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helbramstrauma · 2 years

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Eyo, what's it been like a couple of months since my last fic post. Crazy! am I right? Please ignore the fact I fall off the face of the earth sometimes. Anyway here is what I do best basic feitan fic. Except this is my first attempt at some sort of yandere/Stockholm situation because, well, I want to and I am in the mood to be treated poorly.

Please note that if anyone attempts to do almost everything you are about to read, that is a red flag. Stop seeing them, ghost them, flee the country and change your name. Whatever you have to do. Though it might be romantic to read it is dangerous to live. This is a story about someone experiencing stockholm syndrome if that makes you uncomfortable dni.

Rated R: Gore, Sexual Themes, Dark, Yandere, Feitan

It's been weeks since they left their old life, maybe months. It is hard to count days when the day and night mix so often, but it has at least been 3 weeks since y/n started counting. Maybe it was close to a year? Though that doesn't matter a day or a year hold no meaning when talking about their old life. It's hard to remember a time before Feitan.

He is a monster, he kills with no remorse and he harms with pleasure, a year or two ago y/n would be repulsed at the idea of this person. However, living and watching torture changes you, is at least y/n's running theory. Once the hand of someone inflicting pain softly rubs the red welt or wound compassionately, almost with sorrow, you don't see a monster, at least that's y/n's running theory.

"idiot, no one can comprehend this" a disembodied voice of the past says as clear as day. Suddenly it comes back. The sounds of snapping and name calling. "You can't research me", the sheet paper before their eyes, in one moment it was ink on a page now the face that once laid stagnant moves.

A scared voice, y/n's voice echoes in their head, "not true, you do these things for a reason". The snapping of their healed pinky and the pain that ensues after is all too real. A more clear yell is heard. "There is no reason" a familiar theatening tone of Feitan seeps into the sound proof walls, even though it is only heard as a whisper.

Buildings never forget, a picture hung on a wall stays there even after they're gone- even once the nail is removed the hole remains. A deeper scream than their own y/n recalls, a middle aged man yelps as the nail is driven into his head, followed by y/n's yell, "I don't want to look, please" a shaky breathe from the past being mimicked again by them now, "stop I can't take it anymore". Y/n wasn't meant to live, they weren't meant to eventually drive a knife into someone's stomach, and to watch as feitan pulls the slimy red intestines out of a live person. No, they weren't supposed to be alive, y/n was spared.

A sharp pain runs through their jaw as Feitan black boots make contact, "you grew up in Mentor City" blood rises to their month as the book makes contact with their stomach, "a place people go to disappear" another kick, "you, feitan, never had a chance" the smile they gave Feitan had to be impressionable. The toothy grin with their own blood staining their teeth- why else would y/n be alive.

"bitch" his spit grazes y/n's cheek as it falls to the floor, getting lost in the pile of their blood. Even if external it bonded them, they mixed. "A chance to be human" y/n said looking at their obscured reflection in a small pile of blood, "you only lived as a spider".

Y/n wasn't the first person that spoke up against Feitan, plenty went down trying to get the last laugh, but they were the first to survive it. After they passed out they awoke in a room not so different that the one they stand in now alone. It was like that for a week, out of all the torture endured during the first few months couldn't compare to being alone.

Y/n's vision clears, the once shadowy recreations of the darkest day disperse like smoke. The awareness of sitting on the ground laying against something warm and welcoming, the black sleeves seen wrapped around y/n's waist confirms it being Feitan, "Fei?" A hum is heard telling them to continue, "thank you". The grip around their torso loosens as y/n turns around to face him. Feitan's mask is down and a smirk is adorned with curious eyes. "For?" He sits up to move his face inward towards y/n. "Letting me research you." The response rewarded with a rare peck on the cheek, usually Feitan is aggressive or sensual, but rarely romantic. His face lingers by their face looking at the clear skin, it's been a while since y/n misbehaved. No purple marks tainting their skin, it was pure and unstained in high contrast to the wild and reckless love that blossomed.

Love, what a sick word, spoken from mother to child and partner to partner to show what? The significance they hold to them, something to cover up the pleas of forgiveness and the rough exterior. Though it can be pure, just a reminder that someone will always be there and that they could not live without them. It's simpler to say love than all of that, but yet it is the hardest word to utter, at least for Feitan.

Y/n is different than the other people he killed, but he can't lay his finger on it. They carried the most dangerous ability, to make him feel seen. It's an addicting effect, one he can't risk losing or letting go. The only person to make him feel something other than boredom and bloodlust and to not run at every chance they get, something they grew out of: they must be his, y/n must be his there is no other explanations, at least that is Feitan's running theory.

The person he holds so much power over at all times holds the same power over Feitan. It keeps both of them in check, and it works. The person in his arms, y/n in feitan's arm brings more warmth to him than the sun. It's addictive, it's love-- at least to them.

Y/n traces their lips against Feitan's, asking for permission silently. The neediness rivals a dog's need for affection after their owner when to work, an obedient and well trained pet. Feitan gives in taking the lead as usual, tightening his grip on their waist pulling them closer, leaving a trail of light kisses down until he finds the base of y/n's neck, slowly sinking in his teeth, biting the skin to leave a mark. A different purple mark, rather than a bruise it is a mark, a confession of love; of ownership. The squeal that escapes his lover's month is intoxicating, a high he never wants to come down from.

"I love you y/n" Feitan bits the edge of their ear in a barely audible, just for them to hear, his love is for no one else.

"Feitan, I love you too"

#anime #feitan #hunter x hunter #fanfiction #feitan portor #feitan hxh #feitan x reader #feitan portor x reader #stockholm #yandere feitan #yandere #hxh

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swore · 3 years

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1/5/21

alright, this'll hopefully be my last @femcassidy post because frankly what can you do about a coward who refuses to be held accountable for his brownface and hides behind multiple alternate accounts. i'm tired of talking about this person so if anyone has any other proof you want to send me please just post it yourself yeah?

