#although the rational part of him knows it's not his fault

[warriorled]

❛ i'm sorry i couldn't save you. i should've protected you ... but i didn't. this never would've happened if i didn't fail you. ❜

@lunarduties / / starter call.

[norrizzandpia]

you’re my absolute favourite lando fanfic writer, i get so excited whenever you post. can you do some sort of fake dating x enemies to lovers with lando & some angst & grovelling please? i leave the rest up to you, i can’t wait to see what you come up with<3

THIS IS THE BEST MIX OF TROPES I HAVE EVER SEEN I LOVE YOU FOR THIS also thank you so much for saying I’m your fav lando writer I’m blushing ☺️

You Were Never What I Wanted, (LN4)

Summary: Lando and Y/n have never liked each other and it’s only the distaste the world has for them when McLaren forces them to “put on a show for the public”. At first, a few hand holds and light, quick kisses seem to be tolerable, yet feather light touches turn into longing stares and, suddenly, they’re falling in love. Although, hatred is a powerful emotion. Can love really trump it?

Warnings: language, sexual discussions, very mild smut, lando and yn yearning, yn calling lando a man whore not affectionately, talks of death, a crash, she’s long so grab popcorn, omfg this one hurts

Note: i love a good fake dating y’all don’t GET. IT. Also i added the reformed playboy trope to this to spice things up! It’s very mildly mentioned tho UPDATE: PART 2 POSTED!

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Lando screeches, body flying from his chair beside Y/n.

Charlotte smiles tightly at him, nodding slowly and putting her hands up, “Lando, yes. You know this is the only way to clean up the reputation you two have developed together.”

He groans, turning to pace the room when Zak interrupts, “Lando, be a fucking man and clean up the mess you’ve made.”

He turns quickly, eyes bulging as he yells, “It wasn’t fucking me! It was her!” He turns to look at Y/n, bewildered look in his eyes as he points furiously at her, “It was you! You got us into this mess! You clean it up!”

Y/n rolls her eyes at him and he almost loses his head, “You’re just as at fault, Lando. You’re the one that openly criticized my driving in a room full of reporters and cameras!”

“I was asked a fucking question, Y/n. It was my job to answer it honestly.” He shoots back.

She scoffs, “Are you fucking psychotic? Or just that fucking stupid? Our job is to lie to the press, that’s what it’s always been. Don’t fucking change it when it’s convenient for you.”

Lando’s hands claw at his eyes as they continue to bicker, “The only person who’s stupid here is you.”

“I was standing up for myself!”

“Oh, yeah?! Now, look where that’s gotten us! A fucking PR stunt!”

“Get over yourself, Lando! You’re just as at fault!”

“You’re so fucking annoying, Y/n! Can’t take any fucking accountabil-”

“Oh, please, you’re one to ta-”

“OKAY!” Charlotte claps her hands as she stops the two drivers. The image before her is one she never thought she’d see this season. Lando Norris, a McLaren driver and well known playboy, getting mad he had to kiss one of the most beautiful women to grace the sport of Formula 1, fellow driver on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n. She surely would’ve chuckled if Lando’s eyes weren’t alive with an angry fire she needed to diffuse immediately.

“You two need to just realize that whose fault this was doesn’t matter. What you need to focus on is pretending you’re in love, so the media stops breathing down McLaren’s and Red Bull’s necks. This is the only way we can make all this bad press go away.” She explains, hands moving rapidly in front of her as she tries to calm the two down.

Y/n, the more rational one, nods, accepting her fate with grace. Lando, on the other hand, stomps his foot on the ground and mutters a sentence of agreement before storming out of the room.

Y/n laughs, turning to Zak and Charlotte, the papaya employees looking as if five years had just been taken off their lives, “I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s so fucking childish.”

Charlotte, media trained, smiles, “He’s better when he isn’t angry.”

Zak, not media trained, nods, “Y/n, I’ve never agreed with you more.”

The man and woman share a look, a subtle scolding glint in Charlotte’s eye as she stares at Zak. He backs down, earning a giggle from Y/n as she begins to leave the room.

“You’ll send the NDAs and other contracts over to Red Bull, right? I’d like to get this started and over with as soon as possible.” Y/n smiles, a soft one that makes others feel warm inside.

Charlotte nods, “Of course. Consider it done.”

Y/n, keeping her smile and composure, withdraws from the room, the door closing with a loud click.

Zak and Charlotte are left to sink down into the chairs behind them. Slugging, Zak’s head lulls to her side, “This is either the best idea we’ve ever had or the worst one.”

She laughs, “They either fall in love or hate each other more.”

—

“Okay, so,” Charlotte smiles at Lando and Y/n from her side of the SUV, the two on either side of the car, sitting as far away from the other as possible, “This is going to be a short outing.”

“Thank God.” Lando mumbles under his breath, earning a scowl from the girl beside him.

Charlotte huffs, continuing, “Just a coffee run. You’ll go into the cafe, holding hands, maybe a kiss or two, get your drinks, and then leave. Very quick. However, I need you two to give it your all. This will be the first time the public sees you as something more than enemies. It needs to be convincing. Heart eyes and maybe, if you’re comfortable, roaming hands.”

Lando’s head turns in utter disgust, “If you fucking think I’m going to touch her ass or some shit, you’ve absolutely lost it.”

Y/n’s body whips around, whole torso facing him as she stares him down, “Oh, please, Lando, you get no fucking women. You haven’t touched anybody’s ass, let alone a girl’s, in fucking ages.”

“Oh, yeah? Then, explain the girl that woke up in my bed this morning!” He fires back, head tilting in a challenging way.

Y/n shoves her arms across her chest as she sits back and whispers, loud enough for him and Charlotte to hear, “Man whore.”

Charlotte’s eyebrows lift slightly, exhaling a breath, “Well! This should be fun!”

The car comes to a stop in an alleyway, hidden from prying eyes. Charlotte lets the silence pass between the two for a few moments before leaning over and opening Lando’s door, “Well, get on with it! Chop chop! Don’t have all the time in the world.”

Lando slides out of the car, shaking his head and grumbling incoherently. Y/n follows him, however, when she gets her legs hanging out the door, she is reminded of just how high the car is off the ground. She goes to turn her body around, opting to slide slowly out on her stomach in avoidance of an accident, but, before she can get positioned, Lando grabs her hips and lifts her from the car, down onto the ground.

There’s a moment where she’s so taken aback, surprised, by the movement, all she can do is grip onto his biceps and stare down at her feet, safely on the pavement. It’s only when Charlotte starts yelling, “Yes! Yes, Lando! Just like that! Look at her like that!” That she looks up. What she finds is deep green eyes completely dilated and lost in the sight of her. She reminds herself of the hatred this man has for her, brushing off the way his hands squeeze over the flesh of her hips desperately, and removes herself from his hold.

Immediately, he comes to, the snarl replacing whatever emotion had taken over his face before. She trails down the dirty, smelly passageway, hearing Lando’s feet patter behind her.

It’s as if she’s achingly aware of his presence when he reaches her, just before they turn onto the public street, and takes her hand in his. The way his cologne wraps around her body, suffocating her in the most addicting way, and the feeling of his fingers fitting perfectly in the divots of hers, soft against her skin, has Y/n reeling. She goes along with his movements, relying on him to guide her as she travels to a place where Lando’s just the man she used to think he was; insanely hot and incredibly charming.

He pulls her back, however, when he opens the door for her and quietly says her name when she doesn’t walk through.

“Y/n?” His hand tugs against hers, smiling softly at the way she stares off into space. Whether that smile is genuine, although, Y/n has no clue.

She shakes her head, murmuring a thank you to him as she scurries past the threshold. When they both enter, their presence is immediately clocked by the other customers waiting for their orders. That’s what Y/n tells herself when Lando comes up behind her, arms around her waist as he rests his head on the top of hers.

“What do you want, baby? I’m paying.” He says, low enough for it to come across as a whisper, but loud enough for the girl in front of them to turn her head slightly in curiosity.

He’s surprisingly good at this, falling into the role demanded of him in a way that has Y/n faltering. She was expecting a man who was so distant from her, the same as her past partners, she had to beg for his attention. Yet, here she was getting showered in affection by a man she was convinced didn’t have the capacity for it.

Her response is easy, covering for the feelings arising within a certain part of herself she can’t quite name, “Just a cappuccino. Thanks, Lan.”

His grin is sweet as he lays a kiss on her temple. His hands rub over her hips as he detaches himself from her body and moves in front of her, teasingly pushing her away from the register with a light laugh.

Lando spews off the order to the man behind the counter as Y/n moves to the other side of the establishment, residing where the orders are dropped off. It could’ve been strategic, it probably was she promises herself, but Lando yells across the store to her.

“Y/n! Love, do you want food? They have your favorite here,” He smiles at her, earning a few giggles from fawning girls in the corner, “Croissants!”

Did he know croissants are actually her favorite or was that just a lucky guess?

Y/n gives him an airy chuckle, head falling back slightly in a lovesick way as she shakes her head, “Nah, I’m okay. Just gives us another opportunity to come back here.”

He nods at her, shaking his head at the barista and handing him some cash.

He tips the change, a hefty amount seemingly as Y/n watches the worker hesitate and thank Lando profusely. Her heart warms, shining on the inside as he treats hardworking people, those who are usually treated horrifically, with the utmost respect.

These reactions she’s having toward him are confusing, a far off nagging in her brain that she might’ve always wished for this type of attention specifically from him.

Nevertheless, she forces her mind to end its overwhelming thoughts when he waltzes over and sidles up next to her. She’s determined to keep this transactional, however she can.

She can’t get feelings.

She won’t get feelings.

And that was that, she decided.

“Lando!” Another worker calls out, setting down two drinks on the counter in front of them. Y/n goes to pick them up, however Lando beats her, giving her a cheeky grin as he mumbles, “You’re my girlfriend, Y/n. You don’t get the drinks, I do. Don’t be barbaric.”

She stands staring at him, mouth agape at his comment as the girls sitting behind them, somehow closer now, gasp.

Y/n hits his arm, the liquid jostling in his grip, “We weren’t supposed to say anything yet!”

He shrugs in return as he pushes the door open with the side of his body, and waits for her to walk through, “I guess I just couldn’t wait, baby. Too in love.”

She shakes her head at him, taking the drink from his hand, their digits brushing against the other’s in an electrifying way, “Down the toilet goes the soft launch plan.”

As they turn the corner, the smile he had been adoring her with suddenly vanishes and the usual pain that fills his expression when he’s around her returns.

“I’m just trying to get this over with, Y/n. Waiting a whole fucking month to tell some fans we’re together is so fucking stupid and I’m not doing it.” He bites out, a hostility to him she had forgotten in the ten minutes he had just treated her like she was his everything.

She drops the coffee on the ground as they grow closer to the car, shock at his quick change in attitude forcing her body to go numb. Lando stops when she does, both of them staring down at the leaking, steaming drink.

He dryly laughs at her, “How fucking stupid! Can’t even hold her own drink! No wonder you’re a shit driver!”

He gets in the car, shutting the door harshly and leaving her to internalize his criticisms.

For some reason, after getting a glimpse at what being loved by him feels like, his words hurt more, mean more.

What a dangerous game.

—

Lando is a known party animal. He’s in love with the blinding lights, loud music, and alcohol flowing without a care in the world what hangover he’d be graced with in the morning. However, with her here, it proves to be a much more stressful experience.

She’s glued to his side, not particularly the clubbing type, and Lando feels his heart quicken when other men bend their backs to see her walk away. A month into the arrangement they structured and he’s consistently feeling as if he’s fighting off every man that floats their way.

He’s worried someone will try to take advantage of her; he’s worried someone will spike her drink; he’s worried someone will touch her weirdly; he’s worried someone will bother her.

He’s worried about her.

A thought so pressing he forces it out of his mind, away from the impending cloudiness that accompanies a topic so big; the way he feels toward her.

The way it was explained to him, by the joint teams of McLaren PR and Red Bull PR, was that, for the first few weeks, their relationship outings would consist of soft dates, quick times spent out together grabbing takeout or a few pictures here and there on both their social medias that addressed their relationship status. Once they got past that time period, they would begin to see the public more often as a union. Long dinners, a handful of charity functions, a gala, and nights out clubbing riddled his calendar now.

Something he wasn’t too opposed to he was coming to find out.

That was the phase they were entering now; the hard launch. After his stunt in the coffee shop those four weeks ago, the teams had to regroup. The girls who had been hanging around had heard his slight confession of love, plastering it on the internet for every person to see.

The consequence? Lando didn’t get to be seen with Y/n for a week as the PR teams waited for the attention around the news to subside.

He wouldn’t risk that now.

Not when he was beginning to get used to the way her hand held his bicep as his fingers tangled in her other hand below.

“Lan?” She yells in his ear, their footsteps just now reaching the VIP section as the bodyguard lets them through.

He looks down at her, their faces centimeters away, lips centimeters away, and Lando’s scared.

Scared of the things he wants to do as her plump, pink lips sit right below his.

“Yeah?” His eyes avert to Max, his best friend, the boy giving him a knowing glance as he sips on his glass.

“Get me a drink please? I would do it myself, but I don’t want to risk having to talk to a random guy and-” He interrupts her immediately when she mentions the possibility of someone else hitting on her.

“I got it.” He’s spinning around, fast walking toward the bar before she can tell him what she wants.

She turns around, wandering over to Max and plopping down beside him on the soft, black couch in the corner of the room.

Max shakes his head as he looks at her, chuckling softly before letting his head fall to his chest.

“What?” She asks, eyebrows raising at the boy she had grown close to over the time she’d spent with his friend.

“You two are so funny.” He continues giggling, his girlfriend smacking his arm with a cautious look.

Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, “What?”

“You guys say you hate each other, but then you look at each other like you can’t wait to rip the other’s clot-” He begins, but Pietra slaps her hand over his mouth.

“MAX FEWTRELL!” She screams over the music, “NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

Her scolding makes him cower into himself, a drunken look on his face as he searches for mercy from his girlfriend.

Y/n is about to press for more when Lando shoves her drink in front of her, holding it out for her until she cradles it in her own.

Looking down at it, her head tilts, “A vodka soda with two orange slices?”

Lando stares at her blankly, “Yeah, you’re favorite, right?”

She nods, “Yeah.”

They look at each other for a moment. Confusion on both their faces for two different reasons.

“Is that a problem?” He asks her, hand dangerously close to her thigh and heating the skin of her leg up with the need for him to splay his fingers across it.

She shakes her head slowly, “No, just- How did you know it was my favorite?”

Emotions flash through his eyes, too fast for Y/n to decipher them. He withdraws physically, cold returning to her leg when his hand retracts to his lap.

“Uh, you just told me a few times.” He stutters.

If she knew him better, she might say for certain he was nervous.

Not mentioning the fact she had never told him what her favorite alcoholic drink was, Y/n moves on. It’s not because she doesn’t want to find out how he knew what she liked or that she simply doesn’t care how he knows, it’s because a camera catches her peripheral eye. Her head discreetly moves to the side, analyzing the drunken girl who stumbles over to the railing and points her phone right at them.

Y/n falls into Lando’s side, his body laid against the back of the couch and making for a comfortable cushion. His arm automatically wraps around her shoulders as her hand plants itself on his upper thigh.

When her fingers brush teasingly close to his crotch, he looks down at her, astonished, “What are you doing?”

“Camera.” She says, his eyes looking up through his lashes before he sees what she had witnessed before.

He nods subtly, leaning down immediately to press his lips to hers shortly. It’s a kiss like the ones they’d had before, quick and dry, yet, this one, instead of pulling away right after, Lando lingers. His lips brush against hers in hesitation, as if he’s deciding whether or not he wants to lean back in for more. His eyes stare into hers, top lip hitting her bottom one as he dips his chin down. He’s close to taking what he wants, breath heavy against her face as he holds her to him. His hands eagerly claw at her dress, forcing her to stay where she is, where he wants her to be, close to him. Yet, he continues to hesitate.

Finally, for the first time, Y/n sees the emotion that hides behind the beautiful color of his eyes; confusion.

It’s only for a split second though. She sees it only for a millisecond as Lando feels the way she breaks down a wall he had built up long ago. When she realizes the war behind his head, he retreats.

His hands fall from her back and his head turns to the side, rejecting what he wanted to do. She watches him look for the girl that had been filming them, eyes roaming over the crowd before coming to the conclusion she was gone.

“No camera.” He says curtly, pushing her off him as he gets up from the couch and walks back to the bar.

She watches him order another drink, no doubt for himself.

Her eyes train on the drink that sits, sweating, on the table in front of them.

Lando’s drink that’s completely full.

🏎️

Liquid courage is a real thing. It’s what drives Lando to ask Y/n to join him on the dance floor. It’s what drives Y/n to pull him into her and sway her hips right against him. They’re on beat with the music, it thumping in their hearts as Lando grips her hips and forces her body closer to his. There’s a newfound sexual tension, rather than the usual tension that consisted of complicated feelings and lingering hurt over past insults. Her hands drape over his neck, head in his chest as he lays his against her shoulder, withholding groans when she circles her hips and accidentally caresses his dick.

His head’s somewhere else, terrifyingly so. He’s not fully thinking through his actions or the thoughts running through his head, the consequences they would have.

All he can think about is the feeling of Y/n’s boobs pressed up against his chest, her cleavage cum-worthy when he looks down and sees her potential spill-out.

The chorus of Love Tonight pumps through the speakers, communicating the feelings they’re too scared to say.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

All I need is your love tonight.

The music spurs him on, almost nudging his head downwards to meet her in the same spot they had been in just a few hours before.

His lips hovering over hers with the same thoughts as before, Lando’s brain goes haywire. She’s panting against him, hips relentless as they continue to circle against him. He’s drowning in her, no escape from the hold she has on him.

Fuck it, he thinks.

He smashes his lips against hers, the first kiss they’ve had that truly puts into perspective how much they want each other. Teeth clashing, his tongue wandering the walls of her mouth, Lando and Y/n fail to come up with an excuse for their actions.

No cameras, no fans, no press.

Just the two of them, dancing and kissing with one singular goal.

All I need is your love tonight.

—

“Here’s your check! Thank you for joining us tonight!” The waiter smiles, setting down the black booklet as Lando quickly swipes it from the table.

Whining, Y/n waves her card around, “Lando, when are you going to let me pay? I don’t think I’ve paid a single time we’ve been together.”

He smiles at her mischievously, “Exactly.”

She rolls her eyes, “Lando,”

He eyes her as he scribbles onto the receipt, “Y/n,”

She scoffs, sitting back in her chair with a huff.

When he’s done, he gives her a sympathetic look before reaching across the table and grabbing her hand, “How about next time we get coffee you pay for your own?”

She looks away from him with a failing suppressive smile, “That’s like five dollars, Lan! You’ve probably spent thousands in the time we’ve been together.”

He shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter.”

Her face scrunches up, “Yes, it does!”

He’s about to rebuttal, but the screeching of people close to them takes their soft eyes off the other.

A mixed group of girls and boys stop at their table, smiling brightly at the two drivers. One of them stands in the middle, phone clutched to her chest as she asks, “Can we get a picture?”

