#emotional dependency

[kiybby]

sfw. dark themes | obsessive devotion

credits : @ianrkives @anitalenia

homelander | Imagine being the only person whose opinion truly matters to him.

The world worships Homelander. Crowds chant his name, cameras flash, and entire cities breathe easier just knowing he’s watching from the sky. He smiles for them, waves for them, saves them.

But none of it ever feels like enough.

Not unless you’re watching.

Imagine standing in a quiet room high above the city, the distant hum of traffic far below. He’s just returned from another flawless rescue—cape still fluttering slightly, uniform untouched, eyes searching.

Not for danger.

For you.

“Did you see it?” he asks, voice carefully controlled, almost hopeful. “I stopped the plane from crashing. Not a single casualty.”

You hesitate. Maybe you’re tired. Maybe the words don’t come quickly enough. Maybe you simply don’t react the way he expects.

And the change in him is immediate.

The air grows heavy, charged with something unspoken. His smile falters, just for a second, before slipping away entirely. The city lights flicker across his face as disappointment settles in, fragile and terrifying in equal measure.

Imagine the most powerful man in the world stepping closer, uncertainty creeping into his posture.

Then, slowly, he kneels.

Not out of humility.

Out of reverence.

His gloved hands hover near you, as if afraid to touch without permission. When he finally looks up, his expression is raw—eyes shining with unshed tears, desperation barely contained beneath the surface.

“Tell me I’m good,” he whispers, voice trembling with need. “Please.”

The plea hangs in the air, fragile and suffocating.

Because you know he doesn’t just want praise—he needs it. Your approval is the axis on which his entire world spins. Without it, the adoration of millions means nothing.

Imagine him resting his forehead lightly against your hand, seeking comfort like something lost and wounded, despite the unimaginable power he holds.

“I’ll do anything to deserve it,” he murmurs. “Anything you want. Just… don’t look at me like I’ve failed.”

And in that moment, it becomes terrifyingly clear:

The world may belong to Homelander.

But Homelander belongs to you.

[dprvb]

Heya heya!!

Can we get obsessed!older!reader x lando? Please make it dark, and lando lowk loves it cuz he thinks it’s normal but it’s not which makes the reader even more crazy for him..?

Thank you!!

WRITTEN

Dark (obsession, emotional dependency, control)

hi! Idk if my writing met your satisfaction cause I feel like I want to write more and this feels short and something's missing but my fingers can't type properly💔

Mclaren Masterlist

Nothing About It Is Wrong

Lando Norris x gf!reader

Everyone else notices the control. Lando only notices how calm he feels when you’re near and how much he loves you. He calls it normal and maybe that's why it works.

__________________

Loving someone who lives their life in public is easy.

That’s what people think, anyway. They see access and mistake it for intimacy. They see photos, interviews, schedules released months in advance and assume that knowing about someone is the same as knowing them.

You learned the difference a long time ago.

Public lives are predictable. Patterns emerge quickly when someone is observed long enough. Habits sharpen into routines. Stress leaks through the cracks in rehearsed smiles. Weaknesses show themselves in the quiet between appearances, between performances, between breaths.

You didn’t fall in love with Lando Norris loudly.

You fell in love with him correctly.

You’re older than him. Established. Settled in ways he isn’t yet. You learned patience early, learned that wanting something too openly scares it away. You learned that if you want something to last, you watch first.

And you watched him for years.

Not as a fan. Never that. Fans are emotional. Sloppy. They want to be noticed. You wanted to understand.

By the time you became his girlfriend. Quietly, easily, slipping into place so naturally no one questioned it, you already knew him better than most people ever would. You knew his tells before he knew he had them. The way he eats less when expectations rise. The way his humour sharpens when he’s overwhelmed. The way he goes quiet when he’s about to spiral, not because he wants space, but because he doesn’t know how to ask for help.

You knew how much he needed someone steady.

Someone older.

Someone who could hold the weight of him without flinching.

You don’t remember a dramatic beginning. There was no sharp line between before and after, just comfort accumulating over time. Conversations that felt familiar too quickly. Touch that grounded him without startling. A presence that didn’t demand anything from him.

That’s why he trusted you so easily.

Sometimes, you know too much. You finish his sentences without thinking. Mention travel details he doesn’t remember telling you. Adjust your plans around his schedule before he’s even checked it.

