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aomimiusa-bear · 8 months

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strike a pose - jeon wonwoo

This is a work of fiction. Mature content ahead.

wc: 3.4k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The rough scratch of pencil gliding over scrapbook paper brought you solace in the chaos of life. The movements of your wrist have grown your ideas to places beyond your wildest imaginations. It was your reminder of why you were in this profession in the first place.

Your parents had always reprimanded your younger self for doodling on every free space available which painted you as the victim for the colorful streaks of crayon that danced the walls of your childhood home.

One of your parents never failed to bring up their favorite story of you at the semi annual family dinners you attend.

“I remember her wailing until she had no tears left to cry. It broke my heart to scrub her drawings off of the walls, but the landlord was not having it.”

Every retelling about your humble beginnings never failed to push a couple stray tears out of your eyes.

Pursuing your passion challenges your physical and mental capabilities. Continuing with art in university was like toying with a double edged sword; for once you were delighted at the thought of attending classes, but the viscous environment during your internships caused you to turn your back on art for a brief moment in time.

Nonetheless, the trials and tribulations of university led you to where you are today. The studio was furnished with blinding lights and eye-catching backdrops. The scent of hairspray lingered in the air as it is seemingly sprayed every couple seconds.

You shouldn’t be this nervous; it was just another photo shoot showcasing your newest creations. Honestly, you weren’t nervous at all until your assistant was, figuratively speaking, bouncing off the walls as they were delivering important news regarding the shoot.

“I had no idea he would agree so easily. I wouldn’t have stressed for days, weeks even if the negotiation was this simple.” Your assistant rambled. “The one and only, Jeon Wonwoo, agreed to be the leading model for your newest line!” followed by an earth-shattering squeal.

The oxygen supplying your lungs had magically disappeared in that very moment. You must have done the greatest act of kindness in your past life to receive this kind of opportunity.

Jeon Wonwoo is the top male model in the industry; his lean physique and fierce gaze was highly critiqued in every magazine column dedicated to the alluring man. To top it all off, Wonwoo was given an innumerable amount of praise for his seemingly contradicting persona behind the camera.

You recalled the countless interviews of Wonwoo’s diligent care towards all the staff members regardless of titles. You also, not that you were intentionally looking for more information on the man, know that he held a soft spot for any type of cat. How fucking adorable.

Wonwoo was paralyzingly attractive and his charming personality was sufficient to captivate even the most hateful people in this world.

Mindless drawings of multiple pieces of clothing occupied your downtime. The shoot was not scheduled to start until later, but you wanted to settle into the ambiance of it all to fully immerse yourself in your work. It was like a pre-shoot ritual for you.

Whenever you wanted to let your mind wander, you’d pick up the ratty sketchbook you had received for christmas one year. The ideas stuffed into said sketchbook were not worthy of being turned into reality, but you loved the brief moment of complete creative freedom.

The familiar scrape of your pencil on paper casted a hypnotic response on your hand. You were just doodling free from the confines of profit and pressure.

“That is absolutely beautiful.”

You whipped your head around at the sound of a deep and melodic voice. His eyes were trained on the worn out page of your sketchbook. You were speechless. Jeon Wonwoo wasn’t just a passing topic of many promiscuous conversations with coworkers. He was here. Right behind you. And he had complimented your work.

“Thank you. Kind words like yours inspire me to stay in this business.”

It was an automatic response whenever someone complimented your work after countless interviews, although your response had been more timid than anticipated.

A searing blush already crept up your neck, and soon to invade the tips of your ears. You turned back around in your chair effectively facing away from where he was positioned.

You had found relief from the busy outside in an empty dressing room, and you were in a comfortable position in one of the vanity set ups.

He wasn’t clueless. Wonwoo thoroughly enjoyed how flustered you became in his presence. Wonwoo also didn’t miss how you were deliberately checking him out in the reflection of you both. He looked good in your clothes.

Suddenly, you found yourself enclosed in a pair of biceps. You stared into the mirror to meet Wonwoo’s eyes as well.

“Thank you for this opportunity to work with you. It is my greatest privilege to showcase your newest clothing line.” His head dipped lower to level with your own. Without breaking eye contact through the mirror Wonwoo added,

“See you out there sweetheart. I look forward to working with you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The shutter of the camera was another sound you learned to appreciate over time. Usually, the photographer would barrel directions towards the model, but not Wonwoo. He was confident in his abilities, and that energy was carried on to everyone in the room.

His movements were fluid and natural; he was posing just enough to display the clothes but still highlight his abilities.

It was as if he was born for the camera.

To say you were mesmerized by him was an understatement. You were bewitched by the man known as Jeon Wonwoo.

You lost count of the stolen glances you shared with Wonwoo. Every time your eyes hovered on him for a split second too long he would immediately sense it, and subsequently meet your own gaze.

His eyes devoured you. As if Wonwoo was attending an art exhibit and was bidding to take you home.

“The female model just called in saying she can’t make it.” Your assistant was out of breath trying to deliver the news as soon as possible. These situations happen more often than not, but what got your palms sweaty was the absence of a standby model.

A wave of deja vu crashed over you. This has happened only one other time. You had to step in, but in this case you were modeling with the most attractive man you had laid your eyes on. There were no other options.

There was only one outfit you envisioned that required the female model to pose with Wonwoo.

Red chiffon draped your figure, and the cowl neckline only did so much to cover your chest. The rounded swells of your breasts peaked out from the top, sides and down the plunging neckline. A small bunch of ruffles placed on your right arm lightly resembled a flower as the trim ran down the side and flowed past your ankle; the free moving trim was a contradiction to the form fitting body of the dress.

You loved this design on paper, and it only excited you to bring it to life.

A team of staff members scrambled to get yourself ready for the shoot. The angular placement of the deep brown eyeshadow pointed your eyes towards the temples of your face. A subtle peach lip topped off the look.

You were ready for the camera.

Upon walking out of the dressing room, you noticed that Wonwoo had changed into an all black outfit. The shirt was slightly see-through and equally as plunging as your own ensemble.

The concept for these photos were to showcase the sultry red dress hence Wonwoo’s monochromatic garments. Most of the poses consisted of you in front of Wonwoo with his hands on your waist while your head was on his shoulders.

Mundane is what you would describe the poses you were put into with Wonwoo. Up until the last pose.

“Wonwoo, I’m going to need you to take off your shirt bud.” The photographer instructs. Instinctively, Wonwoo began to unbutton his top. Tantalizingly slow. He also made direct eye contact with you.

A chair was placed in the middle of the white backdrop.

“Wonwoo, please take a seat while I direct our leading lady for our final pose.”

Your leg closest to the camera was bent on top of his while the other was firmly planted on the ground. Wonwoo’s hand grasped your waist, but his arm laid relaxed on the mound of your ass.

He was instructed to lean into your chest; right where the tip of the plunge was located. You snaked your arm around the nape of his neck to complete the final look.

A thunderous round of applause commenced after the final shutter of the camera. You and Wonwoo had made your way to the monitor storing all of the taken photos.

You had to admit, you and Wonwoo looked damn good together.

“Maybe you should switch professions so that I can see you more often. I would love to share the camera with you.” Wonwoo had said this low enough for only your ears to hear.

His broad figure disappeared after nearly sending you into hysteria. Wonwoo probably headed out to change out of the one article of clothing that he was wearing by the end of the shoot.

He probably had to attend scheduled obligations after the shoot. You were slightly upset that you may never see the gorgeous man ever again.

After Wonwoo had scurried off, you took it upon yourself to finish all of the administrative work left for you to complete. Being involved in the shoot pushed back all of your priorities, so you needed to catch up ASAP.

You had been so busy that you were still in the red dress.

At this eerily late hour, everyone had already gone home, and it was your job to close up the studio; the owner had slipped the keys into your palms after you explained the long night ahead.

Your personal belongings were tucked away in the same vacant dressing room you were in prior to the beginning of the shoot. The clack of your heels echoed on the linoleum floor as you made your way into the room.

You twisted the door open just to reveal Wonwoo sitting on a chair just scrolling on his phone. He was in his attire from earlier; shirtless with a pair of slacks. His head looked up to meet yours. You blinked once. Twice. Three times before you broke the silence.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Waiting for you of course.” He replied. The beat of your heart sped up ten fold.

Your legs had a mind of its own, because you started walking where Wonwoo sat. He held out his hand for you to take. As soon as your hand was in his, Wonwoo yanked you onto his lap.

His chest felt firm pressed against the side of your arm. The inviting warmth radiating from his body was intoxicating.

Your hands were kept folded together on your lap. The dress rode up your thighs just a bit higher, but still covered enough to be decent. His hand rested on the side of your thighs playing with the hem of the dress while the other was placed underneath your chin.

“You were spectacular out there. Your confidence and grace was admirable; you deserve to be a role model to people everywhere.” His praises never ended.

“Thank you Wonwoo.” Sincerity laced your voice. “I see now why you are constantly booked for shoots.” You chuckled softly.

“I owe that all to you. You were ravishing out there.” You were speechless. And Wonwoo was the reason. Again.

“I’d love to work with you in the future if you are available.”

“Only if you’d have me.” Wonwoo’s smile was so bright that his eyes folded into cute crescent moons.

“It would be an honor.” You replied in a funny British accent. Even his laughs were perfect.

The laughter died down into a comfortable silence. You couldn’t focus with Wonwoo so close.

Wonwoo’s thumb toyed with your bottom lip. His warmth was a feeling you could get used to. You didn’t stop him nor did you want him to stop. Ever.

“Tell me I’m not imagining things darling. Tell me you want this as much as I do.”

You gave him a weak nod. Your brain was filled with nothing but him.

“Words sweetheart. I need words.” He softly chastised.

“Take me Wonwoo. I’m all yours.” The desperation in your voice would have made you cringe on a regular day, but something about Wonwoo made it so easy.

That was all he needed. Wonwoo moved his hand from your ass to the back of your neck to press his lips to yours.

Something about the kiss lit your whole body on fire. It felt so right.

The slight nip of Wonwoo’s teeth on your bottom lip emits a small gasp from you. That allowed Wonwoo to slip his tongue in to dance with yours. The sounds coming from the both of you could rival PornHub’s most popular video.

Wonwoo disconnected his lips from yours. “Spread your legs. Let me see your pussy babe.”

You shifted your body so that your back was pressed against his chest. Your head slumped against his while each of your legs fell on either side of his left thigh.

The end of the dress gathered on the tops of your thighs until Wonwoo pushed the bunched up fabric to sit around your waist.

Staring back at him was the image of your flimsy thong. The crotch area was covered by a thin layer of mesh with some sort of floral detailing.

You couldn’t recollect the specific attributes of your underwear because Wonwoo was slicing your pussy in half with the help of your thong. He tugged the skinny damp fabric upwards as it nestled itself in between your swollen pussy lips.

“You are the most breathtaking sight. Right? You’ll take everything I give you because you're my good girl.”

Any response you wanted to give him was lost in your never ending moans. Wonwoo released the tension on your underwear only to tease his index finger along your soaking slit.

“Fuck Wonwoo, that feels so good.” That was the first coherent thought you were able to voice. Wonwoo settled on playing with your clit stimulating the bundle of nerves.

“You’re so wet sweetheart. Were you this wet during the shoot too? Walking around with slick thighs and your cunt crying to be fucked?”

His words were too much to handle. Wonwoo’s finger circled your hole.

“Won–” you choke back a moan. “Wonwoo I need you now. No more teasing.” You mewl.

“I haven’t even stretched you out yet. Do you want this fat cock now? Are you that much of a greedy whore?” You desperately nodded.

Wonwoo removed his hand from your throbbing core, and you flinched at the contact of the frigid air.

“Up.”

You immediately stood up in between his legs. Wonwoo zipped down his slacks to reveal his hardened cock covered by the fabric of his underwear.

As for the dress, you slipped the straps off of your shoulders freeing your tits before completely stripping from the dress. Your nipples stood erect from your growing sexual desire.

Wonwoo grabbed you again and positioned your body to be kneeling in front of him. The gleam in his eye signaled you to pull the waistband of his underwear down until they bundled around his ankles.

