hard for me to conceive a way of somehow spinning this particular development, which is by far the most important in his arc to date, as being something he just “learned on his own.”

and I forgot to mention it, but him failing the provisional license exam also directly contributed to the character development mentioned above! that was what finally tipped him over the edge. even though he was reeling from everything that had happened at Kamino, he still had too much pride to actually open up to anyone about it until this second “loss” of sorts finally convinced him that he really was doing something terribly wrong, and pushed him to talk to Deku about it.

and that brings us to where we’re at currently! there are a few other things I didn’t mention, like Jeanist lecturing him on the meaning behind choosing a hero name, and his internship with Endeavor teaching him... something. tbd lol. but anyways my point here is that Bakugou has always been a character who learns chiefly through his mistakes and painful experiences. it’s extremely rare for him to just arrive at some new tidbit of enlightenment all on his own, and if it does, it often still originally stems from a past -- often painful -- experience. that’s just how he is. his stubbornness is one of my favorite things about him, but it’s also always hindered his growth to some extent, and has made it harder for him to change his viewpoint all on his own, even though he is to his credit very open to change once something finally does sink in. he’s someone who’s always trying to be better. it’s just that a lot of times he needs to be nudged and pushed in the right direction, particularly on those few occasions where the thing he has to learn is something that runs counter to his current viewpoint to such a degree that he’s resistant to learning it (see, again, working together with Deku in the final exam).

and that finally brings me to my second counterargument to this point, which is that I very strongly feel that having to learn something “directly” in this very blunt manner does not make it cheap. that actually comes off as a bit insulting to all of Bakugou’s previous character development if I’m being honest. his development isn’t cheapened just because something was harder for him to learn. he’s not less of a good person just because he had a harder struggle to learn those things, and needed help and guidance, and made mistakes along the way. I feel very strongly that people shouldn’t be judged on how they grow, or their reasons for that growth. that to me feels like gatekeeping the concept of being a good person. “Bakugou isn’t as good of a character because he only started saving others and caring about people after he got kidnapped.” like, come on. people grow through their experiences! that’s literally where all growth stems from, even growth that on the surface appears to be self-fueled and motivated. every single action, every single motivation, happens because at some point or other, that person experienced something that led to them thinking and feeling that way, and deciding to do that thing. we are the sum total of our experiences, I believe is how the saying goes. and that goes double for characters in a story, because watching them go through those experiences is how we the audience discover who these characters are.

anyway so this argument is also a miss from where I stand. if it takes losing his quirk for Bakugou to have an epiphany about true strength, and what truly makes a hero on the inside, then goddammit, good for him. that’s nothing to be ashamed of. in the end that’s still his hard-earned growth, and he’s not any lesser for having learned it through adversity instead of just stumbling upon the answer somewhere along the way.

3. losing his quirk would put him on the back-burner, story-wise, and exclude him from further fights and story development.

hard disagree here as well. losing his quirk would be the single biggest thing that ever happened to Bakugou. a development like that would almost demand we focus on it. perhaps not right away (just like we didn’t immediately focus on him right after Kamino), but it would be inevitable. in fact, I’d argue that Bakugou losing his quirk is one of the only ways to guarantee that the story puts his character development back at the forefront again at some point, and doesn’t just drop the plotline entirely in an “eh, good enough” manner. it’s a development that basically makes his character development the focus of the plot, instead of us only ever getting little side anecdote scenes of “slowly becoming less of an asshole” for the rest of the series. it’s character development on hard mode, to be sure, but the fact of the matter is that Bakugou is not the main character, and so his personal character journey is only going to make it back to the forefront of the story if and when something significant enough occurs so as to make it worthy of being a focus.

as for the other half of this argument, the thing to understand here is that “Kacchan loses his quirk” is NOT the beginning, middle, and end of that storyline all in one. it absolutely won’t be “welp too bad, guess you can’t be a hero after all” and that’s that. “Kacchan loses his quirk” is only the first act of a story arc that continues with “Kacchan struggles with the aftermath of losing his quirk”, and concludes with “Kacchan regains his quirk and reemerges stronger than ever.” how that will ultimately play out, I don’t know! Vestiges; Eri; OFA; the quirk-restoring bullets which the villains also had at some point unless I’m misremembering things; whatever! the key thing here is that I have faith that it will play out. every single argument you see here is in the context of me believing that the endgame here is not a loss for him, but a win. it’s actually the win, because if all goes well, he comes back stronger than ever because he’s finally done away with the one remaining thing that was holding him back -- that lingering unnecessary fear, insecurity, and pride that’s still at the root of so many of his actions even now.

which brings me to my next point.

4. Bakugou doesn’t need to learn anything more/there isn’t anything important Bakugou could learn by losing his quirk that he couldn’t learn in some other manner.

you’ve no doubt guessed it, but I once again disagree here lol. he definitely still has more to learn. Bakugou’s character development thus far has been extraordinary, but all the same, I still want more for him. I don’t think this is the best he’s capable of. his ceiling is much, much higher, and to say that this is as good as he gets is to underestimate him imo.

here’s an incomplete list of things that Bakugou, at present, is still clearly struggling with, numbered alphabetically so that I can explain afterwards how losing his quirk would address each one.

a.) he still obsessively compares his progress to Deku’s at every turn. we got a little bit of insight into his thought processes just recently in chapter 275, and it was extremely revealing. his rivalry with Deku has been a good thing thus far, but this is primarily because up until this point he has been able to keep pace with Deku. so much of his confidence and self-worth seems to hinge on this one specific thing which is notably outside his control, and that’s troubling to me. but more on that further down in a bit.

b.) he’s still incapable of admitting that he cares about people (which is endearing to be fair, but nonetheless indicates that he still views caring as a weakness, and is uncomfortable acknowledging or expressing it).

c.) he has not yet sorted out the problem of coming off as hostile, vulgar, and aggressive even when a situation necessitates him to be more cooperative. to put it plainly, he’s incapable of dialing back his personality even the slightest degree and as a result gets edited out of interviews and has his friends constantly scrambling to apologize and/or interpret for him. I know that a lot of people -- myself included -- actually adore this feral side of him and even consider it one of his most endearing traits, but still, the fact of the matter is that it’s not a good thing that he’s entirely incapable of even the slightest bit of emotional regulation. at some point he’s going to have to sort his shit out at least a little bit; even Endeavor and Mirko are capable of reining it in when it comes to dealing with the public at large and with the press. if he wants to reach the top ranks he still has a lot of growing to do here.

d.) he still thinks of his own worth purely in terms of physical strength. this is a big one. Katsuki has always defined his own world in terms of strength and weakness. “strong” is good; “weak” is bad. people who win are strong. people with quirks are strong. he has a good quirk so he’s strong. Deku doesn’t have a quirk so he shouldn’t be strong (which becomes a paradox and a source of great fear and confusion to him when he realizes on a deep subconscious level that Deku somehow is strong in spite of lacking a quirk). All Might is the best hero because he’s strong and never loses. he’s going to be even better than All Might, and he’ll do it by being strong and never losing.

except that these ideas are all limited, and limiting. physical strength is not the only kind of strength. All Might wasn’t the number one hero and the Symbol of Peace only because he was strong. Katsuki isn’t strong only because he has a good quirk. but he’s still stuck on this idea regardless, and everything he does, everything he is is defined by this idea. even now, with everything he’s learned, he’s still stuck in this limited perspective. and the very obvious problem with that is that it places him in a precarious emotional position where if he ever actually loses, or something happens to strip that physical strength of his away, his entire core of self-worth stands to fall apart as a result. he’s put all his eggs in that basket. and it’s the source of all of his insecurity, and it’s a weakness that’s just waiting to be exploited, and which is holding him back from discovering and acknowledging so many other good things about himself.

e.) and last but not least we’ve got what is by far his biggest current failing (and I say not to put him down, but rather in that same spirit of “learning to acknowledge your own weaknesses” which he himself has so readily embraced), which is that he is still only focused on himself. mind you, I’m not saying that he’s a bad person, or that he doesn’t care about other people! but I am saying that he is self-centered, and that’s just a fact, and I would defy anyone to try and argue otherwise tbh. he is constantly and completely focused only on his own goals. and on top of that he also has great difficulty seeing things from any perspective other than his own, which has been the cause of numerous clashes and misunderstandings with other people, some more disastrous than others (see: that one time he thought Deku must be looking down on him because he couldn’t conceive of a situation where anyone would actually want to accept help from someone else, rather than being self-sufficient, and thus assumed that Deku’s attempt to help him was in fact an insult). he casts himself in the role of the main character, and dismisses most everyone else as “extras.” and it took him an extraordinarily long time to learn the importance of learning from and helping other people (and again, this was something which had to be explicitly spelled out for him. I’ll say it again and again if I have to, because it’s so important in understanding where Bakugou is coming from and what his mindset is in all of this. he had to have it spelled out, because it was genuinely something which wouldn’t have occurred to him otherwise, because it’s so alien to everything he grew up believing up till that point, and because he has so much difficulty seeing other perspectives).

and again, I’m not saying this to dump on him or imply that he doesn’t care! because he does; we’ve seen that demonstrated on multiple occasions. he has compassion for others. he wants to do the right thing and he wants to be a good person, and he tries very hard in his own way. but he is nonetheless still stuck in his own perspective. he struggles with empathy and being able to see from other people’s points of view. and that is a huge barrier to his becoming the greatest hero of all time, and it’s probably the most difficult barrier to overcome. the behavior is something he can and has been chipping away at little by little, but the root causes of the behavior are still there.

anyway. so now that I’ve said all of that, which probably could have been its own essay in and of itself, how would losing his quirk do anything to address these issues? so let’s now break that down point by point as well, using the same alphabetical numbering system as before. I’m skipping the first one because I’ll address it further down, so we’ll start with b.

b.) it makes him more vulnerable in that it’s a huge blow to his pride. how is that a good thing you ask? because pride is always a double-edged sword. the downside is that losing it hurts his self-esteem (but more on that in a sec), but the upside is it opens him up more to accepting kindness from other people, and allowing himself to express kindness and caring himself in return. pride is almost always the biggest obstacle in doing that. so the short of this is that it could lead to us seeing a more open, willingly vulnerable side to him that would strengthen his relationships and serve him well in the long run.

c.) in a similar vein, the ego check would probably help to address some of his emotional instability as well. a not-insignificant chunk of his tactless exterior is basically just a projection; a tough guy persona he’s constructed over the years as part of his neverending quest to be strong. there’s also a fair amount of insecurity (interpreting everything other people say in the worst way possible and reacting with defensive hostility), arrogance/boastfulness, and fear of vulnerability (aka weakness) mixed in as well. so I could see the whole experience leading to a softening of his personality. in my ideal world this would mostly be just temporary, with his usual Bakuattitude gradually being restored piece by piece as his soul searching adventures wear on and he starts acting like his old self more and more. but I do think that in the end, the loss of that insecurity in particular would go a long way towards helping him gain the ability to chill out just a little bit more when the situation calls for it.

d.) it strips him of that physical strength he’s depended on and defined himself by his whole life. sometimes we need to lose something in order to see and appreciate the other things we take for granted or don’t even realize that we have. Katsuki has so many other qualities that make him a good person and a great hero. he’s intelligent, perceptive, brave, resourceful, and extraordinarily determined. he’s strategic and analytical and quick-thinking. he inspires devotion in others and is a natural leader. and he is honest and sticks to his principles and stands up for his beliefs. there is so much more to admire about him than just strength. so many other kinds of strength that he has. and stripping his quirk away would force him to see that at long last. he’s not just a nobody without his power. the things that make him a worthy hero at his core have very little to do with his quirk.

e.) and then the big one -- learning to see past himself. the truth is that Bakugou has always led a relatively privileged life. he was good at everything, the things he wanted came very easily to him, and he’s basically been at the top of the food chain since he was very young. but the downside of this is that it led to a deep-seeded fear of losing all of that, or failing to live up to it. and because he feared weakness so much, he’s spent his entire life looking down on weaker people. his fear of weakness led to him despising anyone with those “weak” qualities that he secretly feared, rather than having compassion for them. add to that the fact that he just has a hard time seeing outside of his own perspective, and we’ve got a situation in which perhaps the only way for him to really gain that kind of compassion and empathy is to experience some of these things for himself.

becoming quirkless is a way of presenting new challenges to him that he would have never faced otherwise. it forces him to answer questions he’s always been too afraid to ask. it forces him to look at himself in a way he never has before, to take a good long look at his own fears and desires. what if you can’t become the number one hero? do you just give up? do you stop trying? do you stubbornly push back against the inevitable? what happens if you do become weak? do you just accept that for the rest of your life? just sit back and watch as everyone else moves on without you? how can you fight without a quirk? what can you do without a quirk? why did you want to become a hero in the first place? why did you seek out strength? what was it for? why do you struggle with everything you have to reach the very top??

and I’d like to think that some of the answers to those questions are, yes, I am still strong. and, no, I can’t give up. and, no, I won’t accept defeat, no matter what. and, I’m not sure, but no matter what happens I’ll keep on fighting. and, because the person I admired taught me to never, ever give up. and, because I wanted to surpass my limits. and, because I want to be the best version of myself.

and that is growth. and it’s precisely the kind of growth you can’t achieve until you’ve searched deep within yourself and laid your soul out bare. and it will make him a better character, and a better hero in the end. and that’s what we’re all here for isn’t it? that’s literally what this story is about. the journey of these kids growing up to become spectacular heroes. so, just, I don’t know. is it really such a great surprise that I want to see it?

anyways, this was by far the longest of these answers and this post is really starting to wear on, so let’s just get to the last one and wrap this up.

5. losing his quirk would mean him falling hopelessly behind Deku, and playing second fiddle to him when he should be Deku’s equal. it would render his whole story and all of his development meaningless.

okay, listen. first of all, this argument often comes bundled with a whole host of other arguments about Bakugou’s relationship with Deku, and how the narrative has already given him numerous other “losses” to Deku, and how this would just be the latest and greatest loss of all. and I’m just going to say it straight up: this argument is ridiculous to me. actually, what it reminds me of is the very same flawed mindset that Bakugou himself has which I mentioned earlier (the forgotten point 4.a), where he is obsessed with comparing his progress to Deku’s at all times, and only considers himself a success if he beats out Deku. the idea here is basically that Bakugou and Deku are running along parallel tracks with the same end goal/finish line of becoming a hero. and so if Deku gets too far ahead and starts lapping Bakugou or something, then it’s like a slap in the face with regard to all of Bakugou’s hard work, and it makes Bakugou’s whole journey pointless because no matter what, he’ll never be able to catch up, especially if he loses his quirk, which is like the metaphorical equivalent of him spraining his ankle.

the thing is, this entire analogy is flawed. first of all, if Bakugou doesn’t sprain his ankle at some point, he'll miss out on discovering and healing a separate underlying injury that’s been unknowingly hampering his progress this entire time. and second, the race isn’t timed. it’s more like an infinite series of races where the finish line is never actually set in stone, because the finish line isn’t actually “beat the other person”; the finish line is “run as fast and as far as you possibly can, and do it in a better way than anyone has ever done before, and while you’re at it maybe stop and save a few million people, because being the best runner isn’t actually about being faster than each other, even though that admittedly makes this a pretty crappy analogy.” anyways though, so what this means is that the sheer magnitude and scale of this race is such that little victories and losses here and there are ultimately meaningless in the big picture. maybe Bakugou sprains his ankle. maybe Deku breaks an arm or two or three or four. maybe someone shows up at some point and starts uprooting the entire track all around them and they have to put the whole race aside for the time being, because what the fuck. and maybe after spraining his ankle, Bakugou eventually comes zooming back ahead on a segway. and maybe Deku stops running for a while without Bakugou there, because he loses sight of his goal without his rival there to keep him on pace.

but anyway! the point is that declaring a winner and loser in this race before we reach the end is kind of absurd in that it ignores the whole nature of the race and how long-term it is. you see the beauty of the race is that it’s actually the opposite of footraces in real life. in this race, the longer the two of them run, the faster and stronger they become. and this same logic applies to any hurdles which are placed in their lanes along the way. the goal of these hurdles isn’t to trick or punish or humiliate them; it’s to help them get even faster and stronger and ultimately closer to their goal. and also, tbh? it’s a long, long race you guys. and so sometimes, as a fan, you almost start to want to see those hurdles. because otherwise it’s just a lot of endless running and running and running. so yeah, go ahead and throw in a damn hurdle or two and some traffic cones and maybe even a long jump here and there. because that’s part of what makes the thing great to watch in the first place.