Lando looks to Y/n, searching for approval, but she’s not looking at him. He watches her face light up, smiling big at the fans in front of them as she gets up from her chair.

“Yeah, of course!” She laughs, a sound so light and delicate, it makes Lando’s heart clench in his chest. He never saw the way she acted around fans, having been isolated from them in the times they were together. However, now, as he stays put in his chair and stares on, he adores the way she adores them.

His hands clasped in his lap, Lando sits motionlessly. He can’t take his eyes off the woman who is very clearly making this group’s year. They all stare at her as if she held the moon in their hands, a present from her to them. There’s a simple sparkle in their eyes as she takes pictures with each of them, a simple sparkle that tells him just how much these kids look up to her.

He’s enamored by her, just like they are. For different reasons, though.

“Lan, are you going to get up?” She giggles, hitting his arm and reminding him of the task at hand.

The group stares at him, not the same way they had stared at her notably. He can tell they value him, they’re excited by him, but they aren’t starstruck by him.

He can live with that, though. He gets what it’s like to become speechless over something so beautiful.

After a few more clicks of the camera, the supposed couple sits back down in their seats, but Y/n doesn’t let the fans leave yet. He watches as they brighten at her starting conversation with them.

He loves this. He loves he-

“I have to say, I was so surprised when I found out you two were together.” One of the girls in the group interrupts his questionable internal dialogue. He’s relieved, however. He can’t be thinking that way.

He can’t be feeling that way.

He isn’t.

Y/n tilts her head up at them, “Yeah?”

The group nods and one of the boys speaks up, “Yeah, you two, like, hated each other.”

Everyone laughs, Y/n sitting back in her chair as Lando watches her take the statement easily, “Well, we didn’t hate each other. We did love each other, just didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Her eyes meet his and, for a moment, Lando wonders if she truly means it or if she’s signaling for him to add on.

He goes with adding on, “Yeah, definitely. Who could hate her?”

You could, she thinks. You do, she thinks.

The words sink her heart to her stomach. A reality so crushing, she hates to entertain it. When this is all over, he’ll go back to hurting her with jabs that attack her self-confidence and she’ll be left to hang on to the man he had been when they were “together”.

She doesn’t want to go back to hating him, yet she’s scared she will. She doesn’t want to go back to knowing who he truly is at his core, yet she’s scared she will.

She doesn’t want to go back to knowing what he truly thinks of her, yet she’s scared she will.

By the time she returns to the conversation, the fans are simultaneously thanking them for their time and kindness. Leaving them alone, Lando stands from the table and checks the bill once more. Y/n grabs her bag, “Why’re you checking it again?”

He looks up at her as his pointer finger lingers on the paper, “Oh, just calculating what you’ll owe me when this is all said and done. You know, when we go back to hating each other’s guts.”

He says it jokingly, she can tell he’s teasing as he laughs it off, holding her hand gently as he leads her out of the restaurant. But, none of that stops the way she exhales a deep breath, a sigh that carries so much pain, she wonders where it came from.

Lando used to mean nothing to her, or so she thought.

Had he always meant everything?

—

Silverstone is supposed to be a fun race for Lando. It’s one of his favorites on the calendar. Although, that joy is rapidly tanking as he races quickly around the track, smoke emitting from behind him and filling the air, filling his helmet. He coughs harshly as he rushes into his radio, “Was that a crash?! Who is it?! Are they okay?! Is it on fire?! There’s smoke.”

There’s panic in his voice, knowing regardless of who it is, he’ll be worried.

Andrea’s silent on the other line, heightening Lando’s concerns.

“Andrea! What’s going on? Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you.” Andrea responds immediately.

Lando rounds a corner before he speaks back, confusions drenching his tone, “Okay, so who was that? Are they okay?”

Andrea is monotone, “I don’t know if they’re okay right now.”

Lando’s heart drops, “Oh, no, who was it? Was it one of the Williams? A Ferrari? Maybe a Haas?”

Again, Andrea doesn’t answer him and Lando is about to press him further when he reaches the crash site once more. Eyes trained on the color of the car, the words “Red Bull” hit him hard.

Andrea waits for the anxiety to kick in on the other line, fully prepared to talk him down as he watches for any updates on the crash.

“IT’S A FUCKING RED BULL! IS IT Y/N? ANDREA, IS IT Y/N?” He screams, voice shaking as he begins to slow down, cars passing him by and making him lose positions.

Andrea watches the decline of Lando’s car in the race standings, head falling as he realizes no information about Y/n will come quick enough to make him get back in the race.

Calmly, he responds, “I am not sure who it is yet.”

He hears Lando groan aggressively, “Bullshit! Is it her?!”

His yelling can be heard throughout the entire wall, everyone giving side glances to Andrea over the man who is currently screaming.

“Lando, I promise you, if I knew who it was, I would tell you.” Andrea gives, voice pleading.

It’s quiet for a moment, the only thing heard being the sounds of Lando’s heavy breathing. Solemnly, Andrea watches a camera zoom in past the smoke and center the number of the car in the frame.

Y/n’s car.

Clicking the button, Andrea speaks to Lando, “I can confirm it is Y/n’s car. No knowledge of if she’s gotten out of the car or not.”

Again, there’s silence before Lando’s hand smacks his steering wheel and he lets out a noise filled with anguish, “Please, tell me when you find out.”

Torturously, Lando passes by her car at every turn, watching only for a second as people work to try and get her out of the car.

Andrea watches in horror as a group of men lift her from the car, her body limp and unmoving as they run her to the safety car.

“She’s out of the car.” He murmurs to Lando, praying the boy won’t ask more questions.

He does, “Good! That’s good! By herself or did she need aid?”

The sound of Andrea’s heavy sigh kills Lando, “No, not by herself. She needed help.”

“How much help?”

Silence.

Lando yelps, “ANDREA! TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON RIGHT FUCKING NOW! THIS IS MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND! HOW MUCH FUCKING HELP?”

“She’s not moving.”

Lando doesn’t say anything, his mind racing as his eyes water.

Finally, he speaks, “I need to retire the car.”

Andrea and the rest of the pit wall turn to look at each other with outraged stares, “What? No, Lando. The car’s perfectly fine. The pace is great, no dam-”

Lando interrupts Andrea with a broken voice, “The car’s not the reason we need to retire the car. It’s the driver. It’s me.”

Everyone can hear it in the way his voice cracks, he’s crying, knowing he can’t see through it. It’s a danger, it truly is, and that forces Andrea and the team to comply with Lando’s demands.

When he parks in the garage, he clampers out. Shoving engineers, Andrea, his dad, Zak, and anyone else who gets in his way or tries to talk to him, Lando sprints over to the medical center. On his way, he loses his mind over the possibility that she might not be there, already at the hospital, or she will be there, but just her lifeless body.

He’s still drenched in sweat, the amount doubling from his running, when he gets there. Lando pushes past the people who stand at the front, not giving them time to tell him he can’t come in. He hears them call out in opposition, but he’s already in and he just doesn’t care.

There’s no time to address the feelings swirling in his stomach that feel ten times what he had felt for any of his past girlfriends. There’s no time to talk about the way he cries over the image of her burning car or her unconscious body being pulled from it. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, last year, he wouldn’t have acted this crazed over her accident. There’s no time to talk about the fact that, now, he’s fully prepared to brawl with anyone that dares to stand in his way of finding her.

There’s no time because he’s reaching her door and flinging it open. There are nurses beside her conscious figure, tending to the scratches and cuts she has from the car’s debris. Even with the bloodied bandages, Lando smiles at her smiling at him.

When she sees him, her arm reaches out for him without thinking. He takes long strides to get to her even in the small room and, when he does, he grabs her hand.

Kneeling down on the floor beside her, he squeezes her hand, “You okay?”

She nods, “Will be.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He whispers, nurses glancing at each other before exiting the room at the intimacy flowing between the two.

They really were selling this.

Suddenly, Y/n’s eyebrows knit together as her gaze lifts to the clock on the wall, “Wait, Lan, the race is still going. Did you crash?”

He shakes his head, eyes averting from hers, “No, I retired the car.”

Her other hand reaches to turn his gaze back to hers, holding his jaw softly as he smiles at her, “Why?” She whispers.

“Because I needed to make sure you were okay.”

The truth hangs in the air painfully.

They can’t speak of what that means or what that alludes to. They can’t speak of the way he clutches onto her hand as if she’ll go away. They can’t speak of the way he raced over here, throwing important people to the side in a state of pure panic. They can’t speak of the way they stare at each other, yearn for each other in a way that goes against every rule they agreed to when this started.

All they can do is kiss each other sweetly and lie.

Lie to themselves about what will happen after it’s over; lie to themselves about how much they truly care for each other; lie to the PR teams and tell them nothing is developing between them, that it’s safe to continue this.

And, most of all, later, when Zak asks Lando why he has lip gloss smudged against his mouth, they must lie.

—

“Can you zip me up?” Y/n turns around in the car, her back to Lando as her dress hangs open slightly at the top.

He nods, fingers delicate against her skin as he glides against it, trailing the cool metal up. His hands finish on her shoulders, slowly rubbing softly as she begins to lean against him.

“Lan, that feels good.” She mumbles, words slurred from the way his fingers work the knots under her skin.

Her body lies fully on him, his mouth by her ear as they wait to get to their destination. He continues to massage her, whispering random things in her ear about errands they need to run or complete tomorrow.

With her eyes closed and relaxed state, Lando admires how safe she feels around him. Five months ago, Y/n wouldn’t have dared to let him touch her in the way he was, in the way he had over the past two months, however things had changed. For better or for worse, Lando still wasn’t sure.

The driver in the front eyes them questionably, having witnessed the change in their dynamic over their months together.

With her body still limp against him, the car stops in front of the gala’s entrance. Photographers scream beyond the door and flashes of cameras blind them even as they sit behind the glass.

Looking at her and taking her hand in his, Lando whispers, “Ready?”

She nods, “Always.”

A man opens their door, the volume erupting as Lando steps out, his hand clutching Y/n’s as she follows suit. Immediately, they’re pulled into multiple pictures. Lando’s arm finds its home around her waist with Y/n’s hand resting on his chest, a couple so perfect for each other. Their endeavor had been so incredibly successful, both their teams’ PR divisions were pleasantly surprised. Lando looks on at her, a radiant smile gracing her face as she speaks to one of the reporters on the carpet, and hates the feeling of knowing how close the end is.

In just a few weeks, they’ll be sitting down to write a small paragraph, one that will be posted to their Instagram stories as it tries to sum up the romance they thought they had.

At night, he tries to think of words to describe the moments he’s had with her and, every time, he comes up empty.

Her laughing at the journalist’s joke makes him come to the conclusion there will never be a time where he can gather syllables to explain how undeniably perfect she is.

How he got to the place of being able to address how wonderful she was? Lando had an inkling it was because of the way she made his heart pound and hands sweat.

🏎️

Lando and Y/n easily make their rounds throughout the room, greeting sponsors and potential ones with their hands clasped together. It’s obvious how charming they are together, obvious when random strangers are flipping open their checkbooks at the sight of them. Lando knows it’s all her with her thoughtful sentences and engaging demeanor.

He’s a side piece and he’s okay with that, only okay with it when he’s her side piece.

They’re in the midst of sharing a new drink they decided to try, giggles shared between them as they pass the glass between each other. They had started doing this ages ago, when they first grew closer to one another. In order to make these events go by quicker, they started trying all the items on the alcoholic menu they had never heard before. Some of his favorite memories of her had taken place when she tried something she didn’t like and almost spit it out at him.

“I think this one’s good! What’s it called again? Something sexual, right?” She asks as he takes another swig.

Lando shakes his head, grin on his face as he lifts the drink up to their eye level, “I forgot, but it must be cum something. Sure does look like cum.”

Her mouth falls open and she screeches, “Lando!”

He falls over onto the table beside them, laughing, “What? You don’t swallow?”

She joins him in laughter, “You wish you knew.”

Of fucking course, he thinks.

“Lando?” A voice from his past calls from behind them.

Lando’s heart drops, turning around and seeing Luisinha.

“Hey, Lu!” She moves to hug him, squeezing him lightly before letting her eyes drift to the girl quietly standing with him.

“Hi, Y/n.” She speaks, smiling softly as she hugs her.

Luisinha giggles before looking between the two, “I assume I need to be reintroduced to you. Before, you were Y/n, driver for Red Bull. Now, you’re Y/n, Lando’s girlfriend.”

Y/n nods, a gesture that looks to come so easy to her, Lando wishes it was real.

They hug again, chuckling at the situation before Luisinha directs her attention back to her ex-boyfriend, “It’s nice to see you, Lan! All those nights spent on the phone just aren’t the same as seeing you in person.”

Y/n loses her breath over Lu’s words, gaze drifting immediately to Lando and watching as he nods along.

“Yeah! Seriously, talking to you over the phone isn’t enough.”

His response, easy and light, crushes her.

Y/n steps in closer, “Sorry, um, you two still talk?”

Luisinha looks to Lando, intrigue in her eyes as she searches him. Lando, the boy stuck between his past and present, realizes his mistake.

He shakes his hands, “No, I mean- Yes, but it’s not like that, Y/n.”

Luisinha stays silent as she watches Y/n try to keep her composure, “When was the last time you talked?”

Lando can’t bring himself to answer, so Lu does for him, feeling for the girl in between them, “Last night.”

He watches Y/n’s face slowly process the information. It’s as if reality comes crashing down on her, a harsh moment that reminds her of what they are to each other at the end of the day.

Y/n nods, smiling at the two before beginning to walk back, “I need a minute, sorry.”

Lu watches Lando long for her, momentarily wishing Y/n would just understand how much he feels for her, and Luisinha, finally, gets a wave of closure. She understands now why they broke up. When he ended it, Lando had told her he loved her more as a friend, something that broke her, yet, now, she understands why she had been so confused. Originally, she thought he did love her, he just been too afraid to tell her the real reason for their separation, but, as she stares at the pooling in his eyes, she sees a look she never got.

A look of intense love.

She nudges his arm, “Don’t let her get away.”

He nods at her, running off in the direction Y/n had left, eyes searching for her in the sea of people.

🏎️

Lando catches sight of her gorgeous y/h/c hair off in a small hallway of the hotel. He jogs over, her back to him, and lays a soft hand over her shoulder.

She stiffens, refusing to turn around and meet his eyes. However, his voice coaxes her, “Y/n, look at me.”

As much as she tries not to, she does and it breaks her further.

Her watery eyes and lost head tilt are a stab to Lando’s heart, her choked up voice speaking, “So, you were talking to her the entire time we were doing this?”

He’s at a loss, knowing that’s the perfect truth, yet knowing it isn’t fully, “Yes, but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

Her body jerks away from him and the anger he was usually greeted with returns, “Oh?! Then, what does it mean, Lando?! Because it looks like I meant fucking nothing to you! I know it isn’t in my head! I know what’s happened between us isn’t just some people getting over the hatred they had for each other! I thought you felt that way too!”

“I do!” He yells back, frustration at her obliviousness getting to him.

Tears leak down her face, “Then, why did you spend the entirety of this talking to your ex! Why’d you agree to this if you still love your ex?!”

Lando groans, “I don’t love my ex! I don’t love Lu! I love you!”

Her tears fall harder, “Do you? How could someone love another person they used to loathe?!”

Lando shakes his head, overwhelmed at what’s going on in his brain, “It just happened, Y/n! You think I thought this would happen?! No, I didn’t!”

Y/n resigns, quiet taking over other than their heavy breathing, “I don’t believe you.”

His annoyance takes over, “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

I want you to tell me why you love me, she thinks. I want to know where your hate turned to love, she thinks.

Those things go unsaid.

Instead, she huffs, “I think this has gotten too out of hand. I think we need to end this arrangement early.”

She sees the unmistakable sadness etched into his face, “How early?”

“Like, tonight.” She whispers, protecting herself from the world of hurt that would be being loved by him. She isn’t Luisinha, she isn’t a model or breathtaking woman. She’s a girl who fell in love with a “boy’s” sport, a girl who has seen the flaws within herself and tried, desperately, to change them, rewrite them. She never does, although. She always comes out the same on the other side.

The truth catches up with her and images of the beautiful women Lando has had in his bed fill her mind. How does she know this isn’t some elaborate prank to get her vulnerable and then humiliate her out of the resentment he holds against her and the situation she got him in?

Lando musters up some sort of guard, distaste returning after its five month long hiatus, “Fine. I’ll let McLaren know. This works anyway. You served your purpose, got my reputation back to where it was before you came in and fucking destroyed it. You ruin everything, you know that, Y/n?”

She nods, cries intensifying at what she had been afraid of: his hatred for her returning after getting to know a side of him so tender.

“Got it, Lando.” She whispers, slinking past him and out of the building.

He watches her walk away, confused at how he had confessed his love for her and ended it by telling her she was destructive.

She isn’t. How could he say that?

How could he tell the one woman who had built him up that she had tore him down? How could he let frustrated anger replace the love he had for her?

How could he let her get away?

UPDATE: i posted part 2! Find it here.

A/N: TUMBLR GLITCHED OUT AND WAS CRACKING DOWN AT HOW LONG THIS WAS SO I WILL MAKE A PART TWO WITH A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE

[farshootergotme]

Alright, I'm back to this.

I already addressed in my reblog why Dick is considered to be an emotional support pillar in the Batfamily, not only for Bruce. Now I want to talk about this part in the og post, specifically:

"but. there have been instances where - like alfred - he enables bruce's behaviour and/or makes excuses for it."

I want to say that I agree. However, I want to elaborate on why I agree and why Dick could be considered an enabler.

Let's first define what enabling means to have that out of the way:

“The term "enabling" refers to the act of allowing or permitting someone to continue a behavior, habit, or addiction, often by providing support, resources, or excuses. Enabling can be both intentional and unintentional, and it can have a significant impact on the individual's life and relationships.”

So, at first, I didn't think Dick should be classified as an enabler since it isn't his responsibility to control what Bruce does. However, reading more about the subject, enabling includes taking on responsibilities for the other person and avoiding conflict by ignoring someone's harmful behavior or not putting any boundaries, which gives the other person the go-ahead to keep crossing those unspoken boundaries that you never really settled.

Although I would like to argue Dick does try to have some boundaries with Bruce, most of the time he lets him get away with lots of things he does to him. I mean, we know of the long history of abuse there is from Bruce to Dick, even if his actions are not always his fault/intentional. (See: mind-control, hypnosis, accidents, etc.)

I'd like to be corrected if I'm wrong, but I don't think there's a time in which Dick has directly addressed Bruce's not-so-great parental skills. Lack of safe environment for emotional vulnerability? Poor communication? Putting so much responsibility in the hands of a child? And I wouldn't say it is for not trying to make Bruce responsible. But when he was a child, confronting him about these things… Dick just wasn't suited for it. No matter how much insistence there might be from his part about them being equals, Bruce is and always was an authority figure. He was the owner of the manor, he was who had right over their equipment and the cave, he was the oldest—the parent, and Dick had no way to go against that without feeling like he was going to war in his underwear with a stick for weapon against a fully-armored warrior with shield and sword to attack.