“C’mon baby, you know what to do. You’re smart. I haven’t had the chance to fuck you dumb yet.”

His cock was red and pulsating. The bulbous tip was leaking beads of precum. Starting from the base, you licked the length of his cock all the way to the tip.

You circled your tongue on his slit to collect the leaking cum.

You collected a wad of saliva at the edge of your mouth before you spat it onto his penis. You lowered your head to completely take him in your mouth.

You were bobbing your head up and down and sucking him in. Whatever you couldn’t reach your hands were taking care of it.

He felt hot and heavy in your mouth, and you swore that your arousal was about to drip onto the floor.

“Shit. You’re a piece of art. The prettiest fuckin’ thing to ever grace this Earth.”

You glanced at Wonwoo through your eyelashes. His head was thrown back in pleasure, and that only motivated you to continue with what you were doing.

His hands found their way to the back of your head creating a makeshift ponytail.

He pushed your head down far enough where your nose met his pelvis. You gagged around him before he released you.

A string of saliva connected your bottom lip to his cock.

“C’mere baby.”

He placed you across his lap again. His hot mouth was sucking a deep bruise that would be a pain to cover in the morning. Wonwoo’s hands trailed down your leg and removed the uncomfortable heels on your feet.

You couldn’t have been more relieved.

Now, it was your turn to whisper lowly into his ear, “Let me ride your dick Won. I want to be good to you.”

You maneuvered yourself in order to straddle his hips. Wonwoo took this opportunity to tease your entrance with his tip.

“Stop teasing.” You were growing impatient after all of the foreplay.

Wonwoo harshly grabbed your neck. He pressed the sides just enough to feel a lightheaded buzz course through your head.

“Ask politely.” His grip tightened in the slightest. “I didn’t know you were a brat. I thought you wanted to be good for me.” It felt like he was scolding you.

“Give me your manners before I make you beg like the dirty fucking slut you are.”

God, you were so wet that it was starting to hurt having nothing to fill you up.

“Wonwoo please fuck me. I need you fill me with your cock and fuck me like the whore I am.”

“Are you asking?” He raised his eyebrow.

“No, I'm begging.”

The vulgar exchange of words was enough for him to slam your hips down and take him all the way. The mouthwatering stretch of his cock felt heavenly.

“This pussy was made for me. No one else could take this tight and dirty little hole like I can.”

You rhythmically moved your hips up and down while pausing every couple seconds to grind down on his dick. You felt every ridge and vein protruding from his cock.

Your eyes were clouded from lust

“You feel so good baby. Wrapped so well around my fat cock. Do you like it that much? Hmm?”

“Yes, yes Wonwoo love your cock. S’good.” You were panting like you had won a marathon. Your activities could possibly be considered one.

You knew you were clenching hard around Wonwoo, and he knew by looking at the drag of your pussy lips every time you’d lift yourself up.

“You’re so tight, baby. My good girl is doing so well for me.”

The familiar coil in your abdomen was about to snap. Wonwoo’s words only pushed you closer to release.

“Cum for me sweetheart. I’ll cum for you, fill you up to the brim darling, if you cum for me.”

That was enough to send you over the edge. Pleasure came crashing down on you. Wonwoo roughly thrusted upwards, and the stuttering of his hips let you know that he came too.

You looked down at where you and Wonwoo were connected and saw a white ring of your mixed arousal around the base of his cock. You were certain that the sticky mess had spread onto your inner thighs as well.

Suddenly, Wonwoo placed you on the desk of the vanity. You jumped at the contact of your bare ass against the cold surface.

He pulled up the pooled clothing pieces at his ankles so that he was wearing them again

You felt exposed. You were still completely naked. Wonwoo had been gazing at you longingly before speaking. “Let me clean you up at my place. It’s not far from here.”

“Is this a trick to get me to go home with you Mr. Jeon?” It was your turn to raise your eyebrow.

“Did it work?”

“Yes Wonwoo, I’d love nothing more than to go home with you.”

Wonwoo handed you his extra sweatshirt and pants. You quickly got dressed, and soon enough you were out the door with your hand in his.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Hi everyone! I am so grateful for the support on my past two works. Feel free to leave any comments in my asks or on my posts!

I hope you enjoyed this fic as well.

#kpop #seventeen #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt #svt x reader #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonu #jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x you

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forgeofthenine · 4 months

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Could I request the tiefling bachelors with a lover from Elturel who opts to leave with them when the tieflings are exiled from the city?

This was one of those requests where I started writing and just couldn't stop, I love this idea and it was so refreshing to just be able to write off vibes without any real issues. Thank you for the wonderful request Anon, I hope you enjoy <3

The bachelors when their partner joins them in exile

Dammon

Dammon isn't stupid, he knew when Elturel was returned to the surface that tensions wouldn't resolve easily

What he wasn't expecting was for his non tiefling lover to come find him as he packed a bag of whatever tools he could carry

There in his workshop doorway is where you stood, panting and catching your breath, and Dammon pauses

He's wondering how you might say goodbye to him, after nearly a year of being lovers no goodbye seems like enough to him

It's hardly a shock when you launch yourself into his arms and pull him down for a kiss, what does surprise the blacksmith is when you ask to join him afterwards

It's a quiet plead, you know it sounds desperate but time is running short and it's impossible to imagine a life without this man

Dammon is honestly conflicted about the whole thing

He wants desperately for you to be safe, to live a good life, to be happy

You both know however that the two of you are happiest when together, and he's spent so long imagining the life he'll share with you

Despite the dangers he knows will be waiting on the road, he agrees to take you

Dammon will selflessly shield you from any mockery or criticism as you both leave with the pack of tieflings

He's happy to protect you from danger or cold while on the journey too, it's easy for anyone to see his dedication to you in the way he acts

However, it would be a lie to say Dammon doesn't worry sometimes that you both might've made the wrong choice, that being exiled with him might be your ruin

Those thoughts will only be quashed in the future, when you both reach Baldurs Gate, but for now you two snuggle by campfires as Dammon sneaks some of his food onto your plate

Zevlor

Zevlor is in bad shape when Elturel is returned to the surface where it belongs

He and the rest of the hellriders disgraced, his fellow tieflings all being driven from the city

The paladin has a couple residual injuries from the fall and the ensuing chaos, trying to nurse them as he and the others are driven out

It all happened so fast, things passing by in a blur until he hears someone calling his name

It's no secret you're the lover of the hellriders general, the two of you had been together happily for a couple years now

He's shocked to see you sprinting over to him, a satchel thrown over your shoulder as you call for him to wait a moment

As soon as you reach the man he's ready to pull you against him, trying to hide you from the judgemental stares of others as he asks what you're doing

Zevlor is honestly speechless when you tell him you're joining him in exile

As much as he loves you, he doesn't want it at first

The most important thing to him is that you stay alive and safe, he can't guarantee that if you join him on the road

It's only when you tell him 'staying in Elturel can't guarantee that either' that he'll finally acquiesce

He's careful to take notice of your comfort, making sure you have good shoes and a warm blanket even if it means him going without

Zevlor is both dedicated and a protector, sometimes it takes you talking to him before he sees that he needs to be a priority for himself too

You spend your time sat on his makeshift desk in the grove, making sure Zevlor eats and drinks enough while looking over his maps

Rolan

You'd known Rolan and his siblings for years, your families close as the four of you grew up together

The budding wizard had always been drawn to you, much to his own annoyance at times, and it was no surprise when the two of you became lovers as teens

When Elturel was returned to the surface there was chaos and confusion through the streets, seemingly the only thing people could agree on was to blame the tieflings

Rolan himself was focused on trying to get Cal and Lia out safe, not worried about himself so long as they make it out unharmed

What draws him out of this focus is when you meet the trio at the gate

Your face is flushed, hair a mess from your heedless running towards the group of tieflings, and at any other time Rolan would consider it an attractive look on you

His own clawed hand grips yours as you pull him into a firm hug, and as soon as you ask to join him you feel the warmth of his tears against the skin on your collarbone

It's so relieving for him to know you still want him, despite the shunning that comes with it

Your thumbs wipe away the tears gathered in the corner of his eyes when you both pull away, his hand quickly taking yours as you all join the group of refugees beyond the walls of the city

While tempers run hot between him and Lia as you all journey, particularly when he wants to split from the group in the grove, everyone can rely on you to calm him

He struggles with the lack of privacy and the high tensions both wearing on his patience, but having you to confide in is endlessly helpful for him

Even while on the road, you two often sneak away to spend time alone and if you're lucky Rolan might even put on a bit of a magic show for you, much to the amusement of his siblings

#bri answers #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader

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ravenna-reid · 12 days

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Admirer from the past...

TW: blood, mention of dead bodies and stalking/obsessive behaviour

An expert crime fighter. One of the youngest CEOs. A skilled detective. As good as the Bat. Maybe even better than him.

Tim often found himself conversing with police officers and other detectives that were actually qualified unlike him. Discussing the crime scene, the criminal, the victim, and the next course of action. They all respected Tim and were willing to work together.

One night Tim found himself standing amongst the chaos of the press, the solemn faces of detectives and officers and a name written in blood covering the footpath along with other gory things... The crimson letters painting the cement were a confronting display.

It was the works of a new villain, one that had only just started doing such things two weeks ago. He was one of the most psychotic men Tim had ever dealt with. And it seemed he had a nasty obsession with some poor girl, given he was constantly leaving dead bodies and flowers strewn across Gotham City dedicated to her.

Honestly, the situation twisted Tim's stomach, making him all the more adamant on finding this fucked up guy in hopes of sparing his target the fear and trauma.

Tim kept to himself as he tried to analyse the scene, picking up clues and taking his own samples. That was until the screech of tires on the road caught his attention. Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw another well known detective pull up beside the crime scene and hastily get out of his car. And with him a woman. Tim quickly let his eyes glance over you. You wore a fitted suit, golden hoops and your hair thrown up into a french twist. Throwing your trench coat over your shoulders, you hurriedly followed the detective with an unimpressed look on your face.

"If you haven't even caught the assailant yet, why am I here Harry?" You asked before you fell into step with your co-worker and friend. He was almost like an older brother to you.

"Because, I need your input. Your analysis. This guy is a fucking nut and we have no idea how to predict what he's gonna do next."

Intelligence and class seemed to drip off of you, and Tim was immediately smitten interested in you. He even found himself wondering if you were seeing the man you had arrived with.

Surely not, he was old enough to be your father.

You and Harry ducked under the police tape, your hands in your pockets and eyes trained on the gruesome scene. Black roses coated in thick blood decorated the ground around your boots. You instantly grimaced.

Harry made his way over to the group and greeted Tim first.

"Red Robin." He said with a nod.

"Detective." Tim said back, eyes still trained on you.

You turned in a circle to take it all in before nearing the group. "So, do we have anything on this guy?"

"Red Robin managed to hack into one of the shops security systems. The one across the street. With the footage he retrieved, we can see this sick bastard commit the crime, but his face is obscured."

You were watching Red Robin as the officer spoke, a little taken aback to see a vigilante standing in front of you. Let alone one of the bats.

"Can I see the footage?" You asked, eyes gazing back at his.

Tim swallowed hard. Your eye contact was unwavering, and he could feel a blush begin to creep onto his face.

"Miss, are you even a detective or-"

"Of course." Tim cut the officer off, handing you the tablet that sat atop a police car.

"It's fine," Harry said with the wave of his hand, "She's with me. She knows what she's doing."

Tim watched you analyse the footage. The man was wearing a cap, and some sort of odd make-up was smeared across his face. It might have even be blood you thought. You attentively watched the criminals behaviour. His mannerisms. The odd tick in his left shoulder. The limp in his right leg.

"Anything?" Tim asked.

His voice was like wine and you couldn't help but breathe in his cologne. You might come along to see these crime scenes more often.

"There's something." You admit with the furrow of your brows. "The way he moves. I can't put my finger on it though..."

Tim observed the badge clipped to the collar of your shirt. Although he could read what your occupation was, your coat was covering your name.

"Forensic psychologist?"