and I don’t care whether or not Deku is ahead right now, because I also love Deku too by the way, and because I’m not invested in prematurely declaring a winner. and if Bakugou himself gets upset that Deku is ahead? if Deku pulling ahead of him is enough to send him spiraling into despair, and questioning everything about his life, and losing hope and purpose? well then honestly I would say that’s all the more reason for him to go on and get that new character development, because I don’t want him to always be hindered by those kind of toxic thoughts his entire life. their rivalry should serve to make each other better, not bring each other down. so if Bakugou’s ego is still so fragile that he can’t handle a loss to Deku -- a loss, mind you, not the loss, because ultimately these are all just little battles, and not the actual war -- then I want him to grow the fuck up and get the fuck over that, goddammit. he’s a bigger person than that. I want him to grow beyond that. I want him to develop the real, actual confidence that allows him to bounce back from something like that, and to move on better and wiser and stronger, instead of getting dragged down by the pettiness of it all.

in short, if losing to Deku would really be enough to render his story meaningless, then maybe it’s time for Bakugou to find some meaning in his story that’s not dependent on him winning or losing to Deku. because I for one am not actually in this thing just to see which character “wins.” I couldn’t care less who actually wins. I just want to see my boy grow up big and strong and self-actualized, the better to kick ass without anything holding him back. that’s it.

so this brings me at last to the end of this seemingly neverending post. I have no doubt this won’t be the last of my quirkless!Bakugou debate posts in spite of me trying to comprehensively address every single point I could think of lol. but for now it’s my best attempt. and by the way, if it doesn’t actually happen, that’s fine! I love the idea, but I’m not gonna go full on “oh happy dagger” with it if it doesn’t actually pan out lol. the downside is it will mean that I’ve posted this entire 5600-word dissertation for nothing, but you know what, sometimes that’s just how fandom goes.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #quirkless!bakugou #bakugou meta #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks

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starrynite7114 · 4 years

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everything is you: two

A/N: I would like to thank you all for the overwhelming support I’ve received for Everything is you! I didn’t think I would get so many likes and such, but I really appreciate it! Alena, Cruz and Angel are such a cute family! I look forward to sharing more with you all. This chapter has been done for some time, meaning last night when i was procrastinating instead of studying. I wanted to post this before my exam just so you all can enjoy this. Hopefully I don’t write angst again after my exam like I did last time. Anyways! Hope you all enjoy this update! <3

If you all ever want to discuss this fic or any other stories I have, please feel free! I love discussing stories! :D

everything is you

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CREDITS TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER

Alena walked in Vicky’s House, bringing in the groceries she got for the girls. She didn’t do it often, but when she could, she did a Costco run for the girls so they were fully stocked. Vicky watched as Alena brought the stuff in, chatting with one of her girls. She always wondered who Angel saved in a past life that he landed Alena. No questions asked, she always helped them out along with the other Mayans.

“Lena, mija, you don’t have to do this. You and your mother always spoil us.” Vicky told her as she watched her put the groceries away.

“It’s okay, we don’t mind helping.” Alena smiled, putting the last of the groceries away.

Myrna rolled her eyes, not a big fan of the saint, as she called her. She didn’t understand why everyone liked her so much, she was obviously faking it. No one could be this nice. And why was Angel hanging on to her every word? If Angel spent one night with her, this fake bitch would be nothing. If all he needed was someone to play mommy to his son, she would gladly do it. He was a cute kid, she could overlook that he wasn’t hers.

“Did you get the right milk this time?” Myrna questioned earning a look from some of the girls and Vicky herself. “What? Some people prefer fat free milk. Not everyone can be as skinny as her.”

Alena wasn’t exactly sure why Myrna was always hostile towards her, but she figured it was due to her infatuation with Angel. She told her time and time again that she wasn’t with Angel. Myrna would just scoff and roll her eyes. But Alena wasn’t trying to please her, her mother always said that not everyone would like you, and Alena didn’t mind. She didn’t need Myrna’s approval.

Kill them with your kindness, her mother would advise her.

“I bought three different kinds just in case.” Alena looked over at Vicky. “Is there anything else?”

“Alena, I already told you, you don’t have to do this. Riz helps us out enough.” Vicky wrapped an arm around her shoulder, leading her away from Myrna’s poor attitude.

“I know, but you all help with Cruz so much and when my mother and I didn’t have a place to stay you welcomed us.” Alena’s father left her family a few years back. Her mother didn’t work then, counting on her father for everything. They couldn’t exactly pay for rent so Vicky graciously opened her home to them.

“We’re family mija, of course I did.” She kissed her cheek. “Where’s your husband?”

Alena blushed. Vicky always referred to Angel as her husband, even though she knew that was far from the truth. Much like everyone in their inner circle, Vicky was impressed that Alena took Cruz in. She knew of Alena’s crush on Angel and his heroic ways when it came to her, but adopting a child was something different. She admired her and when she saw them now, it was for the best. Cruz was Alena’s son, no questions asked.

“Angel is at the clubhouse. I’m going there now.” Alena replied. “I hope the milk choices are good, if not I can always bring more next time.”

“Mija, Myrna can suck a dick. It’s fine, we appreciate everything you’ve given us.”

“Okay, I’ll be going now. I’ll come by next week and bring Cruz.”

“Okay mija, be careful on your way there.” She missed her cheek and watched as she got back inside the car.

Myrna came up behind Vicky, thanking god for Alena’s departure.

“I don’t know why you fall for her act. She’s not as innocent as she appears.” Myrna scoffed.

“Listen here, I tolerate you as a favor to my comadre. You keep running your mouth on my goddaughter and I will be forced to kick you out.” Vicky narrowed her eyes at the woman before her. “Don’t think you're special, I have other girls that can do your job. If Angel ever found out what you say about his wife, I’m sure you wouldn’t have a mouth to speak.”

“She’s not his wife.”

“Then run your mouth to him, see what he does.”

Myrna rolled her eyes watching as Vicky walked away. She would get Angel. She was certain a prude like Alena wasn’t doing shit for him.

Once he got a taste of her, Alena would be a distant memory.

==========

Alena drove up to the clubhouse, finding Angel, Gilly and Coco outside. They were watching EZ wash their bikes. Alena laughed, shaking her head. As soon as Angel saw her car, he stood up, throwing his cigarette to the ground. If he could help it, he never smoked around Alena or Cruz since they both had asthma.

“Hermana, why didn’t you tell us you were making a grocery run, we would have come with you.” Coco said as Alena opened the trunk.

“I just need a break, some time alone. Angel and Cruz drove me crazy last night.” Alena teased, elbowing Angel.

“So funny,” he kissed her and picked up a few beer cases to bring inside the clubhouse. Alena blushed at Angel’s gesture. She still wasn’t used to it because they technically weren’t together. She really wished he wouldn’t so she didn’t have to further confuse herself. It was fine, she knew where they stood.

“How you doing hermana? I feel like Angel keeps you all to himself and Angel Jr.” Gilly commented as he watched EZ and Angel bring the groceries in.

“You fuckers gonna help?” Angel asked.

“Naw, you got it handled.” Coco chuckled.

“I’m good, work and well you know the boys. I just came from Vicky’s.”

Coco frowned. “I thought I told you that we don’t like it when you go there without at least one of us.” He knew of Myrna and preferred if someone was with Alena whenever she went over. Myrna was a bitch for no reason since Angel didn’t want to give her the time of day.

“It was fine, I can handle her.” Alena waved her off.

“Handle who?” Angel questioned.

“My mom, I was telling Coco about my mom and how she’s been trying to set me up. He ran into my mom the other day.” Alena lied so well at times, it impressed Coco.

Angel rolled his eyes. “Can you believe Michelle found ten matches for her?”

Coco chuckled. “Prime real estate hermano.” They watched as Angel walked away. “I know you can handle her, she’s just a bitch.”

“I’ve handled worst.” Alena shrugged. “Don’t worry about me, I promise I’ll be fine.”

Coco nodded his head. “Alright, but if she even so much looks at you wrong, you tell me.”

“You tell us.” Gilly corrected.

“Yes, I got it.” Alena laughed. She made her way inside the clubhouse and was greeted by Bishop, Taza and Creeper.

“Preciosa, you spoil us.” Bishop greeted her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s nothing,” she waved him off. “You’re family.”

“So since we’re family, you coming to the BBQ tonight?” Taza questioned after he greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Is your husband going to let you go? We all know how protective he is.” Creeper teased once he pulled away from her.

“Funny.” Angel joined in. “The wind isn’t so bad today, maybe you should come over Alena.” Alena has asthma and Angel was always cautious when it came to her. When it was too windy, along with the dust and dirt of the desert, it triggered Alena’s asthma. Angel preferred for her to be safe at home to assure she didn’t have an attack.

“I have work tomorrow, I should really sleep early.” Since Alena was at Santo Padre, she had to leave at seven in the morning to make sure she reached the office by nine. It wasn’t ideal, but she liked giving the full two days to Cruz and Angel.

“Come on Alena, we haven’t seen you in a while.” Taza insisted.

“I saw you guys last week?” She laughed.

Her relationship with the Mayans were due to Angel, at least the younger ones and the older ones were due to her father, who used to work with Bishop and Taza. She’s known them for quite some time and unlike her, she kept in touch with her father. When Angel first informed them that Alena was adopting Cruz, Taza and Bishop were worried. They knew of her departure for Europe and how it was going to happen in the next few years, she just didn’t tell Angel. But they knew that when she adopted Cruz, Paris was out of the table. They saw how Alena immersed herself in Cruz’s life. Moving in with Angel, marrying him, assuring that Angel would surely get his son. It was admirable, but it worried them.

This could just lay for so long before the rug would be pulled from under them. They didn’t think Angel would find anyone new, but Alena? Well she was a coin toss.

“We can’t miss you now?” Bishop questioned.

“No, it’s not that.” Alena sighed. “Fine, I’ll come.”

Angel wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards himself. “See, told you guys you could win her over.”

Alena playfully elbowed Angel making him laugh. “You’re so cute when you get mad.”

“You’re a dick.”

“But I’m your dick.”

==========

Angel parked Alena’s car right in front of the bikes. He was going to take his bike, but he knew Alena hated driving in the dark. Something about how she’s super blind. But he indulged her since he would do anything for her. Angel waited for her in front of her car, holding his hand out. While everyone knew they were, whatever they were, Angel had to make sure everyone knew in case there were newbies who would try and make a move on Alena.

Myrna watched as Angel led Alena to Bishop and Taza, who greeted her warmly. She rolled her eyes.

“Fucking Saint.” She murmured under her breath, taking a sip of her beer.

Maxine, who was right next to Myrna, rolled her eyes at the girl’s nastiness. “I don’t know why you’re so hell bent on Angel. Ever since Cruz came, he hasn’t slept with anyone. I’m the last person he slept with and he called me Alena.” Maxine remembered that night. Angel didn’t even apologize, which she figured he didn’t really need to. Regardless, after that night, Angel hasn’t really tried sleeping with any of them. He would hang out and flirt, but everyone knew, he came home to Cruz and they would both FaceTime Alena.

They were hooked on her and it was kind of cute.

Myrna was just bitter since Angel never warmed up to her.

“Is she married to him?” Myrna questioned watching as Angel sat down with her at the picnic table. She stuck out like a sore thumb and didn’t belong here. She didn’t belong with Angel.

“Yeah, everyone knows that.” Maxine scoffed. “It may not be traditional, but don’t let Angel hear you say that.”

“Why is he so attached to her? I’m sure she doesn’t give him shit.”

Maxine honestly didn’t want to be a part of this conversation anymore. The Mayans were protective over her and even one bad word towards her, they lunged at you.

“Just leave it alone Myrna.” Maxine left her alone, deciding to join Creeper instead. She was safer in their vicinity.

Myrna watched as Angel walked away from Alena.

“Perfect.” She smirked devilishly. Angel would be here by the end of the night.

Alena watched as Angel disappeared in the clubhouse, leaving her at the picnic table so he could get some food. The wetness was what shocked her first, causing her to blink a few times. She looked down and saw the dark wet spots on her shirt.

“Oops, my bad.” She looked over and saw Myrna with no ounce of regret on her face. The woman smirked down at her. “I tripped.”

“It happens.” Alena stood up to go to the bathroom inside, but Myrna grabbed her arm, turning her to face her. “Can I help you?”

“Drop the act, we all know you’re not fucking innocent.” Myrna spat out. “You think this is going to keep Angel by your side? He warms up my bed everyday, you're not here honey.” That was a lie. Angel never even slept with any of the girls at Vicky’s much to her dismay, but if it would drive this bitch away from Angel, so be it. The smile on her face grew when she saw the flash of hurt in Alena’s eyes.

“Do you want a medal for that? Angel is free to do as he pleases. If you excuse me, I have to clean up your mess.” Alena was heated. Who did this woman think she was? She didn’t care if she slept with Angel. It stung, but Alena wasn’t an idiot. She wasn’t naive either.

Bishop, Taza and Creeper saw what was going on and was on high alert to see if Myrna was going to cross the line. They knew of her crush on Angel and it was the reason she disliked Alena so much. But they hoped she was smart enough to not do anything when Angel was right inside the clubhouse. They watched as Angel came out of the clubhouse. Angel saw Myrna in front of Alena and immediately placed the food on the table when he saw how upset Alena looked.

“Stay away from Angel, we both know he just keeps you around cause you were stupid enough to play mommy to his kid. Anyone can do that.” Myrna scoffed. “I can play mommy to Cruz, so why won’t you run along and stay in San Diego. Angel doesn’t need you. Why would he ever pick your chinky ass when he could be with me? Someone who could please him compared to your skin and bones.”

Angel stood behind Myrna, hearing every word she said. Alena looked up at Angel and she saw the anger in his eyes. Myrna saw that Alena looked beyond her and felt the heat radiating behind her.

She swallowed a ball as she looked back.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Angel was fuming. Who the fuck did she think she was to talk to Alena in that way? “I know you didn’t just fucking insult my wife.” Alena was going to correct him, but she knew why he referred to her as such. Angel wore a ring on his left fourth finger, and people never questioned him. They saw the kid and didn’t ask questions. And they also saw him with Alena often and at his behest wore a ring as well.

Their relationship was complex. Didn’t fit the social norms.

And they did get married, they had to keep the act going. But, after five years, they could get divorce since they wouldn’t investigate any further.

“Angel, hey, I didn’t know you were there.” Myrna had never seen this side of Angel before and she was frightened. She knew she fucked up.

“Evidently you didn’t.” Angel had heard that Myrna had a crush on him, but he never gave her the time of day. He also heard she was always rude to Alena, but he would like to think Alena would tell him such things so he could address it. Then he realized now that it was Alena and she was most likely saving the girl’s neck from being wrung by him. “Who the fuck do you think you are speaking to her like that?”

“Is it not true? If you need a bed warmer Angel, I can keep your bed warm. I can take care of your kid too.” Myrna wasn’t going to back down. It was already out in the open.

“Stay the fuck away from Alena if you know what’s good for you.” Angel just smirked, but he was hardly amused. He walked over to Alena, shoulder checking Myrna as he passed, and looked down at her white shirt, which had blotches of brown spots due to a drink obviously being spilled on her. “She spilled that shit on you?” He questioned, inspecting her now to make sure Myrna didn’t physically harm her.

Alena felt everyone watching them, her anxiety increasing, hating everyone’s eyes on them. She pushed Angel’s hands away, further upsetting him. “I’m fine, it’s okay, it’s just soda and alcohol.” She waved him off. “I’ll go home, I’ll pick Cruz up from pops. I have work tomorrow anyway.”

Angel sighed. He finally got Alena to come and hang out with them then this stupid bitch had to ruin it for them. “Let’s go, I’m not staying if you’re not.”

“No, it’s okay, just stay. Hang out with your brothers.” Alena shook her head, not wanting to cut Angel’s evening short. “You don’t have to be so mean to Myrna, especially if you sleep with her when I’m not here.”