And as an adult, having a discussion about any of this might be even harder because he's been since childhood rationalizing and excusing Bruce's behavior just so he could justify to himself why he couldn't say anything about it. Why he was letting himself get hurt without fighting back.

In his mind, Bruce always has some kind of reason. “He was traumatized”, “he was grieving”, “his parents had died when he was much too young, how could've he known better?”, “he tried his best”, “Dick understood Bruce better than anyone else, why would he need to communicate or show him affection when it's all hidden under the small gestures?” and it could go on and on.

That's where the excusing Bruce's behavior, thus enabling him, comes. This is where Bruce gets a pass because hey! He can't be blamed when it was a result of the circumstances! (But it does become a fault when he keeps going with the flow instead of trying to change the direction. “The circumstances” stops being an excuse when you're the one who contributed to them.)

And as the family grew, Dick started taking on more responsibilities for Bruce because Dick knows Bruce isn't apt to be everything the others would need. That lack of communication? Dick compensates by explaining for Bruce. The affection? Dick will give it to them. All the parentification? Brushed under the rug. Nobody notices (or ignores it) and it's a cycle of enabling Dick to be codependent and Bruce to be emotionally immature.

But despite all my previous points, Dick isn't always like this. He isn't letting things go everytime something happens. He isn't looking the other way to all the things Bruce does for his sake. In fact, out of all the kids, I'd say Dick is the one who's confronted Bruce the most.

Batman #416

The New Titans #55

Batman #600

Nightwing (1996) #99

Outsiders vol.3 #21

And although he excuses Bruce to himself, he does let others know about Bruce's harmful behavior and encourages them to set boundaries.

Batman: Urban Legends #10

Batman #416

So, in conclusion, Dick both is and isn't an enabler. He excuses Bruce as much as he doesn't. He ignores his faults but also confronts him about it. He allows him his flaws and he points them out.

What I'll say is that Dick isn't like Alfred in this aspect, but he does on occasion unintentionally enable Bruce, even if not always.

Now, Bruce and Dick aside, I want to have a section to talk about why I dislike using the term ‘enable’ when it comes to a parent-child relationship. (You can skip over this, just a personal opinion that I felt the need to share. But it isn't needed for my argument, so is just an extra to my post)

When a child ‘enables’ a parent it can mean a few different things:

Making excuses for their parent's behavior.

Taking on responsibilities.

Providing emotional support.

Ignoring the issue.

Accommodating the parent's needs.

These all cause the parent to avoid responsibility, have no consequences for their actions and have their own scapegoat and emotional support that will make it easier for them to avoid seeking help or attempting to become better due to the lack of repercussions to their actions.

However, it really isn't the child's responsibility to make the parent see where they're going wrong. It isn't their job to go “Hey, actually, you should get help because you aren't treating me like your child”. They aren't the ones who have to constantly communicate their needs and point out the shortcomings of the adult, so it always gives me this sense of wrongness when I use this word for these cases because, really, it's more about the parent enabling the child by permitting and encouraging the parentification of said child than the child enabling the parent to be an awful guardian.

Yet again, that's just my opinion. I can change what the word means and what it includes in its definition. But I can have and voice my thoughts about it and believe there should be a different way of calling it that doesn't make it sound like the child is the one at fault for their parents behavior.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Man of Faith" - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

SUMMARY: With the Sun Summoner on board, Stumhond's attention seems to be captivated by the living Saint. While you know how important she is to him in terms of politics, you can't help but start to feel jealous. Nikolai, however, stays true to his only faith.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.4k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

The night breeze feels cold when it brushes against your cheeks. Although you feel an uncomfortable shiver run down your spine, the chilly air is refreshing, revitalizing. Salty ocean water sprays your skin as the ship lazily cuts through the endless waters. Swooshing of the heavy waves hitting the vessel and the drawn-out creaking of boards interrupt the otherwise silent hours. The black, starry sky is reflecting in the equally black waters, making it hard to say where lies the horizon - firmament glistens both above your head and beneath your feet.

Leaning against the railing, you allow yourself a sigh of defeat. You shake your head at the bitter, lead-like weight in your abdomen. This phantom has refused to let you go ever since the Sun Summoner boarded the ship but it’s hardly her fault. Truly, it’s not His fault either, even if he’s part of your problem, following her around and eagerly asking every question that came to his mind. It’s like you’re not here at all, you think to yourself but quickly discard this awful idea with a shake of your head.

No matter how much you refuse to admit it, you’re jealous. In your mind, it’s very logical and rational to get neurotic - he’s an heir to the throne, she’s the Sun Summoner and you… are a pirate. Although your lovesick heart is defending Nikolai with all its might, your sensibility is feeding you a plethora of horrible scenarios that, to some degree, you’re aware are not very probable. Still, they’re not impossible.

You rub your face in a vain attempt to calm yourself down and gain control over your emotions. This is stupid. He’s just interested in an interesting person, nothing beyond that. All of the flustering, and frankly embarrassing, confessions of love he’s given you, can’t just be undone in two days… can they?

The sound of slow footsteps distracts you from your spiralling thoughts. You turn around only to see the man you’ve been agonizing over as though one of the Saints had heard you and, out of annoyance rather than goodwill, sent him your way to clear this perplexing misunderstanding. His blond locks float on the gusts of cold breeze. There’s an undeniable softness to his expression, even if his eyebrows raise slightly in worry. Despite the overwhelming darkness of the night on the open ocean, he looks nothing short of breathtaking. 

And you, through unimaginable luck, are the only thing that steals his breath.

"I was looking for you,” he says in a gentle voice. Jealousy mixes with guilt and shame inside you - Nikolai probably thinks something serious happened but no, it’s you getting into your own head.

"Something's the matter?" you deflect his inquiry. 

"Actually, I wanted to ask you that.” Nikolai leans on his elbow on the railing, his torso turned towards you. He’s standing close enough for his frock coat to brush against you - it’s smooth and velvety, as though water could be sawn into a garment. “You seemed upset earlier."

"Oh, it's nothing, really.” You dismiss him with a vague wave of your hand. “Don't worry."

Nikolai lets out a short sigh. He takes off his coat and puts it around your shoulders. "I always worry about you,” he says as he’s casually fixing the jacket to cover most of your body.

The familiar scent fills your nostrils immediately. Perhaps it’s the additional layer of clothing or his hand resting on your lower back that’s making you warm up significantly. In any event, his overwhelming presence, engulfing you in an embrace of comfort and security, momentarily shakes you sober from your grim thoughts. Like having a bucket of cold water thrown at your head, you’re wondering how you could ever question his devotion.

“A treasure?” Nikolai repeats after the old whaler. The stench of booze is surrounding the retired, one-eyed sailor like a hallucinogenic aura. “I’ve already found her, thank you.”

Doubt, however, is a relentless beast. Maybe you’ve been the recipient of his affection simply by a chance of convenience? You’ve always been there, waiting for Nikolai to pay you attention. But then you inhale again, the scent of resin and seaweed filling your nostrils, and the doubt vanishes once more as the fog does in the early morning hours.

"This is going to sound really stupid and selfish,” you confess.

"I want to hear it anyway."

Nikolai’s hand reaches for yours, fingers intertwining without either of you thinking about it. His thumb is gently rubbing circles into your skin. Some reflexes are scratched into bones, escaping human willingness. 

“It’s just…” You cut yourself off before you can finish. Embarrassed at what you’re about to tell him, you look away, admiring the faraway stars reflecting off the black water. In an unconscious motion, Nikolai cranes his neck to try and see more of your face. “Ever since Alina boarded the ship, you’ve been quite preoccupied with her and I… I think I’ve grown used to having your undivided attention. For the most part, at least. And that made me wonder whether I’m underwhelming compared to the Sun Summoner herself.”

Finally, you dare look back towards him. As you could have expected, he looks just as lovestruck as he usually does - not a wrinkle suggests that he’s angry with you for making a show of your jealousy or doubting his devotion. In fact, that upturned corner of his mouth makes him look genuinely amused with this course of events. Somewhere during your circular way of expressing envy, he only heard you admit how much you yearn for his attention.

"You thought I'm more interested in Alina Starkov than you?" he asks, laughter hiding inside his voice. "Hey, look at me.” Nikolai lifts his hand to your cheek, first brushing his finger against your skin before his whole palm cups your face. "I would have to lose my damn mind and even then I'd fall in love with you again if you just glanced in my direction."

“I know how important she is to you, Коля," you whisper, nervous that someone might pick up on the secret only you've been privy to so far. It nearly escapes your attention that his smile grows a little hearing you say his name. “It’s not your fault I’m being a little selfish. I just need to get a grip. You really shouldn’t worry.”

Nikolai’s hand drops from your face to hold your hand again. He brings your fingers to his lips, placing a soft kiss on them. It’s tender, like everything else he does towards you. Sometimes you wonder whether this gentleness is a conscious choice or if he’s physically incapable of directing any harshness at you.

"I could have an army of Sun Summoners and you’d still be the only Saint I’m praying to day and night.”

You scoff at his cheesy poetics. Laughing to yourself, you shake your head at him. "Oh, please, there is nothing holy about me."

With the hand he’s been resting on your lower back Nikolai pulls you even closer to him. He lets go of your fingers, placing his free hand on the side of your head, forcing you to look at him - not that you have anything against doing so.

"I beg to differ,” he begins in a low, surprisingly serious voice. “Ever since I saw you for the first time, I can't think about anything else. I don't want to. When you’re not with me I can’t focus until I find you and when I do, I feel like nothing can stand in my way. I could lose everything but if you’re by my side, I know I’m saved.” Nikolai rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. “You're the closest thing to godhood I've ever seen."

You inhale sharply suddenly feeling his warm lips against yours. His hands are pulling you closer to him, deepening the kiss. It’s both loving and desperate as though he’s expecting you to vanish into thin air at any moment; like he can’t quite believe he has the rest of his life to adore you.

To your disappointment, Nikolai pulls away from you after a long while but keeps a rather impressive lack of distance as your noses brush against each other. In a breathy voice, he whispers:

"You're the only prayer I need to make me feel blessed."

“Just kiss me again, милый мой.”

A quiet chuckle leaves his lips. “As you wish.”

Without wasting time, he’s kissing you again - hungrily, feverishly, reluctantly pulling away every now and then to catch his breath, only to resume this consuming pastime with insatiable desire.

_____

Коля [ko-lya] - short for Nikolai

Милый мой [me-lee moy] - my darling (masculine)

[argisthebulwark]

I Don't Feel It Til It Hurts

summary: Character A haunts Character B. One refuses to let go and the other cannot move on. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Vilkas, Cicero, Miraak, Mercer, Farkas warnings: canon typical mentions of death and injury. depictions of grief/loss.

Poor Brynjolf will never rid himself of the memory. Each night he relives it; the numbness in his body, nerves sizzling with Mercer's spell, the strangled scream when his arm swung. His nights are little more than tossing and turning, running from the nightmares until it's time to rise. Most days he finds himself searching for you - expecting you to walk around the corner and laugh at him for believing such a thing. He still feels you. The hole in his heart aches but he's sure you linger somewhere close, your presence barely out of his reach. He feels you when his pillows are warm and the desk is miraculously straightened, sure that somewhere just out of sight your shadows still shield him when a guard stumbles blindly past his hiding spot.

Vilkas will never relent. He is too stubborn to enjoy the afterlife, choosing instead to keep his watchful eye on his Harbinger. Even in death he is incapable of relaxing. He paces Jorrvaskr's halls, eyes vigilant for any potential threats. While you are busy sorting through requests and orders he stands guard at your door. Rumors eventually reach your ears - new recruits whispering about hearing footsteps late at night or doors shutting behind you. Some swear you're using magicka to keep them on their toes. A breeze brushes against your cheek despite the closed window and for a moment you feel him, all of his effort put into making you aware that he stays for you.

Silly Listener, you weren't supposed to leave Cicero. Even when his dagger dripped with your blood he couldn't believe it - you had to be fooling him! The Listener would never abandon their Keeper. You promised him. You swore that he would never be alone again. You scream until your throat is raw but he cannot hear you. You cannot grip his hand nor can you slam the table hard enough to make him listen. You can do nothing but observe. You hear the whispers behind his back and the jokes he repeats as if you still stand beside him, forced to listen to his tirades about how you've abandoned him. Unable to bear the thought of moving on and leaving him once again you remain, a shadow of your former self praying to someday gain enough strength to show him you never truly left.

Miraak clings to you, souls too intertwined to entertain the thought of leaving. Although you cannot see anything you feel him - each time you Shout there is an echo of him, your powers surging with the same sickly green he'd adopted. He knows the rational choice is to move on, you will join him when you are ready, but parting from you feels too final. Often, you swear you feel him looming just over your shoulder. Even if you cannot see him he is there, that silent judgment a factor in many decisions. He remains on Nirn, a mere shade of the god he'd once been. He dreads and awaits the day you finally fall and join him, sure that Sovngarde will be no fun until you arrive hand in hand.

You are everywhere. Mercer feels you everywhere he goes; lurking in each shadow or waiting just around the next corner. Paranoia eats at his mind with each day that passes without your arrival - you'd forced his hand. You'd cornered him. It wasn't his fault that you stuck your nose where it didn't belong, you'd left him with no choice. Guilt and his feelings for you swirl together into a sickening mess in his gut that leaves him weak. You'd always made him weak. Of course you cannot strike - not yet, at least. You are not strong enough to do anything more than watch as the man you'd once shared flirtatious banter with diminishes, terrified of the day you become strong enough to make your presence clear.

Your poor heart aches at the mere thought of leaving Farkas. He still makes space for you; your side of the bed unmade and open, a seat at his side empty as if you will simply fall into it. You trail along after him, unable to reach out and unwilling to move on. His voice is soft when he murmurs your name before descending into a cave of bandits as if he prays to you for safety. Other think that he's gone mad when he mentions feeling you but this does little to deter him. Farkas knows that you linger at his side, that you are always somewhere near. Rationally he should urge you to move on but the thought of parting is too painful. Farkas allows you to stay, to take up the space he leaves just for you, knowing he would do the same if he'd fallen before you.

[yanderes-galore]

May I request a Yandere Vector The Crocodile Concept From Sonic please? Romantic/Platonic? I don’t see enough of this guy, he’s so underrated.

He is very underrated, so I will try my best to write down some thoughts on him.

Yandere! Vector The Crocodile Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Jealousy, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Delusional behavior, Slight violence, Breach of privacy, Kidnapping, Blood mention, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Vector is described as easy going yet loud mouthed.

He's a detective who takes his job seriously and loves money and music.

He's a true leader who can sometimes be bossy despite his easy going nature.

He keeps a cool head in stressful situations and is quite tough.

He has a temper problem and can come off as aggressive but will try to be gentle.

Ironically he's a "snappy" crocodile.

He has a kind heart and while being slightly selfish, cares for his friends and tries to keep strong morals.

He never wants to do anything dirty or illegal and says cool + determined.

He's a bit volatile but overall I'd imagine he'd be goofy.

He seems like he'd be easily jealous but try to hide it from you... and fail miserably.

Due to his moral compass, he'd have second thoughts about the idea of kidnapping or murder.

In fact, that just doesn't seem like something he'd do.

He'd do things that he tries to convince himself are legal.

Such as stalking or slight manipulation/isolation.

He's just... following you very close or looking out for you... not stalking.

He's just trying to encourage you to make the right decision... not manipulating you.

He definitely starts small, but he's delusional.

Jealousy is normal, right?

Vector just... wants to feel included.

It's harmless... It's not his fault if he picks fights with your friends, right?

He is so deep in delusion when it comes to you.

He thinks you two are closer than you actually are, often using his skills to research about you.

He's a detective after all, following clues to gain info is what he's good at.

Your friends will note that it sounds like he's interrogating them, when he asks about you.

Vector definitely writes down all he learns about you in a locked journal or something.

One he gets quite defensive of.

Vector probably often gets himself into fights often with others, although he feels horrible when you catch him.

He's clingy and delusional, trying to rationalize all he does for your attention.

I know I said he wouldn't kidnap or murder... but with his delusions?

I mean... surely he'd try to make excuses?

It's not kidnapping... he's just taking you to a safer place.

It's not a fight... he's defending you.

It wasn't murder... It's just an accident.

He'll tell himself this even if you cry or he's covered in blood.

For the most part he's harmless if kept in check.

He's incredibly affectionate, always giving big hugs and inviting you to listen to music with him.

If he does manage to get into fights, he can be ruthless.

After all.. he's a crocodile.

If you've seen how crocs fight, you'll know what I'm talking about.

He may try to hide his darker feelings and jealousy from you.

He wants you to be his alone yet tries his best to hide it.

Perhaps part of him does know it isn't right to feel this way.

But eventually you'll find out...

Eventually you'll run and he won't be able to handle it...

Meaning Vector will have to chase you to get you back to him... even if it requires a bit of force.

[hiimawarish]

laws of attraction

s. alhaitham has solved many enigmas, except you. cw. mutual pining? kind of? fluff. a lil romantic tension. implied academic rivals. tw. none. not proofread. wc. 0.69k a/n. i was getting ready for bed, the first sentence popped up in my mind, and here we are. i have no excuse. credits. dividers by @/cafekitsune.

There were not many things Alhaitham struggled to understand.

From his focus on linguistics and ancient languages to his almost obsessive pursuit of knowledge in other areas such as physics, he had discovered from a young age that his mind was gifted. No book was too advanced for him. No lecture too complicated or dense. Alhaitham’s life had been overcome with a thirst for knowledge that he had never quite quenched, or perhaps he had never been truly interested in satiating it. 

Whatever the reason, the truth remained that Alhaitham had found fewer challenges the more he studied. Be it Kaveh’s emotional outbursts or the inefficiency of his classmates, Alhaitham was unfazed. Keeping to himself was more a second nature than a habit by now—as natural as breathing, as reading.

It allowed him fewer failures. Not that they were ever abundant.

Unless it came to you, that is.

“Struggling?” His voice left him in his usual stoic manner, and yet the flash of anger in your eyes did not go unnoticed. Although subtle, if one were to pay close attention to his face, they’d notice the slight curve on his lips—a smile. “Which book?”

“Shut up.”

An amused chuckle left him at your words whispered in anger. The heat gathered in your cheeks at the sound, shame spreading to your ears and down into your neck and cleavage, hidden from his eyes under the Akademiya’s uniform. His laughter, though short, seemed to anger you even more—Alhaitham had discovered, quite quickly, that any sound coming from him seemed to have that effect. Even when he was merely offering his help to reach the book that you not-so-gracefully had been trying to get for the past ten minutes.

In spite of your mumbled, aggressive words, Alhaitham stretched his arm. His fingers traced the spine of a few books—linguistics in context, a comparison in-depth of language evolution around Teyvat, a compilation of ancient runes—until he finally got to the one he was sure you needed. He plucked it out from the shelf, admiring the familiar cover for a few seconds, before handing it to you.

“I never said I needed this.” You replied stubbornly. 

You were always too fast to refuse his help. That was his fault, according to Kaveh, but Alhaitham disagreed. Giving you fake praise on that draft you presented him on your first day of class would have been a disservice to you, and yet you had been far too prideful. Now you avoided his help—him—like the plague. 