What a stupid moment to be making small talk. He began to chastise himself and his lack of charisma, but you didn't seem to mind, much to his relief.

"Mhm. Know what that is?" You teased, anticipating the Red Robin's response.

Tim smirked. "No actually, never heard of it."

You gave a light laugh and Tim felt he had to keep the conversation going.

"Are you new at this?" He asked. "I haven't seen you before."

"Not really," you replied with a soft smile. "It's my second year."

"Yeah, and she beats everyone in the game." Harry called out with a chuckle. You tried to hide your blush, but your humility mixed with your attempt to hide your reaction made Tim like you even more.

But the longer you watched the footage it suddenly dawned on you. The puzzles snapped together in your head and left you a little shocked. Tim immediately took note of the change in your demeanour.

"What is it?"

You held onto the tablet tightly. "I think I know who this is. The twitch. The limp. The hunched form and what he's doing..."

"Holy shit..." Harry said as the others all gawked at the writing on the ground.

Tim ignored them, focusing his full attention onto you.

"Back when I was just a psychologist. This guy came to me, I'm sure of it." You looked back up at Tim now, but before either of you could say anything, Harry called your name.

"You better get over here."

You and Red Robin joined the group, and as you looked down at the name on the footpath, your soul immediately dropped down to your feet.

"What's wrong?" Tim asked, looking up at Harry then at you. But now that you had moved, the name on your badge was revealed to Tim.

Everyone suddenly turned to look at you. And all you could do was stare down at the red letters before you.

"That's my name."

#tim drake imagine #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake robin #tim drake x reader #timothy drake #red robin x reader #red robin #dca fandom #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #angst #tim drake angst

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hey-kae · 2 years

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Hi! I absolutely love your works✨✨ and I would like to ask you for an OS angst 😢 where Charles and reader end the relationship because of hate and comments on social media. I don't know whether to end with a happy or sad ending, that's your choice 🥰.

Hate and Love

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: the chaos that was japan, slight implication about Charles thinking of Jules’ accident, panic attack, talk of weight and body image, needs more proofreading.

a/n: i don’t think i’m that good with the whole hate trope as i struggle to write it without feeling like it’s turning out cringey, what explains how long this took me to write and i’m still not satisfied with it. But it’s yours to judge now ig…

When you've been swinging a hammer repeatedly over a frail sheet of glass, it's it going to shatter it. There is no way around that fact.

When you keep throwing insults at a human being, you're going to break them.

Whether these things are your intentions or not doesn't change the outcome.

Rarely do we ever see any exceptions for clear and particular reasons. Everything has a reaction or consequence that is to some degree, inescapable.

The crack in the glass made itself loud and clear on the weekend of the Japanese Grand Prix.

Excited about having some time off that would allow you to support Charles on the double header of Singapore and Japan and getting to see such beautiful and unique places, you had decided to accompany him on his two week trip, not wanting to waste any opportunity to spend highly valuable time with him.

The Singapore Grand Prix went okay and by the end of the weekend, the bags were packed and you headed to the airport with Charles.

On the lengthy flight, Charles fell asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, and it honestly didn't matter how long the two of you had been dating, long enough that you had a sparkling ring sitting on your finger, the sight of that and the feel of his soft brown hair tickling your neck and cheek quickly caused your heart to race. If anything, that was just another proof of how much this man meant to you, how much you devotedly loved him.

Wanting to secure the memory in your head and into existence, you fished your phone out of your bag without moving much so you wouldn't disturb him, and you quickly snapped a selfie that showed half your face, mainly focusing at the much cherished sight of your asleep fiance.

The picture was adorable. Charles looked so cozy and at peace.

You were smiling at your phone screen, debating whether or not you should share such a harmless picture with the world.

There lies the conflict.

If any of your social media accounts had been somewhat "normal", you would've posted it without any second thoughts like you'd done with previous boyfriends you had. Sharing occasional pictures of your relationship for your friends and family to see was something that should've felt natural, and it did feel like that in the past.

Then, Charles came along.

He was somewhat of a celebrity.

You knew that since the very first time you hung out with him. If anything, that was the only thing about him that made you reluctant about getting into a relationship with him. People's huge interest in him would inevitably transfer to his partner.

As you had expected, dating Charles reformed your understanding of social media. It was no longer a source of entertainment but a business place, a space for profit and advertising and never in your life have you wanted that to be the way you used social platforms.

Suddenly, everyone was so interested in your everyday life to the point where there was accounts literally dedicated to finding out where you bought each outfit from and while it was funny for a while, you were quick to realize that the whole influencer lifestyle was in no way your cup of tea.

It didn't help that anytime you shared anything that had merely any connection to Charles, your DMs flooded with message requests and your notifications got crowded with replies and comments. One night, out of sheer boredom while Charles snored beside you in bed, you went through some messages. From that point on, there was no return route, and it sure didn't help that the engagement shone a brighter light on your relationship and how serious it was, causing the hate to double.

While some of the messages were overwhelmingly sweet, some were also overwhelmingly cruel and inconsiderate.

You promised yourself that you wouldn't let these things affect you nor the beautiful and genuine connection you had with Charles, that you wouldn't even check the messages and comments again in the first place.

But as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat.

It turned into a repeated pattern, a compulsion you couldn't get rid of.

Therefore, you continued staring at the picture, you thumb hovering over the share button until Charles startled you.

"Tout va bien, bébé?" Everything's okay, baby?

You locked your phone and let it fall onto your lap before assuring him that everything was okay.

"Oui, cheri. Tout est bien." Yes, darling. Everything is okay. You smiled, wrapping one arm around him and allowing your head to rest on his, your eyes closing as you attempted to push out all the negative things and remarks, redirecting your focus onto the man by your side.

That position didn't hit the minute mark since Charles moved so he was sat a bit more upright and pulled you close to him so your head rested on his chest, his arm around your back while he looked down at you through half opened eyes.

"Tu sais bien que tu peux me dire n'importe quoi, n'est ce pas?" You know that you can tell me anything, right? He reassured, sensing that something about the way you were behaving was not quite right.

"Oui, je sais cela. I promise you, there's nothing worth mentioning." Yeah, i know that... You replied and tilted your head up to press a quick kiss onto his cheek.

With that, he let the subject go, ignoring the instinctive feeling in his chest telling him to make sure that everything was alright but he had no concrete proof that anything was going wrong so he forced himself to push the suspicions to the back of him mind.

That was supposed to be the end of that issue. You promised yourself to actually act normally and not allow stupid comments and remarks to taint your relationship with Charles.

It said a lot that you were engaged to Charles. You literally wanted to marry him, you saw your future with him and at this point, you couldn't really imagine a life without him by your side so you found it unreasonable and just plain idiotic to allow strangers who lived cities and countries away to interfere between him and you.

However, as the weekend processed and pictures of you with Charles popped up on the internet, that last thought seemed to be morphing. All you wanted was an escape, a break from the judgmental critics and the suspicious fans overanalyzing every move and post you made. With every passing hour, you were reminded why you rarely ever showed your relationship with Charles publicly and openly.

People knew you existed and they knew that you and Charles were engaged but when they aren't reminded of that, they tend to ease up a little bit on you. Therefore, it goes without saying that the opposite had been happening during those two weeks.

After qualifying, having watched the session from the pit box since Charles asked you to, you posted a quick shot of him as he was being photographed with Max and Carlos. You hadn't thought the post through, just supporting for your fiancé and wanting to share that openly. But as you laid sleepless in bed, the jet lag getting to you after Charles passed out of exhaustion, you realized that was a mistake.

Your DMs were flooded with messages, some positive and some negative but it seemed like you couldn't bring yourself to focus on the love you were getting, not when the opposing words were so cruel, hitting quite close to home.

People were going on and on about how you were like Charles' shadow. To them, it looked like you wouldn't let him breathe, that you followed him everywhere and limited his freedom.

Apparently, you were insecure about the relationship and you were essentially following him across the planet not to support him, but to supervise his actions, as if you would've agreed to marry a man you didn't trust.

Not only were they speculating about the relationship, the comments about your body were downright disturbing under some of the photos captured when you were spotted around the paddock. There were pictures of you eating and the comments under them were disgusting. Even the compliments were worded so crudely that it made your skin crawl as you read through them.

But what hurt the most is people saying you weren't enough, that you weren't worthy of dating someone like Charles, that you were forcing him to commit, that you were using him for fame when in reality, you hated every bit of unnecessary attention you got through dating him.

Everyone was preaching about the way he could do so much better, posting pictures of his exes and comparing your looks to theirs.

Looking through these messages and comments was overwhelming, even suffocating to a certain extent but for some reason, you couldn't put the phone down.

Does she have to always be there?!

Is it just me or is she gaining weight?

I wish Charles would wake up and see why she's really dating him

It's giving... attention seeker

ngl his ex was prettier and they were a cuter couple

The remarks went on and on and you lost yourself in the masses of words that night, forgetting where you were, forgetting that Charles was asleep right beside you, forgetting how much he loves you and how he always went out of his way to remind you of that. Your thoughts were hypnotized by strangers online and you couldn't think of anything else other than what you were reading, not even the words that made you cry when Charles had said them to you the night he went from being your boyfriend to being your fiancé.

You didn't even realize you were crying but the hot tears dropped onto your pajama pants when you sat up in a hurry, gasping for air.

You couldn't breathe properly, your lungs felt like they were collapsing, your hands were freezing and shaking out of control until the words on the screen of your phone and the pictures of Charles hugging you after qualifying turned into a streaky blur of colors that you couldn't even comprehend.

You needed a quick escape, some fresh air but you felt stranded, in a unfamiliar country where you had no idea about where you could go.

Suddenly, you were too aware of the sheets covering your body and even that felt too heavy to be bearable.

With wobbling legs, you pushed off the covers and stumbled onto your feet, even in this state making sure that Charles was still covered.

Nothing felt alright.

You felt like you were loosing it and instead of considering waking Charles up, you thanked god he was in deep slumber.

Tunnel vision took over, making the room darker and smaller than it already was. Your heart felt heavy in your chest. You could hear the rush of blood in your ears. Your body was tingling like if was going numb. Your throat felt dry and tight. Your tears were streaming out of control. You were was having chills all over as you broke out in a cold sweat. The loud noise from the street by the hotel felt so distant but somehow, the sound of Charles breathing was deafeningly loud.

You felt like you were loosing control.

With absolutely no clue of how you made it out of the bedroom, you burst through the balcony door, longing for a fresh breeze, the chilly night air feeling like it was waking up every nerve in your body.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." you kept mumbling as you allowed yourself to fall into the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you finally broke into sobs instead of the panicked, silent cries.

You were never confident growing up, always the calm sister, the shy cousin but really, you were insecure. For years, you worked on yourself until you finally got yourself to participate in social settings, to meet new people. Hell, it took years until you stopped reaching for a pillow to put in your lap every time you sat down, until you could walk in public without crossing your arms in front of you, until you found it in yourself to wear anything you wanted, until you could laugh without covering your mouth.

Therefore, it was undeniable that when you were met with such remarks, every past wound was reopened, and to be fair, the energy it took for you to build yourself into a confident woman was one you didn't have at the moment. You couldn't afford to go down that rabbit hole again. Once in your life was already too much.

You looked out onto the bright city lights, one striking thought now torturing your mind.

Charles.

Charles in your life meant curious eyes and endless criticism. There is no way around that unless he hid you from the world for evermore, and you weren't naïve enough to believe that would be possible, not if you wanted to marry him proudly and have your own little family with him.

That's when your heart broke and the sobs got ten times worse while your opposite hand wrapped around the diamond ring on your finger.

The man asleep a few feet away from you was everything you'd ever wished for.

He was the prince charming that you dreamt of finding back when you were a toddler watching princess movies, beaming over happy endings and escaping on a white horse. Charles was the one who satisfied that little girl's dreams during adult days that felt endless and hopeless and so painfully dull.

Middle school you who described the man she'd marry years down the road in excessive details in her diary would be in disbelief to see Charles exceeding all the impossibly high expectations she set, even after she ditched them when she was forced to face the real world.