“You fucking think I sleep with her?” Angel gave her an incredulous look. He looked back and she was still there, annoying Angel further. “She just insulted you and you’re defending her?”

“She told me you did. No judgement, you’re single, technically.” Alena heard Angel’s words from the previous day. She wasn’t sure why Angel always made it seem like she was naive and didn’t know he had needs. It was kind of obnoxious. “She’s just mean because she likes you. Can EZ drop you off? Or he can drop me off and I’ll leave my car with you.”

Angel cussed under his breath before he bent over and kissed Alena. Myrna gasped and threw her drink to the ground, leaving the two. The cheers from the people in the yard broke Alena from her trance of thinking how good Angel’s lips felt and pulled away.

“What was that for?” Alena questioned.

“You wouldn’t stop talking nonsense so I kissed you.” He licked his lips, slightly adjusting his jeans since Alena always got him so fucking hard. He hated kissing her because the lasting effects on him were strong. But he had to, just so that bitch would get the hint. “I got an extra shirt inside the clubhouse, you want to change to that?”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll just go home Angel.”

“Prospect, watch our food.” Angel dragged Alena inside the clubhouse and back to his room. Once inside, he closed the door and rummaged his drawers for an extra shirt. He handed her the shirt and waited for her to change.

“Can you turn around?”

Angel chuckled. “For what? I’ve seen it all.”

“Angel.” Alena whined.

“Okay, jeez, I’ll cover my eyes.” Angel placed his hands over his eyes, trying his best not to snicker at her ridiculous idea. He heard her shuffle, cracking his fingers open and seeing Alena’s back, putting his fingers together again. “You done?”

“Yes.”

Angel moved his hands and whistled. “You always look good in my clothes.” He gave Alena one of his white t-shirt, nothing special, but he loved seeing Alena in his clothing.

“Shut up.” She blushed, playfully hitting his stomach.

They made their way back outside and sat back down next to EZ. Angel sat beside Alena, sharing the plate of food he got for them.

“Angel, it’s about to be the fifth year anniversary of me adopting Cruz. I was wondering if we should start the divorce process too?” Alena asked him, making EZ spit out his beer and Angel shuffle in his seat.

“Divorce? You two got fucking married?” EZ was never told that Alena and Angel went through the marriage. He knew they fabricated that they were engaged, but he didn’t know they actually went through with the marriage.

“Angel didn’t tell you?” Alena wasn’t surprised. The marriage was a farce so it’s not like he had to tell his younger brother. “Oh, well, yeah we did. Just to keep it as real as possible. But we always planned on getting divorce a few years after since they wouldn’t be checking on us anymore.”

“Alena, can you please get me a beer?” Angel requested.

“Sure.”

Alena left the two brothers and as soon as she was out of earshot, EZ kicked his brother under the table.

“The fuck was that for?”

“You don’t plan on divorcing her, do you now?” EZ rolled his eyes. “You twos relationship has always been fucking weird, but this is ridiculous Angel. You don’t have feelings for her right? You’re not in denial? Let her go.”

“Stay out of it Ezekiel.” He looked around making sure Alena wasn’t here to hear anything. “This works out well for myself and Alena. We don’t need to get a divorce. It’s tax purposes anyway. We’re good with what we have.”

“What happens if she meets someone?”

Angel froze. That idea always frightened him. What if Alena did meet someone? What happens then? But then he realized that Alena would never leave. She was too invested in Cruz and in him.

“Not even a worry.”

Alena came back and handed Angel a beer. She got one for EZ as well as she sat back down beside Angel.

“So, yeah, should I start the divorce proceedings? Mr. Johnson said he would handle it for us.”

“You’ve been inquiring about our divorce? Didn’t know you wanted to get away that badly sunshine.” Angel shoved more food in his mouth so he didn’t say something he would regret. He was slightly irritated that Alena had asked her boss about their divorce.

He had no plans of divorcing her. Their system worked, why change it?

“No, it’s not that.” She noted that she called him sunshine. He was annoyed. “I just want to make it easier for you.”

“Always a helper.” Angel shoved food in his mouth again.

EZ was enjoying this exchange.

‘Not interested my ass.’ EZ thought to himself.

“Lena! Shots!” Coco came out of nowhere, placing a shot glass in front of Alena.

“No, it’s okay.” She turned to Angel who wasn’t even looking at her and just eating. She didn’t think he was that hungry since they ate at Felipe’s, but maybe he got hungry again. Angel could be a bottomless pit at times.

“Come on, you hardly drink with us.” Riz egged on as he poured the tequila in the glass.

Alena gave them a small smile as she gave in.

“There you go!” Coco cheered. “Cheers preciosa.” He clinked their glasses together, downing the shot along with Alena. Her face scrunched up at the burn, but gave them a thumbs up. “Another!”

Angel looked over then. Alena was leaning on his side, waiting for Coco to pour her another one. He moved his arm so that his arm could be wrapped around her middle while she laid her head back on him.

“Sorry.” Alena sat up.

“You’re good cielo.” He kept her close to him. “Careful, you know you don’t handle liquor well.”

“I know just one more shot.”

She and Coco took another shot. Alena gave her glass to EZ so he could use it. She did her customary two shots, she was good for the day.

Coco took out his box of cigarettes, taking a stick out.

“Hey, don’t smoke her, you know her condition.” Angel scolded.

“Shit my bad Lena.”

“No it’s okay, I can take one cigarette session, you don’t have to move cause of me.” Alena noticed Angel’s arm were still around her as he ate. His forearm rested on her lap, his fingers playing with the hem of her skirt.

“Move Coco.” Angel left no room for argument.

Coco waved off Alena and went to smoke with Riz and Gilly.

“Bet you’re red.” Angel teased.

“Alcohol makes me hot.” She argued.

“We’ll see what else makes you hot later.”

==========

Angel and Alena made it home, deciding to keep Cruz at Felipe’s since it was late. Alena did her nightly skin routine before making her way to the bed, finding Angel asleep on his side. She shook her head, too many beers and now she had to take care of Angel. The rest of the night ran smoothly, Myrna was out of sight and out of mind.

She walked over to Angel, taking off his boots for him.

She hesitated to take off Angel’s belt and jeans, but it would be so uncomfortable to sleep in jeans. She unbuckled his belt, unbuttoning his jeans. She was startled when she felt Angel’s hand on hers. Looking up at him, she saw that he was watching her.

“You okay? I just didn’t want you to sleep with your jeans on.” Alena moved away but Angel pulled her back towards him.

He sat up, letting her stand in between his legs. His fingers drifted under her shirt, knowing she didn’t have any bra on. He ran his finger under her breast, causing her breath to hitch.

“Angel, let’s go to bed.” Alena tried to dissuade him but Angel already moved up her breast, his thumb running over her nipple. He placed a kiss on her neck pulling her closer to him.

“Let me just feel you.” Angel pleaded as his other hand went inside her pajamas, dancing on top of her underwear before slipping inside.

“Angel,” Alena whined as Angel rubbed circles around her clit.

“You always have me so hard querida. Mirame,” he commanded as she looked at him, her cheeks were flushed. He groaned seeing just how satisfied she looked with his actions.

Her hands landed on his thighs, squeezing it as she bent over resting her forehead on his shoulder. Angel slipped a finger inside her, making Alena moan. He removed his hands, letting Alena breathe. Picking her up, he placed her on the bed, kneeling in between her legs.

Alena could never say no to Angel. Have you seen the man? It was fucking difficult. But much like everything else, she knew this was just a random fuck, which they’ve had over the last few years. He most likely just didn’t want to go to Vicky’s to prove a point.

His fingers grasped the top of her pants, pulling it down along with her underwear. Alena always wore his shirt to bed, something Angel fucking basked on. She looked so small in his shirt. He was going to keep his shirt on because Angel was a possessive man, especially when it came to her. He may not be ready to realize his feelings, but Alena was his wife and he intended for it to stay that way. Angel took off his shirt along with his jeans and boxers.

“Gonna worship you mi cielo. Like always.” He kissed Alena’s legs, making his way to her thighs. She watched him, waiting for his next move. Angel loved it when Alena watched him, her eyes drove him fucking crazy. Just how innocent she looked, that doe eyed look. “Mouth or fingers?”

“Both.”

Angel chuckled, rubbing his finger down her slit, coating it with her wetness before slipping it in. “Always so tight for me.” He moved you so his lips were over her clit, sucking it into his mouth making Alena arch her back, letting out a mewl of pleasure. “Fuck cielo, you look so fucking good. You think I would ever touch that girl when I have you?”

Alena didn’t want to fucking talk about Myrna, she couldn’t even fucking think straight, but Angel always made her feel so good. She wished it was only between him and her, but she knew that couldn’t possibly be.

“Dime mi cielo, piensas que la queiro.” Alena knew how to speak Spanish since Vicky taught her at a young age due to her friendship with her mother. “Solo te queiro a ti.”

Alena had a love-hate relationship when it came to being intimate with Angel. Just last night he said he wasn’t interested in her and now, he was whispering all these things to her.

It made her so wet.

“Fuck baby you got even wetter.” Angel removed his fingers, lapping at her pussy, spreading her lips with his fingers. “Let me hear you, is daddy making you feel good?”

“Yes daddy,” Alena gripped the sheets as Angel continued to eat her out. Her stomach coiled up, that familiar feeling was coming again. She threw her head back as she came, Angel’s name escaping her lips like a mantra.

Angel kisses his way up to her lips, Alena catching her breath. “Want me to get your inhaler?”

“You’re such a prick.” She playfully pushed him, making him laugh. He kissed her before he hovered over her.

“I know you like my dick.”

Alena laughed, but she stopped midway and moaned as Angel entered her. Resting his forehead on her shoulders, he wrapped one of her legs around his waist, letting Alena adjust to him.

“Can I move baby?”

Alena nodded. “Please move.”

Angel thrusted in and out of her, already so close to coming. The last time he had sex was four months ago and it was with Alena. Otherwise, his fucking hand helped him release his stress. She was so tight and his hand could never compare to Alena’s pussy.

“You’re the only girl for me cielo, you always feel so fucking good.” Alena was leaving scratches all over his back, the stretch she felt was just too fucking good. How easily he moved in and out of her, it was driving her crazy. She tightened up around him, making Angel groan. “You like hearing that mi dulce, that you’re the only one for me. It’s always going to be me and you, Alena. You’re my fucking wife.”

“Daddy, please go faster.” She pleaded.

“Damn baby girl, I can feel you tightening up around daddy’s cock, you ready to cum?” Angel rubbed her clit, straightening his back as he quicker his pace. He kept her leg around his waist, spreading her further. He watched as his cock went in and out of Alena’s pussy, moaning at the sight.

“Mmmm Daddy, fuck.” Alena cried out as she came around Angel’s dick, Angel following after her, spilling his seed inside her.

He slid out of her, making Alena moan due to how sensitive she felt. He got up to get a warm cloth to clean Alena up. He cleaned her, tossing the cloth to the side before sliding inside the comforter. He turned on the television, turning off the lights. He left it at some random channel before he pulled Alena against him.

Alena kept her back turned towards Angel, the confusion even worse now. She had to talk to Angel. But at the same time, he just had to release some stress and she did as well. It was no big deal.

It was fine.

This was how it’s always been.

It was fine.

#angel reyes #angelreyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes fic #angel reyes fanfic #mayans mc fic #mayans mc fanfic #eiy

165 notes · View notes

kim-seungmine · 5 years

Text

dream the night away

title: dream the night away

characters: (fem) reader x hwang hyunjin of stray kids

genre: slice-of-life, romance, angst, best friends to lovers au, idol au, idol!hyunjin, hyunjin centric, inspired by 3racha’s cloud 9 but not really?

warnings: minor character death, sometimes heavy, slow burn (aka i wanted it to be but i wasn’t patient enough), i tried to proofread, i gave up trying to format text convo on tumblr, i think they kiss a lot.

word count: 11.6k i’m so sorry

synopsis: one night, hyunjin wonders how he long can stay floating on cloud 9 before he loses his balance and falls all the way down to the pits of hell. After that, nothing feels right.

disclaimer: this is idol!hyunjin so i just wanna say that this is not how hyunjin is in real life and im not trying to convince you that he feels the things in the story. some parts are inspired by the things they’ve said but everything that happens here is pure fiction... which actually goes without saying since this is a fanfic, but i just feel the need to say it. for my personal long ass author’s note, you can read it below.

Hyunjin is met with darkness when he steps into the dorm. It used to be more packed, it used to be messier, and it used to be really loud. Now he only shares the dorm with the 00z who are surprisingly quiet if you think about it. Seungmin sleeps early, Felix has his headphones stuck to his ears and plays games until the sun rises, and Jisung is snugged somewhere watching movies. On busier days, Seungmin and Felix are at the company for lessons and Jisung spends the night at the studio with Chan and Changbin. Hyunjin, meanwhile, usually has some photoshoots.

However, tonight feels unnaturally quiet, especially since Hyunjin has just won his first Bonsang as a solo artist. He switches the lights on, and his friends are soundlessly huddled together by the fridge, Jisung holding a small cake.

“Surprise!” Seungmin exclaims rather flatly as Hyunjin drops to the floor out of shock, shouting profanities. Felix proceeds to grab some candles from the kitchen counter and lights them up. “Come on, blow the candles."

Hyunjin lets out an amused sigh, rising to his feet before blowing all the candles out. “Please tell me these aren’t those candles that stay lit n—what the hell.”

He continues blowing, his friends giggling while Seungmin groans. “Why did you have to curse? I was about to post that on Instagram Story!”

“Why are we doing this anyways? We’re not 18 anymore,” Hyunjin protests half-heartedly. He can’t really remember the last time they gave each other a proper surprise. It feels like ages ago. Jisung scoffs, searching for a knife inside one of the kitchen drawers. Slicing the cake, he retorts, “Your dramatic ass loves surprises, stop denying it.”

“Anyone has anything to do tonight? The hyungs want to come over,” Felix informs while typing on his phone. Hyunjin’s vibrates after a few seconds; everyone on the Stray Kids group chat must be congratulating him.

Seungmin opens the chat, frowning. “Where’s Jeongin?”

“He hasn’t been replying since hours ago. That brat probably fell asleep. Just ask his bro if he’s home,” Hyunjin suggests, about to reply to Chan’s message when another message pops up.

y/n: sorry i couldnt watch the show

y/n: but i saw the news! congratulations!!

y/n: so proud of you, as always!

Hyunjin’s eyes light up at your messages. It’s been months since he saw you; he’s been busy with his solo debut and you’ve been busy with school. When both of you were children, you often pictured how life would be. Hyunjin would be a famous soccer player for Manchester United and the captain of South Korea national team. You would be studying to become a doctor.

He finds it funny that you’re doing the exact same thing while he’s doing something he never even imagined before. Hyunjin is always amazed at how well you planned your whole life and executed every single plan, albeit not always instantly.

After all these years, though, he dares to say that both of you turned out okay. Amazing, even.

“Order whatever you want. I’m eating outside but I’ll be back soon,” Hyunjin tells his friends, bombarding you with messages before you turn your phone off, the thing you always do when you’re about to cram.

Seungmin arches an eyebrow. “Y/N?”

“Yeah. I asked whether she wants to eat gopchang with me.”

“You should really be careful.”

“Everyone knows we’re best friends. No one will make a weird rumor or anything.”

Jisung clicks his tongue. “Well, do you?”

Whenever someone talks about you, it always leads to this very conversation. Hyunjin decides to let Jisung’s question (sarcasm) hang in the air, but he knows the answer. Yes, he knows you and him are just best friends. Does he like it that way?

Hyunjin knows the answer to that too. He only pretends that he doesn’t.

You’re already slurping your soup when Hyunjin says hi to the restaurant owners, Mr and Mrs. Jang. “Oh Hyunjinnie, I just watched you on TV. You won something, right?” he asks. His wife ushers him to sit down, putting extra servings of kimchi on the table.

“Why didn’t I get extra kimchi?” You pout, shooting a jealous glare at Hyunjin who’s busy explaining what a Bonsang is to the owners.

“You did a good job, then,” Mrs. Jang coos. “You don’t need to pay today. It’s on us!”

You quickly put your spoon down. “What about me? I barely sleep thesedays, and I’m not as rich as Hyunjin!”