He notices, occasionally. “You’re really good at remembering stuff” he says once, laughing.

You smile. “I pay attention.”

It doesn’t alarm him.

He’s used to people knowing too much. Used to attention bleeding into his life whether he wants it or not. Compared to that, you feel safe. Warm. Familiar. Like something solid he can lean on.

Normal.

You fit into his routine seamlessly. You remind him to eat. You tell him when he’s pushing himself too hard. You know when to distract him, when to let him talk, when to let him sleep.

He never asks how you know, he doesn’t need to. From Lando’s perspective, it feels like relief. He’s never had to explain himself to you. Never had to justify why something drains him or why something matters. You just know. And in a life where everyone wants something from him, that feels rare.

Comforting.

He tells people you’re grounding. “she keeps me sane” he jokes.

They laugh. You don’t.

At night, when he sleeps beside you unguarded, loose-limbed, trusting, you let yourself think freely. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, the way he reaches for you even in his sleep, fingers curling instinctively into your side.

He’s safest when he’s unaware.

You’ve always known that and you don’t feel guilty for how closely you watch him. Love, real love, requires vigilance. Someone has to notice when he’s slipping. Someone has to decide what’s best for him when he can’t.

That someone is you.

He murmurs your name in his sleep, soft and unthinking. You smile in the dark.

Lando thinks this is just what it feels like to be loved by someone older. Someone attentive. Someone who cares enough to notice everything.

He’s bad at noticing his limits, always has been. Pushes until his body forces him to stop, laughs it off like exhaustion is just another badge to wear. You watch it happen enough times that stepping in feels less like interference and more like responsibility.

So you start small. You tell him when to sleep.

Not directly, you phrase it as concern, as advice, as something he’ll thank you for later. You dim lights without asking. You steer conversations toward quiet. You say “Just lie down for a minute” and he does, because it’s easier than arguing and because you sound like you know better.

You do.

You adjust his eating next. You don’t ask what he wants, you simply bring what he needs. Protein when he’s irritable. Sugar when he’s flat, water always within reach. He jokes that you’re treating him like a child.

You smile and say nothing.

Soon, he stops making choices about those things altogether, he waits, lets you decide and lets you handle it.

It calms him.

That’s what he tells himself when he realises he hasn’t eaten unless you put something in front of him all day. When he notices he sleeps better when you tell him to. When the tightness in his chest eases the moment you say, “It’s okay. I’ve got it.”

The paddock hums the way it always does—alive, charged, restless.

You’re standing with Lando near the hospitality unit, one hand lightly hooked into his arm as he talks. He’s animated, smiling, words tumbling over each other the way they do when he’s relaxed. You watch his face instead of the people around him, catching the way his energy spikes, the way he forgets to breathe when he’s excited.

You step closer without thinking. Your fingers press into his forearm.

“Slow down” you murmur. “You’ll tire yourself out.”

“Oh...yeah,” he laughs, immediately lowering his voice. “Sorry.”

Behind you, a few drivers linger near the coffee station.

George tilts his head slightly, eyes following the movement of your hand. “She’s… very attentive” he says under his breath.

Oscar snorts quietly. “That’s one way to put it.”

“She always with him like that?” someone else asks.

“Every time I’ve seen him.” George replies. “Doesn’t really leave his side.”

Oscar watches Lando for a moment. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“No” George says. “That’s the part that’s weird.”

They fall quiet when you glance their way.

Not because you glare. You don’t.

A little later, you step away, bathroom, you tell Lando softly, thumb brushing his wrist as reassurance.

“I’ll be right here” he says, like it’s automatic.

The moment you’re gone, the space around him shifts.

Max takes the opening first, drifting over like it’s casual. “You good?” he asks.

Lando nods. “Yeah. Why?”

Max gestures vaguely. “People were talking.”

Lando blinks. “About what?”

Max hesitates, then commits. “About her.”

Lando’s expression tightens, not angry, just confused. “What about her?”

Max lowers his voice. “She manages a lot for you. Your schedule. Who you talk to. Seems… intense.”

Lando laughs softly. Not defensive. Almost fond. “She just cares” he says. “I don’t see the problem. I love it”

Max studies him. “You don’t ever feel…controlled?”