i'll be posting screenshots about the things he's done addressed in this post. if you need a refresher, here's my original callout made in august

first and foremost - complete and undeniable proof that his brownface WAS a very intentional attempt to separate himself from his whiteness, no matter what bullshit excuses the people who try to defend him come up with:

there's uh a few things to unpack from these tweets made just two months prior to the callout, but the main takeaway is that will (who in this twitter is going under a separate identity - more on that below) absolutely knows what he's doing with his tan and brown eye contacts and has tricked his mutuals and many other people on twitter to believe that he isn't white. there's no excuses, no "texas tans," no nothing that can possibly defend this person at this point when he openly pretends to be a person of color. now i really don't want to hear his friends saying anymore that the brownface was not intentional because it.. absolutely was lol

with that out of the way, i'll be posting proof of the offenses mentioned in my earlier post:

saying hes multiracial in his bio when hes white

going under a non-ethnic alias, only to rearrange it a bit recently so that it seems like a latine first name and a chinese last name. he also claims he speaks spanish + chinese in his bio. i am uncertain if he is claiming to be mixed latine/chinese now, but i wouldnt rule it out. regardless, it is most definitely a ploy to seem racially ambiguous

his original alias "salem may" vs the one he has now, "selina ma." unfortunately his twitter is currently suspended so i'm not able to screenshot his bio that advertises himself as "selina ma", but from the screenshot just prior to this one you can clearly see him going under the "selina" alias. i will edit this post and put a screenshot of his twitter bio once his suspension is over

edit 1/9/21:

baiting people on at least three (3) different occasions to tell him that he looks racially ambiguous + a statement from him where he acknowledges that most people find him racially amgiguous and thus he clearly takes advantage of that

i'm only posting one bc of the image limit, but feel free to dm me for more screenshots regarding this bullet point

him explicitly saying that hes white if you dig, but he has a couple of tweets completely distancing himself from his whiteness, treating white people as an “other” rather than owning up to the fact that hes white. one of them even implied that he didnt grow up white when that is, without a doubt, false

(implying he didnt grow up white is shown in the second screenshot on this post where will says "maybe white people go through something different...")

and lastly, numerous accounts of posting in r/f*mboy and calling himself that. i acknowledge different people have different opinions about this, but i'll still post proof just in case:

also odd is his proximity to tma people when he's tme, i'm not ruling out the possibility that he also may be pretending to be tma:

(for context, the two people he's replying to are transfeminine)

i also recall but can't currently find the screenshot of a similar situation where will was replying to a transfeminine individual about a conversation regarding being afab/amab and he said something along the lines of "i've had people literally look in between my legs and still ask my assigned gender at birth" as if... getting bottom surgery didnt exist, or the fact that numerous people have come forward knowing that youre tme? lol

that's all i'm going to say. will is very much still active and has not yet been held accountable for his blatantly racist behavior. you're dead wrong if you think this is "old news" that should just be swept under the carpet. finally, if you had any doubts (whether he's changed and stopped capitalizing off his brownface, stopped being on social media altogether to learn from his actions etc), here's his most recent selfie - posted just yesterday:

#femcassidy #davidlieberman #brownface

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sailingintothenight · 4 years

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“WANNABE.” T.H. Imagine.

And what if after years of chasing each other like a cat and mouse, you and Tom started to wonder if you wanna be something else in each other's life?

A/N: I am posting a one shot after weeks of writer's block. I hope you like it. It's 9:30 pm in Peru and it's still April 28, so it's still my birthday! Give it a try. Pleaseeeeee! And yes, I borrowed a scene from Mean Girls (Because I loveeee that movie)

“Hello God, it's me again, (y/n). What's up? I know we haven't talked much lately, but, hey, listen, I have a favor to ask you- I have behaved well, I haven’t gotten drunk at any crazy party of any Hollywood star and I haven't accepted drugs, ever: I'm afraid my grandmother will appear in my room as a ghost and pull my blankets in the middle of the night, plus, I haven't make out with any Stone-cold Hollywood hottie, and trust me, I've had more than one chance. Anyway, about the favor–”

"Yes, but (y/n)'s grandfather invited us to his birthday party..."

Tom's voice startles you and cuts off your internal dialogue, turning you back to the reality.

It’s 6 am. The sun shines in the clear sky, and you are on a flight back to England in a luxury privet jet that is about to arrive at the airport, while Haz, Harry, Tom and you are sitting in comfortable velvety seats, with the view of morning sky on your left side.

The exciting memory of your last recording still seemed to run through your veins, too exciting to let you sleep. Because that was the end, the goodbye after incredible months. All your efforts from the past months were hidden behind that last performance that looked like a fantasy, except for the kiss, ugh, you had to erase it from your mind. But now, you're going back home, ready to take a break away from the set-up bridge and blue and green backgrounds, away from the makeup artists who gave your face the final touches of the magic of Hollywood, far from the suit of a superhero who had just won her last battle and who got the cute boy, Peter Parker.

But not far away from Tom Holland.

Because evil takes a human form in Tom Holland, your lifelong neighbor.

How do you even begin to explain Tom Ho– Stop, people say that if you pronounce his name 3 times a curse falls on you.

But fans say Tom Holland is flawless, you heard his curly hair is insured for 10,000 dollars, his favorite movie is “Spider-man Homecoming”, duh, and very soon, “far from home”. One time he met Robert Downey Jr. in his own village and he started hyperventilating, and once he threw a fan's phone on the floor and she said it was awesome.

"Please don't tell me you're going to his birthday party." You complain, because you can't help it.

"Would that bother you that much, darling?" Tom smiles, tilting his head back so that his tender smile fits perfectly with his tender face. “Then of course I will go. Also, your grandfather still has the hope his granddaughter would get a man like me.”

"Ew. Why would my dear grandfather want me to be with someone who enjoys keeping a frog in his mouth?" You ask, earning yourself an Oscar for best actress with the innocence you exude and the seriousness you manage to put on your face, even when Tom's eyes narrow from the attack you just launched, while, enjoying the show, his friend and his younger brother laughs, shaking heads with a familiar expression on their faces because of the familiar discussion between you and him that happens, every two or three days. "Seriously, Tom, give the poor Henry a break."

"Henry?" Tom asks with real confusion, his accent thick, while the other male voices ask it in a collective whisper too.

"I named your frog Henry, hope it doesn't bother you." And you laugh, victorious to feel how Tom exhales the air through his nose.

“Seriously, (y/n), when will you confess that you are in love with me? You don't have to be so shy, darling.” Tom laughs too, using his finger to tap your nose, because he knows perfectly well that you don't like that, just as you don't like being called darling anymore. “Ray is a wise man, you should listen to your grandfather."

"Yes, if you like skinny ones."

"I'm not skinny. I have the perfect body.” Tom defends himself.

"For now, but in a couple of years you will named your big belly as your dad does after drinking with mine." You laugh like a little girl because you love Dom, because he's warm and funny, because he loves his wife and children, and because of how funny he is when he and your dad have had too much alcohol, like the time they started a cartwheel contest in the middle of the street. "Who's there? It's Dom Junior.”