“Aigoo, you started eating before your friend came then demand for free food. You’re lucky we love you as much as we love Hyunjin.”

The couple laugh at your reaction, jokingly scolding you for being whinier than Hyunjin when it used to be the other way around. He smiles, remembering all the times he forced you to eat his eggplants for him and the times when he begged you to help him study because he needed to beat all of his friends.

“Eat,” you scowl. “You only have half an hour to brag. I have a night shift.”

Out of the times you’re being petty towards him, you were only seriously petty once: when he beat your English score in ninth grade although you were the one teaching him. He had to bribe you with a week’s worth of Haribo jellies before you stopped ignoring him.

Hyunjin giggles. “When’s your exam? Tomorrow?”

“Next week,” you whine. “But I have so many things to do! And I think someone stole my notes, I can’t seem to find them anywhere. Do you even understand half the pain I’m going through right now? All I need is one solid hour of sleep.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

You widen your eyes, eyeing Hyunjin from head to toe. “Sometimes I forget you’re Stray Kids’ Hyunjin.”

He pretends to stab himself on the chest. “That h-hurts,” he fake-groans. “Then who do you think I am?”

“My neighbor,” you answer. “—who doesn’t even live at home anymore.”

“To be fair, you’re practically holed in hospital now.”

“Yeah but I go home every two weeks? You go home twice a year.”

“Excuse me?! I went home on your birthday… in the middle of a tour! I could’ve been sleeping or practicing, but I came home!”

He always “argues” with you until both of you are out of breath, clutching your chests because it somehow feels hilarious. You drink the last few drops of the soup right from your bowl, setting it back on the table and empty your glass in one go.

“I don’t have enough energy for this,” you sigh dreamily, prepping your head on your arm. “Tell me about everything. Your first Bonsang.”

Hyunjin can still hear his fans’ voices chanting his name and cheering for him as he delivered his speech while sobbing (this is what he hates from solo promotions, nobody else is there to stop him from crying or taking over the mic from him so he could calm himself down). He remembers every single word he said and the proud faces of his fellow artists. The thrill, the triumph, the satisfaction, the love… it’s making him emotional all over again.

He grabs a tissue to blow his nose. “I was surprised when the company said that I was invited. Our group hasn’t made a comeback this year, and although my song did chart quite well, I never expected they would even invite me.”

“They gave me a 5-minute stage! I was so happy, I sent you my rehearsal videos, right?”

You nod, imitating one of the moves in his dance break.

“Everything was even more amazing on stage, with Stays watching me. I think I was possessed during the performance… I was goddamn nervous though.”

“Yeah, I watched it on the way here. You kept licking your lip, I don’t care if your fans think that’s hot. To me you’re just a nervous mess…”

Hyunjin has started to pout when you add, “… who did a very great job nevertheless! It’s just that I’ve known you so long. You can’t hide anything from me.”

He notices how you’re holding your breath, waiting for him to respond. After years, Hyunjin thought he would take negative comments much less seriously, but apparently it didn’t become easier. It became harder, so hard that he had to take a 3-month hiatus last year.

With you, everything is different. You can tell him that he sucks big time and he’ll take it seriously, but he never gets offended. There are a lot of times when people treat him like he’s made of glass (or a snowflake, Seungmin once said), but you treat him the way you’ve always treated him and he loves it. None of his other friends understands, but your honesty is priceless. It’s what keeps him going; he knows you’ll never cherish him less no matter what you say about the way he dances and raps, or the way he looks and behaves. And he’s sure that his honesty also means the world to you. You are each other’s toughest critic, but it will never change anything.

“Hyunjin.” You place your hand over his, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. It just slipped out of my mouth.”

He chuckles, flipping his palm to squeeze your hand. “You idiot. You just stated the facts.”

You squeeze his hand back before pulling away. “I’m looking at Hwang Hyunjin of Stray Kids who sold over 100.000 copies of his first solo album, who won Bonsang for the first time, who gets worshiped by everyone he locks eyes with—except for me of course. I’m a very proud friend.”

“Stop it.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, but unable to hide his smile once he sees you grinning like a happy child. “How much time do we have left?”

You glance at your phone, sighing when a reminder for you to study pops up. “5 minutes. I have to go back to the hospital soon.”

“Can you even study during your shift?”

“I have to,” you mumble. “Anyways, thanks for dragging me out. I did miss you after all.”

“I missed you too,” Hyunjin says, probably too quick for his own good but he doesn’t regret it.

“I’ll be going now.” You stretch your limbs, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Any last words before I go to war?”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“Oh, right.”

Chan is the only one awake by the time Hyunjin gets back home. He huffs in regret, knowing that the hyungs decided to stay over to celebrate his Bonsang win. The leader greets him with a bear hug, carefully avoiding Felix and Minho who are fast asleep on the floor. “We’re so happy for you!” he whisper-yells. “How was Y/N?”

Hyunjin returns his hug with an even tighter one. “Thanks hyung. You composed the song after all! And sorry I came back too late.”

Chan shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine. At some point we forgot why we were here and just started playing mafia.”

“Y/N is fine, anyways, just tired.”

“She’s always tired, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. It turns out that medical students are probably more tired than us.”

Hyunjin leads Chan to his bedroom. Each of the 00z has their own bedroom now. It’s much more convenient and they can arrange their stuff however they want to (they avoid entering Jisung’s room as much as possible), but Hyunjin misses the mess at times. The old dorm was cramped, either too hot or too cold, and way too noisy, but it was home for quite a long time.

Chan seems to be having the same thought. “We miss you kiddos sometimes,” he laughs. “But we fixed that sliding door. It closes properly now.”

“As long as Changbin hyung keeps opening it with too much force it will be broken again in no time. Trust me.”

Both of them are lying on Hyunjin’s king size bed, staring at the sideboard table he dedicates for his music show—and now, music award—trophies. “The kids don’t really say it but they’re all so proud of you. I’m proud of you. I raised you well, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you kinda did.”

“Kinda?!”

“I’m joking.” Hyunjin scrunches his nose. “You raised all of us. We raised Jeongin. And we raised each other.”

“3racha are almost finished choosing the final songs, you have 2 weeks to relax then we’ll start production right away. Our next tour won’t start until May, so we have plenty of time to prepare everything.”

“Ohhhhh I can feel my bones breaking already. We’re getting old,” Hyunjin whines.

Chan pats his thighs, cracking his knuckles before jumping out of bed. “You’re getting old,” he teases.

“I’m glad, though. Everything finally works out the way we wanted to. I guess we can say that we’re doing well now, right?”

Chan doesn’t wait for Hyunjin to answer and leaves the room right away. The latter ponders the rhetorical question for a while, recalling the goals they have reached for the past few years. Entering the Melon chart (and staying on Top 20 for a week), having one of the most successful world tour, winning prestigious awards at prestigious music awards, 3racha getting acknowledged as the industry’s top composers, 00z winning music shows for their unit debut last year, Jeongin getting drama roles, and last but not least, Hyunjin’s successful solo debut.

Feeling nostalgic, he scrolls through his phone, looking at old photos and silly videos. Looking at the lyrics he wrote on his note app. Then he goes through @realstraykids’ posts on Instagram, from when Jeongin still had braces until tonight. The latest selcas on his own official account are still getting likes, the fans showering him with praises.

Hyunjin has ticked off everything from his wish list. He has reached every goal he set a few years ago. They are doing well. He’s doing well.

He looks at his surroundings, immersing himself in the space and peace of his room that he once craved desperately. He’s supposed to be at peace now, but his mind won’t stop buzzing, asking himself what to do next.

For the very first time, Hyunjin realizes that he’s now floating on Cloud 9. Everything is perfect, he’s living his dream life. But at the back of his head, he can hear the clock ticking, ready to push him over the edge the moment he loses his balance, watching him fall all the way to the pits of hell.

Everything is perfect, but why does his heart feel so empty?

Hyunjin’s brows furrow as he tries to catch some comments the fans are posting. When he was a rookie he couldn’t get used to how fast the comments come in, and it’s something that doesn’t quite change. Probably he got used to it at some point, but they kept gaining fans that the comment section is always extremely active.

“Hyunjin oppa,” he pronounces the words slowly. ”Spo-spoiler please!”

He lifts his head to give the viewers a secretive smile. “Nope.” He wiggles his forefinger. “You have to wait for the teasers!”

“Ohhh the comments! You guys are so excited I can’t keep up!”

More comments flood in, and Hyunjin has to press his phone screen in order to read the one comment he’s been trying to read. “Recommend me a song, please!”

“Uhhh—” He takes some time to think of the songs he’s been listening to, tapping his fingers against the surface of the table while the comments keep coming in, but this time he spots words that stab him right on his gut. With trembling hands, he lifts his phone, clicking the report button as subtle as possible. His vision grows blurry as he reports every single comment that has the word “fuck you”, “die” or “talentless” in it.

The pause has become too long and too awkward, so he stops himself from reporting more and stares at the lens. “Ah, song recommendation!” he exclaims. “I have quite a lot but thesedays I’ve been listening to 00z songs a lot. We had so much fun promoting together.”

Hyunjin feels his other phone vibrating in his pocket, probably his mother checking in. It gives him a boost of energy, and he tells his fans he’ll stay with them for 10 more minutes. “When we’re just talking like this, I’m always reminded that we’ve come so far,” Hyunjin says, a smile on his face. “It feels good to know that all of you are making time for us, for me, after your busy day. And no, I’m not sleepy. Don’t worry, everyone!”

He reads some more comments, mostly cheesy pickup lines to cheer himself up as his brain is still trying to get all the hurtful words out of his system. “Ah, I think I have to go now,” Hyunjin announces lowly. “I have to go back to practice, if not Chan hyung will barge in and drag me back to the practice room.”

“What? You want me to get scolded by Chan hyung? Why are you so mean?!”

Hyunjin ends up staying for 20 more minutes before finally ending the broadcast. Conversation with his fans is something he values a lot; it gives him strength and makes him laugh. It makes him feel loved and he wants his fans to feel the same.

But it’s equally tiring. He has to brace himself for some less-than-nice comments, sometimes they are way too severe for him to handle that the company sues all the commenters. You’ve told him over and over again that those people aren’t his fans.

Everything could’ve been worse. Hyunjin still considers himself very lucky that he has much more fans than haters. Still, he often imagines how it will feel if he has no hater at all, since he does have some friends who seem to only hear pretty words.

Hyunjin stays inside the room for a few more minutes, replying to Seungmin’s messages and assures him that he’ll be back soon. He idly plays one of their songs he hasn’t heard for years, the song that was always included in their setlist before being replaced by some other songs. Hyunjin initially thought he wouldn’t need that song anymore, but tonight, he needs it. Maybe he needs it more now than before.

After making a mental note to ask the other boys to add the song back to the concert’s setlist, Hyunjin leaves, cursing himself for taking too much time to regain his composure.

Should I stop or not? Should I give up or not?

“Hwang Hyunjin, stop coming into my room without my permission! You literally trespassed into someone else’s property!”

Hyunjin groans into his pillow, instantly regretting his decision to pick up your call at midnight. “I didn’t!”

“Don’t lie to me. You took Gureum with you!”

He takes a quick glance at the rabbit plushie he placed on top of his pillow. Last night, he did go home because Kkami (everyone calls him old man now) got a little sick. “I miiiiight have made a quick detour next door when I was about to leave.”

“You’re pathetic. You got soooooo many plushies and toys and cute headbands from fansigns and you stole my Gureum.”

“Stop guilt tripping me! I missed Gureum, okay? Why didn’t you take him to your dorm?”

Hyunjin senses your hesitation as you clear your throat. “Well, sometimes seeing Gureum only makes me miss everyone more, so I just left him at home.”

Now he feels guilty. Your parents are currently staying overseas to take care of your sick little sister. He pictures you coming to an empty home every two weeks, exhausted and not having anyone to welcome you.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Our superstar isn’t busy?”

“I am, but I’m willing to sacrifice my precious time for my best friend.”

You scoff over the phone, but telling him to hurry up before ending the call. Hyunjin packs his clothes and toiletries, along with Gureum—his birthday present for your 11th birthday. You almost never sleep without it, yet the plushie still looks brand new.

Unable to hide his smitten smile, Hyunjin grabs his keys.

The apartment complex where Hyunjin lives has changed a lot over the years. The soccer field he used to play at is now a playground. The little bookstore you loved so much is now a bakery. Now there’s a big shopping mall right across the building. After saving up for a while, Hyunjin asked his parents whether they wanted to move to a bigger place. He kind of hoped that they wouldn’t want it because he wanted to stay close to you (although coming home is a real challenge for him). Luckily, his parents said no.

He enters your door password leisurely, recalling the time when your parents told him to take care of you.

So far, you’ve been the one taking care of him.

Hyunjin heads straight to your bedroom, opening the door and sees you curling on your bed. The mattress he sleeps on whenever he stays over is already laid on the floor.

“Gureum!” you yell when he throws the squishy rabbit to you. Hyunjin drops his bag and settles himself on the mattress, staring up at you.

“How’s your sis?”

You scoot towards the end of the bed, showing him a photo on your phone. Your sister is smiling; she looks much better than before, but still very pale and thin. “I haven’t called her,” Hyunjin admits. “But she got the albums I sent to her. Sent the ones signed by the others too. That kid loves Jisung, do you know that?”

“I got her into Jisung.”

He sits up, looking almost offended. “Your bias is Han Jisung?”

“This world doesn’t revolve around you, superstar.” You flash him a cheeky grin. “I wanted to ask you to let me go to the backstage again last tour, but I restrained myself. As your kind best friend, I shouldn’t abuse my privilege.”

“You know that he never cleans his room, right?”

You hum, “Nobody’s perfect, Jinnie.”

“Oh come on!” Hyunjin protests. “If it’s Jeongin I understand although he also never cleans his room. But Jisung? And you’re calling yourself my best friend!”

“He’s funny!” you argue. ”He has a nice voice—it’s really sexy when he raps, he dances well, he wrote all my favorite Stray Kids songs, and he actually had the balls to fight you. A real champ.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, making a gesture to snatch Gureum away from you. “And at the end of the day, you love him,” you add. “He makes you laugh too.”

Well, it’s a fact he can’t refute. You ask, “Do you think I should hit on him or something? Will people call me out? Does he have someone?”

“We are not having this conversation Y/N. I don’t care if both of you are my best friends, you’re not dating Han Jisung. What happened to that ‘hot senior’ Jung Jaehyun? The last time we called, you were so in love with him.”

The mention of Jaehyun’s name causes you to slump into your bed, covering yourself with your thick blanket. “I sort of blew it up,” you mumble. “He asked me on a real date and I said no.”

You seem to hit realization that’s way too late, and now you’re hollering, “I said no to Jung Jaehyun! Oh my God Hyunjin… I’m such an idiot!”

Hyunjin can’t contain his giggles. Relief washes over him; you and Jaehyun seemed rather serious and while he wished you well, the thought of you being with someone else always pains him. He knows he’s not allowed to feel that way just because you’re best friends.

Most of the times, he can’t help it.

“He’s a real gentleman and he said he was into me. ME. Everyone would throw themselves at him but he came up to me and I flat out rejected him. What the hell is wrong with me?!”

You’re rolling on your bed, whining and kicking at the air. “I tried not to think about it but… it was just a date? Even if I didn’t end up dating him at least I could tell my grandchildren that I went on a date with Jung Jaehyun!”

“Is he really that great?” Hyunjin asks, out of curiosity but laced with jealousy he hopes you can’t see. His words sound distant to his own ears, triggering his fear of losing you.

“Yeah, I guess?”

You nudge his legs when he doesn’t respond. “How about you? Everything’s fine? You don’t look happy thesedays.”

Hyunjin never lies to you. You have a full access to his heart; he lets you in on his happiest days when life feels like the shiniest summer. He also lets you in even after the messiest thunderstorm when he feels that everything is fucked up. This time, he wants to lock you out. There’s nothing to see, there’s nothing to fix.

His heart is empty—he is empty, and he wants to protect you from the bleakness of it.

“I’m fine, just been arguing with Felix and Minho hyung over the song we’ll perform. It feels too monotone for me, but they think it’s perfect,” he explains, not completely lying. “I don’t know if I’m being selfish but somehow I just can’t let it go.”