Alhaitham glanced once toward the table you had been sitting at, an arrangement of old textbooks, reports, and scribbled notes surrounding your space. He turned his eyes to you, a questioning look that told you the answer was obvious. You did need it. You did need the comparative essay on how language had shaped Sumeru’s two faces. 

You were, still, too prideful, it seemed.

“You do, actually.” He placed the book on your table, dismissively. “It’s a primary source, shouldn’t you know that?”

A stubborn silence on your part is all he received. 

Alhaitham sighed. “It seems I overestimated your common sense. Or lack-there-of.”

He should leave. He knew that—his rationality screamed at him to stop bothering, to take your words at face value, and just leave you alone. But he couldn’t. Whether he relished in provoking you or simply saw you as an enigma that he needed to understand, he couldn’t tell. 

“See? You’re an idiot.” You nudged him angrily, ineffectual fists hitting his chest. Some other students had stopped, looking curiously at your exchange—usually, the attention would bother him, but he was too focused on you. On your scrunched-up nose, your furrowed brows, your lips pressed together in a thin, tempting line. “If you’re here just to make fun of me, leave. I’m sure you have far better and more important things to do.”

He sighed, though his lips curved in a subtle smile—he was familiar with facts, concrete information, but you seemed to be too abstract for him to grasp. The only thing Alhaitham knew for sure was that you were a magnet.

And he understood the laws of attraction too well to fight.

more works.

©2023 hiimawarish do not translate, repost, copy, modify

[crumbazaar]

Mouthwashing Plans! (con't)

Swansea: Swansea is very reticent to open the cargo hold, as he knows every infraction will cut into his pay. However, when they fine the mouthwash, he decides to fall back into his past alcoholism and spends all his time drinking. Shortly after the crash he discovers that there is one working cryo-chamber. However with five of them, he knows it will cause an argument that could turn ugly. He decides to just spend his time guarding Utility, under the guise that it's filled with foam and if anyone else attempts to cut through it will break the airtight seals and kill everyone on board.

He trusts Daisuke enough to have him deal with rationing the food, not Jimmy (or even himself, as he's constantly drunk). He doesn't seem to trust Jimmy with much of anything. He reluctantly gives him the axe to reach the extra meds in the locker by medical, but afterwards he keeps tight hold of it and Jimmy says he even sleeps by Utility so no one can get in. It's very possible Anya asked him to not let Jimmy keep the weapon, which is part of why Swansea makes sure to hold on to it.

I believe Swansea doesn't have much faith in being found. He knows their cargo isn't very important, and the company doesn't care about them as they've been fired. He might also just realize that based on the amount of time it would be hard to even have a ship find them before they perish. He instead tries to have a good time by drinking while making sure the crew doesn't kill each other over the cryopod.

Three months in, Jimmy catches Swansea and Anya talking, and it seems like they've both confided in each other. Anya about her pregnancy and Swansea about the pod or at least his expectations of being found. Perhaps he promises to let her use the pod to save two lives (if it works that way), if they agree to hide its existence together, or maybe they agree to save Daisuke.

Swansea seems to have given up on being rescued, and is focused on making the end of their lives as safe and comfortable as possible WHILE getting as drunk as he can. There is a possibility that if they fully ran out of food, he'd let someone know about the pod to have a better chance of escaping. The most likely options being either Daisuke whom he believes got screwed by being added to the Tulpar crew, or Anya who is pregnant and a woman. He doesn't have any delusions about Jimmy accepting either of those options and such doesn't present him any of them.

When their crewmates die, Swansea tells Jimmy to use the tank, but then decides to kill him instead. He either figures out that because of Anya's pregnancy, it's Jimmy's fault OR, just wants revenge for getting Daisuke killed. The sequence mostly references the death of Daisuke, but since it's from Jimmy's perspective Anya doesn't factor into the situation.

HOWEVER I've replayed the second half of the game and I'm starting to wonder if Swansea attacked Jimmy at all. The first sequence in the game of their conflict, we see Jimmy freaking out in the cockpit with Swansea trying to break in. He grabs the pipe to seal the door and ties it to the lock so no one can get in. He has an unknown item that makes his hand shake that we can assume is the gun. In a later sequence, after Swansea says he can get in the pod, he gets attacked in medical after getting the gun. Then you have the dream sequence fight in Jimmy's delusion of a graveyard with Swansea sneaking up on him to axe him to death. Swansea gives his final speech to Jimmy, which I read as being genuine (although maybe it's just Jimmy's way of rationalizing killing him) tied to a chair in Utility with the same rope from the cockpit and he is shot in the head twice.

[azullumi]

alhaitham — academic rivals ☆彡

summary — the relationship between you two are merely rivals in the akademiya or so you probably thought.

pairing — alhaitham/gender-neutral reader

tags — fluff (kinda), the trope enemies to lovers but academic rivals instead; headcanons

word count — 902

a/n — i haven't wrote for him after a long time (that long time was 3 days ago)

being a renowned scholar of the akademiya and being on par to the famous scribe really does bring a lot of things in your life. both negative and positive events to your everyday occurrence.

"are you reading?"

"it's amazing how you have eyes but never see the use of them."

you don't know which one's personality is at fault here but one thing is for sure, if alhaitham wasn't as frank and rational—to the point that some of his actions and words are simply just unacceptable to your moral concepts— as he is, you would be getting along with him just fine.

you also don't know if it's due to your clashing beliefs and ideas that you two just couldn't get along. or is it really just that or he just refuses to do so? eitherways, he still irks you off in multiple ways. even when it's just the sound of his breathing.

the two of you compete against each other in terms of being the best among you, as such your relationship is treated as something simply born and made by a competition, an unnatural way to form a connection with another but that's just how it is.

''are you now starting to realize that you like me after all?"

"i've learnt to endure and bear with your presence."

sarcasms, creative remarks as comebacks to one another's argument, teasing and joking words that leads to banters and bickering, and many more. you'll probably only get along with him only when the world ends. it was obvious even from a stranger's perspective that you were not on good terms with him.

but despite that, there was never a time that you two have touched on a sensitive subject while arguing or have you two said anything personal and mean that it crossed the line. it's just some useless and close-to-nothing banters that always occur—to which it has become part of your daily routine.

however, the fact that you two work really well when it comes to projects and research is something that can't be denied. even when there are countless arguments being shared because of differences in opinion, you two still end up getting the work done flawlessly.

although you could still recall vividly as clear skies the memory of when a student once said how you're only able to attain such a high academic standing and image due to you often being paired by a great scholar like alhaitham—also the man you refuse to be near to, and that all credits for the projects and research papers you have published all goes to him. if you were even given the chance, you would have chosen someone else as your pair but you don't.

this is probably part of the reason why you have a certain yet unexplained dislikeness for him. his existence basically shadows over yours.

it feels horrible having all of your hard work and effort being disregarded but hearing such words are just something common and expected so you ought to ignore it not until you hear a familiar voice speak up.

"are people like you really bound to judge and speak about things you have no knowledge of? shouldn't you focus on finishing your research papers instead of gossiping and talking about other people's lives?"

"you don't know (name) or anything that they do. i have seen how they work so hard to attain their goal and put everything that they can just to do so. witnessing you bad-mouth them while you're at that state doesn't make you look better but rather a fool."

you could immediately tell that it was him, the said man who, from the other students' perspective, deserves all the credit for every project.

he wasn't as bad as you thought and maybe for once, just this moment, you're thankful and grateful to him. but this raises the question, why would he even care to do that? he's most likely the type of person to just walk pass and just let them fools talk bad about others before reporting their conduct to the office.

honestly, this isn't the first time he has done such a thing. in moments more than one, he would often show that he cares for you as a partner (academic) and as something that is more than strangers but less than friends, occasionally speaking up for you when you can't, being cautious and keeping you safe, knowing the foods you can't eat and avoiding from ordering it when he would take you out for a meal just to discuss about your progress in the part of the project/research, and many more.

you suppose it's only an act of courtesy and him being a gentleman though isn't it too much? you just refuse to overthink it and not put any meaning behind his actions. simply just reasoning it that alhaitham is a human that have a heart behind that demeanor of his.

"why do you even care? i don't understand you sometimes. you act like you don't like me then the next you do those things that keeps me up at night."

"when have i ever said that i don't like you? you have a great mind, (name), think."

the only thing you know the two of you share is the relationship of being rivals and probably only just that. 

— navigation | masterlist

[creepypasta-darling]

Creepypasta Mental Illness Headcanons

MASSIVE TW: TALKS OF MENTAL ILLNESS, SELF HARM, AND UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS. PLEASE CONTINUE WITH CAUTION, OR IF YOU ARE NOT IN A GOOD HEADSPACE, PLEASE IGNORE.

Tim/Masky

Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Schizophrenia, Substance Depenency Disorder

I've said this before, and I will say this again: Tim is a whole different person from Masky. Tim is someone who I believe is more fearful and is prone to being sheepish until he blows up in anger. Masky on the other hand is a Protector, who shields them from pain and takes most of the blows. Tim has reason to fight for his freedom from Slender, and has even gone to great lengths to hide his identity from people to protect them against The Operator. Masky believes that in order to keep them safe, she must do what Slender says. She takes great pride in being part of the top 3 and being someone to rely on. She also takes pride in caring for the mansion and the people around her.

They both must have a pattern, or else everything and everyone they know will be on the verge of death. That is what happened in Marble Hornets, that is what happened in their childhood, that is what will happen now. This is also why they are addicted to Marijuana and prescription medication. However, it is for different reasons. Tim is addicted to prescription medication due to never wanting The Operator to have control over his life again. Masky is addicted to Marijuana due to the anger issues she feels deep inside, and has found that is the only way for her to think rationally.

P.S. ALL PROXIES HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. THAT IS THE DIAGNOSIS BUT REALLY IT'S SLENDER SICKNESS.

Brian/Hoodie

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), Schizophrenia, Social Anxiety Disorder, Insomnia, Amnesia

Much like Tim/Masky, Brain/Hoodie has to have a pattern so no one will die. This is also why he started the ToTheArk channel during Marble Hornets, to warn them before it was too late due to Jay. He takes great pride in being anonymous, it's almost like he's playing God. He can control who will live, and who will die just by his routine. Obviously, there's more to it. But not in his mind. Never in his mind.

He also has a lot of social anxiety, due to Marble Hornets. This gives him ample sleepless nights where he has nightmares of his past. He can't remember them when he wakes up, but it destroys him inside. He has no memory of his childhood due to it as well. When the Slender Sickness took over his mind, he lost a lot of memories. The only person in his life he remembers vividly is Tim. Everyone else he feels is part of a simulation, they are there but they have no personality. He can't understand why he can't form connections with others. He just knows they're out to get him.

P.S. ALL PROXIES HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. THAT IS THE DIAGNOSIS BUT REALLY IT'S SLENDER SICKNESS.

Kate the Chaser

Social Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), Schizophrenia, Insomnia, Amnesia

The things that keep Kate up at night from her past is haunting. She remembers bits and pieces, but most importantly her sister and the screams of the people she held dear. The windows, the doors, everything. She must check them all night long. She keeps herself in the dark so she can no longer feel the pain. She keeps herself secluded because of all of it, doing the same routine so no one else suffers how she did.

This leads to her taking longer to complete missions, forgetting people close to her, and suffering a lot of trauma because of it. To the point she sometimes forgets who she is at all. All she knows is that if Slender gets too close to others, she will be at fault. To her, it's all her fault. She can't separate herself from the monster in her mind, the monster under the bed, and even the monster in the forest. Although like Tim she has run multiple times to live a normal life, it all becomes ruined. She'd rather protect the world than try to do things for herself. She can't handle the pressure, and has a lot of self injurious scars to show it. She'd never say it though. She can't.

P.S. ALL PROXIES HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. THAT IS THE DIAGNOSIS BUT REALLY IT'S SLENDER SICKNESS.

Rouge

Kleptomania, Schizophrenia, Prolonged Grief Disorder (PGD), Insomnia, Amnesia

She is in a constant state of panic and grief, she has lost so many children and she has suffered in ways that no one should. Due to this, she keeps her distance, and suffers from serious self injury and dark thoughts. Even though she doesn't realize it. She doesn't even know she does anything of the sort. She'll wake up to bloody sheets and people crying, but has no idea why. The dark thoughts just merge with her own, she can't even remember when they started. People try to help her, but she doesn't even realize she needs help.

Due to being in the woods, she has grown a hoarding mentality. She takes things from convince stores, grocery, even things she doesn't really want or need. The idea of getting caught is so foreign to her that she just never notices the people yelling at her to put it back. It even got to a point where cabin mates were locking their things and hiding it in ditches. She just thinks of how she can survive, and how she wants to live normally. Keeping these things will give her a joy for a little while, and even though it's short lived, she'd rather that then suffering anymore.

P.S. ALL PROXIES HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. THAT IS THE DIAGNOSIS BUT REALLY IT'S SLENDER SICKNESS.

Nurse Ann

Antisocial Personailty Disorder (ASPD), Insomnia, Amnesia, Kleptomania, Schizophrenia

This girl is as standoff-ish as they come, often getting into fights with other housemates or simply having a cold demeanor. As a child she had conduct issues, which seemed to go away in her teens, only to return after her passing in her 20s. She had struggled with making genuine emotional ties with people, and even sought to make friendships more like partnerships due to the extent of her conduct issues. When she had fallen in love with the doctor at the local hospital she worked at, it was the first time she had even let someone into her life at that point. She had even removed her family from her life. But the doctor wasn't as good as he seemed, and how she is just as standoffish as before.

Like with Rouge, she has a hoarding mentality. She feels as if she has to take and take and take in order to survive due to her rapid decay of her body. She mostly takes first aid supplies and sewing needles and thread. Sometimes though she'll take things just to do something nice for herself.

P.S. ALL PROXIES HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. THAT IS THE DIAGNOSIS BUT REALLY IT'S SLENDER SICKNESS.

Observer

Kleptomania, Antisocial Personailty Disorder (ASPD), Insomnia, Amnesia, Schizophrenia

I feel like this guy has the mind of 10 Einsteins. He's extremely calculated and has analyzed every situation in his head before it happens. Because of this, he doesn't really get along with a lot of people, but can convince them he does. It's all an act, he plays the part well, and he'll have you thinking how he does soon enough. He's very good at persuasion and will weave the conversation into ways he wants very easily. It's how he survived for this long, even before the events of TribeTwelve.

This is also why he gets away with a lot of shit. He steals quite often, and although part of him feels bad, he always thinks if it was really a problem people would catch him. He's so delusional he doesn't know people catch him all the time and just take it back. He struggles a lot with sleep, always has, ever since he was young. It causes him to have moments during the day where he legit just passes the hell out. Straight up. He'll faint and be gone for a couple hours only to come back and act like nothing has happened.

P.S. ALL PROXIES HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. THAT IS THE DIAGNOSIS BUT REALLY IT'S SLENDER SICKNESS.

Kevin

Schizophrenia, Insomnia, Amnesia, Trichotillomania, Dysthymia, Anxiety Disorder

Poor Kevin. All he wanted to do was go to school, and now he's stuck in this Slender mess. He tries so hard to keep the little memories he has, but due to the Slender sickness it just escapes him. He can remember only his childhood, but the memories of his friends and older past fades so quickly.. He never remembers what he was doing or how he ended up here.

He just knows when he sleeps he's asleep for what feels like minutes, and when he's awake it feels like months. It makes him tear his hair out and picks his skin due to the stress. He struggles with body dismorphia and image issues due to the excessive picking and plucking. He does, however, try to get better. Even if it's while fighting the monster that has entered him.

P.S. ALL PROXIES HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. THAT IS THE DIAGNOSIS BUT REALLY IT'S SLENDER SICKNESS.

HABIT

Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), Insomnia, Amnesia, Dysthymia, Hypersexuality, Schizophrenia

This guy is so disoriented and so in love with himself, everyone else is so stupid and merely a vessel for him to manipulate, use, and destroy. It's scratch your back you scratch mine, but in a much more sinister way. It's more like you scratch my back I run my claws against yours until you bleed. Doesn't mean he can't be compassionate. Sometimes a little too much. When he loves, he adores, but when he hates, he loathes. If you catch him in a good moment you can see he honestly does care and tries to help, even if he knows the outcome won't be in your favor. Honestly, he's doing them a service if you think about it.

Everyone should praise him for it. Everyone should worship him as much as he worships himself. He's the only one with the cure to your ache. He's the only one with the answers. What do you mean he doesn't find satisfaction in humans? Sure he does. When it involves him dominating them in any way he can. Take that as you will. But he has so much darkness hidden behind the whimsical, behind how cruel he can be he sees himself in every victim, every love, every hate. He sees himself. He hates that and that's why he does it in the first place. He has a bad "habit" of picking his skin when he possesses someone for too long. It makes him itch thinking of the past and he hates that it gets to him so much. He's like a child, huge anger and no outlet. He doesn't even know why it hurts him so bad.

P.S. ALL PROXIES HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. THAT IS THE DIAGNOSIS BUT REALLY IT'S SLENDER SICKNESS.

Evan

Bipolar Disorder I, Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Schizophrenia, Insomnia, Amnesia

He has no idea what's going on. One minute he's extremely there, in the moment, watching everything around him. He feels great, everything's great, he's with his friends and they are great. But then he looses his consciousness. All of a sudden he's watching through someone else's eyes, watching everything burn and fall apart. He's watching him hurt those he loves. He forgets what it's like not feel this bad. He doesn't remember his childhood or even the previous week. He feels so much guilt and shame, he isolates for what feels like months.

He's so caught up in staying away, he doesn't even see that he is growing angrier, and angrier, and angrier. He loses sleep over just the thought of everyone he's ever fought for, only to be left alone. When he finally returns, it's almost as if he's a new person. He never lets his anger out towards others, and it's all internal. The anger turns into grief. Grief over all he's lost due to his own outbursts. He's always been like this, but every time he feels so hurt and so alone. But everyone can see it. He is not okay. Until he is. And everything is great again.

P.S. ALL PROXIES HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. THAT IS THE DIAGNOSIS BUT REALLY IT'S SLENDER SICKNESS.

Firebrand/Noah

Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Schizophrenia, Prolonged Grief Disorder (PGD), Insomnia

Some days he can't handle the pain. It's like there's a gnawing ache inside of him, he just wants it all to end, he wants this to be different. He misses Milo with such a heavy heart, it's almost maddening. He can't let go, that's the only person who understood him. He's the only person who stood up for him. The pictures, the letters, the voicemails. It's almost like he's there. Noah never feels like it'll go away. Grief lasts for lifetimes, and in every one of his nightmares he just sees the blood, the screaming, the anguish. he could have done more. He could have protected him. He could have understood. He can't let go of that.

It's such an overwhelming feeling, that it feels like it becomes permanent. He wakes up and barely goes to the restroom, he barely eats through the day, hell, before all of this stuff with Observer and Habit, Kevin was taking care of him most of the time. At least making sure he was alive. Noah occasionally has a moment where he doesn't dwell on it, and those days are like heaven. He can brush his teeth, he can watch TV, he can get his life together. But it's only for a little while before those thoughts creep back in again.