"Shut up! My dad is still sexy!” A heavy silence falls over the small place as everyone looks at Tom with furrowed brows and true confusion, but that's when he realizes the choice of words he used to refer to his dad. "That's not what I meant!"

You raise your hands in a sign of peace, your gaze avoiding his as you stop yourself from laughing and mocking him.

"That's so wrong, Tom." Harry says, with a certain bittersweet taste on the tip of his tongue. "Now because of you I won't be able to see dad's belly the same way."

Harry and Haz chuckle at Dom's expense.

But when the jet landed smoothly on the headlight-lit runway in the early hours of the morning, the heavy hours from the past months feels now as if they weighed the same as a feather, pain and exhausting sleepless nights disappeared in the blink of an eye, and now, there is no oceans that could make you feel far away, because in the end, you always came back home.

"Besides..." You say to finish that conversation, your backpack on your shoulder before making the victory path towards the stairs to get off the plane. "I would like a boyfriend who can grow a mustache, not like the failed attempt on your face. Thank you very much."

"Hey!" Tom frowns as you pass him by, and his voice rises even higher than it already is. "My doctor says it's just a hormone problem."

"Damn, bro..." Harry laughs as he puts an arm around Tom's shoulder, giving him a brotherly hug before walking out to the car waiting outside. “(Y/n) will be hard to catch, you know? But try it, maybe you will make it in this century."

Harry laughs, and then, walks out of the plane.

"What does that mean?" Tom asks Harrison, who is still waiting by his side.

"I think he meant that you are in love with (y/n), but you haven't noticed it yet."

Harrison chuckles, but after patting Tom on the back, he rushes to place a hand on his best friend's shoulder to stop him.

“Hey, mate… you, uh…” Tom's eyes soften, almost to the point where his brown eyes resembled the gaze of a little 5-year-old boy, sad, and lost. “You haven't told anyone why we came back, right?”

“Of course not.” Harrison says, and his gaze smiles just like his lips. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? We are home, you are home. You can take the time you need to rest.”

Tom nods, unsure, but tries to be strong as they both get off the plane.

The gray autumn clouds hang with invisible strings in the sky as Tom Holland, actor, handsome, wealthy, and the loneliest person in the world, releases a deep breath that is lost among the sounds of the world, because his world is no longer sparkling or velvety thanks to the cameras or a red carpet, and while his new movie is a box office hit that never in his best dreams he would have imagined, something wasn't right for him.

That’s why he is back home.

The car ride is silent as some sleep, except you and Tom, because your eyes seem to recognize the streets you grew up in, because your hearts recognize your home. But for Tom, he recalls tilting his body to the left and a camera captured his best actor pose a week ago, but since then, his body has felt null, as if floating in the air and no longer responding to his orders. He was crystal clear, but a few people seemed to see clearly through him. Tom tries to convince himself that the tickling in his hands is his body's response to tiredness and not his anxiety, because he suffers it too, but he feels that something is eating his soul.

"Are you okay, Tom?"

Among a sea of people, Tom Holland has always pretended to be an interesting person, but now, he takes a deep breath and looks at you, nervous, lost in the middle of that huge world, but you, looking back at him gives him peace, because he doesn’t feel alone anymore.

What did you think? That someone is interested in knowing if you are really okay? Of course they care, right?

“Of course, darling.” Tom smiles, as if in a snap of fingers, everything is fine.

But there, he catches a movement of yours.

You tilt your head to the side, like his beloved Tessa when she is curious about something, but he doesn't say it out loud because you would take it the wrong way, but the movement in slow motion worthy of a Hollywood scene and the serenity of your gaze makes Tom hold his breath, that breath that previously didn't fit his chest with so many problems that he carried inside.

But suddenly he can breathe again, finally.

“Okay.”

The minutes pass until the car stops on a street that you two recognize perfectly. When everyone is out, the car leaves, but because your favorite boys are about to leave, too, you hug everyone as the promise to celebrate Harrison's birthday next week hangs in the air. You love them so much, because they are beautiful people who helped you to save yourself from the storms of doubts and fears, each of them in their own charming way, and for that, you were grateful.

"My friend Danielle is coming so I would like you to meet her, Haz." You chuckle adorably before leaving, noting that Harrison's smile is as real as his desire to meet her.

"I'm looking forward to it, darling."

"Wait, why he can call you darling?" Tom says, and for a second, you see a sparkle in the brightness of his eyes, but as the door of his house opens and his beloved Tessa runs to receive him, the confusion disperses like the morning haze.

"There she is the only darling you will ever get, Thomas."

And the moment you turn around, because the door of your house opens too, you lose sight of Tom's honest smile and the question that he hides behind his sweet eyes. Was he in love with you all this time without realizing it? And what if he wanna be your boyfriend?

Oh, right. The favor that you were going to ask God for? To get you a boyfriend, a cute one, a hot one... maybe like Tom. Weird, isn't it?

Tag list: @galaxies-of-the-heart

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fluff #tom holland spiderman #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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ridleymocki · 7 years

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There's a Brand New Dance, But I Don't Know Its Name

Written for Pynch Week 17 Day 1, prompt: Something old // Something new // Something borrowed.

Summary: Ronan picks Adam up from work and struggles with the way that old baggy t-shirt makes him look, prompting Adam to share a good memory from his past, in a way he so rarely does. Ronan loves the way the two of them work together, Adam thinks his boyfriend is away with the faeries half the time.They have a quiet, cute evening together, with some gratuitous Gangsey shenanigans at the end.

Notes: Guys this is my first Pynch fic and it’s amazingly self-indulgent but that’s just going to be the tone for this week, I think. A big thanks to the organisers of Pynch Week 17, you guys are great. (I’m also posting from Aust, so sorry if the times are off for you international peeps).

also on ao3

There was a hole in the collar of Adam’s t-shirt when Ronan picked him up from work, a stretched out and threadbare t-shirt that was driving Ronan goddamn fucking crazy. Streaks of black were littering Adam’s hands and forearms, one across his brow, but the shirt was clean for all that it was ratty as hell. His hair was heavy with a few days dirt but the smile was the same. The whole ensemble was strangely new.

Ronan had never seen him quite like this. Adam had looked tired at times; beaten down, or worn out. But he’d never looked vulnerable. He had ridden a moving dolly behind Ronan’s car and held a demon in his bones, for god’s sake; he never, ever looked vulnerable. But the shadow from the loose collar made Adam’s chest look concave, it’s faded colour washed him out, and Ronan had the infuriating urge to gather him to his own body and shake out whatever made him look so small.