He was perfect and you loved him beyond words, more than you ever thought was possible and you were just so ready to have it that way until forever and a day, until you grew old with his hand in yours.

Countless times, you imagined your wedding, the days after it, the look on Charles' face. You imagined having kids with him, watching him become a father and being the amazing dad you knew for sure he would be, holding the children you'd have and teaching them how to do anything and everything, maybe even how to race. Every detail that you were so sure would become true at some point had passed through your mind so many times, sending your kids to school, watching them grow up with the love of your life right by your side for it all, sharing every moment, milestone and event with Charles, happy or sad.

You wanted everything with him, the good and the bad.

But then, the image of the teenager you once were, stood timidly in front of the mirror, hating what she saw took over. You remembered when you didn't have the confidence to even present a project in school, when every little critic tore you apart and broke you to pieces.

The future was pushed right out of your mind as you let the past take over, dread washing over you like frozen water as you realized just how easily this situation you were in could drive you back to your old ways.

As the memory of crying your nights away and fearing the days came resurfaced, the face of younger you, so hopeful and full of life flashed in your mind and that was when you realized you couldn't fail her, no matter how flawless your relationship with Charles was, it was still breaking you.

As you came to the realization, the cries became too loud and even from your spot on the balcony, you were afraid to wake Charles up. You clasped your hand over your mouth, muffling the sobs and gasps, your eyes screwing shut as you struggled to catch your breath, the tears falling out of your eyes heavy and uncontrollable.

You couldn't afford waking him up right now, facing his gentle looks and caring words but No matter how quiet you attempted to be, it didn't work.

"Cherie," Charles' worried toned startled you, making you fumble to wipe away the tears, "what is happening?" He asked, crouching down in front of you immediately.

His hair was ruffled and messy. He was barefoot and was messily but warmly dressed for bed. His eyes were hazy with sleep and barely opened while his hands grabbed yours to pull them away from your face.

He was a bit too caring and it made everything hurt so much more.

Through your burning eyes and clouded vision, you glanced up at him adoringly while your heart shattered into a million tiny shards.

"I love you so much, Charlie." You sobbed, reaching over and hugging him as tight as you could.

Instantly, his hands were rubbing up and down your back, trying so desperately to comfort you, but he had no clue what was going on and he was too sleepy not to be confused.

"I love you so much as well." He kissed the top of your head, "mais tu veux me dire qu'est-ce qui se passe, mon amour?" but you wanna tell me what’s happening? He asked with the softest voice, taking advantage of the way your arms were wrapped around his neck to slip his hands under you and carry you back inside to the comfortable bed where he could hold you properly.

Once he had you wrapped in a cozy hug on the mattress, he got you to look at him and his heart plummeted at the sight of your swollen eyes.

"Oh, baby." He cooed, wiping the last of your tears off your cheeks with his thumbs, "What happened?"

You felt like you could crumble under his worried looks, immensely dreading tomorrow as your eyes looked with his.

"I don't know." You attempted to push out a chuckle but Charles knew you too much.

He got you to lay your head on his chest and began brushing his fingers through your hair, thinking about what could be the reason you were crying that hard.

"Honnêtement? Je n'te crois pas. You were crying so hard, bébé..." Honestly? I don’t believe you. You were crying so hard, baby…

The heavy concern lacing his still hoarse voice was too much and you could've lied to him, came up with an excuse for the breakdown you had but you couldn't do that, not to someone you loved so much.

"I just - i don't know, cheri. Je n'veux pas en parler maintenant." I don’t want to talk about it right now. You felt Charles nod. He knew he couldn't force you to talk about something you didn't want to discuss but he wasn't gonna be at ease, not knowing why you were so upset, not able to help you through it.

"D'accord..." Okay. he said, closing his tired eyes, "Demain après la course donc?" Tomorrow after the race then?

"Ouais. Demain." Your heart ached at that. Yeah, tomorrow.

With that last promise to discuss the issue tomorrow, Charles allowed himself to relax for now, hugging you close but making sure he wouldn't be falling asleep before you.

Meanwhile your mind raced with thoughts of your plans. You couldn't help but fear that Charles would think you don't love him anymore after he would find out what you did.

"Charles..." you waited for him to look at you, "Tu sais bien que je ne mens jamais quand je te dis que je t'aimerais jusqu'à mon dernier souffle, n'est-ce pas? Promets-moi de ne jamais oublier cela” You know that i will love you until my last breath, right? Promise me to never forget that.

"Alright, baby... I don't like the sound of that. Why are you saying it like this?" He lifted his head off the pillow to look at you, his hand stilling in your hair as he tried understanding what you meant by that, especially when you were crying minutes ago, when your body was still shaking against his.

"Please tell me what's going on." He asked again, the worry and dread in his chest increasing with every word you said.

"There's really nothing going on. I just want to remind you of how much i love you." You said with a sniffle, your eyes clouding again with tears that were threatening to spill again.

"I really don't believe you, not when i'm not understanding anything at all." He sat up a bit, unable to shake the uneasy feeling he had now.

"Charles, please. On a dit qu'on en parlera plus tard et tu dois vraiment dormir car il est deja très tard et tu dois te réveiller tôt demain matin. S'il te plait, laisse ça tomber au moment." We said we’ll talk about it later and you really need to sleep because it’s already so late and you have to wake up early tomorrow. Please, let it go right now.

Sighing, he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off, clearly not happy about this situation and making that clear to you by turning the other way and pulling the sheets right up to his neck.

You couldn't help but bite the inside of your cheek at that, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes.

"Charlie, please don't be upset. Je t'aime." I love you. You rolled onto your side, facing his back, hiding your face against it and hugging his waist as the tears started falling again.

“Bonne nuit.” Good night. He mumbled as a reply but you never let go of him, no matter how many minutes had passed.

You listened to the sound you were most grateful for, the soft thud of his heartbeat, letting it cut you deeper and harder because you were so hell bent on the fact that you deserved this pain, and once you thought he had went back to sleep, you allowed the quiet sobs and sniffles out, holding on tighter to the man you loved so deeply.

But Charles was everything but asleep. He felt your arms tighten around his waist, felt your hands clutching onto him for dear life. He heard you crying and laid there for a while, going over the past day in his head a hundred different times, desperately trying to understand what had unworldly upset you and crushed you this bad until his heart started feeling heavy with every sob that met his ears and at that point, he no longer felt like insisting on finding out what had happened. He just wanted to comfort you.

He sighed heavily and turned to face you, immediately bringing you to hide in his chest and between his sheltering arms, his hand on the back of your head securing you into this position that he knew you found so comforting.

The gesture only made you cry harder, this time the sounds muffled by having Charles so close.

"Shh, bébé." He kissed the top of your head while his heart felt like it was being torn apart, "I've got you, mon amour. Calm down."

That night you fell asleep for one singular reason and that way your eyes burning beyond comprehension, forcing you into slumber. Once your tensed body relaxed in Charles hold, he realized that you just exhausted yourself into sleep and that fact alone brought him so close to crying himself. However, he wasn't an idiot. He was well aware he shouldn't be staying up any longer, that he couldn't risk not being able to drive at a 100% in the conditions expected for the race, so he allowed his eyes to fall shut while making sure he had you held as close as possible.

When you woke up next morning, you were alone in bed and as soon as you checked your phone for the Japanese time, you realized why. The race was starting in less than two hours and you were still asleep.

With a worrying scowl on your face, you got up and headed for the bathroom, still trying to make sense of why Charles hadn't woken you up earlier. In the mirror over the sink, there was an unpleasant reminder of yesterday night: swollen under-eyes as your reflection's most prominent feature and even you couldn't help but to stare as you brushed your teeth.

Once done with that, you went back into the bedroom and found a note taped onto the closet door.

I didn't have the heart to wake you up cause you looked so tired but there is a key to a rental by your purse if you still want to go to the race. (I texted you a picture of which car it is.)

Je t'aime fort.

Without a second thought, you pulled on a pair of loose jeans, a cozy sweatshirt that belonged to charles and some shoes, grabbed an additional jacket, your purse and pass along with the keys Charles left you, applied some makeup to hide your swollen eyes and headed for the track, knowing that you weren't selfish enough to not even show your face at such an emotionally charged race for Charles.

It was pouring as you drove to the circuit so you put on your jacket, pulled the hood on and made a run for Charles' garage, hoping you'll catch him before he has to line up on the grid and you did but just barely.

As soon as he saw you coming up to him, his face brightened and he smiled. However, his eyes scanned over you as if to make sure you were alright.

"Good luck!" You attempted an enthusiastic tone after he had greeted you with a quick peck.

"Thank you. Tout vas mieux aujourd'hui?" Is everything going better today?

You nodded and dodged any further questions until he was luckily called over to the car and just like that, he was out of the garage, waving at you as he slipped into the cockpit and moved out into the pit lane.

You slacked in a chair then, feeling so guilty for even having the thought of leaving him, so guilty for putting yourself first. All you could think of was how you never in your life bothered prioritizing yourself and why did you have to start doing that now? When it came down to Charles and your relationship with him? But then another voice that seemed to come from a totally different side of your brain would remind you that it was either losing Charles or losing yourself again and forcing yourself into endless years of repairs and reconstruction.

Needless to say, by the start of the formation lap, your felt like you were loosing your mind as one thought contradicted the other, the scary conditions of the track adding another element to go crazy over with worry and before you knew it, chaos ensued and the race was red flagged when Carlos crashed and the recovery vehicle was employed while the cars were still on track and if you knew anything, it was that it would be disturbing for Charles to see that, especially when it was one of his friends, Pierre who was in the most danger.

You stayed in your chair as the cars made their way back in and watched Charles talking to the pit wall crew across from the garage where you were. He looked so visibly shaken up and you couldn't look at him and his tense posture for longer than that without backing out on your plan.

You turned away, grabbed your phone and booked a plane ticket home so there was no way out of this. However, that only increased the guilt you were feeling as Charles finished talking to Laurent and made his way to you, instantly giving you a kiss before reaching for his red Ferrari coat and shrugging it on to warm himself up.

If he didn't look visibly upset and worried and if you didn't feel like you were betraying him, you would've been obsessing over how adorable he looked with his hands tucked deep into his pockets as he took a seat by your side.

Suddenly, for the first time in years, you were fumbling for words around Charles but you saw him in staring into the distance before he heavily sighed and dropped his head back.

Everything was so close to collapsing, both on your side and his. Maybe you could rethink your decision.

"Bébé..." you turned sideways in your chair and faced him, "are you okay?" You asked and grabbed his hand in both yours.

"Yes, don't worry. Are you feeling better today?"

Only Charles would be more concerned about you when just minutes ago, his life and the life of multiple of his friends were literally on the line.

"Charles..."

"Please, they're already going to make me talk about everything in the media pen and i really don't want to do it twice." He rubbed his eyes angrily as he spoke, moving his hand between yours to intertwine your fingers.

Maybe you shouldn't leave. Not today at least.

You nodded and sat by his side in silence, watching your hands in your lap, his fingers toying with the ring on yours in a way you would've presumed absentminded but Charles found it incredibly comforting.

Eventually, after texting with the other drivers for a long time, all of them furious about the truck incident, he moved his chair closer and rested his head on your shoulder, allowing the two of you to chat quietly about almost anything that didn't involve racing: the food from the restaurant you went to in Tokyo, the old couple you saw yesterday when you went for a walk in the early morning, the wallpaper on your phone, paddock gossip... Anything to distract him for the current situation and the catastrophe that was this Grand Prix since you had a relatively clear idea of what he would be thinking at the moment.

"Cute hoodie, by the way." He smiled half-heartedly.

"It's cold and i don't have anything warm enough with me." You were quick to defend.

"I didn't say i mind it. Au contraire, je l'adore quand tu t'habille de mes vêtements." On the contrary, i adore it when you wear my clothes.

You couldn't even believe you were still considering leaving just a few minutes ago. How could you ever let go of this?

"Okay, okay. Don't get all cheesy now." You blushed, holding onto his hand tighter while you attempted to get a clear view of him.

He let out a small chuckle and brought your hand up to his mouth to press a kiss onto your knuckles.