P.S. ALL PROXIES HAVE SCHIZOPHRENIA. THAT IS THE DIAGNOSIS BUT REALLY IT'S SLENDER SICKNESS.

Eyeless Jack

Antisocial Personailty Disorder (ASPD), Social Anxiety Disorder, Binge Eating Disorder (BED), Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Major Depressive Disorder (MDD)

Let's face it, before Jack even became a demon he had trauma up the ass. He was riddled with anxiety since he was a child and grew to hate people. He was often bullied due to his appearance and race and he never quite got a grip on his emotions from it, choosing to believe that people aren't worth the effort to care for. He can pretend he likes them, but in all honesty, he just doesn't care. His childhood was full of fighting parents and the pressure to be the perfect Asian American child. The American Dream was pushed so far down his throat, he could barely think. He learned being quiet and separating his emotions was easier than dealing with the pressure. He was never that bad, right? I mean, if he never did drugs, or drank, or went to these elaborate parties and just did what people wanted and did what he wanted after, it was fine. He wasn't damaged. Well. At least he thought so.

After the ritual, he became so hungry. He was plagued with hunger pains, and he would eat until he couldn't breathe. After eating the cult he tried to just live off animals and garbage from the forest that outskirted the school. He was too embarrassed to go back home. He looked like a monster. When he finally gave into his cannibalistic cravings, however, he would gorge himself sick. He felt so guilty for it. He never wanted this. Every time he eats he feels like he's watching the people who hurt him, imagining it was their organs instead of the person he's eating. It got so bad that he started to try to fast, to try to get rid of the thoughts. He tried exercising until he could barely walk. But it only made it so much worse.

Jeff

Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Insomnia, Substance Depenency Disorder, Alcohol Use Disorder, Trichotillomania, Hypersexuality

Jeff is the type of guy who doesn't believe what he did was wrong, no, he did them all a favor. He's saving them from the pain of life. He's giving them a new start. They should be grateful that the last thing they see is someone as handsome as him. He's the only one who is good enough. He's good enough, right? He'll make you see he's good enough. He's the only one who can make you feel anything, pain or pleasure, and you have no reason to deny it.

What's hidden underneath though is a sad, sad man. After what happened at his parents house, he lost control of himself. For a while he was delusional, went on what seemed like an endless killing spree, stealing, stalking, doing anything he could to escape what he had done. But then one night the feelings from when he was a kid came back. He couldn't sleep. He could barely move, he was crying all the time. He was drinking until blackout, and started heavily using heroin. He would look in old mirrors and just see someone hideous. He tried to fix it. He tried to fix his hair, but ended up tearing it out. He goes back and forth between these two facades often of himself, almost in a trance.

BEN

Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), Kleptomania, Trichotillomania

BEN was just a kid when he died, and he didn't really know anything about the world. The only thing he knew was that it was boring. Unfortunately, he would end up acting up in school because of it. He couldn't sit still, he has racing thoughts, and he would take and do things just because he thought about it. This didn't really sit well in the system, and he jumped from one school to the next often. Eventually, he had to be homeschooled, where everything took a turn for the worse.

When the abuse started happening, BEN tried to outrun it. He tried to leave the house on multiple occasions, but was caught by neighbors just trying to help out and his family who knew he's run to the arcade. He would steal cars and figured out how to hack gas station pumps to get credit cards and gas to try to run. He started to dissociate a lot, becoming almost paralyzed by it, pulling his eyebrow hairs and his eyelashes until they were bare. This unfortunately carried on into his afterlife as well.

Jane

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), Schizophrenia, Prolonged Grief Disorder (PGD), Insomnia, Dermatillomania

Before Jeff had done what he did to her, Jane is very meticulous about her life. She woke up at 7 am, she made breakfast for her family, she'd walk to school and made sure not to step on cracks, she did her homework by 8 pm and went to bed at 10 pm. This was her whole life, she never changed.

That is until Jeff did what he did. She became obsessing over her locks on her doors and windows, and her routine became more strict. Her body refused to sleep until everything was secure, but it was always never enough. She started to hear voices and see shadows in the corners of her eyes, telling her she had to start all over or else he would get her. She started feeling bugs on her skin, and would pick at thr skin to get rid of the feeling. Eventually, her whole life revolved around Jeff and what Jeff had done. She had so say, no free will, And that's why she hates him so. He ruin her appearance. He ruined her family. He ruined her mind. She can't rest until she knows he's six feet under. She can't be free until then. But even then, was she ever free?

Nina

Bipolar Disorder II, Schizophrenia, Insomnia, Trichotillomania, Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Hypersexuality

Nina whole life had always been a rollercoaster. When she was a child, she was diagnosed with Schizophrenia, which created a ripple in her family. She became the sole caregiver to her brother, and they were tied from the hip. Which she could say the same about her parents, though. They stayed together, but they couldn't agree on what was best for Nina. Eventually, they gave up entirely on the other, and in turn their children. This made Nina hide her feelings a lot, and she ended up taking a particular kind eye towards serial killers and mass murderers, seeing them as a way out. She started picking her hair and messing with her features to better suit one of her idols, Jeff the Killer.

When she was 14 she was diagnosed with Bipolar, which just made things worse. Her already paranoid outlook became more protective of her brother, in turn almost making her the parent. She would get into physical fights, never taking blame, which passed to her brother. They would bounce off of each others emotions often, causing a greater rip in the household. She would go from extremely angry, depressed and sadistic for weeks on end to kind and nurturing, which prompted the diagnosis. When she was 18, She started to idolize killers more and more, until she would stay up reading their stories and watching court cases until it was the only thing she could think about. She began stabbing her pillow, imagining how they must have felt. It was almost orgasmic, and she started plotting for her own story soon. Well, until things didn't go to plan.

Liu/Sully

Bipolar Disorder I, Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), Insomnia, Substance Depenency Disorder

Liu already had mental illness before Jeff had killed their family. Liu was 9 when he was diagnosed with OCD and Bipolar, often getting angry and acting out at home due to his family dynamic. His parents were always catering to Liu, trying to calm him down and make him better, but he never wanted that. He just wanted Jeff. He was the only person who ever understood Liu. They often would stay up late at night, talking about their dreams. Jeff even told Liu he would get him out of here, and he would live with Jeff, and all of the problems they'd face wouldn't matter. Liu believed that.

Until Jeff tried to kill him. It was a night that Liu had gone to bed early, which was out of his routine. Due to the trauma that Jeff caused, Liu gets flashbacks often of Jeff on top of him, stabbing pains and blurry vision. That's when Sully came around. He's a Protector alter Liu had. When Liu started to get flashbacks Sully would come out and act normal, act kind and generous, until they were in a safe space. However, it wasn't as safe as Liu hoped. Sully often indulged in Marijuana and cocaine, and refused to take meds for Liu's mental illness. This caused Liu to become addicted as well, which distorted his thinking tremendously.

Jason the Toymaker

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Kleptomania, Prolonged Grief Disorder (PGD), Hypersexuality, Substance Depenency Disorder

It's no secret that Jason has BPD and Kleptomania. Anyone who came in contact with the guy came to learn he has a tendency to "borrow" things from people he particularly likes. He also gets physically violent when called on his behavior, and has a very hard time distinguishing grey areas in people's actions. It's all bad or all good, never an in-between. He has very poor image of himself despite his efforts to appear flawless, and tends to self injurious behaviors because of it. It heals very quickly, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have to do patch jobs from time to time.

Because of Amelia, he grieves in very odd ways, and for very extended periods of time. Despite moving from victim to victim hastily, he keeps every one he has turned into a doll. He tries to make them to be the perfect friends, and even pretends they banter with him and have their own mind. People have tried to help him disconnect from his make believe reality, and he has tried therapy before. He doesn't feel like it works, however, and had gotten an addiction to Benzos and cocaine because of it. He is an energy vampire, and finds himself at parties and social gatherings a lot, feeding off the energy. He's tried harder drugs before, and drinks quite often, but in his words, "it's not the same as just swallowing a pill and having your world be better for a few minutes."

Candy Pop

Binge Eating Disorder (BED), Bipolar Disorder II, Prolonged Grief Disorder (PGD), Insomnia, Night Terrors, Hypersexuality

Candy Pop is honestly a dire situation, that people just don't know how to react to. There are two separate souls fighting every day all the time to be the front mask. Night Terrors is his own demon, and has his problems on his own that nobody really knows. The end of. Candy Pop, however, used to be so fun loving and happy, before all this mess. He still has heightened areas of manic episodes, which is more like his true self, but then he has periods of complete meltdown that makes it really hard for people to like him. This, along with the fact that he has years upon years of torture and guilt within him, makes for no reason for him not to have his own night terrors and Insomnia when he can sleep.

The guilt and shame also comes out in weird ways, in him having many sexual partners but only really craving his beloved who passed away, eating until he physically gets ill for days, and progressing to self injurious behavior and activities makes up his free time most of the time. The people who see him suffer are only those closest to him, and try everything in their power to make sure he's distracted. But they have their own problems, and when he needs to take off steam, he'll find a way. It's terrifying how he has become his own inner monster, in a sense.

Bloody Painter

Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), Amnesia, Hypersexuality, Social Anxiety Disorder

Due to excessive bullying in his younger years, Helen never really learned that people could not be jerks. Early on, even before the massacre, he kind of only interacted with people if it meant something was in it for him. In fact, he did this even outside of school. His parents never knew, but he would meet up with strangers to take care of his business. It gave him a sense of self worth and esteem.

However, outside of these interactions, he was very quiet, lonely, and isolated. He never felt like he could talk to anyone about how he felt, and although he persevered, he still has issues with trusting people and letting them in. His depression from isolation comes in rages, where after he gets out his frustration, he feels peace again. After the massacre, He had lost all memory of what life was like before the massacre, not even remembering his own last name. He has yet to remember.

Judge Angels

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Dysthymia, Social Anxiety Disorder

Dina had a lot of trauma growing up in a house where no one truly listened nor was able to understand Dina. Constantly being isolated from other kids and being kept on a leash, being told that she would be ridiculed and mocked for her appearance, has made her dislike the thought of people entirely. Mix that with her father's physical and verbal abuse did not help the situation, either.

When her mother passed away, Dina had lost the only person who had genuinely tried to help. She didn't just lose her mother, but her only friend as well. She had a deep hatred towards men specifically, and it takes a long time for her to see the good in people. Having frequent panic attacks over eyes on her and always feeling like the center of attention, she also feels quite isolated and empty. She has very strong rages that are extremely violent and easily turn to disaster. She also has an addiction towards self injury, and picks at her skin, especially around the nape of her neck and her hips. It was so bad, in fact, when she had met Helen, he had to patch up her left hip, because the skin was hanging by a shred.

Clockwork

Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD), Bipolar Disorder I, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Major Depressive Disorder (MDD)

Natalie is not someone to mess with, and she makes sure it's known. She was diagnosed with the majority of her illness as a teen and has been on meds galore. But nothing really seemed to help calm her nerves enough to take the edge off. Everything Natalie does is due to fight or flight and extremely routine. She's been fighting for her life for years, and when she finally got free from that fear of running out of time, she snapped. Hard. Before, if she had flashbacks, she would isolate herself for weeks at a time, doing nothing but homework and drawing. Now, she makes it everyone's problem, often telling people in graphic detail of her emotions not with calm words, but with violent threats.

However, this doesn't mean she's all fighter. You can often catch Natalie sitting by herself. If you can catch her in the right moment, she is somber, often lost, like a little girl waiting for her parents to be home. If she cries in front of you, it means you are the closest thing to a friend she has ever had. And if she actually talks about the abuse, she'll tell you how she wants out of the life she is living and wants to return to a normal life, but she doesn't want to go to jail. If anyone has any chance of getting better, it's Natalie. She has years of therapy under her belt and has gone through so much trauma that she has faced on her own will to get better, that if anyone put their mind to it and actually got out successfully, it would be her.

Laughing Jack

Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Dysthymia, Hypersexuality, Anxiety Disorder

Unfortunately Jack has dealt with traumatizing situations in his early use, and has never gotten help for it because, well, he's an entity. So of course he is riddled with anxiety. He listened to abuse in a box for years, getting abandoned from the person he was made to be with. This causes him to have very violent anger outbursts that sometimes prevent him from being let into the mansion. This is part of the reason he has dual housing.

Also it's probably a shocker to most when they learn of his Hypersexuality, but Jack was in a home full of sexual activity and abuse. It had gotten to a point where when he's super anxious or having bad flashbacks he'll pick his hair, but not in the places people would expect. Jack is a toy, sure, but an anatomically correct one at that. He has a tendency to pluck his pubic hairs and hairs on his armpits, which is an ode to Issac. (Issac had done this in his time alive, away from Jack, but the more distorted Issac got the more distorted Jack got. Jack ended up with a lot of traits he can't remember where they started from due to this.)

Julius The Dressmaker

Anorexia Nervosa, Substance Depenency Disorder, Alcohol Use Disorder, Bipolar Disorder II, Antisocial Personailty Disorder (ASPD)

Julius has had enough of people, in all honesty. He's found how to manipulate people's perception of him into positivity, although in all honesty his demeanor is cold and standoffish. When he's having episodes however he's very energetic, almost as if he's floating on clouds. All his past partners get extremely freaked out by it, especially with the mix of substances he uses. His moods are always 100%, and he often has violent tendencies.

At one point they thought he had a conduct disorder as a child due to the inappropriate interactions people had with him. He's either extremely violent or flattering, and goes between praising you to degrading you in seconds. He's extremely harsh on himself as well, going from loving how he looks to thinking how absolutely revolting he is. He has always hated how he looked, and had texture issues, and ends up forcing himself to be extremely malnourished and fragile. Although he won't admit it, he is considerably more weak in terms of strength, and if it wasn't for him being a demon, most people would have possibility to overcome him.

Killian

Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD), Orthorexia Nervosa, Substance Depenency Disorder, Alcohol Use Disorder, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Hypersexuality

Killian has had a rough childhood, to say the least. He often has flashbacks and night terrors of abuse he can barely remember, due to blocking them out unintentionally in his teen years. Because of his childhood, he not only began to hang with wrong people early on, but began to have distorted self image. Everyone has always loved his looks, so he uses his looks as a way to prey on people. Constantly having sex and disregarding people for his bad behavior, he believes although he is disrespectful and disgusting, he is the closest thing to God, and people should praise him for being who he is.

Also the mix of substances and alcohol makes this perception worse. He believes he's so much better than others, but then he thinks he is the embodiment of evil. Although these thoughts consume him regularly, he tries to push them down, again, unintentionally. It comes out in ways that are strange to him. Everyone loves his looks, but he must have a structured schedule to stay looking good. Forcing strange food rules and refusing to eat outside of them, usually ending up forcing his partners to follow them as well or degrading them when they eat something outside of his own rules. Although he is much healthier than his peers, deep down he's hurting from things he doesn't know he's hurting from.

[zeroducks-2]

Trick or treat IT'S STILL HALLOWEEN HERE OK

Happy still Halloween 😂 here's over but oh well!

You get a bit of the thing I've been writing today (I needed to get the mutual noncon out of my system apparently)

ask game here!

Barry would have never imagined to feel raw, unfettered relief at seeing the face of an enemy, no matter how familiar. Although total isolation and the knowledge that his loved ones were close - so much so Barry could swear he heard some of them shouting each other’s names - while unable to do anything about it, had been near maddening. That and the now near constant fits of cramps which forced him tightly curled up on his spot, fisting and pulling at the thin sheets that had been left in the otherwise bare room.

Eobard doesn’t look much better than him with that feverish flush on his cheeks and his arms twitching in hard tremors, but at least he manages to muster enough strength to push himself up on his feet, and then next to Barry. 

The closeness allows him to pick up Avery’s smell, then Bart’s, then other familiar undertones he can’t immediately identify. And rationally he knows this isn’t Eobard’s fault but he glares anyway, a growl forming in the pitch of his chest at the idea that someone dared touching his pups. 

Not that he would have the strength to push the other off or even just wiggle away, and so he doesn’t fight when Eobard grabs him by the shoulders, mutters an apology and then presses nose and mouth into the crook of Barry’s neck. His body radiates warmth, and after another shudder Barry has to actively prevent himself from purring. 

«Are you hurt…?» He croaks, his voice not really cooperating after not having been used for way too long. It’s easy to tell that Thawne is in pain. Most cramps and a migraine and every light being like a knife to his eyes, but he might have been harmed in other ways. 

Barry sees him shake his head and isn’t sure he trusts it. Relief swept away a good part of his concern though, as having a body pressed to his own eases his discomfort and wards off the chill, but he can’t help another distressed rumble when he picks up more of his pack’s scents. 

 «Where are they?» He asks, and acknowledges to have mindlessly pulled the other speedster on his lap. «What did you do with my pack?»

«Nothing.» Eobard grunts, growing tense like talking was too much of an effort. «Not compatible.»

[natasha-in-space]

Hello Mia, if this is not too much to ask, I would like to request something from you... Maybe a comfort fic from GE Saeran? I've been chasing the deadlines for my countless assignments and presentations all month to the point of overworking myself to the ground. I know I can be such an overachiever but I also know that I really have to work on this tendency of not knowing when to stop and rest.

I actually collapsed two weeks ago since I had to do presentation everyday so... I suppose my body kinda give in to the extreme fatigue. It was partly my fault for trying to stay up all night and not taking care of myself properly for the past days :')) Although, I was a bit upset and anxious since I lost 10% of my overall grade because I had to skip the last presentation of that week (the same day I collapsed and sleep the whole day to recover).

I suppose Saeran would understand and relate completely to my situation. Or maybe even scold me gently for doing that to myself when we both know that I wouldn't allow him (or Ray) to do that. Anyways, I hope you take your time and been doing well so far! Much love ❤️

"My love... I thought we agreed that you would take it easy today."

Saeran's voice is gentle and sweet, like honey, even as he lets out a small disapproving sigh at the sight of you hunched over your desk, your eyes glued onto your monitor screen. Closing the door behind him, he places a tray of freshly prepared mid-afternoon snacks at your bedside table. The room is quickly filled with the enticing aroma of still warm baked pastries and peach tea.

The rumbling coming from your stomach quickly reminds you that you haven't eaten a thing since early morning.

You feel like a child that just got caught in the act of stealing from the cookie jar. Of course you knew that you should be resting... The fact that you collapsed from exhaustion the day earlier was more than enough proof of your desperate need to let your body relax and recover. Yet, while your body was utterly worn out, your mind was far too restless for you to remain still in your bed like you were supposed to. It was far too eager to push you to make sure that you were perfect. That you didn't miss out on any progress in your wasted time of sleep. Even though, rationally, you understood that sleep was anything but wasteful.

You feel a warm hand resting itself on top of your head, starting to gently caress your hair in a way that is so relaxing, you almost want to close your eyes and fall asleep right then and there. Saeran's touch was always too soothing for your own good. It was far too easy to just forget about everything in the world and melt into his warmth. You tried to hold back on that, though, shaking your head and rubbing your tired eyes with a somewhat sleepy groan.

Wouldn't want to pass out again.

"I know, I know... I'm taking it easy, I promise. I just got to read through this part one more time to make sure it's perfect. I already lost so much time yesterday, and-"

"Y/N."