Lando thinks about it genuinely then shakes his head, smiling

“No, mate” he says. “It actually makes things easier. I don’t have to think as much.”

A beat. “That’s normal in a relationship, isn’t it?” Lando adds, smiling like he’s solved something.

Max doesn’t smile back.

“Ha..” he says instead.

You return then, slipping back into place beside Lando like you never left, he brightens instantly.

“There you are” he says. “I was telling Max you keep me sane.”

You smile politely. “Someone has to.”

Max’s eyes flick between you and Lando. He steps back. “Right. Good luck today.”

As he walks away, you feel Lando relax again.

By the garage, Andrea watches from a distance.

You hand Lando his helmet before he asks. Adjust the strap. Check it twice.

“You ready?” you ask.

“Yeah” he says, calm now. Focused. “Thanks.”

Zak clears his throat. “Everything alright, Lando?”

“Perfect” Lando replies easily.

You meet Zak's gaze. There’s nothing sharp in your expression, nothing aggressive, just certainty.

Zak nods slowly. “Okay then.”

Later, when the session’s over and the paddock begins to thin, Lando leans into you as you walk.

“People are weird” he says suddenly.

You hum. “How so?”

“I think some of them don’t get us” he says with a shrug. “But that’s fine. They don’t have to.”

He squeezes your hand. “I like how things are.”

You squeeze back.

From behind, someone murmurs, “He doesn’t even see it.”

Another voice replies, quieter, “That’s what is scary.”

Lando doesn’t hear them, he just walks beside you, smiling, trusting, letting you guide him through the noise.

Completely certain that this is what love is supposed to feel like.

Fin.

𑁍F1 taglist𑁍 @beathreat @miley009 @luvnixxi @hazeljisulatte @winkev1 @96mcobo @rosiel-leclerc04 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @justaf1girl @raizelchrysanderoctavius @yellow14m @wiggly-yrath @ccrickett-t @ilocuras24 ⋆｡˚𓍯

[glowettee]

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: when i tied my whole mood to a guy i barely know (embarrassing but real) :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

hi angels,

okay so i need to get something off my chest because i've been feeling like absolute garbage lately and i think i finally figured out why. i've been super inactive these past weeks because i've been so depressed. this is embarrassing but also probably relatable so here we go.

i've been completely obsessing over this guy (a coworker). like, embarrassingly so. we've talked maybe five times total, but somehow my entire day revolves around whether he's looked at my instagram story or if he smiled at me in the hallway or whatever other microscopic interaction i can overanalyze for hours.

and the worst part? i didn't even realize how much i was doing this until my mood started tanking. like, i'd wake up excited about my day, then see he hadn't came to work or to something, and suddenly everything felt pointless. my motivation for studying, for working on blog posts, for literally anything, it all became tied to whether this random guy was giving me attention.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆ how did i get here? ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

honestly? i think it started because i was feeling kind of lost and directionless, and having a crush gave me something to focus on. instead of dealing with my own uncertainty about the future, i could just daydream about this person who probably doesn't even know my middle name.

it's so much easier to fantasize about someone else making you feel complete than to actually do the work of figuring out what YOU want from life. crushes are like emotional procrastination, they give you all the feelings without any of the actual vulnerability or growth.

and let's be real... seeking male validation is something i've been doing for way longer than i want to admit. there's something about getting attention from guys that makes me feel worthy in a way that my own accomplishments somehow don't. which is messed up when i actually think about it.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆ the wake up call ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

the moment i realized how bad this had gotten was when i caught myself checking if he'd seen my story for literally the fifth time in an hour. and then i felt this wave of depression because he hadn't, and i was like… mindy. what the hell are you doing?

this person doesn't even know you. you've built up this entire fantasy relationship in your head with someone who is essentially a stranger. and you're letting that fantasy control your entire emotional state.

it hit me that i was basically using this crush as a drug. feeling sad? think about him. feeling unmotivated? imagine him being impressed by my success. feeling insecure? replay that one conversation where he laughed at my joke.

but drugs wear off. and when they do, you're left feeling worse than before.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆ getting my life back ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

so i'm trying to untangle myself from this mess, and here's what's actually helping:

unfollowing him on social media ~ not dramatically, just muting his stories so i'm not constantly checking. out of sight, out of mind.