It was an urge Ronan rarely got: to protect Adam Parrish. All the facts seemed to suggest the opposite; he’d beaten the shit out Adam’s dad, after all. But if anyone knew about wanting people to treat you as though you were your own master, it was Ronan. And Adam wasn’t some wilting rose you had to tiptoe around lest his petals fall. Adam could be more dangerous than Ronan himself in many ways and Ronan was keenly aware of it. Attracted to it, even. Just like he loved Adam’s dark stare and his dismissive comments, the glimmer of something hard and jagged and ready. Ronan had been pinned by that stare more than once, and it was always thrilling.

But that fucking shirt. It was wrong on him. Made him look skinny and ill-matched to his body. The way it made Ronan want to protect him was infuriating because he knew Adam would hate it. They cared for each other by insulting one another then laughing together, touching like they were entitled, being there when needed and leaving be when that was needed, instead. By giving each other the dignity of their respective strength – not by treating one as weak.

“Earth to Lynch. Where’ve you gone?” Adam snapped his fingers in front of his face and Ronan blinked, hurtling back to reality.

“Whatever,” he snarled. Adam only smirked at him. “You look awful. Don’t get grease stains everywhere.”

“Didn’t seem to bother you much the other night,” Adam said lowly, buckling into the passenger seat of the BMW. Ronan felt his neck go hot as he pulled back onto the road, trying hard not to look in the rear view mirror to the back seat, and fuel the memories of what they’d done there. Adam’s crassness was oddly relieving, though. Pierced the dishevelment so Ronan saw him sharply again.

“What the hell happened? Did you get stuck under a car?” He reached over to thumb the stain on Adam’s brow, and Adam swatted his hand away with a grumble.

“Just an engine that looked like it’d been dragged from the sea. Bastard of a thing. I actually had to change, I haven’t done that in years. Honestly, the shit people do to their cars…” He trailed off, distracted with retying a shoelace.

“That explains the shirt.”

“What about the shirt?”

“It has holes in it,” Ronan said plainly. “You never wear anything with holes.” Adam got a sad little twist to his mouth at that. It was true, of course, Ronan knew. Adam’s Aglionby uniform had always been impeccable, and if he’d just never sat next to another student, made obvious the way his uniform was slightly faded, it might have looked new.

“It’s old,” Adam said, “I found it in my locker.” Ronan had taken the road on the edge of town, and it was blessedly bare of other cars, because he kept looking over at his passenger.

Adam picked at another hole in the hem of his shirt, the cotton knit peeling back like worn paper. After a few moments he said, “There was this guy that lived in our street for a while,” and Ronan looked back to the road, aware of how rarely Adam talked about his old place. “He wasn’t that old but he acted like he’d lived through the punk era or something, safety pins in his ears and shit,” Adam smiled to himself. “Anyway, his name was Gary and he was cool, you know? Decent guy. Not brave, exactly. I mean, he knew what was going on with me the way everyone did. But he was nice.” The unspoken everyone knew and didn’t do anything made Ronan grind his teeth together. Adam seemed to frown at his own memories, and they filled up the car, hovering.

“And?” Ronan said lowly, after a moment. Adam recalled himself.

“And, one day he saw me walking out of the lot to go to school, with a blood stain on my shirt. Gary, he was out smoking on his front step, asked if I wanted to change. I told him I was locked out. Then he just disappeared inside his trailer and came out with this,” Adam tugged at the collar of his t-shirt. “I wore it that day and then kept it at work. Totally forgot about it, actually, until just now.”

“Why at work?” Ronan asked, then immediately wondered if that was the wrong thing to ask. This second-guessing shit was all Gansey’s fault, he swore. He reminded himself that Adam didn’t care when he was blunt.

“Because I didn’t want my parents to find it. It was just– it was mine. And I didn’t want Gary to get shit for it.”

Ronan nodded. “What happened to him?”

Adam shrugged. “He moved a few years back, chasing some music dream or something. I only knew him for a couple months.”

They lapsed into silence, spent mostly with Adam rolling his shoulders and neck, and Ronan sneaking as many glances at him in the orange setting light as safety would allow.

Before long they pulled up at Monmouth. The windows were dark, seeing as no one was here these days but Ronan, the others off on their intrepid adventures.

“You still need a damn shower, though,” he said, slamming the door shut.

Adam snorted. “You offering to give me one, Lynch?”

“Oh fuck off,” Ronan said with a smile.

…………………………

Adam did shower, but he did it alone and threw water around the curtain at Ronan when he came in to grab a soda from the fridge. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it,” he laughed on the way out.

When Adam emerged, towel around his waist with another rubbing at his hair, pink from the water and smirking, he said, “If Blue were here she’d be biting your ear off about consent.”

Ronan huffed, dragging his eyes away from the droplet of water on Adam’s stomach. “I’d willingly cut my ear off before she opened her mouth.”

“I’ve learned from experience that she’ll just walk to your other side and get your good ear.” Ronan made a face at him. “Too soon?” And there, right there, was the asshole he knew and quietly loved. Adam’s feigned look of concern slowly melted away into a smug grin, his eyes dark. Ronan stretched a little where he sprawled on the couch and openly stared, letting his eyes run over the breadth of Adam’s shoulders, the graceful slope of his cheek, trailing down his neck and chest, ending at the strong hand that gripped the towel he’d stopped using to dry his hair. Said hair flopped in attractive disarray over his forehead, making him look touchable and real. When Ronan caught his gaze again, Adam’s smile had shifted into something soft and amused.

“What were we talking about, again?” Ronan said, unbothered. Adam laughed at him and swatted him with a towel as he walked behind the couch and into Ronan’s room. It was only once he was out of sight that Ronan realised the towel he’d swatted with hadn’t been the one Adam had pressed to his hair, and he groaned. “You’re a fucking tease,” he called out.

This summer was being incredibly good to him, Ronan thought. The fact the others were away made things very quiet, but they kept in touch and the feeling of their absence never veered into loneliness. On Friday, when Adam finished work, they’d drive to the Barns for the weekend and while away hours in the too-warm sun surrounded by dream things. Adam would do a reading for him out on the porch in the middle of the night, fireflies about and circling. He’d try to do it on intuition but end up pulling out a book on tarot anyway, and Ronan would tease him for being a nerd. Ronan would wake up next to him the next morning, seek out his warmth under the covers, and wonder how in the hell they, of all people, managed to end up here. They’d get up at crashing sounds in the kitchen and find Opal throwing cereal pieces to Chainsaw, the bird hopping manically in the small space to get to them. Adam would press a kiss to his shoulder and start on the coffee.