Saeran's voice becomes more determined, growing firmer, like a loving parent disciplining their child for playing outside in the cold for too long. He doesn't even need to say anything more for you to lower your head and sigh in defeat. You knew he was right, after all. What you were doing wasn't good for you. Of course, he was worried. If your roles were reversed, you would have done the same for him. In fact, that exact scenario happened more than you could count.

"...I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

Saeran hums softly, his hands now gently resting on your shoulders as he slowly and carefully starts to massage your aching muscles, easing the tension out of your tired body. His hands are so comforting that you can't help but sigh in content, leaning back into his touch. He leans down to murmur into your ear, his voice as soft as ever: "You are not being stupid, flower. You know how much I admire your hard work and dedication. There is nothing stupid about you putting your all into something. It makes me love you even more."

Gosh, does he have to praise you even now...? You almost feel like crying.

You are wondering if he will ever become truly angry or frustrated with you. Your hands are rubbing together as you gaze drifts between your work and your shaky fingers. You knew this shakiness was probably yet another proof of your body needing rest instead of even more work you were forcing yourself to go through. You tilt your head slightly in Saeran's direction, feeling his hair tickle your cheek. He smelled sweetly of peach, probably a result of him brewing that tea for you. "But...?"

"-But you also need to rest and take care if yourself for you to truly give it your all. I love seeing your eyes light up with joy when you get the results you wished for... And I love that determined and focused look on your face when you are working on something you want to do good at. I love hearing you talk to me about everything you are working on. I love seeing you enjoy yourself." He leans in to kiss your nose, which inadvertently makes you smile and giggle, even through your fatigue. He returns your smile with one of his own, before he continues, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. "But I don't love seeing you tired, anxious and upset. I was so worried for you... I wouldn't want anything like that to happen to you ever again."

Ah... He was worried, wasn't he?

You purse your lips together, feeling a small dull ache in your chest, making you quickly raise a hand to his cheek. With a slight shaky sigh, he immediately leans into your touch. He was so patient and caring with you throughout this whole ordeal... You didn’t even think that it must have scared or stressed him out to see you collapse like that. In a way, it looks like you both kept some things bottled up. It's almost funny, in a way.

But, mostly ironic.

"I'm sorry I worried you, Saeran... I should've been more careful. It must have been scary for you to see me like that..."

Saeran chuckles slightly and shakes his head. He seems both amused and touched by your apology, his eyes twinkling as he looks down at you. "This isn't about me, love. But, I'll take your words to heart. Thank you."

He takes hold of your hand that was resting on his cheek, nuzzling it, and placing a few light kisses down the side of your wrist. A display of affection that causes your heart to flutter with fondness for him.

He was far too sweet sometimes...

"I know what it's like to want to be perfect... How heavy it can feel to carry the weight of all these expectations on your shoulders. But, you're the one who taught me that I don't need to be perfect to be loved and worthy, my love. You taught me, that I am deserving of love simply for being born into this world. Nothing more. You freed me from those shackles of self-doubt I put myself in because of what I've been told my whole life. And I want to do the same for you. Whenever you feel like it's all too much, whenever it feels like you are about to be crushed under all the pressure and expectations that were put on you... Take a small moment to look up at the sky, and think of me. Think of how I'll love you in any form you take. Remember that I am always cheering for you, however far away from you I am. And that my heart is always there with you, wanting to envelop you in my tender love and care. So, treat yourself kindly. Like I would treat you."

[nejibaby]

of faults and chances

Pairing: Sano Manjiro / Mikey x Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Description: When the city is asleep and the underworld wreaks its havoc under the command of Mikey, you couldn’t help but think you’re the cause of his downfall.

warnings: spoilers; tw: blood

There’s a gnawing thought at the back of your mind ready to consume your rationality. It holds your sanity in a vice grip and it snickers when you try to run away from it. It whispers songs telling you that you are the cause of Sano Manjiro’s downfall and it resonates throughout your entire body.

Although it is a matter of point of view, you know for a fact that you are a key figure on his descent to the world of organized crime. Even if you genuinely had no intentions of letting him into this world, he still wound up here.

It’s his choice, you remind yourself.

But what if you could’ve said something to stop him? If you had tried harder, would this have not happened?

Perhaps.

Perhaps not.

What’s done is done. There’s no point in dwelling, you know that, but at the dead of the night, when the city is asleep and the underworld wreaks its havoc under the command of Mikey, you couldn’t help but mull over such thoughts.

Mikey should have never been yours in this lifetime. Maybe then Bonten’s Mikey would have never existed.

You’d trade your life in a heartbeat for a future where Mikey becomes a motorcycle racer.

Maybe if you haven’t met him, it would be attainable. Maybe if you haven’t fallen in love with him, and maybe if he wasn’t left alone with you, all this could just be a vivid nightmare. There would be no blood on his hands and no dirt on his name.

And you’ll be all alone. But that’s alright, you’d do anything for Mikey.

You realize now that it’s pathetic of you to think that Mikey will be your savior; that he will pull you out of the underground world, where you’re knees-deep into, thanks to your parents. You suppose in this world, there’s no way out except death.

The harsh reality is that you ended up dragging him down instead of him pulling you up. So in a way, you are at fault.

And now Mikey is just a shell of his former self, even when you take care of him more than your own.

He’s become cold, even to you. There’s no mirth, no joy, no appreciation in his eyes even as he praises you for a job well done at eliminating a lieutenant at an opposing organization. He dismisses you just as quickly as the words leave his mouth, as if you’re only a bother.

“Boss,” you croak.

He looks at you, emotionless. He doesn’t see you as an equal anymore, you note.

You break eye contact, opting to focus on the floor. You notice the blood stains on your shoes. There are splatters on parts of your pants as well. Then you realize your stained hands are shaking too.

You raise your hands and stare at them, and then you look back up at Mikey. “Boss,” you sob.

His eyes widen slightly in worry but it disappears as quickly as it came. This is probably the most emotion you’ve seen in him in so long.

You don’t know what to say or what to do. What you do know is that you’re aching terribly.

Before you know it, your hands move on their own: picking up your gun, unloading it, and dropping it on the floor. Next comes the multiple daggers and knives hidden around your body.

You’re slowly disarming yourself as tears stream down your face and all Mikey does is watch you. The room is dead silent aside from your occasional sniffling.

Physically, you feel lighter without the weapons but that does not ease your emotional turmoil.

Your knees buckle so you let yourself fall too.

Mikey doesn’t move.

“Manjiro,” you whimper. You hate how foreign his name feels on your tongue. You can’t remember the last time you called him by his name. Sanzu made sure he’s called Boss within Bonten.

“Manjiro, I’m sorry,” you weep. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You repeat the words over and over until it’s the only thing you hear, until the sound of Mikey’s footsteps are drowned out by your wails, and you’re met with him kneeling in front of you.

In that moment, you see Mikey for what he was in the past: your savior.

You wrap your arms around him and repeat your chant of apologies.

He doesn’t put his arms around you as he used to, but the mere fact that he lets you embrace him is a feat on its own. He has unknowingly deprived you of intimacy, and although this is probably bare minimum, you appreciate it.

But even then, the ache in your heart increases, so much so that it becomes harder to breathe. The last thing you remember while clutching your chest and leaning into him, is you saying, “I’m so sorry, Manjiro. I love you. I’m so sorry. I’m so tired,” before you faint.

By the time you regain consciousness, you’re tucked in Mikey’s bed. You’re no longer in your usual get-up as an Executive. There’s no blood in your hands anymore. There aren’t any traces of what had just transpired so it’s easy to assume that it was all just a bad nightmare.

Except for your puffy eyes and dry throat.

And the fact that you’re in Mikey’s room, a place where you haven’t been allowed into after his spiral into darkness.

You compose yourself before going back to the headquarters. You hold back another wave of tears. You square your shoulders, lift your chin up, and (try to) ignore the whispers of the monsters in your head.

You walk in with an authority worthy of an Executive, and you conceal whatever weakness you’ve just shown moments ago. Weakness is a defect in this world.

Mikey doesn’t fuss over you. He doesn’t address what had just happened and you’re left to push your disappointment away.

The world doesn’t shift. He doesn’t change and so do you. You carry out his orders without objection and go on solo missions.

Mikey will never admit it, but he gets jealous over the simplest of things when it comes to you so he makes sure he assigns you missions where you wouldn’t need to partner up with someone. When the situation calls for a partner, he makes sure it’s a short one.

Because he knows how easy it is to like you, to fall for you. And when — not if — you decide that your affection is better off with someone else, he knows you can have anyone you want. He fears you’ll find someone else, because he knows there are a lot of people who are infinitely better than him.

For now, he keeps you to himself, even when he doesn’t know how to treat you right. For now, he’s content that you stand by him. For now, he lets things be.

Change comes in the form of Hanagaki Takemichi. There are reports from four different divisions that he wants to come in contact with Mikey, and while he ends up being beaten down every time, he continues to try.

Mikey becomes a little bit listless because of this, until he decides to meet him once and for all. You’re there when it happens, and you remain there even when Mikey orders you to leave.

“No,” you stand your ground. “Although briefly, Takemitchy was my friend too. I’d like to hear what he has to say.”

You see the fire in Mikey’s eyes. You know very well the consequences of disobeying him, and you’re ready to face them later. For now, you want to hear from Takemichi.

So he talks — about the past and the present. There are things you don’t understand, but you listen. And when he says he’s determined to save Mikey, you see the latter pull out a gun.

Your body moves to block Takemichi just as Mikey pulls the trigger.

You do not have a deep relationship with Takemichi, he’s merely an acquaintance. If he dies, you probably wouldn’t mourn. But if he claims that Mikey did what he did to protect his friends, you couldn’t just allow Mikey to kill one of his closest friends. Not after how much he endured when he took this path.

So you take a bullet for Takemichi and you bleed. Both men are stunned, but it’s Takemichi who catches you as you fall.

He says something you can’t hear. Now that you think about it, the ringing in your ears is all you can make out.

You watch as Takemichi sobs and trembles, and you watch as Mikey stands unmoving.

Mikey shuts down. He’s prepared to lose Takemichi, but not you.

You can see it all.

“Go,” you try to tell Takemichi. “Go before his dark impulses take over.”

You can see the gears turning in his mind. Even if you aren’t close to him, you can tell he has a good heart. So even though it's you with a bullet in your body, you comfort him with a smile, “I’ll be fine. Go.”

He shakes his head and says something again, but you still can’t make out what he’s saying.

Your vision becomes blurry. You summon your last bout of energy to grab his shaking hands in an attempt to reassure him.

It surprises you when you feel a current flowing through your body at that small contact with Takemichi. And for some reason, you have a feeling that everything’s going to be alright.

a/n: didn’t know what came over me when i wrote this

feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

[lolabangtan]

04 | itching

President Kim comes down with a cold, and since it’s kind of your fault, you feel responsible for him. While you make sure he’s resting properly at home, Jimin leaves you in charge of the office.

index • previous • next

Word count: 6k

Warnings: be prepared to fucking MELT.

# fluff, awkward parent meeting, hurt/comfort, sick chapter, nursing sick!Tae, kinda rough nursing tho, feverish dreams, he endures the worst chicken soup ever, you can feel a certain je ne sais quoi in the air 😏, it’s like they’re being driven by some mystery force but still cringe at their own vulnerability, Jimin is very mysterious and kind of a dick.

Another shrieking, dry, mind-wrecking cough echoes across the office.

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes as you take the last sip of your coffee. When you put it back on the desk, perhaps a bit too harshly, it sounds as if you almost broke it into pieces. Luckily, the mug remains in one.

Then some loud sniffling.

With a groan, you get up and quickly walk down to the nearest break room just to get some warm water and come back.

You knock on the door. “Mr Kim? May I come in?”

“Yeah…”

Goodness, he looks miserable: puffy nose, swollen face, droopy eyelids, and a toilet paper roll that only could look unsuspicious in this specific situation.

Yes, your boss has come down with a cold, and he’s making it everybody’s problem.

But it’s your fault, or so you think – maybe Kim Taehyung would be all right If you had not forced him to walk you down to your bus stop and share an umbrella. It’s been a week since then, but who knows? He could have some sort of, uh, delayed constitution. And, as an additional benefit, you would’ve never started to feel so awkward around him. Which is way worse than a fucking, unimportant cold. You have to go to work on your period! Why are men such weak creatures?

“You’ve been coughing and sniffling all morning,” you say, crossing your arms. “Hadn’t you better go home?”

But Taehyung shakes his head, adamant and so fucking cute— “No, I… I can work. It’ll go aw—”

The loudest, most vociferous sneeze makes the windows tremble, cutting him off as he rushes to grab some toilet paper. You’ll pretend you didn’t see the shiny string of snot before he wipes his nose with an embarrassed blush.

“Just go home, sir.”

“I gotta finish reading these reports,” he murmurs. “It’d be unfair to waste someone’s time by ignoring their hard work… right?”

You look at him with a grimace of half-pity, half-disgust, pondering the idea of just kicking him out of the building and sending him home; he can’t work like this. What he needs is to rest, heal his cold, and come back even stronger. It’s a waste of time and energy for everyone else to drag a day of work just because he feels guilty for leaving.

“Okay, I’ll come back later to get the reports,” you say with an annoyed tone.

“Thank you…”

Even the way he speaks, weakly, dragging the words and losing focus, shows how tired and sick Kim Taehyung is. His pale skin, usually a healthy bronze, and reddened nose only confirm this.

But you get to the door and leave; there might be another way to do this. Obviously, you get what the president means, as you also hate to leave when there are loads of work left, but you’re also rational enough to understand that it usually backfires.

After that, the first part of the morning flies by; you make coffees – for yourself mostly – review documents, prepare meetings, discuss with some of your colleagues about your favourite series, and answer the phone. You can’t deny that you don’t really dislike the job, although you miss being in charge, especially when one of your bosses demonstrates their clear ineffectiveness in management. But nobody’s perfect, unfortunately.

Also, you are concerned about way too many things right now, starting with Kim Namjoon’s visit the other day.

Who’s to say you’ll have the same luck next time and won’t come back along with Seokjin? Then you will have completely screwed up – because maybe Namjoon is wise enough not to comment on the fact that the one sitting in your chair is not Jeon Miyeon, but Seokjin would never hide his surprise at seeing you here.

Understandable, of course, since you are ‘on the other side of the ocean’.

But why didn’t Kim Namjoon say anything? Did he do it, perhaps, to protect Miyeon? Maybe he figured out that your role here is to cover for her while she’s away and he kept it to himself.

Obviously, if you ever dropped by a dear one’s office expecting to see someone and found a completely different person— you don’t know how you would have reacted. By calling the police, most probably. This time you got the right end of the stick.

Although, again, aren’t you doing all of this actually to help her? It would be bad enough if, in addition to having to pretend to go on holiday and being forced away from your business, you now had to deal with a latent danger of imprisonment. Not unlikely, for now. You have to remain vigilant.

At the first opportunity, you escape to the bathroom and take out your phone to call Miyeon. It takes her a while to pick up, but you finally hear her voice.

“Yes?”

“Hi, darling,” you greet her.

“Hello! How’s my little criminal doing? Too much paperwork—? Oh, I forgot; you actually like that.”

“Very funny,” you say, rolling your eyes even though she can’t see you. “Uh, everything’s good, uh, but I was wondering… Has your father called recently?”

“Hm, he hasn’t— why? Is he okay?”

“Yeah! Just wanted to check…” You go silent for a second, and that’s all Miyeon needs to know to figure out something is off. “Well, I’m just a bit concerned about Kim Namjoon’s visit. My bet is that he’s covering for you, but you never know… I guess it’s just this whole thing making me anxious—”

Miyeon cuts you off. “Why would he be covering for me? Isn’t he Kim’s cousin?”

“I think he just doesn’t want to get your father in trouble.”

“Oh.” She sounds disappointed by your lie, and you fight a silly grin. “Yeah, that makes sense. Namjoon looks up to him a lot… So, Kim Taehyung isn’t acting weird since then, is he?”

“Nope. Totally normal. Just being his cute self.”

Damn it, it slipped off your tongue.

“Cute, huh?”

“Well, I mean, not—”

“Last time we talked he was a jerk and a dick.”

“Don’t you have a mud bath session to go to or something?” you bark. “Leave me alone.” Miyeon chirps a goodbye, and you hang up, regretting the call instantly. At least now you can be anxious about something else.

Maybe Miyeon thinks you have feelings for your boss? That would be totally wrong, but she is capable of believing something like that.

Well, whatever, you have other things in mind at the moment— like finding a way to send Kim Taehyung home, you think as another sneeze makes the walls tremble.

You could tell Park Jimin and try to persuade him to get off work.

Convinced, you get up from your desk, making sure there is not too much commotion in the office, and head for the lobby. From there it’s not long before you reach the wing where Park Jimin’s office is located; you greet his secretary and knock on the door.

“Come in.”

You walk in and close it behind you.

The room is dark, barely lit through the drawn blinds. There is a lamp lit in the corner, and the computer screen glows in the gloom, illuminating Mr Park’s face. His dark eyes are fixed on you, expressionless, eerie.

“Can I help you, Ms Shin?” he asks, and his voice takes you by surprise.

“Uh, yes…” At his gesture, you enter the room, leaving the door behind you. “I came to tell you that President Kim has got sick, and to ask if there is a way to get him to go home.”

“Have you tried… asking him if he wants to go home?”

For a moment, you forget your faux position in this room, the fact that you’re technically just a secretary, and frown; cheeky and snobby because of course, you’ve already contemplated that idea. Does he think you’re an idiot? He must do. Otherwise, he’s a fool and wants to come to blows with you, you know, pick up a fight.

You arch an eyebrow and let out a scoff. “Of course? But he refuses.”

“I see…” Jimin says, looking away. “Well, Ms Shin, then there’s nothing you can do about it. Bear with the sneezes as best as you can—”

“He’s just going to get worse.”

“Uh?”

“If Mr Kim stays and overworks himself, not only will the quality of his work deteriorate, but his health will worsen as well. It’s counterproductive,” you continue.

Park Jimin stares at you for a solid five seconds, completely silent and eery-looking.

“Are you always this… logical?” he suddenly asks.

His body is completely turned towards you now, giving you all his attention. You feel like until now, Park Jimin was just messing with you like a twisted sort of Cheshire cat, a mere amusement, but finally, he’s willing to mind your words.

“When there’s a need for it.”

A silence settles between the two of you, so you decide to thank him, albeit reluctantly, for his time and leave. His secretary bids you farewell with a sympathetic look, promising to buy you a coffee later. The rest of the walk back to your desk feels absurd, humiliating, and tedious, and you have this feeling that you’ve got nothing from it.

You have a missed call on your landline to Taehyung’s office. You look at the number and head for the door to let him know.

“Mr Kim—”

He’s already walking out when you stop before bumping into him. “Yes?”

“Where are you going?” you blurt out, stepping back so that the man can get out. He looks as sick as he did this morning. “Is everything all right? I don’t recall any meetings scheduled for—”

“My brother just called me and told me off for coming to work sick,” Taehyung explains with a stuffy nose.