redirecting that energy ~ every time i catch myself thinking about him, i try to do something for ME instead. answer an ask, work on an assignment, text a friend.

remembering who i was before this obsession ~ i had goals and interests and excitement about my life that had nothing to do with male attention. those things are still there.

getting real about what i'm actually looking for ~ am i looking for love? validation? distraction? once i name it, i can find healthier ways to get those needs met.

spending time with people who actually know me ~ friends/family who see my worth without me having to perform for it.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆ the hard truth ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

seeking male validation is such a trap because it puts your worth in someone else's hands. and the guys who are worth your time? they're not going to be impressed by you changing yourself to get their attention anyway.

i keep reminding myself, the right person will like me for who i actually am, not for the performance i put on to seem worthy of their attention.

and honestly? i need to be someone i'm proud of when i'm alone before i can be someone worth loving in a relationship.

this is messy and embarrassing but it's real. if you've been doing this too, you're not pathetic!!! you're just human. but we can do better. we deserve to feel excited about our lives for reasons that have nothing to do with whether some guy notices us.

anyway, that's where my head's at lately. working on remembering that i'm the main character of my own story, not a side character in someone else's 💕 (i have like 20 new asks in my inbox, i'm working on it!!)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

xoxo, mindy ♡

[skylervi]

DON' T MARRY ME

Geum Seong Je x O'c / Weak Hero Class 2

Synopsis: Geum SeongJe teleports fifteen years into the future, taking the place of his thirty-three-year-old self. His surprise doesn’t stem from waking up in a different era, but from the fact that he’s apparently married to a woman who is his complete opposite of him.

⚠️Warnings: Aggressive language, physical and psychological violence, sexual violence, toxic relationships/emotional dependency.

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CHAPTER ONE

A buzzing sound filled his head as soon as he opened his eyes and found himself dazzled by a white ceiling that blinded him for a moment. The silence was so thick that he could hear the irregular beating of his own heart. His body, motionless, was numb as if he had slept for years or awakened from anesthesia. Every muscle protested when he tried to move, and he let out a couple of curses as he felt a sharp pain in his lower back.

He reached out to the nightstand and fumbled until he found his glasses. His long-distance vision was always a curse without them, and the familiarity of the object gave him a false sense of control. It was then, as he adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, that it hit him.

He wasn't in his room.

He was in a completely unfamiliar place that didn't appear in any of his memories.

He tried to remember what the hell he had done the night before to end up there. First, he went to school. The classes were boring as hell, and the only interesting thing was facing off against a new kid who had the nerve to challenge him. Obviously, he won without breaking a sweat. Afterwards, he emptied that loser's pockets, and when the bell rang, he went to karaoke with his lackeys and a couple of girls looking for trouble. He smoked and drank rum like there was no tomorrow, while watching his “servants” play with some first-year kids.

Nothing out of the ordinary. The usual.

The sound of a door opening brought him back to reality with a jolt. His body tensed. He lifted his head in the direction of the sound and was stunned to see a woman. She was a pretty girl with fair skin that looked not sickly but luminous, with dark hair cut just above her neck and long bangs that softened her features. She had a serene, almost ethereal air about her.

SeongJe smiled arrogantly. Maybe the alcohol had finally done its job and he had ended up in bed with someone. And although he didn't remember seeing her at the party, he didn't dislike the idea.

He was usually more attracted to daring girls. But this one was different, she had a neat air, a restrained elegance, as if she came from a wealthy family or was older than him. He didn't regret his apparent choice, although he would love to remember how it had happened.

He sat up abruptly, throwing the sheets aside. It felt strange to be fully clothed; in movies, people always woke up naked. He watched as the girl approached with measured steps, looking at him unabashedly. He didn't like people looking at him directly, but with her he would make an exception.

“Well, beautiful... it was fun, but I have to go,” he said with an almost theatrical confidence, adjusting his jacket.

She looked at him confused.

“Excuse me?” she asked, frowning. And her voice, soft as velvet, contrasted with the tension that hung between them.

Even annoyed, she was perfect. SeongJe chuckled softly. Maybe he should ask for her number, but he dismissed the idea instantly. Getting involved with people only brought trouble, and this woman seemed dangerous for his heart.

“I'm sorry, I'm not interested in serious relationships,” he added with a crooked smile, without taking his eyes off her. Every second he spent looking at her, he cursed himself for not remembering anything.