It had been more or less the same for the last few weekends in a row, and the predictability of it just made Ronan grateful, instead of annoyed.

“You’re drifting off a lot today,” Adam said right before he flopped on top of Ronan where he lay on the couch, head pressed to his throat and chest to chest. “Everything good?”

Ronan was nodding without having to think about it, and he ran a hand down Adam’s spine. It was a testament to their relationship that Adam accepted that response and didn’t press further. The fabric beneath Ronan’s fingers was softer than he expected and he looked down to see Adam was wearing one of his own black t-shirts. “You changed.”

Adam propped himself on an elbow to look at him, suppressing a smile. “You hated the other shirt,” he said, matter of fact, and Ronan raised an eyebrow at him. “I know you, Lynch.” He said lowly, and leaned down to press their lips together. Kissing Adam was still a little leap of faith, like he was giving himself up, giving in, allowing another person too near. It was as dizzying as the first time. But they had lots of kinds of kisses now. This one was content and easy, and they drew it out for longer and longer.

“You wanna get pizza later? Skype the others?” Ronan asked when they separated. This was something of a routine, as well. And Gansey would never let them hear the end of it if they left it another day without checking in. Adam nodded at him and resettled on his chest, the silent yes, but later coming through loud and clear, regardless. Ronan let his head fall back, the shadows of Monmouth’s dusty eaves growing broad as the sun met the horizon. He toyed with the fabric under his fingers, liking that it was warm from Adam’s body and fit him well, liking it in a way he couldn’t explain. There were a lot of things he couldn’t explain about this new thing they had, and not everything in his life was alright, but damn it, this was.

This was alright.

This was good.

…………………………….

(They overslept and had to race to Nino’s before it shut, even though the summer night was probably too warm for pizza. Blue took smug screenshots of their Skype chat when she saw they were, in fact, wearing the same shirt. Henry joked that he would make an Instagram account to document their married life, and then looked wounded when Ronan very slowly and appreciatively ate the pizza that Henry couldn’t get to if he tried. Gansey looked well slept for once and, with the unwitting confidence of someone who thinks their concern is valid, told Ronan and Adam that they had better be taking care of themselves. “You’re the one in the middle of fucking nowhere,” Adam laughed at him.

“Adam. It’s Henrietta.” Gansey got very close to the camera and widened his eyes as if to psychically convey the weight of what he was saying.

“There’s magic in them thar hills,” Blue said behind him, rolling her eyes. Adam cracked up.

“Thank you, Dad,” Ronan said, “we’ll be sure to use the buddy system.”

Gansey sent them ‘mental hugs’ – “It’s a thing, Ronan, accept my affection” – as Henry waved goodbye on screen, and ridiculously, Ronan and Blue fist-bumped their respective cameras at each other, making Adam snort into his shoulder.

This was good.)

...........................................

Thanks for reading! <3

#pynchweek #pynchweek17 #pynch #the raven cycle #fic #my fic

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biggy-habes · 5 years

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So in the last episode I dove into one of my favorite topics to discuss…hip hop. I discussed how I was introduced to it. How I would hide my rap tapes from my mom. And how I discovered the lyrical poetry of Ice Cube. I have to admit that I have not seen all of his movies. It is hard for me to watch him in Are We There Yet. I am not trying to hate on him for making them. He brought himself up from nothing to star in family friendly movies and he is cashing checks with a LOT of zeros so he has officially "made it". I just find the characters that he plays in action flicks and adult comedies much more believable. I have, however, followed his music throughout my life. As he continued to grow and develop his own sound, he started to veer much more towards funk and reggae. As Gangsta rap started to get muscled out by Braggadocious Rap (which tends to be more about stacks of money and flashy cars) Ice Cube started to evolve his music so that it could be something that could get played in the clubs and get people dancing. But he continued to maintain his hard edge and snarly lyrics.

It has been DECADES since I have been able to get to the New York State Fair. When they released the music lineup for this year's fair, I was pretty impressed! The lovely and talented Lindsay Sterling was listed. The Roots would be making an appearance. Even Vince Neil would be rocking Syracuse. And then…right in the middle of the page…was the words ICE CUBE. I became slightly giddy. You see, the State Fair has a pretty dope deal…the musical act is included in the price of the ticket for admission. For 6 bucks I was going to get a chance to see the artist that I have idolized since I was a boy! Now who should I get to join me for an Ice Cube concert in the Cuse? Well, that would have to be my buddy Ed. Now I know that I have talked about Eddie a few times already in my previous posts. So I guess I should get into the story of how I got to know Ed. Let's flashback to the fall of 1997 when I was living in the Mackenzie dorms at Alfred State College.

I cannot recall the exact name of our suite, but I can remember the clowns who shared a shitter with me. We had David Allen Dalen, the RA. He was a little man from Long Island (I think. He had a douchy accent.) He was what you would call the "cool R.A." Then we had Jeremy. We did not see a lot of him. He was BFF with Jesus, and Jesus would NOT have approved of what was taking place in this suite. He loved to blast that Jars of Clay song that crossed over into the pop charts. You know…that "Lift me up….when I'm far behind." Not gonna lie, it was kinda catchy! I might pop that onto my Spotify playlist. Then we had my room. I was the only one with a roommate, because New York State was picking up most of the tab, and they wouldn't front for the single room. My roommate was this dufus named Tom Craft. I don't mind using his full name because I don't like this guy at all! He was the prototype of a country bumpkin, complete with the freckles and junior rat tail. We did not get along. In fact, our brief co-habitation ended by me getting campus security called on me for whipping a bottle of Motrin at him, thunking him in the noggin. At the end of the hall was Ed. For the first couple of months I didn't know what to think of this guy. He would NEVER be seen except for when he was heading to the bathroom. Then he would disappear back into his room. The only interaction I would have with him would be a "Hey wuts up" when running into each other in the hall. One thing that he would do was rock some Usher! He would blare that "U Got It Bad" song! And then one day I was coming back from class and he had my doofy roommate Tom in his room kicking back in his room drinking a huge tumbler of Lipton Iced Tea Mix. With the lemon. He loved that shit! This was some weird shit that I walked into. I closed the door and just had SO MANY questions! How the hell did THIS happen? Why would anyone want to let this goober into the same room where they would sleep? (You cannot really understand unless you have met this guy but he had NO redeeming qualities.) Well, after this I figured that if this Ed character was buddy-buddy with my dork roommate then he is probably not someone that I wanted in my posse. Life is awfully funny sometimes. One night I was pulling an all-nighter. I seemed to thrive on studying under pressure. I would keep my dorm room door open because I just HAD to know what was going on around the floor. Around midnight there came a ruckus in the hallway. Drunk guys. I hear keys rattling and to my surprise it is Ed. He wore a shit eating grin and his eyes were barely open. He was followed by a football player we would later just refer to as "The Goat Man" and a burly guy named Tyson. They were cutting up as Ed fumbled for his keys, and then he turned and noticed that I was deeply engaged in my highlighting. "Oh damn. Are you studying? My bad! Hey! Guys! SHHHHH! …….He's studying!" They softly crept into his room and the door closed. I went back to the books. I had lost track of the time and at some point Ed must have left his room, because I hear him come back into the suite. He appears at my doorway and in his hands he held a box of pizza that was left over from a party that had long since wrapped up. Eddie was a bit drunk and he must have miscalculated his momentum, because as he presented his apologetic token for disturbing my study session he swung the pizza box a bit too hard. The half-hardened pizza slices landed all over my dorm room floor. The look on Eddie's face was a mixture of shock and "…oh shit…". This was soon replaced by him collapsing from heavy belly laughing. From then on Eddie and I became very close friends. He would come to rugby events with me and my buddies. I would spend hours in his dorm playing NBA Jam. After graduation we would continue to stay in touch.