"Merci." He smiled, "I know what you're doing and I'm so grateful."

You struggled to reply because of course he'd figure this out, so you settled for something simple, "Je t'aime, Charlie." You said and kissed his forehead mindlessly.

And it was like the universe hated you because right that instant, a big camera was directed right at you and Charles, capturing the moment at the perfect time and probably showing it on live TV.

It would be an understatement to say you immediately feared the outcome because you knew that a lot of people would find some ulterior motive other than comforting your stressed fiancé behind the gesture.

You still tried hard to act unfazed like Charles was but you remained highly uncomfortable until the lens moved in the other direction, filming the pit wall.

Somehow, through the seemingly endless red flag, you managed to forget that ever happened until Charles fixed up his suit and retrieved his helmet ages later, returning to his car as they announced the resumption of the session in ten minutes.

"Good luck once again." You smiled at him and watched him head out, back into the car and onto the track.

When Charles disappeared out of sight, you grabbed your phone and found endless notifications on the screen, reminding you of being filmed.

You couldn't help the heavy dread in your chest as you unlocked the device and clicked on the twitter icon.

You knew you couldn't allow yourself to have a breakdown in the middle of the garage with so many people who were well aware who you were surrounding you but you couldn't resist clicking on the notifications tab, gulping as you started reading through them.

It was the usual: the comments like "oh my god, they're adorable" and "at least she's there to comfort him" versus the opposing ones like "she's doing anything to appear on the stream", as if a kiss on the forehead was such an eccentric things to go.

Line after line, you read them and allowed them to build up in your mind until your breathing became irregular like yesterday.

You made a run for it.

You grabbed your things in a hurry, still trying not to attract unnecessary attention and hurried to the car.

You couldn't do this. You wouldn't survive staying in the spotlight that came with dating one of the most famous f1 drivers currently. You wouldn't make it out alive if you stayed with Charles and even though you felt so selfish as you turned the car on, you kept telling yourself that if there was any reasonable time to be selfish, it was now.

The drive back to the hotel passed in a teary, breathless haze as your mind carried your body on autopilot.

Before you could even register that you arrived to the room, you were packing up your bag and frantically searching the room for any pen and paper until you found one with the name of the hotel plastered all over it.

You only realized you were crying when the tear splattered onto the paper, distorting the ink as you shakily wrote.

Charlie, je suis infiniment désolée mais je ne peux plus faire ça. Ce mode de vie est quelque chose dont je ne pourrai jamais supporter.

Prends toujours soin de toi-même. I am so sorry.

Charlie, I'm very sorry but I can't do that anymore. This way of life is something I will never be able to bear.

Always take care of yourself. I am so sorry.

It felt like you were ripping away a part of you when your fingers wrapped around the engagement ring and you began sliding it off. It was physically painful to let go of everything so quickly but it felt like there was no escaping this.

Your eyes forcefully shut and sobs shook your body once the ring was in the palm of your hand instead of on your finger. You looked down at it, the diamond glistening brighter through your blurry, teary gaze. With your breath caught in your throat, you let it fall onto the paper on the nightstand then you were struggling to inhale at all, but you managed to call a taxi and rush down to the lobby with your suitcase and a heavy heart that was burdening you, avoiding at all costs allowing your mind to imagine how Charles would react to your unexplained and unexpected absence, let alone the break up in form of a paper with tear-streaked ink scarring it.

You just flew to your home country, not even to the apartment you shared with Charles in Monaco, leaving everything behind.

—

Such a short race shouldn't have felt so long but it seemed never ending as the gap to P1 grew with every lap, the tyres working completely against all the effort Charles was putting in.

Before he even knew it, the Redbull behind him was threateningly close and he was cussing out the whole world. He defended his position with everything he got, the only thing on his mind is finishing the race and falling into the comfort of his fiancée's arms but with all the stress that weighed down on his shoulders, the pressure of such defense caused him to exit the track and he knew he'd have to face complications because of that.

Getting dropped from P2 to P3 by a 5 seconds penalty felt like being dropped from P1 to P20, especially after all the effort he put in on track to keep the position but he took it without complaints and walked into the cool down room, already feeling like he was ready to collapse in bed.

He felt heavy and exhausted. He just wished he could skip the podium celebration and the interviews and just go find you but he knew that was impossible so he straightened up and put the brave, undefeated face back on.

On podium, his eyes scanned the crowd many times, trying so desperately to find the face that brought him comfort but to no avail. His shoulders slacked a bit lower as he realized you weren't watching the celebration and he was already making excuses for you as the national anthems played.

Eventually, he was handed a trophy and even though it was rather small, lifting it above his head took so much effort. He was so done with everything and just wanted to escape to you and hug you so tight. No one was ever able to cheer him up like you did and he was so grateful for that, for you and for the fact that he would be calling you his wife someday.

Forcing himself to stay aware of where he was for a few more minutes, he popped the bottle of champagne open and sprayed Max, congratulated him on the championship and eagerly got the hell out.

He rejoined his team, immediately asking about you but no where had a single idea where you were. Then, he was dragged out into the media pen where he rushed through all the questions, eventually resuming the search for you as soon as he was free to go. He checked both Ferrari garages, the team hospitality and finally his motorhome but you were nowhere to be found.

He started worrying, the state you were in yesterday adding to the situation.

He changed out of the suit, put on a jacket, grabbed his things and got going, his phone ringing against his ear as he attempted calling you while he was searching for Pierre to quickly check up on him before leaving. The phone kept ringing until he was met with beeping followed by your voicemail.

"Where are you, chérie? You're worrying me." He said and stuffed his phone in his pocket as he caught sight of his french friend.

—

Half an hour later, Charles was in the elevator in the hotel, going up to the floor the two of you were staying at, his heart beating fast with pure worry since he already called you many times on his way back and not once did you pick up.

He dragged himself through the hallway and unlocked the door in a hurry, immediately calling your name once he stepped into the suite.

Once, twice, three times... Nothing. Not a single sound in the room.

He walked further inside, expecting to see you overtaken by sleep on the bed but it was neatly made and the room looked clean and spotless.

That's when he panicked.

The room looked too clean.

The vanity facing the bed had absolutely nothing on it. Just this morning, it had your bag, your makeup remover, your jewelry box and a bottle of your perfume. It was completely clear now, and it could've been that you just put these things away but your suitcase had also been sitting on the floor next to it along with the spare pair of shoes you brought with you and those were gone too. Even your phone's charger was gone from the outlet above your nightstand.

The words you had said to him yesterday resurfaced in his mind, the fact that you were asking him to promise you he'd never forget you love him now seemingly bone-chilling.

What was going on? He kept asking himself because there was no way what he was assuming would be true.

He turned on his heels and began searching the other part of the suite, from the kitchenette to the small balcony to the bathroom, even checking behind the frosted glass of the shower.

Nothing. You weren't there and nor were your things.

"Non. Non, ça peut pas être." No. No, it can't be. He started mumbling to himself as he rushed around the rooms, retrieving his phone and calling you in a hurry now, as if that would make you pick up.

"Tu peux pas me faire ça. Qu'est-ce qui se passe? Où est tu? S'il te plais, répond au téléphone." You can't do that to me. What’s going on? Where are you? Please answer the phone. He said into your voicemail and tossed his phone onto the couch, heading back to the bedroom.

Maybe he was misinterpreting this. Maybe you just put your suitcase in the closet provided. Maybe you put your things in drawers. Maybe you left the race because you were tired.

So many maybes and what ifs clouded his thoughts as he pulled the closet opened, only to be deceived but the dull and blank wooden shelves.

"Putain." Fuck. He cursed and moved onto the drawers, not even closing the closet doors.

One after one, he yanked them open and every single drawer was empty, even the ones of the nightstand on the side where you'd been sleeping, leaving him with only the one on his side of the bed.

He rolled on the mattress in a hurry but froze in his sitting position as his eyes met a sight he never wanted to see, a sight he never thought he'd see.

It felt like he forgot how to breathe, like his heart was irregularly beating, skipping beats left and right as his eyes widened so much, they started burning.

"Non..." he shocked, gulping as he tried to make sense and of everything, "Why? What the fuck? Why?" He bolted to his feet, pacing by the bed with his hand against his mouth in pure shock. His mind was a mess of thoughts and feelings and words but most importantly questions.

He thought things between the two of you were as perfect as they could get so why was he staring at your ring sitting abandoned on the nightstand? He couldn't make sense of it. He kept asking himself why.

His heart shattered because it finally made sense how you were speaking to him yesterday night. You had planned this and still went to the race, sat by his side and comforted him when all he could think of was the potential tragedy that was the first few laps.

Nothing made sense. If you love him as much as you said yesterday, why did you leave him? Why did you bother with the grand prix? Why did you wear his sweatshirt?

Charles eventually froze in his spot but he could see a paper under the shiny band and he wanted to grab it. However, it felt like his arms had went limp and he suddenly couldn't move, his eyes still scarily widened, still trying so hard to wrap his head around what has happened today.

He was just so eager to come back to you after such a stressful race, after it became official that he lost the championship. He needed you right now that if felt like the world was closing in on him, but he came back to this, to a breakup through a paper, not even face to face.

Cursing again, he grabbed the paper and the ring and read the streaked ink scribbled clearly in a hurry.

A hundred times, he read and reread the words, until his tears joined the marks of yours on the paper, and not once did they sink in.

You gave up on the relationship that easily? He couldn't bear the mere thought of you leaving him and now he had to face that as his reality? Without any clear explanation or a proper end and all because of the lifestyle that came with dating him? How were you planning to marry him if that was the case?

He fell back onto the mattress, his hands over his face as he tried so hard not to break after such a bad day but the tears defied him and streamed down the sides of his face in a rush.

It felt like a mockery that when he received the penalty, he thought the weekend had no way of getting worse. He had the comfort of knowing he had you by his side and with the endless support you always provided, he knew he could overcome anything but now he feels powerless, broken and defeated and he wasn't sure what to do about it.

He just needed one of your hugs right now. He just needed for this to be a nightmare.

Just a few hours ago, he was twisting the ring around your finger and now it sat painfully cold in its loneliness in the palm of his hand.

He felt like tossing it out if the window but his heart couldn't take anymore hits today so he clutched it tighter and gave up on trying to push his emotions aside. He let them rule over him.

He loved you too much to be able to pull himself through this and come out unscathed.

This felt like the end of everything. He lost everything in a day and he didn't have to energy to face that just yet.

He laid alone on that bed, staring at the ceiling blankly, waiting for the shock to subside and for heartbreak to set in and when it did, every last breath was knocked right out of his body and he was left curled around a pillow, holding it so tight and crying into it, occasionally trying to call you again and again but not once did you answer and it enraged him.

He tossed the phone off the bed onto the floor with a frustrated scream that felt like it was cutting through his lungs.

Following that, he allowed himself to completely fall apart as it sank in that you really left him.

Charles felt utterly defeated and hopeless.

—

To say you were no longer used to waking up in your childhood home would be a major understatement, especially since you could barely open your swollen, burning eyes in the morning to see the room clearly, leaving you panicked because you weren't at the place you call home and very far from the person that felt like it.

However, the familiarity of the place was as welcoming as ever, definitely something you needed at the moment.

When you showed up home yesterday, everyone was worried but as they watched you drag the suitcase in with bare hands, the object tying you to Charles missing from your finger, they caught up quick enough not to ask any questions.

They let you sleep it off in your old bedroom but really, you were crying most of the time, questioning if you made the right decision.

Charles called you so many times and left so many voicemails but you were determined to stay off your phone, so you let it's battery drain until it powered off at night and you decided not to charge it as not to risk it.

Your heart ached all night long since the only thing you could think of was Charles returning to the vacant hotel room and discovering that you left without him, and as your woke up this morning and found yourself reaching for him in your half conscious state, what had remained whole from you completely shattered because he obviously wasn't there and you had made that choice for the both of you and he probably was clueless why you did it.

The smell of him was still engulfing you though, making you realize hours too late that you had taken off dressed in his sweatshirt still and you couldn't really tell if the fact that you were still wearing it was good or bad. You really couldn't bring yourself to care.