She snorted dryly and shook her head, which confused him.

“First of all, we're not sleeping together,” she clarified seriously, a trace of annoyance in her voice. “So stop acting like you're the best lay of my life.”

Far from offending him, the phrase turned him on. There was fire in her. That energy that inevitably attracted him, the same edge he had learned to look for in fights. He regretted not having her in his arms, but the possibility was still there, and he never backed down from a challenge.

He moved slowly until he was inches away from her, close enough to smell the soft scent of her skin, a mixture of soap, flowers, and something indecipherable.

“If that's not the case, why was she in your bed?” he asked with a cheeky tone, but with genuine curiosity. “Who are you?”

She took a couple of steps back, visibly uncomfortable.

“You'd better sit down,” she ordered slowly, her tone heavy with weariness and caution.

The air changed. An invisible pressure filled the room, making it dense, almost suffocating. SeongJe tensed, feeling watched. Not because of her, but because of something bigger, more abstract, vibrating in the very walls of the place. Restless, his nerves on edge, he tried to head for the door, but she stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

“Seriously, you should sit down,” she repeated, this time in a firmer voice.

He frowned.

“I'm not going to sit down,” he spat with contained fury. “I don't even know who you are. So get out of my damn way, if you don't want to regret it.”

She didn't move. She stood firm, her eyes locked on his.

SeongJe felt his patience running out.

When he was close enough, he grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her away, but although she complained of pain, she didn't give in. He had never hit a woman, but he seriously considered it when she pushed him with unexpected force. He stepped back, surprised. For such a petite woman, she had a strength that didn't match her appearance.

“Aren't you going to cooperate?” he asked hoarsely.

She didn't have time to answer before he lunged forward, grabbing her wrist. In one swift movement, he bent down and hoisted her over his shoulder. Instinctively, she clung to his back.

“What the hell are you doing?!” she screamed in surprise as he squeezed her thighs to keep her still. “Put me down right now!”

SeongJe ignored her and turned the doorknob to leave, but a sudden burning sensation on his neck made him growl. She had scratched him. Filled with rage, he let go of her suddenly, dropping her to the floor.

She let out a whimper as she hit the floor, and although he felt a pang of concern, he dismissed it, remembering that she had been holding him back.

“I told you to get out of the way,” he said coldly, uncertainty growing inside him.

He tried to leave again, but she blocked the door once more. He didn't feel like fighting anymore, so he tried to climb over her.

He almost succeeded, if not for her words.

“You have nowhere to go anyway...at least, not at this time,” she whispered softly, her voice trembling.

Before he could reply, a sharp pain shot through his head. His legs gave way, and he fell to his knees on top of her, unable to support himself. His body shook as the world around him faded away. His chest collided with hers, their faces so close that their noses touched. She held him as best she could, devastated.

Why did her gaze seem so familiar?

His vision blurred, and suddenly a memory hit him with violence.

It was dawn. He was smoking his seventh cigarette in a dark alley, fed up with the noise from the karaoke bar. He was bored, fucking bored. Nothing entertained him anymore. Fighting was no longer difficult for him; people feared him too much to resist.

“This is all BaekJin's fault,” he repeated to himself.

If that idiot hadn't become obsessed with Baku and Eunjang High School, his little house of cards, the Union, wouldn't have collapsed, taking with it what little excitement he still had left.

But thinking about it was useless. BaekJin was dead.

He threw the cigarette butt on the ground and sighed wearily. Tired of the routine, he looked up at the sky for something to distract him. Then he saw it, a star, so bright that it outshone all the others. He found it curious, because he had never seen it before.

The light began to grow, not like the sun, but as if it were coming directly toward him. The bottles, bags, and trash in the alley began to float around him. His body also rose, light as a leaf.

He couldn't scream. He couldn't call for help. He was paralyzed by fear and disbelief.

The light reached him, and in an instant he saw thousands of images flash before his eyes, places, faces, memories he didn't recognize but felt strangely familiar. His body burned, and then darkness. The last thing he remembered was the starry sky, so close he could almost touch it.

Suddenly, he caught his breath, as if the world had given him a second chance. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the woman's shoulder, who held him in her arms with a worried expression. When he looked up, he found himself looking into the most expressive and yet saddest eyes he had ever seen in his life.