“Have you tried explaining to them? Not how you feel, but how the song is. You can always go technical, you don’t need to worry just because Minho is more experienced.”

Hyunjin sighs. “I did, but probably it’s just me.”

“Do you wanna talk things out?” You yawn, squishing Gureum into your chest. “Or do you want to just sleep?”

He glances at the clock. “We both need sleep. It’s almost 3A.M.”

“Alright. Good night—I mean good morning!”

Hyunjin stretches his neck to look at you, your eyes are already closed. He relaxes his body and tries to sleep, but his jumbled mind keeps him awake. Hyunjin waits until you’re fast asleep before scooting closer, softly taking your hand in his before closing his eyes once again. He did it a lot when he was younger, holding your hand until he fell asleep. You nagged at him because it woke you up, but you never told him to stop doing it.

Tonight is no different.

“Hyunjin?”

“Sorry.”

You turn to him, “It’s okay.”

He mumbles a thank you, ready to go to sleep when you move to the mattress. Hyunjin gulps at the close proximity, it’s been too long since you slept on the same bed as him.

“Hyunjin, I missed you.”

Hyunjin heard a theory somewhere: 3.A.M-conversations are the most honest. It’s a little over 3A.M now, and he doesn’t how much of that theory is true, but your words fuel something deep within him. The feeling so strong he has to tear his gaze away from you. Hyunjin slowly pulls you into his arms, patting your back in rhythm with the clock.

He grazes his lips on your shoulder, mouthing his reply quietly, “I missed you too.”

You nod against his chest, pulling your hand out of his grasp so you could circle your arms around his torso.

Hyunjin falls asleep almost immediately, succumbing to the warmth and comfort you radiate.

He’s going to be alright.

“Do you think I’ll ever debut?”

Hyunjin takes off his SOPA jacket, plopping onto the bed while you’re munching on a pack of jelly. “Let me sleep for 10 minutes. I have to go to the company after this.”

You slap his thigh. “Why do you always sleep in my room? If I got a dollar everytime you sabotage my bed I’d be really rich now. Get out, you have practice!”

He reaches for your knee, using it as a pillow. Hyunjin feels you soften as you card your hand through his hair. “Is it hard? Are those mean hyungs still bothering you?”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “Changbin hyung told those motherfuckers to mind their own business.”

“Stop cursing!” you hiss. “It’s not cool, and what if you accidentally curse on broadcast later? You have so much to learn…”

Hyunjin opens his eyes and smiles when he meets your gaze. “Do you think I’ll ever debut?” he repeats his question.

“Have you seen yourself dancing? You’re better than most of the trainees I saw at the open showcase. Plus you have so many girls screaming your name. No offense, but that is definitely a plus point.”

You give his head a little smack when you notice doubt flashing through his orbs. “I believe in you, Hyunjin. Don’t doubt yourself,” you tell him softly. “And if you need someone to give those ‘motherfuckers’ a lesson, just call me. I know some people who can shut them up.”

He lets out an obnoxious gasp. “Are you a gangster now?! Your parents are going to be so disappointed in you. Looks like you have to say goodbye to medical school now…”

You sigh, now it’s your turn to look at Hyunjin with doubt in your eyes. “I’ll get in, right? What if I flunk my results later?”

“This is why I hate smart people,” he bemoans. “You rank first in the whole school, stop saying nonsense.”

Both of you a few more minutes lying in silence. When he waves you goodbye, Hyunjin feels like he can soar.

He’s safe with you, and you’re safe with him.

“Hwang Hyunjin, get off me!”

Hyunjin wakes up to you trying to untangle your legs from his. He catches your flailing legs, removing his before examining your face. “It’s almost noon. Aren’t you running late?” you pester, pointing at the clock.

“Lunch?” he asks.

This is supposed to be awkward. Hyunjin can’t recall what happened a few hours ago before blushing—he’s never been that intimate with you before. You two have had a fair share of platonic cuddle sessions, but last night felt different.

“Not yet,” you mutter. “I just woke up. Oh God my back hurts.”

He wants to know whether you feel the same, but you’ve made your way to the bathroom before he could ask anything. “What do you want to eat?” you yell, almost incoherently due to the toothpaste in your mouth.

“You’re not going to shower?” Hyunjin playfully shrieks.

“It’s my day off!”

“My mom must’ve cooked something. Gimme 10 minutes.”

Although he’s done this at least a hundred times, it’s still hard for Hyunjin to leave home. Seeing his he’s never able to stop his heart getting heavier at the sight of bidding his family goodbye until God knows when.

“Please come home more Y/N,” his mother asks you, raising her eyebrow. “Hyunjin seems to randomly pop up whenever you’re here, so please, come home more.”

You smack his back loudly, causing him to let out a choked groan. “I’ll teach him a lesson, don’t worry.”

Hyunjin gives his mother a sheepish smile, knowing all too well what she meant. He pulls you out before she starts grilling him for information, yelling one last goodbye before closing the door. You search for something inside your bag, stopping him from pressing the elevator button.

“You left something?”

“My dorm key,” you answer, walking back to your own unit. “You should just go,” you say. “It’s in the middle of the day anyways, we shouldn’t be seen together.”

Hyunjin follows you inside, watching you rummage through one of the buffet drawers. He notices how your shoulders are slumped and the way your eyebrows furrow. As his mind wanders to last night once again, you jab at his stomach lightly. “Hey, you’re spacing out.”

“Oh,” is all Hyunjin can say. He takes a good look of you, something he always does before he parts ways with you. Before he can stop himself, Hyunjin has wrapped his arms around you, letting you hear his erratic heartbeat. He still misses you, even after spending the whole night together.

Eventually, you pull away. “I’ll go first.” You ruffle his head. “See you when I see you?”

“See you soon,” he corrects you.

You smile, taking your bag from the floor and when he blinks, you’re gone.

Hyunjin still misses you now, even when you were just in his embrace a few minutes ago, burying your head into the crook of his neck. The empty space in his heart seems to expand whenever he thinks about you.

It hurts.

Minho ends the dance practice and everyone collapses on the floor the moment the music stops playing. Hyunjin immediately restarts the discussion they had before practice started.

“We used to sing both Grow Up and You Can Stay, why do we have to choose one now?” he demands while all of them are sprawled on the floor. “Our fans miss it too, I think it’s the perfect chance to bring it back.”

Chan takes a deep breath, nodding at Hyunjin. “I can’t see why not,” he says with a chuckle. “I don’t even remember why we abandoned it in the first place.”

Hyunjin does, and he knows Chan does too. It was simple, really. The song that once gave them comfort turned into this big monster made out of their worst nightmares. Each member had cried to the song during some of their concerts, and now performing it in front of everyone always brings back the painful memories.

“Yeah, we should sing it again,” Felix adds, kicking Jisung’s leg so the latter would sit up and voice out his opinion. “Well.” Jisung scratches the back of his head, “I’m cool with it.”

The rest of the group mumbles similar answers and Chan claps, giving Hyunjin a thumbs up. “Hyunjinnie is all grown up,” he praises before gathering his things and leaves. Hyunjin snorts at the leader’s compliment, but his sparkly eyes can’t fool anyone.

He pulls out his phone to relay the happy news to you, but the sparks in his eyes quickly fade when his messages from hours ago are still unread.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” he asks.

Seungmin checks his phone. “5A.M.”

Hyunjin wipes his sweat, chugging his water. Their American tour starts in a few days, and while he’s ecstatic because they’ll be performing at LA Staples Center for the first time, he also feels uneasy.

He takes out his phone, opening his contacts and stops when he sees your name. He stares at the number he remembers by heart.

“You okay?” Seungmin asks. “If you’re worried about District 9’s formation change, don’t. You nailed it today.”

“District 9…” Hyunjin trails off. “We’re getting too old for District 9.”

Jeongin grunts in agreement. “Whenever we finish my head always spins for like a minute. It’s been too long.”

“Yah,” Seungmin scolds him. “You need to get it checked. What if there’s something wrong with your head?”

The youngest does an exaggerated head banging, earning a kick from the puppy-like boy. Hyunjin chuckles at the two’s antics; some things never really change, and he’s grateful that this is one of those things.

Seungmin throws a playful punch at Jeongin’s stomach one last time before focusing his gaze back on Hyunjin. “Seriously though, did something happen?”

Hyunjin’s brain has a lot of template answers to questions like this, but the cliché words on tip of his tongue feel burning. His friends wait patiently as he fumbles for words, blinking his tears away when he fails to find the right words.

“I don’t even know if there’s anything,” he finally concludes. “It’s just—ever since Bonsang, it’s been hard. It’s been… nothing. Empty.”

Seungmin and Jeongin only nod, as if they understand how he feels. They probably do, Hyunjin thinks. Maybe he’s not the only one. Maybe all of his members have experienced it at some point, although at different times. Hyunjin feels slightly relieved at the thought. I’m not insane.

When he was a trainee, he thought everything would be fine once he debuted. It was, to some extent. But he was young and naïve, and when things beyond his control happened, Hyunjin barely managed to stay afloat. People told him how to handle stress, how to voice out his concerns, how to manage his body, mind and soul. He knew how to survive, theoretically.

No one actually taught him nor the other boys, and for an 18 year-old boy, feelings got intense quickly. After some trials and errors, everyone figured that it was best not to bottle up their feelings. Once again, it sounded easy in theory. In reality, with so many things happening at once, most of them eventually created a space in their own heads to seal everything in. They endured.

Jeongin looks at him with hesitation, rubbing his hands together. “It happens,” he reassures him. “It’s okay to worry about it, hyung. But worry about it with me, please!” Jeongin raises his tone. “You can barge into my room anytime. You can annoy the hell out of me, but stop suffering alone, will you?!”

Seungmin can’t miss the chance to tease the maknae. “Says the one who cried alone all night long in the bathtub after losing his voice.”

“If I hadn’t found you, you would’ve passed out,” Hyunjin adds. Jeongin lifts his hands in defeat. “Whatever. But I meant what I said.”

“Our Jeongin is so dependable,” Hyunjin coos.

“You say that all the time.” Jeongin rolls his eyes. “And then still baby me.”

Seungmin takes Hyunjin’s phone from the floor, passing it to the owner. “Call Y/N.”

Hyunjin panics a little. “Why?”

Seungmin shrugs. “Better days start after meeting the person you want to see the most!”

“Speaking of you and Y/N,” Jeongin quips. “You guys aren’t in high school anymore, stop flirting with each other and date already.”

Hyunjin gets a surge of bravery and dials your number, but immediately regrets his decision with each passing minute. He almost ends the call when you finally answer. “Hyunjin?”

“H-hi,” he stammers. “Busy?”

“Kind of... What? What happened?”

“Can we meet? I only need a couple of minutes. You’re in Seoul, right?”

“I am. Hyunjin, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.”

It’s scaring me too.

“I want to tell you in person. Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

Hyunjin isn’t sure when the lines between best friends and something more started to get blurry. The worse thing is, he realized it way too late and things got complicated before he could do anything about it.

“It’s too late to back out,” he mouths to himself while opening the stairwell door in the hospital you’re currently at. You’re sitting on one of the steps, dozing off as your head hits the wall every now and then.

Hyunjin runs his hand through his hair, guilt consuming him. He sits beside you, pulling your head to his right shoulder. The two of you always attended the same school until high school, when he decided to enroll in SOPA instead of a regular school. Since then, he never really knows what’s going on in your life. You told him about your close friends, the small fights, medical students’ inside jokes, the good looking boys, all the knowledge and experiences you’re grateful for despite the never-ending suffering and constant lack of sleep. You told him everything, but he’s never actually seen you in your world.

You’ve seen enough of his world—you’ve gone to his concerts, awards shows, even fansigns (as a prank because you wanted to see him getting all flustered while pretending not to know you). Hyunjin never has the time or makes an effort to do the same, and while it’s completely understandable due to the nature of his job, he feels like he’s going to lose you.

As he brushes your hair out of your face, Hyunjin asks himself whether he’s good enough for you.

“Whoa,” you suddenly whisper, straightening your body. “Did I fall asleep?”

Hyunjin stops you from getting up. “You must be tired.”

“So are you.” You remove his hand from your head. “So tell me. What’s going on?”

You’re here, sitting beside him, only wanting truth to come out of his mouth. Hyunjin bites his lip, the urge to just let go is eating him up, his soul begging him to get some answers. The familiar hollowness is back, and tears start to roll down his cheeks.

This isn’t the first time he cries in front of you, so you just pat his head, waiting for the tears to stop. “I’m sorry,” he groans. “I’m so sorry Y/N.”

You lift his head, eyes looking straight into his. “What for?” you mutter. “Hyunjin, please tell me.”

Hyunjin makes a silent plead at himself to toughen up, but it’s hard when you’re staring at him like this, wide eyes filled with raw concern and sincerity that never fail to touch the deepest part of his heart. “Hmm?” you prompt, still patting his head ever so softly.

“It’s been hard,” Hyunjin sniffles. “It’s hard to look forward to the future. I feel restless all the time. I have nothing to fight for. It’s…,” He makes gestures with his hand in attempt to explain it better. “… empty.”

You wipe his tears with the sleeve of your white coat. “Do you know why you feel that way?”

Hyunjin nods. “We’re doing well, we really are… and that’s probably why. Everything is going too well I don’t know what thrills me anymore. I thought I’d feel content once I reached all of my dreams, but that’s not the case.”

He examines your face, rehearsing the next lines in his head again and again. You cock an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. And the last bit of Hyunjin’s defense crumbles with every blink of your pretty eyes.

“And you… I miss you all the time. Even when you’re right here with me, I still miss you. I have to hold back whenever I’m with you because I don’t want you to run away from me. I love you, Y/N. I don’t know when it all started but maybe I’ve always loved you and it hurts me not being able to tell you that. The emptiness… it gets worse whenever you tell me we shouldn’t be seen together or that you have to go or when you have other boys like Jaehyun who are clearly better for you than I am because they can be there for you. I love you so bad you don’t know how hard it is to go through days without you, without kissing you good night, without hearing you laugh for me. I keep thinking, ‘what if you’re suddenly gone?’ Maybe you’ll leave me someday, maybe you’ll tell me that you can’t be my friend anymore, but I need you, Y/N. I love you and I need you here with me to keep going. I—”

Hyunjin watches you slowly—very slowly—retract your hand from his head as words fail him, and he feels as if his guts are being hammered to pieces. He can’t read your eyes, can’t even try to define what your gaze means.

You eventually stand up, pulling him up with you. “I’m not the answer, Hyunjin,” you mutter. “You can’t expect that you’ll never feel empty again once I say that I accept your feelings. It’s just—it’s not fair. This isn’t just about us not being together.”

“But—”

“I know,” you cut him off, your body start shaking due to all the tension. “I know. That’s how you feel, and I can’t dictate you what to feel and not to feel. Think about it like this…”

You pause to check if he’s still listening to you. He nods, weakly.

“… you spent years working your ass off to get recognition from everyone, and you did it. Don’t ever forget that, I’m begging you. So all of your dreams have come true and you feel lost now… it’s okay. You have a lot of time, Hyunjin. You can always have a new dream, you can have a thousand more. Don’t make me the answer to everything just because you haven’t found any other answer.”

You wait for him to respond, but Hyunjin is frozen to his spot. His world is now upside down, and he doesn’t know how long it will take to fix everything.

Your phone rings, snapping him out of his trance. You look at him apologetically. “I have to go.” Those damn words again. “Ask Seungmin to help you ice your face, you don’t want to show up at the airport with swollen eyes, do you? Call me before you take off, okay? Hyunjin?”

He can only nod, trying his best to give you the most reassuring smile. He feels everything all at once: shock, shame, sadness… but mostly regret because you’re right.

You always are.

“Have fun on tour! Send me all the photos you take!”

Now it’s turn for Hyunjin’s phone to ring as you make your way out, leaving him alone. He’s about to press the green button when the door opens once again. Hyunjin lets his phone ring, watching you fidget with your hands.

He’s still pretty much tongue-tied, but forces himself to ask, “Did you ever… love me? As more than friends?”