Once the morning light became too strong, you forced yourself to get out of the bed. However, on the first attempt, you only managed to sit up enough to scan the room. Your head was throbbing and your throat was sore and dry and you could barely see anything through your blurry vision.

You rubbed your eyes furiously and got up. Outside your door, you could hear your family moving about in the house and talking, the clatter of plates and utensils implying that they were probably having breakfast.

You felt guilty that you barely great them yesterday but you still couldn't bring yourself to go out and talk to anyone so grabbed some of your old towels from a drawer, your shower products from your suitcase and headed for the bathroom.

You avoided your reflection at all costs. You didn't want to face any of yesterday's various aftermaths. Instead, you stepped under the hot stream, immediately felt your shoulders drop as your head fall back, the hot water relaxing your tense muscles.

Then, the tears made a comeback and you welcome them with open arms, letting them stay as you washed your hair and body until you turned the shower off and padded back to your room.

Pulling open your closet, you were met with the memories of the last time you had stocked it. You and Charles and his family spent last Christmas with your parents. The two of you had been newly engaged and everyone was still gushing over that.

As the memories of that trip resurfaced, your eyes met the sight of a certain pile of clothes that didn't belong to you. That's when you remembered that Charles had felt a few items of clothing here, a change for hot weather and one for cold days, because he was so damn sure he'd come back to your childhood home at some point and so were you.

With your lips pursed, you betrayed your heart and grabbed his sweater instead of your own clothes and put it on along with some shorts.

Tensely, you fell back onto the messy bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling lost and withdrawn. You had nothing to do, nowhere to be , nothing to distract you and the only thing you could think off was Charles.

You just wanted to know if he was alright, if he finished the race safely at least, but you didn't want to face the fact that you hurt him without giving him any explanation, that you walked out on him during one of the heaviest races of the season. You didn't want to consider the possibility that he now understood why you kept reminding him that you love him and that he might find it confusing now since common logic was that you don't leave someone you love.

As the thoughts ate away at your heart, you impulsively jumped up and grabbed your phone to charge it. You had to make sure he crossed the finish line safely at least and you wouldn't have to give in and contact him for you to know that.

The few minutes that it takes for the phone to power on felt like ages and when it finally did, over 50 missed calls from Charles flooded in along with so many texts and voicemails.

That meant that he was well, health wise at least. However, the last missed call was hours ago.

Your finger hovered over the voicemail icon and you were so tempted to just click it, desperate to hear his voice since you weren't used to starting your day without talking to him.

You gave in.

The first one started by him just asking where you were and judging by the noise around him, it was clear that he was still at the paddock.

But as one recording ended and another played, his tone progressively changed and several of his words broke your heart.

"Tu peux pas me faire ça..." You can’t do this to me… is what you heard in the second voicemail and the last one in which he didn't sound like he was crying. After that, it was just heartache.

"Tu peux me dire pourquoi, au moins? Je ne comprends rien." Can you tell me why, at least? I don’t understand anything.

"Where did you go? Tu m'inquiète au point de la folie." I’m going crazy from the worry.

"Fuck. Fuck, just..." you heard a sniffle, "... please, je te supplie, come back. Please."

These sentences amidst rambling and incoherent french stuck with you, making you wish you never charged your phone again or that you never left, but even after hearing that, nothing could've prepared you for the last recording.

"I'm kind of loosing hope now that you will answer," he sighed, "i just needed you here today, and always, but today more than usual. The race was shit but somehow i don't give a fuck. Why?" There was a laugh of irony and a pause before he continued, "Because the person i wanted to marry just left me. Really, bébé? Quand même une petite explication à ce qui s'est passé! Un adieu! Même ça, je ne le mérite plus?" At least a little explanation for what happened! A goodbye! Even that, I don't deserve it anymore? He was crying and now, so were you.

"It doesn't feel nice, being dumped with a letter and not even knowing why et maintenant, je sais plus how to live without you à mes côtés. Pourquoi t'as fais ça? How am i supposed to continue believing que tu m'aime? Tu m'as détruit complètement, chérie. J'ai tout perdu today."

It doesn't feel nice, being dumped with a letter and not even knowing why and now, I don't know how to live without you by my side. Why did you do that? How am I supposed to continue believing that you love me? You destroyed me completely, darling. I lost everything today.

Heavy breathing took over for a few seconds and you could tell he had been trying not to make it too obvious that he was crying.

Your hand clasped over your mouth to muffle the sobs as you waited for Charles to continue, "Je voulais t’épouser. I was gonna tell you that we should start preparing for the wedding so we can get married in winter break mais il me semble que tu n'veux plus rien a faire avec moi et je n'ai aucune idée pourquoi. The lifestyle isn't something new et si tu était autant gêné depuis le début, you shouldn't have said yes when i proposed. Fuck, you really shouldn't have given me de l'espoir that i will get to call you my wife un jour, que je pourras passer le reste de ma vie avec toi, have our own children et notre propre famille à nous. Putain, tu n'aura jamais dû me laisser tomber si amoureux de toi if you knew you would leave at some point."

I wanted to marry you. I was gonna tell you that we should start preparing for the wedding so we can get married in winter break but it seems to me that you don't want anything to do with me anymore and I have no idea why. The lifestyle isn't something new and if you were so annoyed from it from the beginning, you shouldn't have said yes when I proposed. Fuck, you really shouldn't have given me hope that I will get to call you my wife one day, that I would get to spend the rest of my life with you, have our own children and our own family. Fuck, you should never have let me fall so in love with you if you knew you would leave at some point.

There was a long break after that and you could hear the sniffles and the rustling of sheets. You couldn't even imagine what he was thinking in these silent seconds.

"Je dois me taire, non? By the way, Max was announced champion, si t'en soucies même plus. I have to shut up, right? By the way, Max was announced champion, if you even care anymore. And... I love you still, a lot." He gasped the words out between sharp inhales and it made you want to go back to him just to hug him tight.

"Je sais plus si te veux que je t'aime ou non but that will never change the fact that i would die for you, même si tu pense that i don't even deserve a face to face break up. Je t'aime, even if i don't understand shit."

I don't know if you want me to love you or not but that will never change the fact that I would die for you, even if you think that I don't even deserve a face to face break up. I love you, even if I don't understand shit.

You locked your phone and tossed it aside, grabbing a pillow and holding it against your face, trying to muffle the crying.

You could've told him the reason this was happening but, knowing Charles, he would blame himself for everything. This, this was bad but he didn't have to feel guilty in this scenario. You were withholding all the guilt and you'd be happy bearing it forever if that meant Charles wouldn't be tinged by it.

No matter how bad this was, he would manage to get over it, even if after a while but you knew him and you knew he wouldn't cope well with knowing that he was the reason you fell back into the depths of your past insecurities.

A knock on your door interrupted your crying. You tossed the pillow away and wiped your eyes rapidly with the sweater's sleeves before saying "Come in."

You knew you couldn't avoid your family anymore. They were probably really concerned.

Your older brother peeked his head through the door with a cautious smile on his face.

"Hi." He started, taking just one step into the room and closing the door after him.

"Hey." You tried smiling back but teared up again at the attempt.

"Look, i'm not gonna be nosey." He said before he took a seat on the edge of the bed, "I just need to know if i need to kick some ass or anything. I don't really care that he's Leclerc in this case." He tried to joke.

"Please, if there’s any need to kick his ass i would've done it myself. I don't need any men to do it for me."

Your brother smiled at that, having expected that response.

"However, the only guilty person here is me." You continued and quickly wiped away the tear that escaped.

"Why?" He frowned.

"I left while he was mid-race." You clarified, your teeth abusing your inner cheek between words, "I just don't know how to live the lifestyle he has, you know?"

Your brother looked confused, "Yeah, i'm not buying that, the thing about life with him. You've been together for years, only now you realized his lifestyle? You live together, you're practically married so even when you do actually get legally married, there will barely be any difference." He started analyzing. "Something is off. What's the real reason you left?"

You caved in so fast but you didn't really have any energy in you to resist it.

"I've been getting so much hate, especially when I'm with him at races. I couldn't deal with it anymore."

Your brother, like everyone who knew you and Charles, wasn't a stranger to that. He nodded and appeared to be in deep thought about this.

"Did you try talking to him about it? Charles loves you so much, we can all see it, and i know he would be very understanding and helpful in this situation."

In your mind, the thought of opening up to Charles about this wasn't even present. After all, he also gets a lot of hate too. However, the criticism he received was mostly about his skills as a driver, in other words, nothing he couldn't control and improve. On the other hand, people hated you for you, for simply existing as Charles' partner.

"It's not that simple."

"Oh, but it is. Look, i understand it's difficult to read that shit but it's not right that you left him out of the blue, like you have no respect for what you have, or had, with him."

That angered you so fast, you quickly got off the bed to face your brother.

"Of course i have respect for him and our relationship!I'm- I was engaged to him, for fuck's sake!" The little correction you had to make pained you as it made this situation much realer.

"I'm sorry, but if my partner walked out on me like that, i wouldn't be okay with it. If you want to break up with him for such a vague reason, at least do it to his face. That guy loves you more than i've seen anybody love anyone before and i know you're my sister, but if you treat him like that, after such a difficult race as well, you don't deserve him."

Ever since you heard that last voicemail, there's been a part you've avoided thinking of.

Getting married in winter break, literally in a few months. Instead of that, you left him the ring and took off.

You knew he wanted to marry you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have proposed but the fact that he wanted to do it so soon was unexpected to you. It should've been the happiest surprise, instead it was tugging on your heartstrings.

"He wanted to get married after the season ended, in his winter break." You spoke in a whisper.

Before you could receive a reply, your mother's voice could be heard as she called for your brother.

"Look," he started as he got up, "just call him." He shot an accusatory finger at you, "He had a shit race yesterday and i think you'd be able to find some solutions to this together. " He kept talking until he was out the door.

"Wait!" You called for him, "What position did he end up in?"

"Defended P2 with inters turned into basically slicks but ended up P3 after a five second penalty for cutting a chicane in the last lap. I gotta go."

Needless to say, you couldn't bring yourself to actually call him but you did spend hours staring at his contact name, the little ring emoji you added to it a while back torturing you now. Eventually, you joined your mother in the living room, allowing her to distract you until your brother reappear, asking if you talked to Charles, to which you shook your head then watched him leave the house.

Hours later, you retreated back to your room, laying on your bed and scrolling through twitter again. The notifications had lessened compared to yesterday but there were still there, the hate still being a constant and an arguably increasing reoccurrence. Surprisingly though, it wasn't what you focused on nor what you cried about.

You had been letting the clip of you kissing Charles' forehead during the red flag replay for so long, you'd lost count of how many times it had repeated. All you could focus on was how comforting Charles seemed to find your presence.

Over the years, everyone kept telling you how you were the only person who was able to comfort Charles as more than just some temporary fix. When you were to one to receive him with open arms after an angering or disappointing moment, Charles would calm down within minutes. Even his mother had said that and even Mattia had noticed it, but you never saw it.

However, now that you were stood on the outside, looking into the relationship, you saw it clear as day. In such a stressful and traumatic place and moment, he looked content in a way and it caused you to break down crying, especially as you thought of him bearing the disappointment alone yesterday, only to face something worse when he found out you left.

Eventually, you fell asleep with the video playing.

The next morning, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house and woke you up. You expected your mother to get it but it rang again and again until you groaned and headed to check who it was while rubbing your eyes with the sleeves of Charles' shirt that you were still wearing.

You checked your reflection on the hallway mirror. Sure, the swollen eyes were still prominent but you hadn't been expecting them to subside any time soon so you sucked it up and padded to the door, swinging it open while tugging the shirt down to cover some skin as you just realized how short the shorts were.

Then, you froze.

All sorts of emotions ran through your body. First, shock because, how and why? Second was some weird sort of relief. Third, and most dominantly, guilt.

Guilt was eating you alive as you stared at the man whose heart you broke. You couldn't bring yourself to move nor to look away but you couldn't really look for any longer.