“Who are you?” he whispered, almost imploringly, sweat running down his forehead.

She looked at him tenderly, a spark of hope in her voice.

“I'm Kang Soo Yeon,” she said slowly, almost like a promise. “I'm...your wife.”

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SeongJe looked closely at the woman in front of him, then shifted his gaze to the television screen showing the news. In one corner of the screen, the time and date stood out with unsettling clarity. Then his eyes fell on the laptop on the table, where a security camera video was playing.

And so, in a constant cycle, his gaze went from the television to the computer and then to her. Over and over again, without rest, as if he needed to convince himself that this was real.

Fifteen years in the future.

He had teleported fifteen years into the future.

He wanted to believe it was a bad joke, but when he saw the date on the screen, he realized it probably wasn't. In the recording, SooYeon appeared in the living room with her apparent adult self, and for some reason they were arguing heatedly. Suddenly, a light came through the window, and both they and the furniture began to rise until the glow covered everything. In seconds, the light disappeared and SooYeon fell to the floor among the objects, but her adult version was no longer there. She had disappeared. Then the place began to shake and the light returned with such intensity that the camera was damaged and the video ended abruptly.

It was exactly the same thing that had happened to him. The light, the levitation, the emptiness. Even his body had flown through the air. It was absurd, but it had happened.

He kept her eyes fixed on a dead spot in the room. Even the furniture was still in disarray, proof that what he had seen was not an illusion.

“You can't see it in the video because the camera broke, but after the light went out, you appeared in the room...as if by magic,” SooYeon explained in a trembling voice. "I tried to call you...well, I tried to call your other self, but the line doesn't exist. And even though I contacted our mutual friends, no one knows where you are. It's as if...you've vanished from this reality."

SeongJe turned his head toward her, stunned, disturbed.

The woman looked just as confused, her eyes darting from side to side, trying to regain her composure.

“At first I thought it was just a coincidence that you looked so much like him...” she explained, trying in vain to reason with him. “But your face is not something I can easily forget.”

And as if she needed to confirm the impossible, she showed him the screen of her cell phone, where a picture of the two of them appeared. His hair was shorter and neater, his features more mature, hardened by the passage of time, but it was him. There was no doubt. Something inside her head told her so.

He cursed under his breath, desperate to find a logical explanation. He took out his cell phone and tried to call someone, anyone, but he had no signal. The screen froze, the apps closed on their own, the camera focused blurrily, and the messages appeared in an unreadable language. When the device began to overheat from use, he threw it on the floor in a rage, smashing it against the wood until it broke into pieces.

SooYeon looked at him, concerned by his reaction.

“Hey...” she tried to say, but didn't get to finish.

“Shut up,” SeongJe ordered her in an icy tone, his fists clenched with rage, holding back the urge to break everything. “Shut your mouth...and let me think.”

His voice was a restrained blade. However, he forgot that the woman in front of him was, apparently, his wife. And that she had probably already seen his worst sides.

“Shut up?” SooYeon repeated, frowning and her voice tense.

In one swift movement, she approached him and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him down until he was forced to lower his head. SeongJe looked at her in surprise; he wasn't used to anyone confronting him like that.

“Listen to me carefully,” she said firmly, looking him straight in the eye. “No one tells me to shut up, least of all someone like you. You'd better show some respect, because I'm older than you and we'll have to be together until we resolve this.”

For a few seconds, neither looked away. It was a silent battle; if one gave in, it meant surrender. And although SeongJe felt mesmerized by the strength of her gaze, he refused to lose.

Finally, SooYeon let go of him with a tired sigh and turned to walk away. But something inside SeongJe was triggered, a mixture of wounded pride and repressed desire. He lunged at her, grabbing her by the back of her neck. He didn't hurt her, but the force was enough to pull her toward him.

SooYeon let out a slight gasp of surprise at his violent impulse; she had forgotten how troublesome he was at that age. Her back collided with SeongJe's chest as he refused to let her go.

“I don't know what kind of relationship you had with me...” he said slowly, close to her ear, with an almost provocative arrogance. “I don't really care either. But for ‘my wife,’ you don't seem too concerned that I've disappeared.” He let out a dry laugh, trying to irritate her. “So listen to me carefully, you can't give me orders as if I belong to you. Although...I do find you charming.”