To his surprise, you take quick steps towards him, tiptoeing to press your lips on his. Your eyes are closed, your hands are tied to your sides and it takes Hyunjin his whole willpower to refrain himself from pulling your body closer, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the life out of you. He closes his eyes and just stands there, accepting whatever you’re willing to give him because there’s nothing he yearns more than your love and trust.

Hyunjin almost whines when you pull away with red cheeks and teary eyes. “Come back to me when you’re ready. I’ll wait for you. Only you.”

It’s Hyunjin’s 10th (or 11th? He can’t really remember) visit to New York, but he’s still as excited as a kid with his lollipop. After years of traveling from country to country, Hyunjin realizes that he just doesn’t get bored, ever. Each place holds a special memory he keeps close to his heart, something sentimental that motivates him to go back every chance he gets.

“Stand there,” he motions at Seungmin—the only one who’s willing to accompany him walking around the Empire State Building for the nth time—to stand at the spot he points at. Seungmin follows his instruction, smiling when Hyunjin starts counting. They examine the result and Seungmin shoves his leg. “I guess you finally learned something.”

Hyunjin feigns hurt, setting his camera’s focus on a group of kids, holding his breath before pressing the shutter. “As if you taught me anything.”

He glances at his bandmate who’s busy taking photos with his own camera. Photo hunting with Seungmin is always in Hyunjin’s “limited free time” itinerary. They’ve strolled around so many cities together, sometimes it takes the whole day if time allows them. Strangely, Seungmin never gets bored of it either and although it’s no surprise since he loves photography more than anything else, Hyunjin is grateful.

“You never say no whenever I ask you to take photos with me,” Hyunjin states. “Why?”

Seungmin frowns. “What kind of question is that?”

“Just wondering,” Hyunjin mumbles. “We do pretty much the same thing everytime. Sometimes I force you to go to the places we’ve been to… don’t you get bored?”

“It’s always different everytime, I thought that’s why sometimes you take photos at the same place? It’s never exactly the same, don’t you think?”

Hyunjin goes through the photos he took in New York last year, smiling at some of them as he recalls the funny anecdotes behind them. When he slips his phone back into his jeans pocket and lets his eyes wander… yes, nothing is exactly the same.

“You truly are a photographer. When’s your next exhibition, Photographer Kim?”

Seungmin snaps his finger. “Ah! Exhibition! I forgot to ask you, why don’t we held a joint exhibition this time?”

“You want to show your photos along with my photos?”

“Why not? Yours are amazing too! And you’re my best friend, it’ll be fun.”

Hyunjin imagines having his photo framed on the wall. Small placards pinned underneath, containing the words he constructs to explain each of them. The fans will come to feel how it feels like to be here behind the lens. Maybe people who don’t even know him will come too, and get a chance to actually know him.

He reaches his phone to relay the idea to you, smiling to himself when he finds messages from you instead.

y/n: [sends a picture]

y/n: ahreum finally woke up today! isnt she pretty?

me: everyone is prettier than you

me: you must be happy!!

y/n: ??????

y/n: oh. she asked me to recommend boygroup songs

y/n: i made her listen to every single skz song

y/n: and your solo songs!!!!

me: awwwwwww

me: and you cant be doing this for free right?

“Is that your best friend slash girlfriend?” Seungmin is suddenly standing behind him, reading over his shoulder. “You guys are so cute it’s making me feel sick.”

Hyunjin sighs, gazing at the busy street upon him. “We’re not dating. At least not yet.”

“What happened? Just realized that I never really asked.”

“She asked me to come to her when I’m ready.”

Seungmin looks at him quizzically, but decides not to press him further. “Are you ready now?”

They’re flying back to Seoul next week, and while he thought he wouldn’t be able to enjoy the tour, he truly did. He thinks of all the good things that have happened: the sold out shows, the happy tears, his improvement, the upcoming exhibition with Seungmin, and lastly, you—the one who’s patiently waiting for him.

There have been a lot of times when Hyunjin feels like he’s everywhere but nowhere at the same time. It sounds scary, but now he realizes that he only needs to admit that he’s indeed everywhere, but never nowhere.

“Almost.”

The instrumental of Grow Up starts to play and all the boys rush back to their designated positions. The atmosphere turns a bit more sentimental as the bridge approaches, they’re just looking at each other while Minho is singing his part. In the past, they often teased each other during this very part, afraid that they would break down if they let their emotions overtake them. Hyunjin averts his gaze to the audience, watching the beautiful color of their lightsticks light up the huge stadium. As he gestures at some of the fans to stop crying, Hyunjin thanks himself for convincing the others to add the song back to their setlist.

The song comes to an end, and Chan gathers everyone to make a circle. Hyunjin feels pats on his head and back, Chan’s voice drowned by the fans who are still singing. He can’t resist the urge to turn around, so he does just that, and what he won’t trade what he sees for anything.

Their fans are standing there, eyes focused on everyone on stage as they sing each syllable perfectly. Changbin follows his gaze, and soon all of them are facing the audience again, listening to every wish, every hope, and every message relayed through the lyrics of the song.

Hyunjin lifts his mic, eyes darting to Chan who gives him a nod of approval. “Thank you,” he begins. “This is our last stop for this tour, and I can’t be any prouder and thankful to all of you.”

He lets the translator translate his speech before continuing, “I had a lot of worries before the tour started. I honestly thought I wouldn’t be able to go through everything.”

“You made our dreams come true,” Hyunjin continues. “You made my dreams come true and I naively thought that was the end of everything. But I learned a lot during this tour, and once again, you made this happen. All the pretty words you told us, they mean a lot. They always will. I realized that this will always be my dream, no matter how many times this has come true. I want to make you, who stay with us throughout everything, happy. I want to be here for a very long time. I want to be with you, to be with the members and our family, for a very long time.”

He stops when he feels he can’t continue anymore, letting the others take the spotlight. He gives each of his bandmates with a loving gaze, stopping at Minho who lets tears roll down his cheeks this time. Jeongin is giggling beside him, walking over to wrap the tsundere hyung in a firm hug.

Hyunjin thinks they’ve really come a long way.

Being back home usually gives Hyunjin a peace of mind, but when he sees no notification on his phone, he feels weird. He dials his mother’s number, his heart grows even more anxious when she picks up.

“Oh Hyunjin-ah, did you just land?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you come over here? Or do you have an important schedule?”

“No, we get 2 days off. What’s going on?”

“Y/N’s sister passed away. Sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, we didn’t want you to panic.”

“Eomma! How could you?”

“I’m sorry. This is Y/N’s request as well. She’s been here for 2 days and no one can make her eat anything. Can you take her home?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

“You’re going to live in Germany! You’re such a lucky kid!”

The little girl smiles bashfully as you pout at her. “The luckiest girl on Earth,” you add, fixing her messy hair.

“If you’re so jealous of me, why don’t you come along?”

“Are you kidding?” you exclaim. “I’m on my way to be the greatest doctor in this country. You can’t change my mind.”

“Alright, it’s time to go,” your father interrupts, giving you one last hug before whispering things into your ear. Hyunjin steps back to allow you say goodbye to your family, tearing up at the painful sight. Your father, a doctor, accepts an offer to work in a hospital in Germany and takes the whole family with him since your sick little sister needs more intensive treatment.

But you’re staying to become a great doctor like your father, hoping you’ll get a chance to cure your sister later.

“Please take care of her, Hyunjin. We trust you,” your mother tells him. Hyunjin nods, enveloping your hand in his. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here monitoring her every move and drag her back home whenever she spends too much time at the academy.”

Your sister laughs, bowing to Hyunjin. “I also want a boyfriend like Hyunjinoppa! Please take care of our unnie.”

You yank your hand away from him. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

Hyunjin seems unbothered by your statement, bowing to your family to annoy you more. “Our family will take care of her, you can trust us.”

Your sister’s smiling face greets Hyunjin as he enters the funeral home. He stares at the photo then closes his eyes to pray, whispering strings of apologies that’s always too late. I’m sorry I never visited you. I’m sorry I failed to take care of your sister. I’m sorry I didn’t call you enough.

He bows to your family, the first bow since years ago, and he wishes he could turn back time. Hyunjin turns to you, gazing into your tired eyes. Your mother pulls him towards you. “She hasn’t eaten at all. Can you please bring her home, Hyunjin? I hope you’re not too busy. I’m sorry that we meet like this.”

“Hyunjin just landed in Seoul. How could you force him to come here?” you snap, returning his gaze. “Go home. I’ll call you later.”

Hyunjin almost yells in frustration, but swallows everything before dragging you out, only tightening his grip on your wrist when you try to pry his hand off of you. You keep shouting at him, yelling at him to stop, but Hyunjin doesn’t budge. He drags you all the way to his car, opening the passenger door for you.

“Get in the car, Y/N.”

Without waiting for you to move, he lifts your body and sits you down, fastening your seatbelt. “Please don’t push me away,” he pleads. “Why do you always tell me go home, go back to practice, to leave… why?! I promised your parents to take care of you. I promised your sister, why aren’t you letting me do that?!”

“I never asked you to do that,” you mutter through gritted teeth, causing Hyunjin to grip your shoulders.

“You only said that to hurt me,” he replies. “Even now you’re still trying to push me away. I want to be here Y/N. Don’t you want me here?”

You avoid his eyes, keeping your gaze on your clasped hands. “Tell me,” Hyunjin challenges. “Tell me that you don’t want me to stay with you, and I’ll leave.”

He waits for you to respond, letting out a relieved sigh he doesn’t bother hiding when you shake your head. “Want you here. Thank you.”

“Have you cried?”

After your sister was born, you were told not to shed tears in front of her. Your parents always scolded you if you started crying when you saw her in pain, and after some time, it became a habit. A habit that Hyunjin absolutely despises since it makes you suppress your feelings, as if punishing you for having feelings.

“I don’t know… maybe I haven’t.”

“You lost your sister, you can cry. Your parents cried a lot too, it’s fine.”

You nod, resting your head in the crook of his neck when tears start to well up. Hyunjin presses a kiss on your temple, finding himself tearing up the moment you start sobbing, something he has never witnessed although he’s known you for almost his whole life.

“Is this your Armani suit?” you manage to voice in the middle of sobs and snorts. He takes you into his embrace, chuckling, “Yes, but you can ruin it however you want. Another privilege as my best friend.”

“Can I abuse this privilege?”

“Ruining my expensive suits?”

“No,” you laugh airily. “Crying when you’re with me.”

Hyunjin cups your wet cheeks, gently pushing your hands away when you want to wipe your tears away. “Anytime. You can cry, laugh, curse, get angry, get drunk… you can do anything when you’re with me.”

And that’s all it takes before you start sobbing into his suit again. Hyunjin is standing there for the longest time, sandwiched by the passenger seat and door of his car with you in his arms. He doesn’t care, he will do it all over again, and he will do much more. For you, and only you.

“Where are you? It’s past midnight already!”

“Hwang Hyunjin, you’re lucky I’m willing to go home when I have a morning shift tomorrow,” you scold him over the phone.

“It’s my birthday! Wait, it isn’t even my birthday anymore!” he whines in an obnoxious tone that never fails to upset you. He giggles when he hears you huff, the sound of the elevator signaling that you’ve already arrived.

“You asked me to buy you a cake right before I left,” you hiss. “Now open the door, I’m outside.”

The call ends and Hyunjin rushes to the door. You’re carrying the red velvet cake he requested, the candles already lit and Hyunjin tries not to melt at the way you look at him. He did ask you to buy him a cake and “surprise” him at your apartment, but he is nowhere near ready to see you like this: all smiley and cheery for him despite sounding annoyed over the phone.

“Happy birthday,” you sing song, your smile growing wider as he blows the candle. Hyunjin returns your smile before taking the cake from you, pulling you towards your room. “Go get changed, I’ll slice the cake for you.”

A few minutes later, both of you are seated on your couch, talking about every little thing while enjoying the cake. Hyunjin tells you about Stray Kids’ upcoming comeback, a very special one since Minho choreographed the title track. You tell him about various cases that happened in the hospital while wondering if you’ll ever finish medical school and actually be a doctor.

Everything feels the way Hyunjin expects it to be, until you put your empty plate on the table and look at him straight in the eyes. “Hyunjin…”

He quickly swallows and places his plate on the table as well, never breaking eye contact with you. “What?”

You gulp. “Do you remember when I asked you to come find me when you’re ready?”

“Feels like yesterday.”

“Well,” you murmur. “I’m just wondering if you’re… ready.”

Fire lights up in his stomach, and before you can continue, Hyunjin is already trapping you between his body and the couch. “I am,” he says. “Are you?”

You brush his fringe with your fingers. “You were waiting for me?”

“You told me to start dreaming again, so I did,” Hyunjin recalls. “And I realized that all of my dreams are right in front of me—you, my family, the hyungs, Jeongin, the fans… keeping you guys with me is something I’ll always dream of although all of you are already here.”

You pout at him, but Hyunjin doesn’t miss the proud gleam in your eyes. “Then what’s taking you so long?”

He pinches your nose. “I waited for you to be ready, as you said before, it wasn’t just about us being together. I don’t want you to choose me only because you feel like you need me. I want you to… want me… to love me with a clear head. Just like what you wanted me to do. I want to give you the world, but only if you allow me to.”

You circle your arms around his neck, sighing happily, “You gave me the world, Hyunjin. You listen to me, you console me, you give me a shoulder to cry on. You’re the only one I’ve ever waited for, and I’m so glad that you came back to me.”

Hyunjin is sure that his whole system has stopped working, the words you just uttered feel like the strongest, yet the sweetest liquor he’s ever tasted. He is drunk on the love you offer; he’s drunk on your touch, your smile and everything you want to give him. You’re driving him nuts, completely nuts, but it’s the only thing he wants to feel. You are the only one he yearns to feel.

You seem to sense his burning gaze and start nibbling on your bottom lip. “So this is the part where you kiss me…”

“This is the part where I kiss you…”

You shake your head. “This feels weird. You’re my best friend.”

“You kissed me,” Hyunjin reminds you. “It’s not like we’ve never done it before.”

“No, but—” You pause to let yourself breathe. “I kissed you. This is different, I’m not going to survive you kissing me.”

“For the love of God Y/N, just—”

You point at your lips. “And I still have my lipgloss on!”

Hyunjin is caressing your reddening cheek now, trying to destroy the last bit of your defense. “And what’s wrong with that?” he asks softly.

“It’s sticky! Our lips will get stuck and it won’t be romantic.”

“So what do you want to do? Go into your room and wipe it off with a cotton pad or something?”

“Yeah, let’s do—”

Hyunjin doesn’t let you finish as he finally dives in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that set both of you on fire. He hums when he feels your body relax in his hold, allowing him to savor you with so much longing and want. Hyunjin lets his heart take the lead, kissing you harder whenever you tug the ends of his hair and making him putty under your touch. It never feels enough, it feels like he only gets hungrier everytime you return his kiss, the feeling of your lips moving against his almost destroys him.

Nothing is stopping him now, he came back to you and you welcomed him with open arms. Hyunjin leaves one more open mouthed kiss on your lips before pulling away with a loud pop, taking in the sight of you trying to breathe. You slowly meet his eyes with flushed cheeks, eyes mirroring his own and Hyunjin tries to remember every single detail. “God I love you so much,” he hears himself whisper.

You smile, lifting your hand to trace his face delicately. “I love you.”

“Are you mine now?” Hyunjin knows this is childish, but he wants to hear it. He longs to hear it.

Thankfully, you’re willing to play his game tonight. “Only yours.”

“No more mourning over Jung Jaehyun?”

“Jesus Christ, do you need to stoop that low.”

“Yes.” Hyunjin pecks your nose. “He doesn’t listen to K-pop, right? Introduce him to me.”

You roll your eyes. “I love you, why the hell are we talking about Jaehyun now?”

“Then what should we talk about?”

“Since we’re on a competition to ruin the mood, lemme burst your bubble: my parents are moving back in next week so we need another place to do... this.”

“Okay,” Hyunjin answers. “What are we gonna do now?”

You wrap your legs around his torso, making him gasp. “I don’t know, kiss me again? I’m gonna tell you this just once, but I, along with thousands of other people, have always wanted to kiss you. It made me feel pathetic, but it is what it is.”

Hyunjin blushes, but refuses to lose to you. “You tried to make me not kiss you a few minutes ago and now you’re desperate to kiss me. Was I that good?”