You watch him put on his elegant coat; there was no need for him to explain why he was going home, actually. You’re just his secretary, you only need to know whether he’s going to need his car or write a memo to remember to get some medicines for him.

It’s peculiar, and kind of funny, how he can be the coldest and warmest person at the same time. Always so sharp and dashing, looking at everyone with a harsh eye, keeping quiet, maybe even not bothering to waste his breath. A thick shell protecting him from the outer world. But then he sometimes looks at you, and he speaks so softly, almost like a murmur, and his round cheeks frame his smile in a way that makes your heart skip a beat, and it feels like you’re looking at the most delicate creature the world has ever made.

“Ms Shin?”

You snap out of your thoughts. “Uh— yes, sir?”

“Thank you for worrying about me,” Taehyung says then, and you swear, he looks candid. “I mean— I know it’s kind of your job… Uh, just forget about it. I’ll be going now, I already sent for the car.”

“Don’t mention it,” you decide to reply with a smile just as tender and fix the shoulder of his coat.

The blush on his cheeks is most likely due to his cold, you think – there’s no reason why Kim Taehyung should be timid and demure in front of you. In fact, you don’t think he’s the kind of man to act like that, even if sometimes it feels like he is. He’s aloof, not coy, you think— he’s indifferent, not shy.

“Oh, I don’t want to keep you.” You step away to let him walk past you, and you say on his way out: “Get plenty of rest… and get well soon.”

You then watch him leave and head to the hall. There he meets Park Jimin. They push the button to get the lift when Jimin suddenly beckons you to come, and so you do, frowning in confusion.

“Yes?”

“I’ll be taking President Kim home, so… can I leave you in charge of the office while I get back?”

Oh, easy-peasy.

“Yes, of course,” you accept.

“Good, that’s a weight off my shoulders,” he thanks you. “Well, we better get going – Mrs Kim is going to force-feed you chicken soup when she gets back, and I don’t wanna be there when it happens.” You chuckle at his words, amused by the mental image of a burrito-wrapped Taehyung being fed against his will, and he sneers at his brother. “Have a good day.”

“See you on Monday!”

In charge of the office, huh? What could they possibly mean by that? Do you get to sit on the Big Girl chair and boss everyone around? Do you get to stick your nose into every single project and improve it with your outstanding mind? Oh, you have so many ideas—

Turns out that being in charge of the office just meant having to solve everyone’s problems.

Luckily, you love a good problem.

Your phone has been ringing non-stop from lunch to the very second the last person got up to go home; it’s nice to have your input so respected and valued. It’s good to be useful.

As always, you’re one of the last to leave the office. You say goodbye to the janitor and the secretaries at the entrance, swipe your badge and leave to head to the bus stop. It doesn’t take you longer than twenty minutes to get home, during which you also answer messages and work calls.

“Well, I do think President Kim should be the first to know,” you reply, closing the fridge door with your butt and opening a soda can. “Yeah, yeah, I totally get it— I know, I’m in— Jesus, just listen! I am in charge, but I do not have at all the authority to change from one project manager to another. You must get to Mr Kim, or your department chief— uh, yeah, I can call him, and so can you—”

After the beep, you look at the locked phone screen, totally shocked that she dared hang up on you.

“Bitch.”

You throw your phone on the bed and slump into the mattress right afterwards, eyes glued to the ceiling; that’s a problem – a problem that needs to be solved. Why are you feeling so wary of calling Kim Taehyung?

In a jiffy, you’re back on your feet and messing with the kitchenware, taking this and that, turning on the electric hob, pouring some water into a pot, and calling it a day.

You look at your soup with the eyes of a proud cook.

Yes, this will totally cover it. If you drop by his place with a bowl of bone broth, the perfect remedy for colds, it won’t look like you’re just coming to make him work. Besides, Taehyung was really ill, and you’re a bit worried; he won’t die, of course, but there’s a heavyweight in your chest that fills you with silly concern, making your belly flutter whenever you think about him.

Once you’re done, you grab your coat and go to your car, holding the warm plastic container in your hands, eyeing it with care. You’re not much of a cook yourself, so you wouldn’t want to trip and drop it, and have to make it all over again.

You hail a taxi once you stand on the street and tell the driver what the address is.

After about fifteen minutes, the taxi drives into the heart of the Hannam district and drops you at the door of a huge complex of luxury flats.

You pay under his curious gaze and thank him for the ride before heading inside; a friend of yours used to live here, but then she married and moved to her husband’s apartment. Maybe you could drop by and say hello, but Rose Apple wouldn’t like that, knowing how skittish she is about her privacy. At least the guard remembers your face, or so you find out when he nods at your ID as he lets you in.

After a few minutes, you manage to locate the Kim residence, wondering if Kim Taehyung actually lives with his family.

The loud ringing of the intercom makes you cringe.

“Hello?”

The camera turns around as it focuses on your face, and it fucking creeps you out.

“Uh, hello, this is—”

“O Y/N, isn’t it?” What? Who is this woman and how did she recognise you? “Don’t, I know this young lady— sorry, that was our housekeeper. I’ll open the gates, do come in!”

Without even telling what for? Jesus.

“Hm, thank you, madam.”

You walk into the pristine entrance hall and get on the lift, and soon enough, you’re stepping out into the living room; it’s modern and elegant, magazine-like, like your childhood home used to be. Clinical, lifeless, spotless, dignified.

An old woman, whom you quickly recognise as the housekeeper, greets you by the lift.

“Good evening, Miss O—”

“Please, just Y/N,” you rush to request with a shy gesture.

She nods. “Of course, Y/N-ssi— Mrs Kim would like to thank you for your visit and invite you to tea in the garden.”

“I’m, uh…” You take a look around as you follow her down the ample, radiant corridor. “I’m actually here to see Kim Taehyung? I brought him bone broth, a family recipe—” you murmur but quieten down as you notice the housekeeper’s confused look. “But, of course, I’d love to have some tea first.”

You’re led to a peaceful, traditional garden with a pond and a stone path. There’s a woman sitting quietly with a cup of tea in her hand, and she looks up at you as soon as you walk out into the garden.

“Oh, such a lovely surprise!” she says. “I wasn’t expecting you to visit, Ms O.”

“Actually—”

“How is your grandmother? Chairman O said you’d be out on holiday, for rest and relaxation and all that… How was Busan? It was Busan you went to, wasn’t it? – oh, please, take a seat— you see, I have a few relatives there, but it never is quite the right moment to pay them a visit.” Your phone suddenly rings in your purse, and you excuse yourself to take a look. “Is it work? Should I leave you alone?”

You shake your head with a polite smile. “Oh, it’s just—” The text is from your co-worker insisting that you make a choice. “Nothing important,” you say then, putting it back in. “I actually came to see—”

“Moooooom!”

A burrito-wrapped Kim Taehyung suddenly walks out into the garden, instantly shivering when the cold air sneaks into his pyjamas. His face is puffy, as well as his eyes and nose, and there’s a soft blush on his cheeks as he sniffles.

Then his eyes fall on you, and his entire demeanour changes.

Taehyung immediately looks away from you with one last sniff as he takes off the cover and folds it. “Mother, my health has improved significantly. I will be returning to the office shortly.”

“Aren’t you going to say hello? We have a visitor.”

“Ah, yes,” he murmurs. His hopes that you were a hallucination are broken. “Y/N-ssi, what are you… doing here?”

Mrs Kim merely rolls her eyes and beckons the housekeeper. The tea party soon is dismantled, and they both leave the two of you alone in the cold. You look away, suddenly taken over by an odd sense of embarrassment; you feel silly all of a sudden. You could have just sent him an email, there was no need for you to come all the way to his house.

“I brought you soup.”

He looks at you with a confused face, so you hand out the warm plastic bag to him; the plastic bowl is still hot on his palms, but Taehyung is still processing.

“I…” There it is, his customary blank face, but this time— the blush intensifies. “Thank you.”

You tilt your head. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Uh, yes, I think I’ll be back tomorrow,” Taehyung replies softly.

Silence takes over the two of you, and you take a look around, hugging your arms to fight the cold. He notices and yelps, “Sorry, I— should we go inside? You must be freezing out here. Uh— I’ll give this to Mrs Go.”

Shouldn’t he be concerned about his health first, though…? Rather than worrying about whether you feel cold, you think as you follow him into the house.

It makes you chuckle, somehow.

Taehyung leaves the bag on the kitchen counter and meets you in the ample living room; he catches you taking a look at some pictures, some even dating back to when he was a child. In one, he appears with another boy you think is Jimin, playing in the snow with folded arms and a grim face. Some with his parents, his younger siblings or friends, and some others where he does not appear. Decades of family history. And suddenly, you come across the image of Mr and Mrs Kim posing with your parents, and it makes your heart shrink.

“Y/N-ssi?”

You move away from the row of pictures and stand up. “Sorry, I was just looking.”

There are no comments from him, though; Taehyung is too busy staring at you in silence. You look away and suddenly remember why you’re actually here, so you shove your hand into your purse and take out the papers.

“Sir—? Actually, I came to see you about something else… I’m really sorry to bother you when you’re sick, but Mr Park left me in charge—”

“What?”

You shrug. “Uh, Park Jimin said I was in charge until you recovered, so Mr Lee called me and asked if it was possible—”

“I can’t believe it!” he grunts and takes out his phone. “He should’ve stayed since he was the one who insisted that I go home,” Taehyung continues, typing aggressively.

“I asked him to,” you cut him off with a guilty feeling in your chest. He stops typing and looks down at your hand on top of his. “You wouldn’t listen to me, so I asked Mr Park to persuade you to go home and rest. I don’t mind being in charge – I like it.”

Taehyung stifles a grin at the sound of you saying that you like being in charge, almost forgetting that his brother is a smartass and took advantage of the situation. Then you realise you’re still grasping his hand, and you jerk it away from him, mumbling an apology. You don’t know if his blush is due to the cold or something else.

“Tell him to email me, that’s not something—”

“Taetae! I’m leaving!”

The door opens, and Mrs Kim walks into the room as she puts on a pair of gloves.

“I see my son is in good hands,” the woman says. “Honestly, Taetae pretends to be carefree and easy, but he’s hardworking – sometimes even too much.”

“Mom, she’s not here to take care of me, don’t—”

“You better do everything Y/N-ssi does, huh?” his mother continues. “Since she was kind enough to drop by and bring her family broth. That’s a privilege, Taehyungie.”

You nod with a soft smile and bid her goodbye in the entrance hall as the housekeeper helps her into her sturdy winter coat. Taehyung murmurs a ‘goodbye’ next to you and turns around as soon as the door is shut closed.

“Taetae, huh?”

He gasps. “It’s a— it’s my nickname from when I was a child. Nobody calls me that anymore.”

“Really? That’s a shame,” you retort. “I think it’s cute.”

The silence in the room feels heavy on your shoulders as you look at each other. Taehyung is actually mortified at the mere idea that you might feel forced not only to stay but also to take care of your useless boss. The last thing he wants is to be a nuisance to you, he thinks as a coughing fit takes over him.

“You’re still too weak, Taehyung-ssi,” you say, putting your hand on his shoulder. “You’d better get back into bed.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, you can go home—”

But you take him by the shoulders with a big smile and exclaim, “It’s the least I could do for my boss. Now, go to bed! I’ll figure out how to heat up the broth, all right?”

Honestly, it’s not like you have anything else to do – you don’t really have a life outside your jobs, neither of them. They’ve taken away the good one, the one that makes you rich and privileged, so what else are you supposed to do? Go home and binge-watch a series just to get depressed on your uncomfy little bed while you devour a musty bag of crisps—? Not today.

As you watch Taehyung head back to his bedroom with the blanket folded around his arm and an unsure step, you finally relax; you would have never imagined that Mrs Kim would recognise you, but then again, it’s quite normal for any mother with a child of marriageable age to have complete control over the opposite gender population of his shared demographic. Your own grandmother knows the face of every single bachelor on the continent.

The microwave beeps, and you take the steaming bowl from inside.

You were lucky that things didn’t go wrong. Mrs Kim could very well have mentioned your real identity, or Kim Taehyung could have talked about work. That’s a weight off your chest, you guess.

“Fuck—!”

In a hurry, you leave the burning bowl on the worktop before it burns your fingers. You blow on them and turn on the cold water until the burning subsides, and then take the bowl away with a cloth. Now, where could be Kim Taehyung’s room? You didn’t think about that.

You’re too embarrassed to ask any of the staff, so you just wander around the house while the broth cools down.

After three restrooms, a pantry, and a cloakroom, you finally knock on a door and hear a weak ‘come in’. “It’s me,” you say, pressed against the door. “I— I can’t open by myself, could you—?”

Finally, the door opens.

“Sorry.”

Seeing you smile with the steamy bowl in your hands, Taehyung steps aside and lets you in. While you settle on a neat desk near his bed, he follows you closely and stands awkwardly by your side, waiting for you to say anything. He feels guilty enough that you’re wasting your free time taking care of him for some odd sense of responsibility of yours, and now he’s starting to feel guilty for enjoying your martyr-like company.

“Are you sure you don’t mind staying with me?”

You look up at him while setting the tray on the bedside table. “Uh, do you want me to leave?”

“No!” he rushes to say, and your stomach flutters. “No, I mean— I just don’t want you to feel forced to stay and look after your silly boss.”

You let out a chuckle.

“Believe me, sir, I wouldn’t be here if I—”

“Taehyung.” His voice makes you stop, almost making you drop the spoon as well. “Please, call me Taehyung, just Taehyung. If you don’t mind, of course,” he rushes to add at the sight of your wide-eyed bashfulness.

As soon as you’ve come around again, you nod slowly, murmuring that of course, you don’t mind calling him by his name. He can call you by yours as well, with a bit less formality if he wants. That’s all you say as you finish fixing the not-so-delicious-looking broth on the tray for him to put on his lap.

“Isn’t this awkward? For you, I mean,” Taehyung mumbles out of the blue.

You watch him get into bed. “What is?”

“I don’t know, seeing your boss in his pyjamas, seeing him stuffy, snotty. Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate it. It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about you being forced to just because my mother thought—”

“If you don’t feel comfortable with me here, just tell me,” you say. “But I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, and—” Maybe you’re just insisting too much on skirting the shore with indifferent formalities. Maybe that’s what’s making Kim Taehyung think he’s forcing you. So, you take a sit on the chair next to him and lean into him. “I’m very happy to look after you… Taehyung.���

He just stares at you, and you feel like an idiot for even speaking.

The thing is, you don’t notice the way Taehyung grips the edge of the blanket while his stomach flutters like crazy. You don’t notice him, but he feels the same kind of embarrassment towards himself for getting excited about such a silly thing.

But, then again, you’re very happy to take care of him, aren’t you? Didn’t you just say that?

“Smells good,” he blurts out, desperate to change the subject. “T-the broth, I mean— did you make it yourself?”

“It’s a family recipe,” you say.

Taehyung chuckles softly, almost tenderly, and then watches you raise the spoon on your way to feed him. His brain freezes immediately, arms fidgeting without a clue what to do – until you crack up a laugh.

“Come on, be a good boy and suck it up,” you insist.

He obediently sticks out his tongue and opens his mouth, and you have to fight the urge to rub your thighs together. As a result, you shove the spoon into his mouth.

“Fuck, sorry!” Taehyung keeps coughing with a grimace. “I’m sorry, Taehyung, really! Are you—”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he murmurs, still frowning in disgust.

You let out a relieved sigh and put the bowl aside to inspect the spilt broth on his pyjama shirt; the greasy liquid has stained its neck, advancing through the fabric. You click your tongue and grab the cloth to wipe it, but this only spreads the stain. You’re starting to panic when you feel him shake, and when you look up, you realise he’s laughing.

“I thought I’d hurt you,” you groan as you throw the cloth on the table. “Since you were making faces…”

“I’m okay.”

“Is it hot?”

His eyes soften. “A bit.”

You get up, but only to move the armchair closer to his bed. You blow on the next spoonful before feeding him the spoon this time. There is no need to comment on the fact that his arms work perfectly and that you’ve been spoon-feeding him by instinct.

“Thank you,” he murmurs before taking it into his mouth and swallowing.

Taehyung grimaces again when the strong, bitter flavour kicks his tastebuds but rushes to soften his face.

“Don’t pretend it’s good,” you tell him off with a genuinely amused chuckle, drawing away the spoon, “I know it’s disgusting. It’s supposed to be bad.”

With this new info, he finds it easier to finish the broth.

You chat about trifles for a while longer, telling him what’s been going on in the office while he’s been away, and discussing the big project that’s been on everyone’s mind lately. The launch is barely a week away and there is still a lot to do; especially now that everyone is coming to you for answers and guidance. Luckily, that is your major asset.

“You look sleepy,” you whisper. Taehyung is barely able to keep his eyes half-open. “Get some sleep, I’ll clear this up.”

You get up and start stacking the bowl with the chopsticks and the herd of empty glasses he has accumulated on the bedside table throughout the day. With it in your arms, you quietly leave his bedroom, meeting the housekeeper, who kindly takes it to the kitchen. Now, bored and with nothing to do – because watching Taehyung sleep seems to cross a line – you wander around the house.

The entrance door closes suddenly.

“Y/N-ssi?”

Park Jimin is standing in the middle of the living room as he walks in, dusting the hoarfrost off the sleeves of his thick coat. He’s just as surprised to see you there.

“You really are a stickler.” Jimin is the first to speak. “Did you come to talk about the project? I’ve already discussed it with—”

“I came to see how President Kim was doing.”

“Oh, I see…” he murmurs, still grinning. “How did you find him?”

“Better than this morning. He’s eaten and taken some medicine, and now he’s asleep. I was just stretching my legs,” you say, looking down at your feet. It does feel like you’ve run a marathon.

“Are you after his money?”

You turn around, quiet, as he takes off his scarf and crosses the room, giving you a side-eyed glance.

But the idea is so far-fetched that it doesn’t even offend you. “I actually prefer to make my own money, sir,” you reply.

“I know you’re not,” Jimin suddenly says as he stops right in front of you. For some reason, you don’t feel the need to fight him on this – since you’re pretty positive you don’t need any man’s cash. “Sorry if I upset you, I was just pulling your leg.”

“You care about him,” you say with a soft smile.

“He’s my brother.”

Jimin then looks at you in silence, and he tries to say something else, you can tell he does before the housekeeper bursts into the living room, wanting to know who has just arrived. Surprisingly, her body goes stiff as soon as Park Jimin enters her visual field, and the woman bows her head with little enthusiasm or even respect.

“Miss—”

“I’d better go now that Mr Park has arrived to look after Taehyung, I guess,” you blurt out, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I’m not here to stay,” Jimin says, glancing at the housekeeper. “Don’t worry, madam. I just popped in to drop off some snacks for Tae. I know Mrs Kim doesn’t like him to—”

“Mrs Kim knows how to take care of her son, sir.”

Jimin sighs and lowers his voice, “You don’t mind staying a bit longer, do you? I don’t like leaving Taehyung alone with her.” You nod at his words and take the plastic bag he hands you before wrapping his scarf back around his neck. “Thank you, Y/N-ssi.”

You watch Mrs Go carefully on Park Jimin’s way out; you notice her contracted, almost contemptuous face, and how she does not relax until the man disappears through the door.