"Um..." you started fumbling for something to say, rubbing at the back of your neck awkwardly.

"Can i come in?" He asked and even though the sentence was short, it was still enough to show how hoarse his voice sounded.

You nodded and moved aside. Charles immediately made his way inside.

"How- um, why did- You know what i mean." You struggled while closing the door shut.

"You were getting hate and instead of telling me, you left?" He sounded angry and you wanted to strangle your brother for obviously contacting Charles.

"Charles, please... I can't-"

"You can't? Let's say you desperately want go break up with me, why didn't you do it properly? And really? Suzuka out of all places?" He asked, his hands gestures emphasizing his point.

He was right and there was no way to escape that so you fell back into the couch behind you, tugging on your sleeves and picking at the cotton.

Before you knew it, Charles was sat by your side.

"I wasn't really thinking. Everything i read was hitting so close to home and it was giving me some sort of panic attack and i - i'm sorry for leaving like that." Your eyes prickled with tears again.

"The night before, i asked you so many times what was wrong. You had me worried sick when i found you crying. You could've told me - fuck, you should've told me." He sprung back to his feet, rubbing at his face in frustration.

"I didn't want you to know." You spoke quietly.

"Why? I thought we trusted each other with everything! And it's literally something that i caused so deserved to know..." His voice rose.

"See? This is exactly why. You will blame yourself for it. You can't control what some asshole type out on their phones, even if they're your fans. There's nothing you can do to stop it and i can't handle it and revert to being an insecure person so i did us both a favor and left!" You shouted back.

Charles was gaping at you.

"You're giving up that easily on years of us and all the fucking future we've planned? Tout à cause de quelques connards qui se cachent à l'abri de leurs petits écrans?" All because of some assholes hiding in the shelter of their small screens? He was huffing in irony, "If some assholes you don't even know are able to make you insecure, then, je suis désolé bébé, but you've never been confident enough then." Knowing it was a touchy subject, Charles regained his composure and regulated his tone.

"Oh, really? You're telling me how i feel, Charles? You know me better than i know myself? Oh, wow! What a fucking catch i let go of!"

"That's not-" he attempted a reply.

"Shut up."

"Chérie, please."

"Shut up!"

He took his seat back next to you and tried to grab your hand but you snatched it away so fast, making him nod in defeat.

"Okay." He murmured and slacked against the back of the couch, his leg bouncing and shaking the whole sofa with it.

A deafening silence took over for long, painful minutes during which you reverted back to crying while Charles stared blank up at the ceiling.

"What about all the things you say to me after bad races?" He sniffled beside you, making you realize he was crying as well, "All that shit about how we can get through everything together? How we can always be each other's comfort and safety? That there's nothing on this world we can't overcome as long as we keep in mind that's it's us against the problem, not against each other? Why doesn't it apply when it's you that needs me? Why's it only me that shares the issues and problems i'm facing so we can solve them together?" He ranted, not stopping for a breath while he lost control over the tears, "I want to help you through this."

"Arrête, s'il te plaît." Stop, please. You cried harder, got up and started pacing around the room, sobbing into the sleeves, hearing Charles crying too.

You've always been used to solving your problems on your own and while over the years, you learned to share the burden of some issues with Charles, you still couldn't bring yourself to openly talk about things like this, not because you didn't trust him enough to help you, but because you've never been comfortable sharing so much.

You kept walking back and forth, hands covering your bloodshot eyes until you collided against who you knew was Charles.

His arms wrapped around you, even when you tried resisting his touch, pushing against his chest, wanting to get away before you caved in and he knew you enough to know that. Eventually, you broke down in his hold and he let you cry it all out.

"Talk to me, please." He cooed in your ear, dragging you to sit with him on the couch.

You tried not to but it got suffocating and so, the questions rushed out.

"You would tell me if i was annoying you during race weekends, right? If i was limiting your freedom."

With every word, and as he realized the cruel remarks you'd been reading, Charles' heart broke more and more.

"What? I want you by side everyday of my life, chérie!" Subconsciously, and maybe even somewhat protectively, his arms tightened around you.

"They're right, in a way... You could get sick of me faster if i went with you everywhere, and if i kept gaining weight-"

"Baby..." he interrupted, "I don't see a single reason for me to get sick of you. You have a fun and amazing personality, you are so beautiful and you understand me like no one ever has. Every day i'm away from you, i can't wait to go back home because life feels - i don't know the word for it - but it feels full and complete with you. And the weight thing, fuck whoever said that. I wish you would love yourself and your body like i do. You're beautiful in every state."

You cried even harder into his shirt, the words he was saying making you realize it was a huge mistake, allowing anyone to mess with your relationship with him, but him easing your worries wouldn't stop the hate and the both of you knew it.

"I love you, Charlie."

"I love you too."

You sat still in that position for a while and that left you thinking of the way things online would never change, dreading that in fact.

"I know what you're thinking. Oui, on pourra jamais les stopper, j'en sais cela très bien." Yes, we can never stop them, I know that very well. Charles spoke up and you gulped at that, "But you could use it for your entertainment. Listen here, all those things they say, it's out of jealousy. You're at a grand prix and they're saying you never leave me alone? They're jealous you get to go for free and that you're dating a driver. Fuck with their minds, post confusing locations, or rub it in their faces that you're there and they're not. I guess what I'm trying to say is have the upper hand because someone who hates on other people online will always be below them. Let them be the insecure ones and keep in mind, everything that is point out negatively is something that they envy so much that they noticed it." He was speaking and moving his hands up and down your back comfortingly.

"And if a certain comment gets to you, come to me and tell me about it and i will prove it wrong in hundreds of different ways. I don't know of you've seen it bébé, mais tu as tes propre fans même and they are way more than the haters. If anything, that just proves my point that you're just so lovable." …but you even have your own fans…

Charles smiled and tilted your head up so he caught a glimpse of your face.

"Just, please, give us another shot and be completely honest with me. Even if you hide those kinds of things from me again - if you decide you want to stay with me - i will now know to look online when things feel off, so i just want your honesty."

You smiled and nodded, agreeing to everything but slightly confusing Charles.

"Yes to what part exactly?"

"Tout. Je veux tout avec toi. Et je vais toujours être honnête avec toi. Everything. I want everything with you. And I will always be honest with you. But first, i owe you a big apology. What i did was cowardly, the way i ran away. I'm sorry i hurt you, Charles." You kissed his neck, "I'm sorry i confused you and left without even saying goodbye." The kissed moved further up his jaw, "And i'm so sorry that i wasn't there after that shitshow, especially since i knew how stressed the first two laps made you. I feel like an asshole." You sealed the words with a kiss to his lips.

"It's okay, bébé. I understand it now." He pressed your lips together again.

"Doesn't excuse how insensitive i was. Is everyone alright?"

"Yeah, the race finished safely."

You nodded, "That's good." Then, you sat up a bit to see him better, "And as for the championship, your are still my champion and you will be the world's one day. You've got it in you and everyone sees it." Assuringly, you traced your hand softly along his cheek while he stared at you lovingly.

"I'm so lucky that i found you, tu sais?" you know? He pulled you back onto his chest, "Je t'adore." I adore you.

"Je t'adore également, crois moi." I adore you just as much, believe me.

You heard him sigh and relax in relief but he wasn't still for long. Within seconds, you felt him reach for his pant's pocket, digging through it weirdly in this position.

"Give me your hand." Charles instructed and you complied.

"Me donnerais-tu l'honneur de t'épouser, mon amour?" Would you give me the honour to marry you, my love? He asked, holding out the ring.

"Bien sûr." Of course. You chuckled, "L'honneur est vraiment complètement le mien." The honour is completely mine.

The both of you watched your hand as Charles slipped the ring back on your finger where it belongs with a big grin on his face.

Now, everything felt right again and you realized that you'd be able to conquer the world and its critics with this man by your side.

a/n: idk how to feel about the note as a picture so be sure to let me know if it’s s cringey as i find it. Thank you for reading!💕

#charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 oneshots #charles leclerc oneshots #f1 x you #charles leclerc one shot

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cosmic-light-fics · 9 months

Text

I honestly can't get over Carmen Anthony Berzatto getting relationship advice from Neil Fak of all people in "Bolognese".

Neil, the one almost everyone refers to as a child. Neil, the one almost everyone doesn't take seriously. That Neil.

So why have a deep conversation with an unserious person?

Well.... because the conversation isn't seriously about Claire.

It's about Sydney.

The Crane Wife 3 by The Decemberists plays in the background as Carmy suddenly asks Neil "Is Claire my girlfriend?" He could have asked Sydney that question. You know, the person who prompted him to think of Claire as a girlfriend instead of a friend that's a girl. But all he was concerned about in that moment was being a shitty person (to whom he doesn't specify. It's purposely left open-ended).

The song playing draws on the Japanese folk tale of the crane wife. A blogger who analyzes The Decemberists' album The Crane Wife had this to say about The Crane Wife 3.

We begin here with the end of the tale of the crane wife, told from the point of view of the now-estranged husband who deeply regrets driving her away. If you’re like me and you know nothing of the story going into the album, all that you’re likely to pick up on is the fact that a man drove his lover away due to some sort of mistrust or disagreement between them, and you’d probably take the lines referring to her shed feathers and her choice to take flight as metaphors for a scorned woman walking out on the man she once loved, not realizing it’s all actually quite literal, as she was a crane who had taken human form. The source of the betrayal won’t become clear until much later in the album.

Up until this point in the season, Carmy and Claire haven't really faced any dips in their relationship due to Carmy's inability to define their connection. The person who is affected the most is Sydney. Claire hasn't felt betrayal from Carmy. Sydney has: from him standing her up for their palate cleanser, to him not updating her on the structural changes to The Bear, and his most egregious betrayal being the construction of the chaos menu without her. Making the chaos menu without her and gaining input from Claire.

Carmy betrayed Sydney. And I think what compounds this fact is that he decides to confirm who Claire is to him to everyone else except Sydney. Sydney is the one who asks for confirmation, the one who confronts him to decide and yet!!! Carmy never confirms their status to the one person who was concerned enough to point it out.

Who suffers from Carmy's relationship the most? Sydney. She loses his time, his focus, his dedication to their creation. But the biggest thing she loses is their connection (up until Carmy finally decides to give her his full focus in ep. 9).

Nothing confirms all of this more than Sydney's Three of Swords tattoo. A song of betrayal playing in the background as Carmy decides if Claire is his girlfriend, a couple's montage between Claire and Carmy undercut with shots of Sydney, and the reveal of a tattoo that symbolizes betrayal and heartbreak.

#tearing my hair out #going insane #sike i am already insane but this isn't helping #the bear fx #the bear #the bear hulu #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #chef's kiss

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ohcorny · 4 months

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i need to post loic soulsov character analysis because if i don't i'll die. he's been plaguing my thoughts for *checks watch* like three to four days because we get SO much information about him and who he is in just this one nugget of the game and i'm spinning out of control about it.

spoilers for the most raw bits of the prelude so obviously go play the game first and then come back and read me ramble and make wild assumptions about this man and the direction of his character

so i have been obsessed with this (paraphrased because i'd have to whip through nearly the whole game again to correctly quote it) exchange between the voice and loic:

"Are you prepared for the world Ysme would create?" "Could it really be any worse than this one?"

and god. bro. bro. the absolute devastation necessary for this man to feel this way, about a woman who lied to him from the moment they met (which he clocked! very early on!), mugged him with a gun, SHOT him with that gun, and then when she became his ghost-god immediately realized she could force him to commit suicide by cop if she wanted. this woman did all of this to him, and when given the opportunity to just let her die--arguably justifiable given her goals and how she threatened him and the fact her death was entirely of her own doing--he doesn't. even though "don't let this woman die", a morally good thing on its face, is actually "let this violent, selfish woman become god with the ability to remake the world in her image, while also becoming her slave" and he knows it.

because to him, that's preferable to the world he lives in. your world has to be so bad for that to be the case.

and it is! his world is that bad. not the physical actual world, which yes, is harsh and cold and dangerous outside the mosaic, but his world, his daughter, in an incurable coma. there is a cruelty to somebody you love being incurably sick. to the selfish, hurting heart, it can be worse than if they were just dead. you can mourn somebody who's dead, and move on from your grief, but as long as they're still living, you're shackled to hope, constantly grieving. there is no moving on, there is only waiting for it to end. you might bargain, as loic does in his search for the flower to cure her, but it's still just waiting.

and when ysme comes into his life, he gives up on waiting. he has been haunting his own life until then, doing good at lamplight because it was within his power while he was there, but i don't think it was ever with dedication. it was something to pass the time as he looked for the flower. essentially selling his soul, surrendering his free will to ysme, this incredibly dangerous, selfish woman, is better than living as he has been. because he's selfish too.

what i like so much about loic is that he's presented as this very kind, soft, unassailable dad who wants to do the right thing. A Down to Earth Good Guy, to contrast with the chaos of ysme, but he's fucking selfish! while he couldn't have predicted the raw physical power of exalted ysme, he still knew she would receive the power to remake the world. and he still decided: fuck this world.

the natural assumption is that his kindness will balance out ysme, and i'm here for that narrative, but honestly. i think she's going to make him worse. the seed of selfishness is already in him, and he's indulged it by giving her power over him, and that must be in some way a relief. he's effectively surrendered responsibility for himself and his actions over to her. he can no longer be fully blamed for anything now that she has power over him.

and i think he's tired of being nice. i think he's ready to go apeshit.