“Hmmm I guess so,” you hum.

He swiftly lifts your body, grinning when you tighten your hold around his neck. “Well, I’m yours to kiss now,” he teases, trying to walk into room without knocking into things. You leave soft kisses all over his face, prompting Hyunjin to walk faster so he could just kiss you already.

When your back hit your bed, Hyunjin stops to admire your face. “I kissed you a long time ago, don’t you remember?”

Your eyes widen. “You? Kissed me? With those plush lips? When?!”

“You don’t remember? But it was our first kiss!”

You spend the next few minutes racking your brain before nodding. “Ah, it did happen a long time ago.”

“It’s okay, maybe you wanted to forget that moment. It was your darkest time, and I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

Shaking your head, you run your thumb along his lip. “Thank you for staying with me all these years.”

Hyunjin closes the gap between you once again, hoping to chase away all the sorrow inside your soul. You pull him closer, making him practically lying on top of you, feeling your chest rise with each touch of his lips on your skin. “Thank you,” a kiss on each of your eye, “for,” a kiss on the tip of your nose, “making me,” a kiss on your lips—this time he lets it linger, “dream,” a kiss on your chin, “again,” and a kiss on your neck.

It took Hyunjin so long to understand the world, and now he still hasn’t understood even half of it. But in the middle of his journey, he met you. He learned to dream, he learned to love you.

And he learned to love himself.

The door opens with a bang, revealing an incredibly panicked Hyunjin. He just finished training when he received a call from you, who said nothing but, “I won’t let you walk home alone.” You wouldn’t end the call throughout his way home, but refused to say anything else and almost making Hyunjin dash to the police station.

Hyunjin sees your shadow, letting out a small scream when he spots you lying on the floor in the dark. He runs to you, about to carry you back into your room when you stop him. “I feel like crying,” you rasp, choking on your saliva. “I can’t stop it.”

It’s been a month since your family left, and while you’re trying your best to be a big girl and live the way you always do, it’s not easy. Hyunjin lies beside you, eyes locked on the tears rolling down your cheeks. You never cry loudly. You never sob nor wail. You just cry silently, mostly in the dark so you can’t see yourself crying.

Hyunjin takes your hand in his, hovering over you before tracing your tears with his lips as if it can stop them. He pecks every wet spot, slowly getting to your lips. He leaves a chaste, barely-there kiss before wrapping his arms around you, whispering comforting things until you start falling asleep on the hard floor.

Hyunjin hopes you’ll allow yourself to cry however you wish to someday.

a/n: i was so happy writing this that i almost cried when i finished because i know i’m going to miss writing this one. this story feels so sentimental, happy and sad at the same time and probably that’s why i feel so attached to it. ive wanted to write this since last year, even before “give my heart a chance”. i always wondered what would happen after we reach our dreams and i hope you’ll feel a little better after reading this (especially if you’re experiencing the same thing). this story is a long journey, but i hope you’ll enjoy it.

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peachyteabuck · 4 years

Text

treason against kingly youth, pt i of ii

summary: somehow, you survived the 2020 election. now, all you have to do is get a know-nothing white man into the senate. should be easy enough.

pairing: chris evans x reader

words: 3223

trigger warnings: rpf, white dudes doin White Dude Things

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

For a moment, just a moment, you allow yourself to breathe, really breathe. One, big breath in that clears the stress from your muscles, drops your shoulders, lets your whole body sag against the decade-old chair that you’re surprised hasn’t crumbled under the weight of your ever-tense body and its corresponding sins.

It’s a mere six feet away that everyone else you’ve worked with for the past three years with – the people you went through sleepless nights, long road trips, greasy food from mom and pop diners with the middle of assfuck nowhere, registering voters and writing up another plan for every fucking thing wrong with America (low teacher pay? Check. Electoral college ruining democracy? Check. Criminalization of homosexuality? Check. Private school sucking the life out of public schools? The monopoly artificially inflating prices on glasses up to 400%? The disparity between the number of men’s and women’s bathrooms in federal buildings? Check, check, check) – each and every person celebrates with wine and whiskey and any other alcoholic beverages they can get their underpaid hands on. It’s not even the cheap stuff, no, this is top shelf liquor. This is D-Day, “we’ve got an hour before the nuclear missile hits” liquor.

There are two times people go this all-out on their spirits – the end of the world, and the end of an election (though, to some, they’re the same thing).

But not you. Never pitiful little you. Pitiful little campaign manager you doesn’t rest, doesn’t get to stop pulling rabbits out of hats and money from single moms and votes out of college students.

There’s three TVs in front of your desk, each playing a different news station and each anchor drowning the others out. It’s a cacophony of white noise, and not because

The only voice, the only singular voice that has cemented itself into this far, previously blissfully unattended corner of your brain. You can hear her, feel her own on your shoulder – you can see her leaning against her old desk nestled in her home back in Massachusetts.

“I want you to be my chief of staff. You ran my campaign better than I could have asked for, and I would be incredibly lucky and blessed to have you run my White House.”

Your own voice rings next, always shakier than the time previous.

“I can’t do that,” your sigh gets deeper each time, too. “You know I can’t.”

Somehow, her voice always gets more confident. It’s one of those things about her, about the way she carries herself. If she’s faking that confidence you’d never know. “I know, but I’ll always tell you that there’s a place for you at the White House as long as I have something to say about it.”

In the sea of blue and red and white confetti and streamers and all the other shit people use to celebrate when their party wins an election, the thick, bleached white of your laptop screen stares back at you more menacingly than any Republican – winning or losing - you’ve ever met.

You’d like to think you are the kind professional that is never caught off guard, the kind of woman who can expect anything. But as the email that’s derailed your plan for the next four years stares back at you, the all-caps subject line feels more like the headlights of an 18-wheeler to a deer in the middle of a highway than an excellent career opportunity.

Still, with malt liquor in hand, you allow yourself a moment to breathe. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll make all of this just a little bit easier.

A little less than five hundred miles away, Christopher Robert Evans is the drunkest he’s ever been, surrounded by the same men he’s known since his freshman year of high school, yelling nonsensically as one of his current senators becomes the president-elect of the most power country on Earth.

The only coherent thing to leave the man’s mouth the entire night is oh so wonderfully caught on a friend’s iPhone and will – quite likely – be posted to some social media site by the next morning.

The video (which you will eventually be seeing at your first meeting with the Boston native) shows him in a Harvard sweatshirt (a university he did not attend), deep blue skinny jeans, and a Patriots hat balanced just enough to show his (possibly) thinning hairline. There, between his two best friends, he screams in his played-up Boston accent at the top of his lungs:

“I’M GOING TO BE A SENATOR, BITCHES!”

But you, back in D.C., are blissfully unaware of the long road ahead of you. So, you enjoy your malt liquor, and your small bit of quiet on election night – a sign of the muted calm before the political shitstorm ahead of you.

You end up not replying to said email the next morning (see: seven hours later after falling asleep in your chair for about five hours and then browsing angry GOP Twitter accounts while cackling into a cup of the blackest coffee you’ve ever tasted for the other two), confirming you’d be willing to work for Christopher Robert Evans’ campaign to run for the current president-elect’s soon-to-be open senate seat.

Or, at least confirming you’d speak to the Evans family to talk about running the campaign of the whitest man under the age of forty you’ve ever seen. Whether or not you ended up attempting to control what is likely another dumpster-fire campaign in a series of dumpster-fire campaigns. Harris is the one that comes to mind, but drawing any parallels between that woman and this man feels borderline offensive.

Plus, her senate run was successful. And she held elected office before that.

Why did you agree to do this again?

Right, you need money. So much money. All of the money. At least enough money that you can be bought from straight under the White House, which just so happens to be the amount the Evans estate offered you in exchange for your services.

Maybe that’s why you’ve found yourself in a conference room in an expensive office building, looking up at Chris Evans as his face turns red and your heart rate picks up.

“I’m Massachusetts’s best choice!” he screams, slamming his hands onto the table – a rich brown you sort of wish you could afford to have in your own home back at the capital. Your estate sale table, even with the coat of white paint you gave it after buying it, still can’t hold a candle to the beautiful grooves and smooth top.

But this isn’t time to yearn for better interior design prospects. Now is the time to put this moderate democrat man-child in his upper-middle-class place.

“Chris, you’re the best choice for an internship for the fucking EPA,” you nearly hiss. “You’re in the intern in Vice who watched Dick Cheney make deals with those fucking oil businessmen. You’re the shiny faced bastard who watched the world burn while listening to a Walkman. Do you understand me?”

His teeth are barred like he’s about to bite at your face; luckily that man comes with an electric collar and you’ve got the controller.

“Your biggest qualification is you got a five on the AP Gov exam. You have a single living family member who has held elected office in the last five years, and he was in the House of Representatives. The House! He wasn’t even in the chamber you’re gunning to be a part of. You were an econ major with a minor in, what? Poli sci? At a mid-tier university because your family doesn’t have Kushner money to bribe your acceptance letter out of a better one. Your main job after college was working as an accountant for old fraternity because they get audited so often the IRS had to release a public statement saying they were changing their processes for such matter on college campuses. You’re so moderate you’re in the aisle playing legislative mad-libs while everyone fawns over your B+ facial hair and C- chest tattoo. You’re a cute puppy at a for-profit rescue, you’re eye candy on a political television show.

“You’re the type of person who didn’t think that Gillibrand was done for before the second debate. That’s the problem with you. I mean there are lots of problems with you, but that’s the one I’m most annoyed with right now. It’s not that you can’t understand patterns or see what’s going on around you. It’s that you were never forced to. When you walk outside in the dark, I bet you don’t look behind you, you don’t clutch your keys like claws to protect yourself. You know how much pepper spray costs? Do you know what a noisemaker does? No, you’ve never had to. You’ve never had to shield yourself from danger because the rest of the world did that for you.”

It’s then that you realize you’re both standing, your finger jabbed into the Windsor knot of his tie. Still, you don’t stop.

“You are the shell of an actual politician; you represent a safe option for right-adjacent Democrats and moderate Republicans who hate the president’s coalition and women. Especially women of color. You’re the perfect option because you stand for nothing of substance, you do nothing on your own. You’re a cover for old racist white men and moderate white women who need something to attatch their lack of political knowledge to during dinner conversations. Either you shape up, or I’m leaving this campaign and watching your inevitable fall from my office in the White House. I will drink a martini in the West Wing the day you lose, I will release a glowing endorsement of the first liberal who so much as whispers about taking your ass down. Do you understand me?”

The longest few seconds of your life pass with bated breath as you two stand there, chests rising and falling in a synced rhythm with your jaws set. It’s a stand off, neither of you willing to look away from the other’s eyes.

“Do you understand me, Evans?” you bite, getting angrier at each passing Chris says nothing. It’s not the self-reflective kind of silence, it’s the generic peanut butter when you’re too broke to afford the real stuff. It’s pasta before a marathon. It’s ads the radio station plays when they’re out of loops of the latest rape-adjacent pop hit.

It’s a filler. And it’s a bad one.

“¿Te comprende?” You’re almost yelling now, screaming in his face louder than you’ve ever screamed before. “¿Me necesitas para decirlo de nuevo?”

Another heavy pause. Chris’ voice is rough as he speaks, like ten grit sandpaper. “Yeah, I get it. I fucking get it.”

And with that, he grabs his side bag and stomps out of the conference room, grumbling something about high school Spanish and Despacito. You ignore his tantrum – unlike his father, who moves to run after him. You shoot daggers into the silver-haired ca, and he sits back down.

You push the too-sweet aftertaste of canned fruit to the back of your mouth. The thick resume paper slides out of your laptop-case-slash-important papers-folder with ease, the heavy five-hundred word essay on why you hate your job detailed in 12-font Times New Roman, pristine black letters nearly shining in the low light.

“That’s my letter of resignation,” you say, looking your boss dead in the eyes. With his jaw set the way it is, you expect to hear his teeth cracking before you could leave the boardroom.

“You know we can’t accept this,” his father says with a tone that’s much too close to a laugh. A nervous laugh, but one that makes you feel like he’s treating you as if you were a joke nonetheless. “You’re our only hope for this race.”

The second sheet of paper - or, rather, the small stack with a staple in the top right corner perfectly perpendicular to the nearest corner - hits the table next. “Then, these are my demands. Let me know by midnight tonight if you can meet them or not so I know whether or not to accept a job somewhere else.”

With that, you pick up your coat and leave.

The driver, a single mom in her mid-forties who is helping put her only son through college, laughs when you enter the backseat of her vehicle. It’s not condescending, not something you feel offended by. Rather, shame paints your face.

“Did Mr. Evans-Junior snap?” She asks as she pulls away. Her tone is knowing, too knowing. How long has she worked for the Evans anyway?

You sigh, then scream into your hands. The woman in front of you doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move a muscle as she waits for your reply. “He’s an idiot.”

The woman laughs. “That’s not what I asked, and I know you know that.”

You’re tempted to scream again, only a little louder. You don’t. “He snapped. I snapped,” you sigh again as you watch out the window. It’s late, too late for traffic to be like this. Fuck Boston. “Now I want to go home and take off my bra and wash off my make up and ger super drunk and shave all my hair off and quit my job and become a sheep herder in Iceland.”

The woman doesn’t disagree, doesn’t negate. She gives you the wonderful gift of silence until she drops you off, waving you goodbye.

“You have a good night,” she calls.

“I’ll do my best,” you shout back.

You’re alone in your apartment, dressed in the most comfortable (and expensive) pair of pajamas you own with red wine and some playlist titled an artsy version of “my life is very sad and my world is falling apart so I bought a $200 bottle of alcohol and hope I cry off my name-brand make up before I have to reemerge into the eyes of polite society,” when you get the text you’ve been dreading. It’s Chris, with his perfect capitalization and punctation and lack of emoji use. You’ve seen the way he texts the rest of the team, his family, his friends. He only pulls that shit with you.

Fuck, you think as you open the message. That kid’s really gotta loosen up. Isn’t weed legal in Massachusetts? He’s a Democrat, there’s no excuse.

He’s asking if he can come over, because of course he is. You’re just lucky the message is something closer to “I feel bad and wish to speak about it with you in person” instead of the crass “u up” you expected. Still, when the three dots at the bottom of the screen appear once again, you assume it’s going to be a picture of his junk that loads.

“Please,” is all the text says.

You acquiesce, sending him something akin to a “Fine but if you step out of line again your ass is going to be explaining why you fucked up to the cold-as-fuck pavement outside.”

You hear the knock at your door thirty minutes later (you often forget how shitty Boston traffic is), opening it to reveal the saddest white boy you’ve ever seen in your short life.

His chestnut hair is disheveled enough to indicate he’d had half of a sleepless night. This is the most casual you’ve seen him – basketball shorts with another Godforsaken Harvard hoodie with Nike sneakers – bags under his eyes completing the “sad frat boy who probably just flunked a chem exam” kind of look.

“Can I come inside?” he asks.

You sigh, trying to figure out how your life came to this. A jerk of your chin allows him entry into your small apartment, every surface littered with physical copies of presentations and a map of Massachusetts covered in stickers and sticky notes and scribbles of poll numbers from past campaigns. To Chris’ untrained eye it all looks like the homestead of a serial killer, but to anyone else on his campaign it’s his ticket to the senate. Politics is a game, a game with very public winners and losers and those who fall between; anyone who doesn’t study all of those outcomes is destined to find themselves either a) in a vacation home in the hills of Vermont drunk as hell, or b) running for president.

(You’ve considered how likely both of those possibilities are, and part of you fears he’ll do both).

There’s a heavy, awkward silence that falls over the room as you both sit down, facing each other.

“So,” you ask awkwardly. “Do you want, uh, a beer…or something?”

Chris shakes his head. “No, I’m, uh, I’m alright. Thanks.”

You sigh a little, relieved. “Good, because all I have is very expensive red wine and judging by our past interactions it is not worth having it spilled all over my white carpet.”

For a moment it’s obvious he doesn’t realize that you’re kidding, but after a few seconds of a facial expression that’s a perfect blend of concerned, rejected, and confused – he lets a little smile get past his façade.

“Yeah, uh,” he laughs. “That sounds like a bitch to clean up.”

What follows is a few minutes of incredibly awkward silence as he looks around your house once more and you take the opportunity to look at him.