I left for the Army and he went on to get married and start a family. I drove all night from where I was stationed in Oklahoma to Syracuse, NY in order to attend his wedding.

These days, Ed and his wife travel across the country to watch their daughter compete in dance competitions. He is full blown Dance Dad…rocking the dance team jacket and everything.

He is an incredible father and is one of my most valued friends. I am proud of him and what he has done with his life.

So anyways, yeah…so we went to check out Ice Cube at the State Fair. It was good to just hang out, catch up, have a beer or four, and enjoy a concert with an old friend. Ice Cube was on point, and I wont lie…I FanGurl'd just a little bit when he came out. I could tell you more about the concert, but it was more of a segue for me to introduce Ed. He's a friggin character! But we have been close for a majority of my life, and even though life can often get in the way of us spending time together, I treasure any time that I get to spend with him, his wife, and his daughter.

To Eddie!

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saviormysticmeme · 7 years

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Well, this is kinda angsty, but can I request a scenario where zen & mc are together and in the last rfa party zen slept with jaehee and after a few days jaehee couldn't deal with the blame and told mc in front of all rfa but MC pretended not to believe her (andthenrfa*cof*saeran*cof*tryingtocomforther). This is ridiculously specific, i know lolol but feel free if you don't want to do it, it's okay, or if you want to change anything just do it 😅 I love love love your blog and your writing ❤❤❤❤❤

Ok so this post actually ended up being realllly long and I don’t know how to do the ‘read more’ thing so I’m really sorry to anyone trying to scroll byOops

And I’m so glad you like my writing, and I’m also really glad I got this request because at first I wasn’t sure how to write it (I basically ended up writing a fanfiction using bullet points haha oops) but I had a lot of fun doing it.

Disclaimer: I don’t think Zen would ever cheat and I actually don’t think Jaehee has any romantic feelings for him, just admiring adoration.

And I know you said I could change thingsbut it’s rlly angsty and I’m an angst monster and I kinda love it sooo i’m gonna keep it exactly how you wrote it

let’s do it

Zen had always been flirty with you

And at some point..you had started flirting back

And soon it was more than flirting and you found yourself head over heels for each other

Constant phone calls too each other where you’d gush over how you wished you could see each other

Good morning and Goodnight texts

The occasional shameless flirt in the public chat

Once you two met at the first RFA party it was like a scene from a Disney movie, you two all but ran to each other and he swung you around once he snagged you in a tight embrace

Looking into his eyes you swore this could be love

He did too.

He really did swear he was in love with you

You were everything he had hoped and more

You were the person that woke him up everyday and put a smile on his face, you were the person that he thought of when love songs came on the radio, when he was on stage you were his muse, when he lay down to sleep at night you were the final thought in his head, and the first one in his dreams.

The next RFA party was a few months after you two had first met in person, only a couple months into your very happy relationship

You two had spent the first half of the night joined at the hip, happily enjoying each other’s company.

But somewhere throughout the nights timeline you both got distracted by separate guests and acquaintances and wandered away from each other.

Zen started drinking. Whoever he was talking to kept egging him on and the two of them were having a good ole time, which is rare for Zen in these occasions because the guests are usually upper class aristocrats like Jumin or if they are there for Zen, it’s as fans instead of friends

So he thought he’d treat himself

It got to be a bit much

The other guests were starting to notice and Jumin was not going to have the press covering Zen’s drunken gusto at an RFA event

“Assistant Kang,” Jumin sauntered over to Jaehee while keeping his eyes on Zen. “please escort Hyun to the back where he can cool down, out of the cameras’ lines of sight.”

“Of course, Mr. Han” And Jaehee was off. She was relieved that she had an excuse to get Zen out of the room, she too recognized the bad press that could follow this event but felt she hadn’t had the authority to tell Zen otherwise

But under the guise of Jumin’s will, she was able to convince Zen to head to the back so ‘Jumin wouldn’t bitch’ (in the words of the actor).

Soon it was just the two of them in the back room, Jaehee giving Zen water as he yanked at his shirt collar, complaining it was hot.

In his drunken shenanigens he managed to undo all his buttons at some point while Jaehee was getting more water, so she came back to shirtless Zen.

Zen knew those eyes.

As the assistant stared at his pectorals with a slight blush on her cheeks, he looked into her eyes and saw something

Adoration. Admiration. Want.

She wanted him.

Somewhere, deep in his psyche, behind the pseudo narcissist wall, 10 year old Hyun Ryu craved the attention. The positive attention his mom said he’d never get

He had you

But in that moment he had Jaehee too, and he couldn’t turn that down

…

Jaehee doesn’t even know how it initiated, she just recalls Zen pressing her against the wall and kissing her with a passion she’s never felt before.

His hands undoing the buttons of her shirt

His lips whispering praises of how she was not only successful, but also beautiful. And so sweet. And smart. And-

She almost cried. Someone as talented as Zen saw something so great in someone as plain as her? Impossible.

But he kept assuring her, and touching her, and loving her

Loving her the way he should have been loving you

The guilt hit her, but she watched it disappear as ecstasy took over

…

Zen passed out once they were both finished, pants undone and shirt wide open, but eyes closed and soft breaths flying in and out of his lips

Jaehee was wide awake though.