By the time Taehyung is back in the waking world, his bedroom is awash in the amber light of dusk. Everything is utterly silent, even the city seen through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Then he notices a pressure on his left arm, and he finds you asleep over him, your body rising and falling quietly.

You’re a hard worker, he can totally give you that. Maybe he allowed you to overwork yourself.

You are a very peculiar woman, he is sure of that; diligent and intelligent, but also secretly sweet. Although he is somewhat embarrassed to talk about himself like this, his surroundings have always taught him that most people, especially attractive women, would approach him to take advantage of him, his money, or his position. But you, on the contrary— you’re too straightforward, too abrasive to be one of those people, aren’t you?

Maybe he went out of his mind thinking that you like him.

Ah, silly, silly Taehyung, soft-hearted Kim Taehyung, like his aunt used to say. Some things never change, no matter how hard he tries to become colder. He was a silly boy, and now he’s a silly man.

His hand moves on its own when a strand of your hair slides down your cheek, brushing it behind your ear with his thumb. Your skin feels warm.

You’re his secretary, for God’s sake. He can’t be that stupid – he can’t stoop that low.

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

“LOVE: undercover” is copyright ²⁰²³ Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

A second long lost parent appears and this is where I check out. I've made one small post before and I wasn't going to make another but for some reason I can't stop myself so here it is.

Go Ahead is good. I mean it is so good. I just finished episode 7. However, there's this pit in my stomach every time I watch it and honestly I don't really need that right now. To explain this I'm gonna get a bit personal so if you don't care just don't read.

My father left when I was in the womb. So that alone made this show right from the start perhaps too relatable for me. I'm a grown woman now and I don't think about it all that much to be honest but it's a whole other thing to have it shown back to me in series format.

Let me talk a little about episode 4.

This was when I knew I couldn't really binge this show. If I actually wanted to watched it all, I needed to take my time and choose wisely when to watch it.

See I have a half-sister, younger by about 12 years I think, from my father's side. I've met her exactly once, and after that, when I was in my twenties I got an email from my father saying his father had died and he made sure that in the same e-mail he made me feel like shit because apparently I didn't care enough about my sister to go see her or ask about her. Can you believe this shit? This was a man that left me and my mom, who I saw maybe 4 times total in my whole life and he had the audacity of putting that on me.

And the thing is, just like it's not Ling Xiao's sister fault, it's not my sister's fault. But to care about her would make my father happy and that was the last thing I wanted. So to see Ling Xiao have that exact same struggle was a lot.

Cause this is not an easy thing. This child has done nothing wrong. She's absolutely adorable, at first anyway, and wants a brother. Understandable. But it's what she represents. When Ling Xiao is helping her with homework, I can see him being completely split between wanting to be a good person, because he is, and not wanting to give his mother that satisfaction. This girl becomes an avatar and not just a little sister. There's a lot of reasons I've still haven't met my own sister, and really all the relatives from that side of the family, but one of the reasons I didn't at first, was that I didn't wanna project on her my issues with her father, because he was good to her. Why would I ruin that? And can I really separate things? At this age, probably, but at eighteen or in my twenties when I was first confronted with this? I'm not sure I could. I'm an expert in avoidance so we may never know. And that's what Ling Xiao is battling at that moment. He has a family, he has a sister, and although he understands on a rational level that this kid is his sister and he could have a relationship with her, there's just too much baggage to consider.

So after that I continued. I was only 4 episodes in and I honestly thought it was so well done. And I mean I did consider the possibility that this could happen again. God knows there's enough children abandoned in this show. But still I wanted to watch. The scene in episode 5 where Li Hai Chao is drunk and talking about his sons had me in tears. And those moments sustained me. Because this family is one of the most beautiful depicted families I think I ever watched. You can feel the love in every scene. I have my own 'brother' that I've known since I was 2 and that relationship got me through everything. So these 3 have my whole heart.

That is until the fried chicken in episode 7. Zi Qiu's father came back and I thought I was okay. Like it couldn't get any worse right? But then that whole scene with the guys eating the fried chicken and making absolutely stupid comments, and then Zi Qiu throwing it all on the floor and then... well pretty much everything in the episode after that...I was sobbing. It was a lot. I don't know about other people, but ever since I was a kid until I was in uni there was always a part of me that wondered. What if he came back? What if he had a good reason? Which is absolutely ridiculous cause eventually you realize there's actually no reason that would make up for everything. And Zi Qiu's father did come back and every time he opened his mouth, I wanted to scream at him.

The thing is. It's one thing to be over it, in this 'I don't really think about it a lot' kind of way. It's a whole other thing to willingly sign up for a reminder. Yeah I'm "over it" and I healed some but the scars are still there and I just don't need to be forced to look at them. I have enough triggers as it is and this is a long investment that I don't think I'm able to do right now.

I have absolutely no doubt this show holds up throughout, because this was a recommendation from @lurkingshan so I have no doubt about the quality. And maybe one day, when I feel more up to it I might try again but not right now. Maybe never. I'm not kind to myself enough as it is and it takes a lot for me to stop watching a show once I start. But this time I think I really can't do it. Maybe I will never watch it. And that's okay.

[svtellify]

the vacker legacy and their golden boy: fitz vacker

welcome to my new psychoanalyzing kotlc characters series! i thought i’d start with fitz because this particular reread of the series has brought up some interesting facets in his character i had previously overlooked. i’ll try to keep this objective (focusing on canon and what shannon has written) but i’ll also include some of my personal opinions about him in a separate section at the end, to keep my bias out of it.

(apologies for how long these are going to get, i’m having a little too much fun with them!)

now.

fitzroy avery vacker.

it’s no secret that sophie is infatuated with him from the moment she meets him. but that’s sophie. this is about fitz (and while i do mention the love triangle situation and how it develops, it’s not really about the ships - that deserves it’s own moment to shine.) it’s also important to remember that the series is from sophie’s perspective. this is an unreliable narrator, and it shows us fitz through sophie’s eyes, but also through the other character’s eyes. 

from the start, we’re told that fitz is the golden boy, the youngest telepath to manifest in the elven world and an incredibly powerful one at that. he grows up as a part of the vacker family, which is quite possibly the most powerful family in the lost cities, regardless of who the councillors are. all the elves grow up with money, but fitz grows up with status. what sets him apart from biana is how this status evolves between the two of them as the vacker legacy itself unravels.

in the first book, fitz is, from a writer’s standpoint, boring. he’s too perfect, never making mistakes, and busy being handsome and smart. obviously, given that the series is from sophie’s point of view, it makes sense that her gateway to the world remain untainted, regardless of her feelings for him. where we really start to get to know fitz is in exile. we get to see that perfection shatter entirely, and as a writer, it’s beautiful. fitz is ugly when he’s mad, shouting and screaming and blaming everyone but himself - outwardly. it’s no secret that he thinks highly of himself as the golden boy of the vacker family, and it’s hard to imagine that he doesn’t place some of the blame on himself for not being his dad’s first choice - or being able to fix alden. 

still, his anger is a remarkable facet of his personality - and just what makes him a great foil to keefe. we’ve all seen his temper flare up in exile, blaming sophie for the memory break going wrong.

fitz isn’t used to things going wrong - as i’ve mentioned in other posts, he’s a creature of perfection of habit. he’s used to being the best, and while he admires sophie’s powers and her strength, that doesn’t mean he necessarily knows how to accept it with grace. in other words, he’s never been second best. 

despite all the kids being young, fitz is the oldest of sophie’s group at the time. and his reaction shows his age, but not his maturity. he’s quick to blame and reacts without thinking - his anger brings out parts of him that he normally doesn’t reach for. fitz is always the one who prefers plans and thinking things out, and rarely do we see him like this. as a reader, it’s easy to hate him for this reaction - because we know that it’s not sophie’s fault. and the rational fitz is supposed to know that too - and he does.

kind of.

fitz’s greatest weakness as a character is that he doesn’t grow from this outburst. it’s not the first, and it’s not the last either. he’s a prideful guy - and with reason, he has a lot to be proud of. he’s not the best at apologizing either - it’s a cycle, where he gets mad, has an outburst, and apologizes with gifts to fix things. 

this wouldn’t be such a big deal, i mean all of us have different love languages, right? but there’s a constant in the people he gets mad at (neverseen and related villains regardless. that’s justified anger, even at alvar, although that’s a little more complicated) and it’s:

1. sophie 2. keefe 3. dex

starting from the last, but not the least, dex. even after it’s revealed in (i believe) lodestar, that dex used to eat alone in his alchemy sessions and the vackers weren’t necessarily the nicest to him, snobby over their status in the elven world etc., we see him get mad at dex for hesitating over the situation with alvar. it’s particularly interesting, considering we never really see fitz bond with dex, just dex tell sophie that he’s going to be nicer to the vackers now that he understands them better. this is apparent to be a little more one sided in their interactions, and it gets worse with the reveal that alvar has “forgotten” his memories. fitz is ready to condemn him, but when dex isn’t, it upsets him. 

remember, alvar was a part of the group that kidnapped and tortured sophie and dex. his supposed crush and his friend. and yet, both of the victims are feeling a little more kind hearted than fitz, who is alvar’s brother, yes, but it’s also been made clear that he isn’t as close to alvar as biana is. and yet.

as for keefe, his reasons for hating keefe make sense. and they don’t. if anything, he should be able to understand where keefe is coming from, especially since he *does* seem to be aware of keefe’s feelings for sophie. and despite the fact that they’re supposed to be best friends, he’s the least sympathetic to keefe’s situation. he’s betrayed, of course, they all are, and he’s angry about it, because of course he is. that’s normal - and it all adds up. where things get weird is when we realize that fitz doesn’t know that much about keefe. sophie’s the first one up to his house and keefe even says he doesn’t bring friends home, but it’s clear that he’s never talked about it with fitz.

fitz also has a tendency to not take keefe seriously, which the other characters all do an extent, but they know when to take him seriously and when to not. but fitz misses a lot of keefe’s growth and he still sees keefe as this weird kid that skipped a grade and likes to play pranks. keefe’s a shell of the person fitz knows at this point, and this is something they both need to come to terms with.

fitz’s pride comes into the picture here, manifesting as willful ignorance. he doesn’t know about keefe’s situation because, quite frankly? he didn’t want to sympathize with dex either. he’s a proud guy and this is GOOD characterization but. he kind of looks like a jerk.

in regards to sophie, these scenes sum up both how he feels about her and why i think they’re not good together:

i’ve talked a little about fitz and perfection and why he sees sophie as perfect even though it feels like he shouldn’t - and i don’t want to rehash all that so i’ll leave a little link to some thoughts i had regarding a scene in stellarlune, so you can check it out here. warning: stellarlune spoilers. the non spoiler version here: fitz craves perfection. his world was always perfect, and so was he. he’s the golden boy, after all, isn’t he?

what makes it so hard to have sympathy for him, after all i am an eldest daughter in an indian family with gifted kid burnout and a queer identity crisis - i know pressure lol it’s all i’ve ever known - is that he simply can not let go. he expects that painful level of perfection from himself, and it’s sad that they can’t have a little fun with the chandelier incident. he thinks that sophie would expect that kind of perfection from him, and for that reason, he thinks the problem is his levitating.

obviously lol, it’s not, but the boy  but he also expects that kind of perfection from others, and thinks that others ALSO want that perfection, as seen in how he handles the news that sophie has found out who her genetic mother is. 

more on THAT later. i doubt i’ll be able to stay objective on that scene so i’m saving it for the end of this little piece. (which is not as little as i was hoping, but if the people are interested, i could do a part two where i answer questions instead of just winging it!)

the second scene’s literally from the next page, but his pride and focus on perfection converge in on telepathy. sophie’s better than him, and there’s this undertone that this bothers him. he’s losing - and perfection always wins. here it is again - sophie’s ridiculously strong mental barriers. the point of trust. 

part of the reason the sophitz relationship was doomed to fail from the start is the emphasis fitz places on their abilities. but we’re cognates is a cry for the little boy who wants his place back as the best, and sophie is his return to greatness. it’s not a bad thing when done right, but fitz can’t see past that. his sense of trust is misconstrued and believes it means sharing everything, never mind the fact that sophie’s a part of a rebel organization with thoughts planted in her head that could change the world. literally. the black swan planted them there.

(is the humor helping? i feel like we’ve been bashing fitz a bit for his lack of growth and i would apologize because i do think he’s a valuable character and a well written one at that, but a bit unlikeable when it comes down to it.)

he’s had his trust broken and people have hidden things from him, but in the grand scheme of things, alvar’s betrayal is the one that cuts him the most deeply. keefe’s hurts, sure, but i could argue it’s for love triangle related reasons, more than their supposed friendship instead. (i will, actually. that’s a part of the love triangle analysis - and if you think this is long...) but nothing is really earth shattering in the sense that it deeply warps his sense of identity. he’s been hurt a lot, and he’s a traumatized kid, but he reacts with less maturity than his younger sister - and a lot of the other (younger) characters at times, which can be frustrating to see when the solution is right there.

and here we are. the most painful scene for me to read - and i haven’t even gotten around to rereading legacy yet. so. legacy spoilers ahead.

this is my warning - i’m not cutting fitz as much slack for these scenes even if i understand where he’s coming from. he’s wrong. it’s as simple as that, and i *will* explain why, but if you still believe sophie and fitz should have ended up together and plan on reminding me of that, i respect you, but please just stop reading here. 

for context, this is right after sophie finds out that oralie is her genetic mom and fitz is waiting at havenfield and tries to guess why she’s so upset. or that she’s figured out who her parents are. it becomes apparent shortly that even he doesn’t know which he’s doing.

“I get why you’re not ready to talk about it YET.”

this is supposed to be a small sentence to show how understanding he is, and it would be, if it wasn’t for the glaring YET at the end. he still expects sophie to talk about the subject sometime, and with him. but it’s weird that he’d be so relieved about it - considering how UPSET sophie is at the moment.

i tried, you guys, i really did. did i mention i was a hardcore sophitz shipper when i first started the series? only the first three books were out and i was in middle school minding my own business and even got through exile mad at fitz but hopeful. 

it was my second readthrough before neverseen dropped that had me, you know, rethinking things. and now, at 19 (yeah okay that makes me sound old but you know the books have been out for a while now so), it’s easy to see why. sophitz is every little kid’s dream come true. your crush likes you back and it’s all as magical as you thought it would be. except it isn’t, because we tend to only see the good in people we like. sokeefe is the slow burn because it takes time to build up to a relationship and it’s not going to how you think it will. 

I DIGRESS. this next excerpt is where i get really upset because fitz just does not listen. he pushes and he pushes and he pushes and god, you would think he’d get it. 

things he gets points for: not lashing out at her immediately and holding back on his anger

things he does not get points for: well, you’ve read the scene too, right?

sophie says it best: he. just. wasn’t. listening. 

and he also takes it upon himself to decide for her, who it is, even though sophie is clearly so very painfully obviously distressed. i mean, for anyone in his position, this is a major jerk move, but you know, it’s fitz, so he’s going to keep it perfect. 

and just when we think he’s finally understood, just as i was thinking he’s getting better at reading situations, he brings up the matchmaking thing. 

y’all, he acts like her not being matchmakable is a problem for both of them, even though it technically doesn’t affect her the way it affects him. she’s said it herself, that she has reservations about the whole thing, and it’s not even something she considers her future to be. 

“you don’t want it either - you know you don’t.”

they might both be telepaths, but fitz projects himself onto sophie a lot because of that. it gets worse after they become cognates because it’s an even greater honor and they’re doing it together. 

but they’re not the same. nowhere near it. it’s this scene that made me realize that fitz hasn’t been seeing sophie - he’s been seeing her potential and everything she could be, and that’s why he’s so fixated on the matchmaking lists. of course, matching with the most powerful elf the lost cities has ever known would restore his family name. it would be perfect, really, the most powerful elf and the second most powerful telepath the lost cities have ever known, matched together. 

i could say more about him claiming that sophie’s privacy is less important than her future, as if the two aren’t one in the same, but i’d like to overlook that and pretend it’s just his entitlement and his view of matchmaking as the be all end all creeping in and nothing more.

so.

that was a lie.

“I… don’t think you’ve thought this through. But of course you haven’t. It’s late. You’ve had a long day with lots of huge stuff. So… can we just agree to not make any decisions right now?”

the way he’s so sure she hasn’t thought this through is a double edged sword. not only does it show a kind of possessive edge over her, where he’s constantly speaking for her and OVER her, it also shows us how he’s convinced it’s still about him.

fitz. my buddy. my man. listen to the girl.

he doesn’t bother giving her reasoning a chance and steamrolls ahead with his own, which we know sophie hates anyone doing. i mean, look at her argument with keefe in nightfall - she’s not going to stand for people speaking over her or for her. she doesn’t want their protection.

what’s wrong with this scene is that fitz writes off everything sophie is feeling and saying, and the key word here is ruin.

ruin.

instead of being understanding to sophie’s upbringing and her unique situation, he can’t look past his own return of the king (a lotr reference, shannon would you be proud even if i’m slandering your character?) to elven society. in fact, it says a lot that he sees her as the vacker redemption arc even when sophie herself has mentioned - to us and to HIM - that she doesn’t feel like she fits in with elven society but only if she plays by his rules. 

(feels a little like objectification, ngl, and that doesn’t sit right with me.)

he’s blinded by his status, his pride, and perfection, and that, right there, is his biggest downfall.

not the conclusion gif i was looking for but y’all this is long enough let me keep this brief.

(HAHA YOU THOUGHT i am incapable of being brief)

fitz is an incredibly consistent character when we get down to it, and he’s not as complex-ified as the other characters are. well, not the way the other characters are. biana’s arc is about improving as a person and getting stronger, dex’s is about overcoming internalized prejudice, keefe’s is about chosen family and trauma, etc. fitz’s character arc is almost backwards - from a writing standpoint, this would be a really cool villain origin story. not that fitz is a villain, but over time, rather than his character becoming a better person, he starts out perfect until that perfection crumbles and we get to see the perfectionist that so desperately craves a return to his old normal, with everyone in this new normal. he’s trying so hard to fit into old clothes, outgrown shoes, and slip back into his old memories. 

as a love interest, no. i could go further about his “interest” in linh being driven by her same power, but i have no doubt that matchmaking would still be of great interest to him, so i’ll leave it at that.

I DONT HATE FITZ. not as a person, nor as a character. i don’t see him as the most likable, but you guys, he’s not a villain. he’s a teenage boy who needs to work through his issues before he gets anywhere near sophie, but he’s been through a lot so i’m trying to cut him some slack. he’s an incredible asset to the kotlc team and his need for a plan tends to keep them from getting themselves in more trouble. he’s helped sophie improve her abilities vastly, and indirectly, pushed her to become better. quite literally, the story would not exist without him. we need fitz as a character because he makes the story what it is, but as an individual i just think we wouldn’t get along.

-k

(any questions are appreciated and i would love to have some canon discourse! i know in the quest for more diversity in the kotlc characters, discourse tends towards that, understandably, but i do believe there’s a lot to be uncovered in canon and i would love to talk about it more! yes, more than 3,219+ words about it LOL)