It’s weird to see him in this state – it’s weird to see him as something human.

Still, you want to snap at him when he breaks the quiet.

“I want to do better,” he says, voice small. He avoids meeting your eyes, wrings his hands while he looks at the floor. “I thought about what you said and I,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I want to do better…for you.”

You sigh, placing your red wine on the side table next to you before clasping your hands together. “Look, if you’re winning this election for me-“

“I’m not,” Chris says way too defensively. You let it slide for your own sanity.

“If you’re doing this for me, you’re going to be disappointed. Mostly because what your father wants and what I want are two very different things,” Chris opens his mouth to speak again but you hold you hand up to silence him. “Listen, I have a few rules with my clients. The first one is don’t lie to me. We can talk around this all day outside the boundaries of this home, but if you can look me in the eye on my couch while I drink my wine and tell me you’re doing this for a love of the people or whatever, I’m going to need you to leave.”

Chris gives you a single silent nod.

“But, if you want to win this shitshow…” you drink the rest of the glass in a single gulp. “Then, yeah. Let’s fucking do this.”

Chris lights up.

“But, I have some rules.”

He nods silently, allowing you to continue.

You count off on your fingers. “Don’t lie to me. When I ask a question, answer it. If I don’t ask a question, answer it anyway. I want to know everything, got it?”

Chris nods.

“The only time I don’t want you to speak is when I tell you to shut the fuck up. You got that, too?”

Chris nods again.

“Good, then I have a sneaking suspicion this will work out just fine.”

#chris evans x reader #lukis writes stuff #senator evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine

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kaetastic · 5 years

Text

YOUR EMPTY WORDS

pairing: Deceased!Regulus Black X Reader

summary: Regulus passing had left Y/N with creeping memories. Despite her attempts to warn his mess of an older brother, she had failed. Finally, her dead lover’s brother had met her once again.

word count: 3.2k+

warning: angst, mention of death, tears, denial, grief

note: NOT MY BEST WORK. Sorry, I haven’t been posting lately, I just finished my exams and though I read- my writing wasn’t that active. I’ve been feeling so empty with a hole inside of me, I feel like something’s wrong but I don’t know. Anyways, enjoy and take care 💕💓

A muffled force on the front door vibrated through the petite house. The faint fragrance of her freshly batch of sticky dough filled the air, a low hum produced by the oven as it heated the contents, a melody created by the ticking of the small timer that rested firmly onto the heating glass; the familiar smell coated her heart with joy as a short play of her past previewed itself in her head. The gluey lump connected her fingers like frail bridges that were pulled down as if a heavyweight stepped onto it. Her eyes glossed away from the counter that had been sprinkled over with flour, scattering as it prevents the ability for the dough to stick itself onto the area.

Nudging her head to peek below the overhead cabinets through the set of the wooden counter, shadows of feet blocked the sunlight as it plays a light show. The window had been closed with a curtain. That is how she liked it. It was no use if she had poked her head to take a quick glimpse of those who stood in front of the house for it was blocked by a tall-standing hedge. She cursed at her frequent memory loss of forgetting to remove it. How she always thought of doing it, to only end up not doing said-removing.

“Just a minute!” She yelled out, frantically shaking her wrists over the sink, drips and strands plopped away to slam itself onto the walls of the vessel as it screamed a splatter. With a soft rinse, the leftover grease glazed her fingertips; nothing the apron couldn’t handle. The hurried wipes on the covered fabric left drag of her wet hands left a mark, like tracks of tires on a sludge of snow.

Shuffles of feet dragged across the vigorously clean floor with no left visible speck of dust, hard work clearly pays off. She cleared her throat, muttering short syllables words under her breath- wincing when it sounded too high. It was not often for her to have visitors nor guests, due to her detachment from society. She wore a widened smile, displaying her twinkling teeth. It lost. Corners of her lips quirked down like wilted flowers; pent up anger sipped through her. The discontent she had managed to stuff in a box jumped out as if the lock had cut open. The grip on the handle tightened at the face she wished she hadn’t met. The resemblance between him and his brother was too similar, she hated it. How dare he? Bringing up his face anytime he wanted. She gritted her teeth as her nostrils flared red, the prominent veins pulsed in her neck.

“I see you’ve taken the liberty and pack up all your chivalry to finally talk to me. What a delight isn’t it? Well, it was nice to see you,” Her hands flicked to slam the door shut with no hesitation, as if she had planned this a long time ago. Slight pride in her ignited at her wise choice. The only sound that echoed through the house was those emitted from the kitchen, the whooshes from the passing vehicles and the silence that placed itself between the trio and her. Not the sweet sound of the door meets the frame. Pent up rage prodded itself, if she was alone- with her own emotions, she could’ve fallen down on her knees and begged. Begged for the return of her fallen lover. However, it was accompanied. Sorrow didn’t come alone for it walked side by side with anger. The feeling she had to face all by herself to overcome the darkness that cowered over her.

In the corner of her eyes, she noticed another pair of heads that stood behind him. But the redness painted the background of Sirius. Maybe, just maybe- if he had come sooner, or if he was there to reassure of the loss of someone from both of their lives, she wouldn’t be so pressed or uptight about the situation. The sight of him sickened her. Narrowed eyes, she tried to ignore the poking words that desperately wanted to fall off her tongue. It took her a master to accept silence while her endless days of sleep as voices spoke to her, it had no mercy. The world had no mercy.

The tension between the two was so prominent, the passersby would glance at the woman who had her hair flared up with raging fire. The ball of aura that surrounded the pair waved thundering electricity. Even the youngest who wore round glasses pointed it out. He looked so familiar. But she couldn’t lay her finger on it. “What are you doing?” She stressed out every syllable, the grip she held on the door could’ve formed a dent, possibly cracked it in half if he managed to push her to the edge. Glancing at his foot that sat in between the frame and the door, preventing her ability to make a quick escape; a scowl formed on her lips.

Sirius’s untamed and wild hair matched well with his personality, crazy and on the verge of being labelled as a psychopath, or what the wizarding world has already named him as, a murderer. Or it was due to the fact it was windy. Nonetheless, she was sick of him. The brother of the man she loved had never bothered to check with her during the days all she wanted to do was let go. It was selfish for her to say that someone should’ve visited her regularly. But she had no one left.

Disappointment and frustration laced the air; a twinkle of content glittered in the space between them, “Please, hear me out Y/N.” She scoffed, she couldn’t help but be amused by his stubbornness and determination. As if she would do so. Arms crossed, she quirked an eyebrow at the wizard.

“What is there you could possibly say? Hm?” The papers of his face splattered on every wizarding walls she has walked by was being sharpened; ready to slither his throat. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be in Azkaban? Where you belong?” Sirius could not help but feel the drumming of his veins, a frail crack formed over his heart, that was emptied out by the hellhole he was forced to live in. Leaving nothing but blood pulsing out and all the joy he felt dumped out, sucked in by the grey creatures. Mouth gaped open, he was ready to speak out, to defend himself when someone had done so before he had the chance.

“Wormtail- Peter, I mean, was the one who killed those muggles, not Sirius.” With his string chord of a voice, he sliced the tension. Remus sent him a reassuring smile when he whipped his head back to face his long-life friend, his nearly only existing one. Harry glanced at the adults who stood in front of him with confusion stroked in his eyes, wondering with killing curiosity that terribly suffocated him.

Sirius cleared his throat to face the person he desired to sit with and talk about the thing that has been bugging him ever since. He couldn’t help but notice the glimpse of those who walked past, judging their choice of outfits for the sunny yet windy day, “Please Y/N, I beg of you. Let us in and we can talk.”

His voice irritated her. If she had to compare it to a sound, it would be like the screeching of fingers scratching a blackboard. Ever since Hogwarts, his voice was of nothing but whining, “Sirius is still considered as a vigilante, please?” If only the little kid wasn’t present, she would’ve slammed the door.

With a huff, she plopped herself onto the couch, the seat groaned at the abrupt addition of weight. Arms crossed with her back leaned onto the couch, her eyes narrowed towards the uninvited guests. She wouldn’t be in this situation if she would’ve just shut the door onto his face, just like he did with hers… and Regulus’. Although the unstable walls shivered, she had to be reasonable. Because that was how she had to cope with her farewell of her only lover.

An ear-pitching screech from the timer rung through their ears but Y/N seemed unfazed, not flinching a muscle. The youngest of the group glanced at the open kitchen, towards the, what he hoped would be the silence breaker. As if she could feel the annoyance that twitched in him, she raised an open hand in the air- twirling her fingers without turning back to even glance at what she was doing. Harry stared in awe. The sight of floating utensils flew from one side of the kitchen to the other, some moved around, clashing with the metal sink before soft rinsing of water washed the dirty tools. ‘Magic is brilliant’ thought Harry. Even though being a wizard himself, he couldn’t help but feel his heart rise with light amusement. Harry watched as the door of the oven opened ajar- a tray pulled out, littered on it were treats and baked goods worth salivating for.

The still Hogwarts’ student flinched as a tray made its way to rest on the coffee table that separated the group. Somehow wary if she would poison him, Sirius reluctantly leaned forward to grab one of the filled glass. His sips laced with the sounds that echoed out of the kitchen as if someone was actually partaking in working in the kitchen.

Remus couldn’t help it. He had already scanned the room. He hoped no one saw. He wasn’t nosy, just curious; he liked to call it as so. It felt like home. It was her home. There were marks that seemed sentimental or lovable. Cabinets with glass as a transparent material allowed the displayed items to show itself, a twinkling gold ball glittered into his eyes, Remus winced at the abrupt beam. She was never part of Quidditch. He remembered he had seen her sit on the field many times when teams were participating, he had never saw her on a broom. So he jumped to the right conclusion, it wasn’t hers.

The throb of his heart was something he couldn’t ignore when his eyes landed on a framed photo of a grinning couple, who seemed to be the happiest on the world… as if nothing was against them.

“So? Speak.” She knew she was being harsh, she knew she should’ve controlled the slash of her tongue. But if someone was to avoid you for years, when all you wanted was to sit with them- to converse with one another. To set a base, a foundation, she wasn’t at fault if she said her frustration got the worse of her. Sirius nodded, he cleared his throat as his mind formed the words he desperately wanted to speak out.

“Well, first off, I- uh, wanted to say sorry..,” A scoff fell of her lips at his words. That felt empty and worthless at such time. His eyes twitched, worry angered in his chest. Not wanting to misunderstand him, he did not hesitate to continue his words. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you- when my brother left. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I was a mindless idiot!”

“I’m sure you still are.” Sirius ignored her comment.

“I was selfish… for two years you tried to talk to me, but all I did was ignore you.” His head fell down as his shoulders hunched in disappointment, forehead resting on his palm, massaging his temples in an attempt to eradicate the stinging tension.

A slight tinge of satisfaction grew in her chest when she heard the words she had been hoping for, dreaming of. The whole time she thought it would be over, the closure to her story, it wasn’t. It did not feel like the end of a chapter, it wasn’t her closure. There were too many words caught in her heart, all stuffing the chambers which bled., “How about your brother?”

Sirius snapped up to face her, confusion laced his eyes, the windows to the soul they say- if it was true, all anyone would be able to see were the joy memories he had, taken away by the monsters that walk on the floors of the prison, “Huh?”

The corners of her lips quivered at the thought of having a murderer sitting in her house, “Have you ever thought about him? His death? Have you ever mourned for his fall? You haven’t!” Remus was quick to shoot up to try his best to hold her down, his heart ached when she trembled, sobbing her tears that she had been familiar with ever since.

Although he had to maintain as the emotionally stabled one, the years he spent in Azkaban felt forever, it got him, “I have! He is my brother!” He couldn’t help but feel accused on as a finger was pointed at him. It was like the past all over again.

“You chose your friends over him!” It was true, ever since Sirius had been kicked out of the Blacks family- she had never seen him try to talk to his younger brother. The only time they conversed was the day after Sirius ran away to the Potter’s, she could still feel the silence had echoed through the great hall. It was merely a short one. But other than that, they were like strangers; who once had been so close, where the lingered strings were snipped off, the only connection that held frail between them.

Sirius had his own pride too, he was exhausted of being the one to blame ever since the accusation of the murders, without a thought, he yelled back with no attempt to cower the anger away, “He chose the dark side! How about you? You’ve walked willy nilly across the school, stuck to him! Surely you’ve too!”

Remus snapped his head to his friend, who panted with popped out veins, jaw clenched with crashed eyebrows. The body he held in his arms twitched, if it wasn’t for him- she would have crashed down and slumped onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. Her body goes limp. She tried to find comfort in it. The tremble in her voice flipped the cards of hearts upside down, “He was 18, and we were engaged. Where were you?”

His mouth fell to falter open at the overwhelming words that had summarized everything. The sentence that he had formed in his head now diminished at lost. Where was he?

“While you partied away from the house… he left. And though I tried to talk to you… it seemed like all the love you had for your little brother, didn’t even exist,” Silence now covered the house, no sound made by the kitchen as a heart ached. “Yes he chose the wrong side, but he did something you will never be able to, Sirius,”

Harry rested his gaze on her, “He was a man of his own words.” The two figures who were present understood none for only the two did. It finally struck him after realizing what she was going on about, Sirius’s eyes widened with sorrow, at the promise he had made with his little brother. Like a swirl of memory, hurricanes of grey twirled to his past, ‘Sirius! When we grow up… could you be my best man?’ The lightness that was familiar to his chest rose. ‘Of course Regulus.’

His face dulled, dragged down with no reflection in his eyes. ‘It used to be so simple.’ Ear pricking honks from the road echoed through the cracks of the house. No one spoke. The student finally raised his voice, still unsure if it was the right time to speak out for the reason they had paid her a visit, “We came to ask you… if you could help us with this…”

Time stopped. The pulse of transportation in her veins halted when they couldn’t believe what was truly left to display for her. Her lips met each other in confusion, but a sense of shock sent through her spine as her fingers brushed over the scrunched up piece of paper. The creases that were harshly folded seemed neat but the valleys between each quarter formed a river. River of her tears at the familiar handwriting. Her loud sobs filled the hurried air, quick to rest beside her was Remus who was ready to embrace her, softening her fall to the couch.

She thought the pain was over even if his belongings rested on her walls. She thought if she had a mutual understanding with the farewell. Who could’ve thought the sight of his writing stroke a heartstring?

“Of course I’ve seen him, I’ve seen him in front of me… I remember it like it was yesterday, cold and empty. In his presence, all I could call him was ‘My Lord’, words I wished I had never spoken.” The mumbles that fell of her lips were only audible if you say right next to her, the reason why Harry was glancing at the two men with confusion. He stroke them beams of signals, hoping they would get it and pass the message on. However, they never really bothered as they were so focused on her story.

“Did you… get the mark?” Y/N’s head looked up with slight reluctant, unsure if she should tell the story.

“I didn’t… he did. We had a fight and we stopped talking for a while, but, we always found each other after every petty thing,” She wore a faint smile that glinted with joy at the past memory, his face had been painted on the walls of her mind; she was afraid he would be nothing but a vivid dream. So she thinks about him often. “You-Know-Who didn’t mark me as he knew of my value. I had nothing, even though I came from a pureblood family,”

Harry met her gaze, “I had no one. When Regulus left, I had no one. I was alone,” The corners of her lips twitched at the tug of her heart. “He was so young when he left,” Her eyes fazed to the piece of paper between the student’s fingers. “He- he told me of his plans… but now, it’s just hazy. I don’t remember anything,”

Disappointment engulfed her heart as their eyes lit up with hope, glinted with content if they were able to get their next goal, diminished into pouts. “I’m sorry, I was of no help.”

Harry’s eyes softened onto her fingers which would not stop but caress itself, her anxiety was exuding and prominent, “Thank you, for sharing your side of the story,” Remus grinned, hoping it wasn’t seemed force, it would be the last thing he would want her to assume. His fingers clasped her shoulder, reassuring her. “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to owl me.”

Although she had lost, she had gone through the harsh levels of grief, denial and the depression that cowered over her- leaving her numb and empty; her vessel dumped with bouncing emotions, she had no one to talk about it to. No one. But now, she did. If she lingered the emptiness and the anger she held against Sirius- she would have to live with it. She wanted it no more. Y/N deserved happiness.

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