She was leaning against the wall, clothes messily pulled back on and tears threatening her eyes

The guilt was back and it felt like the weight of the world’s biggest mistake was sitting on her shoulders

She put her hands over her mouth as she stared at Zen, and she started crying when she thought of you.

“What have I done?”

After every party, the RFA gets together a few days later to go over logistics. What worked, what didn’t, who came, how to convince more people to come, etc

Jaehee’s heart dropped as you and Zen walked in together, a bright smile on your face, a blank slate on his.

No not blank

When Jaehee met his crimson eyes she saw it, the same thing he probably saw in her eyes: Guilt. Remorse. Regret.

She could barely stomach the feel as you greeted her and hugged her

“Jaehee! Good to see you! I feel like we didn’t get to talk much at the party thanks to someone making a little scene” As you pulled away you playfully rolled your eyes towards Zen.

He just gave a nervous chuckle

Jaehee opened her mouth, ready to spill her guts, only to find it was dry as cotton.

You gave her a quizzical look, ready to ask what was wrong, but Jumin’s voice interrupted with “Shall we begin?” looking pointedly at the three of you.

“Yahoo~” Seven cheered as he plopped down next to Saeran, who had recently been getting dragged along to all the RFA meetings, given he tended to just sit in the corner and pout.

Much like right now. He did little more than look at you and nod, which was as courteous a greeting as you were going to get with him.

Yoosung nodded, signaling everyone was ready, and the discussion began

You all were about 30 minutes into the conversation

Except for Jaehee

She couldn’t stop thinking about what happened the night of the party

She couldn’t stop looking at you and feeling guilty

She couldn’t stop thinking about telling you

“I need water” She stood up abruptly, startling everyone a bit

Jumin had a bit of an annoyed look on his face but conceded with “Fine. Quick 5 minute break for everyone”

Jaehee booked it to the kitchen

“Uh…I’m thirsty too.” Cue Zen bee-lining after her.

“Are you Okay??” He asked in a harsh whisper

“No I’m not okay!” Jaehee hissed back “We…we have to tell her.”

“No!” Zen’s eyes widened “No. You and I both know it was a mistake that will never happen again. She doesn’t need to know.”

“Zen if you love her-”

“I do love her!” He snapped back “I love her which is why I can’t lose her Jaehee. I know we messed up, I do. But..I can’t lose her over my mistakes” His eyes were pleading even more than his voice

Jaehee just stared into the crimson orbs, feeling the knot in her stomach grow. She just weakly nodded.

There was a moment of silence before she chugged her glass of water and turned to head back towards the living room where everyone was seated

She took a strong stride in

She bit her tongue

She was not going to-

You were the first face she met walking back in

Your smile welcoming her back to the circle

Your eyes cheery

Your heart open to her as it had been since the first day even when she treated you coldly.

Zen was right behind Jaehee and nearly bumped into her when she stopped dead in her tracks

“Jaehee?” You and he called at the same time, him due to her abrupt stop, and you because of the tears suddenly pouring from her eyes.

“Jaehee what’s wrong?” You rushed to her, attracting everyone’s attention

You caught Zen’s face from over her shoulder, his eyes wide. Knowing.

“M-MC” Jaehee choked out

“W-What is it?” You asked worriedly taking her trembling hands in yours

“MC” Her voice fell. There was just a moment of silence. Everyone in the room was looking, the outburst had even taken a hold of Saeran’s full attention.

“Zen and I…we’ve done something awful”

You knew what she was suggesting but..no. No you didn’t. No way that’s what she meant you’re just confusing things.

“…What did you do?” You asked cautiously

Sniffling. Endless sniffling. You looked to Zen, who was pale and looked like he was also ready to cry.

“Zen…what happened?”

“I’m so sorry” He managed to get out before the lump in his throat clogged his vocal cords.

“At the party MC we- we had….” Jaehee couldn’t get the filthy three letter word out of her mouth

You dropped her hands and looked to Zen

“MC I’m so sorry” Zen repeated, his voice shaking even more

Everyone was quiet, waiting for your response

You had none. Just an empty stare and mouth slightly agape, waiting for words to come out of their own accord

Finally they did

“This is a really cruel joke to play” You feigned a very obvious forced smile as your eyes blinked back tears “I never thought you guys would do such a thing..haha” You wiped a way a small drop ready to roll down your cheek

“MC!” Jaehee exclaimed “This isn’t-”

“Jaehee.” Your voice dropped. “I really don’t find this funny.”

“Neither do I!” The brown haired girl went to take your hand again but you pulled away

“And Zen” You turned to him “I don’t- I don’t know..how…” You couldn’t finish the sentence

They were everywhere. Pouring down your face, flooding your eyes, gathering in a small pool at your chin. It was an onslaught of tears rolling down your cheeks, choking your words, your thoughts, your everything.

“MC” Zen reached out to you, only to have his hand swatted away by yours.

You just stared at him and cried, forcing him to look you in the eyes as your faux smile fell to pieces.

You felt a hand softly fall upon your shoulder, and you turned to see Seven looking at you, apologetic pity in his eyes. Saeran stood behind him, wearing an angrier version of his twin’s sentiment.

“Let’s go for a ride, get some fresh air, huh MC?” The red head’s voice was soft

You softly nodded and let him guide you towards the door, not even able to muster up to energy to look back at Jaehee and Zen.

Saeran did however, and he looked back towards the two with a face full of disgust, up until the moment he slammed the door

“what a good meeting” Jumin grumbled under his breath as he turned a disdainful eye towards Zen

You drove for a couple hours probably. Most of it in silence, but a comfortable one. You were in the passenger seat and Saeran was in the back, Seven at the wheel finding desolate roads and flying down them, giving the wind of your open window some sort of purifying feeling. It stung, but it felt good. Your hair whipped around and the land raced by and you occasionally sobbed but that was ok.

Eventually you found yourself back at the Chois’ place, sitting on the couch, staring at a TV playing a movie that you hadn’t been paying attention to for the last hour. Your mind was elsewhere, wondering what you had done wrong.

You looked at the carton of ice cream in your hand, only doing so because the sight of Saeran setting his own empty one on the coffee table had triggered you to remember Seven had given you your own carton to drown your sorrows in.

The redhead had actually gone out to buy more, so it was just you and Saeran on the black leather couch staring at the TV screen.

“Do you want this?” You offered the ice cream to Saeran who’s expression turned from bored to surprised, probably because you’d been silent for the past six hours aside from a sob here and there.