SooYeon didn't respond. Her body began to tremble slightly, and noticing this, SeongJe loosened his grip, thinking he had made her cry out of fear. But before he could react, she turned her body to the side, freeing her abdomen, and jabbed her elbow into his stomach. The blow was so accurate that SeongJe loosened his grip. He tried to back away, but SooYeon anticipated it and headbutted him directly in the face.

The boy fell to his knees, stunned, while she watched him with a mixture of weariness and exhaustion.

“Seriously, we're in this situation...and you decide to act like an idiot?” she said contemptuously before turning away. “You're pathetic.”

SeongJe watched her disappear down the hallway, moving with the serenity of someone accustomed to chaos. His chest burned with rage and a strange, unfamiliar emotion he couldn't quite figure out.

What kind of woman had he married?

............….◇...........….◇............….◇................◇.................

SooYeon moved the living room table back into place, arranging the small decorations on top that gave it a more homely feel. The “journey through time” had left its mark, not only on the surroundings, but also on her inner self. She let out a sigh and looked over at SeongJe, leaning against the wall, very close to the sliding door to the balcony. The night enveloped him completely as he smoked one of his last cigarettes, his gaze lost, as if his mind were far from that earthly plane.

SooYeon exhaled regretfully as she remembered their argument. She regretted acting that way; she was supposed to be the adult between them. She recognized that she had been harsh, even though his behavior was wrong, SeongJe had only reacted out of fear and confusion. And she, instead of comforting him or trying to calm him down, had insulted him and even hit him.

She watched him rub his nose, now redder than the rest of his skin from the headbutt she had given him. It was certainly not the best way to set boundaries.

They had gotten off to a terrible start because she had let herself be carried away by her negative emotions.

Wanting to make amends, she opened the refrigerator and took out some food and a soft drink. She walked over to the boy, who, hearing her approach, focused all his attention on her. With an apathetic expression, he watched her place the food on the coffee table and sit down on the carpet, arranging some pillows under her legs.

“Would you like something to eat?” she asked slowly, barely looking up.

SeongJe found it curious that just a few minutes ago she had treated him with such arrogance and now she was speaking to him with a certain shyness. Just out of curiosity, he accepted. He sat down in front of her and began to eat the pieces of kimbap she served him, along with a drink he had never seen before. He didn't even look at her, he just ate, while the television played in the background.

On the news, a woman had just won the presidential election, the second in South Korean history to do so.

Perhaps the world hadn't advanced as much as he thought.

As he slowly chewed the rice rolls, he felt SooYeon's constant gaze on him. It was intense, almost uncomfortable, as if watching him could answer all the questions swirling around in her mind. Finally, tired of feeling like an experiment, he returned her gaze.

“What the hell are you looking at me for?” he asked brusquely.

She flinched at his tone.

“If you want to ask something, go ahead,” he added, taking a sip of his drink.

SooYeon lowered her head, focusing her gaze on her untouched plate.

“How old are you?” she asked cautiously, her eyes darting back and forth between the plate and the boy.

A crooked smile appeared on SeongJe's face.

“Didn't you do the math?” he replied with a hint of irony, remembering that he had already mentioned what year he was from. “I'm seventeen.”

“And what day was it when you teleported?” SooYeon insisted, trying to calculate how long it had been since they had met.

SeongJe was about to give a sharp reply, but the seriousness in her expression made him hold back. He decided to be honest.

“Friday, April 3, 2025,” he replied, after remembering the exact date.

She nodded slowly. Her serious and dejected expression suggested that she was reflecting on something she preferred not to share.

“Why?” he asked, intrigued.

“No, nothing,” she replied without looking at him, finally putting a piece of kimbap in her mouth.

Her answer irritated him. He didn't like this inequality. She asked questions, he answered. However, when he wanted to know something, she avoided him. He snorted in annoyance and stood up abruptly, accidentally hitting the table.

SooYeon was startled by the sudden movement and watched him cautiously.

“Where's the bathroom?” he asked, his voice thick with annoyance.

“In my room. If you want, I can—”

She didn't finish her sentence, because SeongJe had already walked away into the hallway without listening to her. He was doing it on purpose to irritate her. Even so, deep down, she felt more distress than anger; she couldn't always guess what was going through his mind.