“You don’t want it?”

“I’m not hungry”

He stared at you and the carton for a second, his face unreadable.

He wanted to insist you eat the ice cream, because personally he found it to always make him feel better, but he figured you didn’t want to hear it.

He took the carton from your hands and placed it on the table in front of you two

Silence aside from the noise of the TV.

He cast a glance to you, only to find your eyes on the floor.

“doyou wantalk” You barely understood what he said it was so quiet

“What?” You looked to him

He thought you were asking out of surprise rather than inaudibility and “My therapist…he says that talking things out makes you feel better.” He looked indignant for a moment, likely remembering how stupid he felt when he rejected the idea only to find later that his therapist had been correct

“I…I have nothing to say” Your shell of a voice whispered

Saeran furrowed his brows at you. “Say you hate them”

“What?”

His voice raised a bit “You hate them don’t you? So say it. The therapist said talk about your feelings so start there. They’re scumbags who hurt you and deser-”

“No!” You’re voice hit a volume it hadn’t reached in hours. “I don’t hate them!”

Saeran was mixed with confusion and anger “What do you mean you don’t hate them? One of your best friends and your boyfriend fucked-”

There it was

Someone finally said it.

The hot tears made a return and began rolling down your cheeks as sudden sobs erupted from your mouth

Saeran was alarmed at the sudden show and tried to pinpoint the trigger. He supposes it could be his last sentence but it’s not as if it wasn’t something we all knew.

“I….I don’t hate them” You cried once the worst of the sobs subsided.”I don’t even think I want to hate them. I mean it’d be easier but…I don’t. Jaehee…it’s not her fault. She just..got wrapped up in it all. And she’s always liked Zen. How could she have said no. And he..he was drunk” You sputtered out your rationalizations to find that they only annoyed Saeran

“The Assistant should still no better. But fine. You know what? She’s not dating you, and clearly she triggered you finding out the truth. So let’s pretend she’s ok? What about the actor? I don’t care that he was drunk. There’s no excuse for him doing that!” The white haired boys voice had become louder and louder, fists clenching tighter and tighter as he began riling up old feelings of betrayal he once felt. “He abandoned you! He left you in the dust and for what? He failed you!”

You don’t know when it happened but Saeran had turned towards you and grabbed your hands, squeezing them tight in between his own. His mouth was contorted into some sort of snarl and you saw a fire raging behind his minty eyes.

“Saeran..you’re hurting my hands” You squeaked out.

Your small voice dragged him out of whatever memory he was reliving and he sort of faded back into reality with a few blinks of his eyes before turning his attention to his hands. He let go of yours and in a flat voice uttered a “sorry”.

You guys were silent again, just staring at the floor, both living in whatever sad memory chose to cross your brains.

“You deserve better is all” He finally said.

“I know” You replied, voice empty of any real feeling.

You looked up, staring at the TV but not actually watching as a man on a horse offered a hand towards a young woman. “I just can’t stop thinking about him. About the him I fell in love with. Is he really gone?”

Saeran followed your gaze to the TV, looking on as the girl hopped on the horse. “I think so. That’s assuming he was the guy you thought he was at any point.”

“He was.” You said, a little defensive. Saeran looked towards you, watching your emotionless expression, knowing that there was a storm underneath despite the calm appearance. He knew because he often did the same, rocking a stoic appearance while watching all hell break loose in his own head.

“Is this the part where I say ‘It gets better’?”

“Do you believe that it does?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance” A bitter smirk twisted his lips

“I appreciate the honesty” You sighed

“Not in the way that we think it will anyway” He looked off into space somewhere.

“Hm?” You turned to him

“Everyone imagines that one day soon they’re going to wake up and suddenly it’s not going to hurt anymore. That there’s gonna be a day when you don’t think about this. You’re always gonna think about it. You’re always gonna wonder what you did wrong. Why God hates you. What things would be like if it didn’t happen.”

“You don’t think that there can be a day when it all feels ok?” You ask, partially to heal your hopeless heart, and partially because you see Saeran is projecting his own feelings and you’re curious to know how he feels.

“Maybe. I haven’t hit it yet though. Doubt I will.”

You stared as he looked off into the distance, feeling as if you could see the scenes of his past playing in his eyes.

You were just about to recede back into your ball of depression and hopelessness before he spoke again and took your attention

“But that’s me. You’re…you, MC” your questioning look prompted him to continue “You’re…a good person.”

“You are to-” You went to say but he cut you off by turning and leaning towards you with a new intensity in his face.

“Not like you. If at all” He scoffed. “ You though, everyone loves you. And they’re right too. Because…” suddenly he stopped himself, seeming to turn a little shy.

“Because?” You wanted, no, needed to hear this.

He gulped down his fear and turned his eyes to the side, unable to look at you as he delivered his next few words, scared of you seeing through him even more than you usually do.

“MC, you’re..everything. You’re smart, you’re cute, and you’re …kind. You always know what to say to help everyone. And that’s the thing. You try to help people, even people trying to hurt you…” His eyes turned back to you “You saw a good in me even when I didn’t. You risked your life to help my brother to save me. You’re…kind of like an angel.”

You just stared, taken aback by such kind words, from Saeran of all people.

You were right to be surprised, he wasn’t usually this smooth in conveying his feelings verbally…there must have just been something about you that made it easy for him to talk.

“If it gets better for anyone, it’ll be for you, MC” He reached for your hand out of instinct, but pulled back instantly when your skin touched, as if he just realized what he was doing. His eyes did the same, it looked like he just realized how vulnerable he was in that moment, and a sort of wall was raised behind his irises and his whole body tensed a bit.

He was scared of being rejected.

…

Your hand slowly reached out to his, which was floating in the space between you two, and when he didn’t pull back, you interlaced your fingers together.

A look of awe decorated both of your faces.

“Thank you…Saeran.” The light of the TV bounced off your wet eyes, making them look extra glossy.

The boy just looked at you, wide eyed, apprehensive for a moment, then nodded and tightened his grip on your hand. It wasn’t the same anger induced bear trap grip from when he grabbed them before. Now it was just firm, reassuring, like a hug.

“MC…things will get better for you. If not? I’ll make them.” He gave a subtle squeeze of the hand, giving you the nostalgic feeling of a pinky promise.

“You already did.” You let your head, heavy from spinning and sobbing all day, fall on his shoulder.

He just looked at you for a moment, before taking a deep breath a pulling you closer, his free hand rubbing your back gently.

Maybe he was wrong

Maybe things would get better for him too

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