In the bathroom, he turned on the sink faucet and splashed water on his face forcefully, as if that could erase the bad memories of his life. She took a moment to look around the room. The floor was covered with brown ceramic tiles that looked like wood, decorated with lavender and pastel brown rugs in the shape of flowers. The walls were covered with rough-textured white tiles that imitated textured stones, and a square bathtub dominated the back of the bathroom. Everything was neat and modern, with a distinctly feminine touch. There was a pleasant scent of flowers and cotton, but something bothered him. If SooYeon lived with her adult self, why was there only one toothbrush, one towel, one bottle of liquid soap? There was no physical evidence that anyone else lived there.

He remembered the recording, the one where SooYeon argued with her older self before everything went haywire. There was something she wasn't telling him.

With more questions than answers, he left the bathroom. He didn't pay much attention to SooYeon's bedroom, which was just as immaculate as the rest of the apartment. When he returned to the living room, he found her arranging a blanket and some pillows on the sofa, as if she were preparing a makeshift bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked listlessly.

SooYeon turned around immediately and, for the first time, gave him a small smile that baffled him.

“I'm preparing the place where you're going to sleep,” she replied as she smoothed out the sheets. “It's getting late... aren't you sleepy?”

He looked at the clock on the wall, twelve o'clock. How long had he been unconscious? Even though he wanted to contradict her, she was right. Exhaustion was overcoming him, and the accumulated stress made him feel irritable. He waited for SooYeon to finish arranging everything, and when she stepped aside, he lay down on the sofa with his hands behind his head. He tried to relax by staring at the ceiling, but he could still feel her presence nearby. He turned his face and caught her looking at him.

SooYeon quickly turned around, ready to leave.

“Ah, good night,” she murmured before walking away. But just before entering the hallway, she turned around again. “I'm sorry I hit you. It wasn't the best way to deal with all this.”

Her voice sounded sincere, almost fragile. However, SeongJe did not respond. He preferred to remain silent, cutting the invisible thread of intimacy that SooYeon had tried to weave between them.

“Anyway, get some rest,” she finally said before turning off the hallway lights and disappearing.

He kept his gaze fixed on the glass door to the balcony, where the dark blue sky revealed a sea of stars. He remembered again the moment he was dragged into that unknown time, without understanding why. But one thing was clear to him: that woman knew more than she was saying. And he intended to find out, even if he had to do it the hard way.

[donmuertee]

🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵🤍🩵

[meow-meow-kitty-meow]

I will say that I support queer ships and love them but Kingdon is so cute and I identify a lot with mel, so it makes me very happy that an autistic and possibility asexual character can have a romantic relationship.

Maybe im being very silly but im in a bad spot and have been heavily relying on the pitt as a source of fun, and hope and this just adds to it. Anyway :P

[otoshigo]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Summary:

Alastor starts recording private audio logs to document Lucifer Morningstar’s strange behavior. It is absolutely not a diary.

Lucifer keeps baking. He drinks too much wine. He gives Alastor cakes for no reason and refuses to explain himself.

Alastor is simply observing. Objectively. Very normally.

[thomavenaddict]

Was talking with @lucy-the-cat about the toxicity in the relationship between maven and Thomas and how codependent it probably was and I just HAVE to rant about it.

Cuz it was def a bit toxic, not as toxic as mareven is tho. Maven def has no sense of boundaries when it comes to relationships since he obviously lacks it with his own mother. He learned that love has no boundaries and that he’s entitled to everything, included time and boundaries, when it comes to his partner. So when it came to Thomas he def crossed many boundaries and was very dependent on Thomas emotionally (also physically). I could see Maven def pulling the “leave ur friends for me” card, slowly trying to take all of Thomas’s time and making it only for him. He def tried to always (and I mean always) be with him since he was his only source of happiness. He’s also the type of guy who gets jealous very easily and gets paranoid that other people want his partner, so he’s always on guard and always suspicious. The type of bf that goes suspiciously “who ur calling?” when u talk to someone.

It probably got a bit suffocating for Thomas, or maybe he liked it or maybe not, but he didn’t know how to stop maven. Thomas after dating maven def got really distant towards his friends (thanks to maven’s glorious work). I wonder how that codependency played when they were first friends, cause it def was present but after they got together it severely worsened.