.........and while that would make a good button to end this on, i have to mention: there is a non-zero chance he thinks she's hot and the idea of being a goddess' slave is hot. he's a grown ass man who we know for a fact HAS fucked, and while ysme was like "i thought you were a dead wife guy. i guess you still could be" my money is on divorced. my theory is lia was going over to her mom's house in that flashback.

like yes, all of that above is the main motivator, but i'm not ready to discount sex. loic wants to be lifestyle dommed. because what i just described about surrendering his free will is literally the appeal of being a sub: giving somebody else control, so you don't have to feel the weight of it. this is a story for adults about adults and it is on that le guin shit of linking a sexual fantasy inexorably to the world building and plot thrust, and i am ESPECIALLY here for that.

and i think that's everything i had to say about loic soulsov. i am exorcised. i'm better now.

#soulsov #soul of sovereignty #i wish i could bring this energy of analysis to my fuckin book club but i'm here writing essays about hot dads instead

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y2niki · 4 months

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# Gwen Stacy <3

→ spiderverse 니키. if i die, i must die with you sorta theme. maybe like yandere

warnings? psychology themes, character death, ooc riki, riki is a psycho

authors note: i have returned from break, honestly this was better in my head and i apologise if this is badly written but i hope you like my little song references!!. fem reader. around 700 words. inspired by nayeollyn on tt. story under cut

As the self-proclaimed Spiderman of Tokyo, you were no stranger to danger and chaos. You had dedicated your life to protecting the city from super villains and creatures, using your enhanced abilities and quick wit to save innocent lives. But there was one person who always seemed to be your biggest obstacle - Nishimura Riki, your so-called partner. Someone you had viewed as your “Gwen Stacy” You and Riki were two sides of the same coin, constantly at odds with each other. Whenever you were near each other, the air was thick with tension. You fought like cats and dogs, always trying to one-up each other.

But one day, Your arch-nemesis, the one known as the 'Mastermind', unleashes a wave of monsters on Tokyo. As always, you and Riki team up to take them down. You swing through the city, taking out the creatures with your spider webs, while Riki uses his strength to defeat the larger ones. As you both stand victorious on a rooftop, Riki turns to you with a look of admiration in his eyes.

'You know, you're not so bad for a spider,' he chuckles. Rolling your eyes, you reply, 'And I know you love hanging out. Dare you to say you hate it now, huh’ Perhaps that's why you never suspected a thing. Every time a new monster or villain appeared in Tokyo unleashed by ‘Mastermind’, you and Riki were there to save the day, fighting side by side. You never saw the darkness behind his charming smile, the madness behind his piercing eyes. But that all changed when he finally confessed his love for you.

You start to notice that the villains and creatures always attack on days when Riki is the only one available to help you. But you brush it off, thinking it's just a coincidence. After all, Riki has always been there to help you when you needed him. That day, when you are both taking down a group of monsters, Riki suddenly stops and turns to you with a tender look in his eyes. 'Listen, I need to tell you something,' he says, his voice filled with nervousness.

You were taken aback, to say the least. You had always seen Riki as a nuisance, someone who constantly got in your way and made your job harder. The thought of him being in love with you was almost laughable. But as he poured out his heart, you saw a different side of him. He was vulnerable and honest, his usually confident demeanor crumbling before you. And for a moment, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him. But then, he revealed the truth. That he was the mastermind behind every creature and villain that you had fought. That he had created them all just to spend time with you, to see you in action and maybe even earn your affection. Your sympathy quickly turned to anger and betrayal. How could he do this to you? To the innocent people of Tokyo? You were the protector of the city, and he had used you for his twisted desires. Without a second thought, you attacked him. Your once playful banter turned into a deadly fight, each of you using your powers to their full potential. The streets of Tokyo became your battlefield, the innocent bystanders fleeing in terror. But in your anger and confusion, you didn't see the madness in Riki’s eyes. You didn't realize that he was no longer the charming, sarcastic partner you knew. He was a psychopath, driven by his obsession for you, who had no ounce of self love, he had never loved himself, all the while trying to love you. In the heat of the battle, you had almost killed him. But as he lay on the ground, bloodied and broken, he did the one thing you never expected. He jumped off the building, grabbing onto you in the process. Your mind was racing as you fell through the air, your once enemy now holding onto you for dear life. And in that moment, you heard him whisper “My spider man, you have saved me”As the ground rushed closer and closer, you realized that the man you thought you knew was a dangerous stranger. And as you crashed onto the pavement below, you both lost your lives. The people of Tokyo mourned the loss of their beloved Spiderman and her Gwen Stacy like partner. They had no idea of the truth behind your deaths, of the twisted love and betrayal that had led to this horrific end.

But one thing was for sure.

In every universe, Gwen Stacy had always fallen for spider-man.

And in every universe, it never ended well.

#y2niki #niki #enhypen niki #niki x reader #niki fluff #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #fanfic #enhypen au #niki angst #enhypen angst

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mageofseven · 11 months

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The Boys and Therapy

Let's face it; there's not a single man in Obey Me who couldn't benefit from therapy. At least three of them have daddy issues, about six of them still grieve Lilith's exit from their life (since Satan wasn't a physical person yet, I don't think he hurts over it as much as the others) at least three of them have issues non parent family issues, three of them at minimum are constantly under stress, and almost ALL of them have been through some sort of trauma.

Honestly, this list could go farther, but Imma just jump into the post~

Please enjoy 🥰

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Therapy In the Devildom

First off, I would like to explain how I see therapy in the Devildom. It's a relatively new practice in the realm, brought in by the cultural exchange program started in the first game (I cannot imagine therapy being a thing here during the time of Nightbringer since things are so chaotic and the people were still so closed-minded).

Devildom is a place where secrets are treasured more than grimm. Even a greed demon, when given the choice between a vault near-bursting with grimm or a single secret about some demonic duke, would choose the secret every time because it's intrinsic value is so much more in this realm.

So when therapy was beginning to become a practice here in the Devildom, they simply could not afford to go about it the same ways humans did; laws simply were not enough to keep the client's secrets safe.

The job of a therapist is considered a prestigious one in the Devildom, carrying with it the status of being a staunch member of the Aldatu faction (a political party in the Devildom dedicated to change and the chaos that comes with it, the 'true demon way'; they oppose the Traditionalist faction and are backed by Diavolo himself).

Such prestige made it easier for the demons pursuing these jobs to accept the innumerable amount of curses placed on them so they couldn't reveal their clients' secrets. Of course, there were checks and balances to this though. If any secret involved a severe law being broken or if the client revealed plans to hurt themself or others, they had assigned curse breakers to help them through the process.

This process helped a lot of demons feel comfortable enough to seek their services.

This is how the Boys found themselves seeking such services as well.

Lucifer:

This man was pushed into it by Diavolo.

The Avatar of Pride was more stressed at this time than the prince had ever seen and that is saying something.

Honestly, Dia was worried his friend was on the verge of popping out another Satan so attending therapy was non-negotiable.

His brothers were so weirded out by this turn of events. I mean, Lucifer? Talking about his feelings? To a complete stranger??? In what realm could this actually work out?

The pride demon spent most of the first couple sessions in silence; he told Lord Diavolo that he would attend such meetings, not that he would truly participate in such unnecessary--

Ok, this demon was good. Too good. The therapist had somehow tricked him into talking about some basic stressors. Nothing from the core of the oldest's pain, but some surface level things like dealing with piles of paperwork taller than himself and his brothers' usual hijinks.

Lucifer found himself looking forward to the weekly sessions, but would adamantly deny it if anyone asked.

Diavolo could tell that it was doing his friend some good though and for that, he was grateful.

I don't know if Lucifer would ever talk about anything important to the therapist and if he did, it would probably take decades a least to bring up topics like his Father and Lilith.

Still, therapy ended up being a good experience for this pride demon.

Main issue he works on in therapy: Seeing his brothers as grown ass men who need to make their own mistakes in order to learn.

This is something the pride demon struggles with. Sometimes, he has no issue letting his brothers handle their own issues; others, he hovers over them and lectures them profusely like a concerned and angry mother.

Realizes that, on some level, he doesn't actually want his brothers growing up. He's been raising them since he himself was a child after all so for them to grow up and not need him anymore...what would he do then? His life has been surrounded around them all this time. A life where they don't need him...it sounds empty and not a life he'd know how to live.

Mammon:

Was dragged there by Lucifer, who was honestly done with him after the 1200th time he tried to steal from the castle.

That was the surface reason anyway, the 'straw that broke the camel's back' so to speak

But the older brother had been thinking about sending the second brother there for a while now.

Behavioral issues aside, Lucifer knows his brother suffers from some self esteem issues and wants him to address them.

Mammon complained and treated it like a pain, but in truth, he had been thinking about going for a while, but was too embarrassed and didn't want his younger brothers giving him crap for it.

When he went to his first session, the greed demon was awkward as all hell

But his therapist really had a way of making him comfortable.

Unlike his older brother, there really wasn't a lot that was off the table for him to talk about, though the deeper topics took some cajoling from the professional.

He talked about a variety of things, from the crap he gets from his brothers and their 'scummy' comments, Lilith, memories from the Celestial realm...

Lucifer himself.

Main issue he works on in therapy: his relationship with his older brother.

As much as he cared about Lilith, this man never fought in the Celestial War for her; he fought for Lucifer. There is nothing his brother could do that he himself wouldn't jump in and help him with.

Mammon fucks up a lot and while some of those fuck ups are genuine...

Some are on purpose. For Lucifer.

I think Mammon is the only brother who truly understands the oldest and to a level that even Lucifer might not fully be aware of.

He knows, or maybe just senses, his older brother's need to be needed and gets in trouble so Lucifer will have to punish him, have to feel like Mammon still needs direction in life.

Not only that but...the second brother has come to realize just how much he needs his big brother's attention, even when it's negative.

When you boil it all down, Mammon and Lucifer's relationship has never really been that healthy.

The two depend on each other more than they are willing to admit and a lot of it isn't in a healthy way.

This was an incredibly painful realization for this man, but an important one

And one he still isn't sure if he wants to change.

Leviathan:

One of the brothers whose asses got put in therapy as soon as the practice became stable enough to be safe in the Devildom.

Agoraphophic, socially anxious, extremely low self esteem? This man needs it.

Fortunately, he was allowed to attend therapy virtually in the beginning.

He was still pretty quiet during the first session, but managed to open up a bit towards the end and had an easier time as he attended more sessions.

Levi grew to really like going to therapy because his therapist would let him talk about the things he enjoyed; he wasn't just restricted to talking about the bad and that made him feel really comfortable with the other demon.

He could start by talking about TSL and Ruri-chan before sliding into topics like his insecurities and things his brothers do on a regular day that make him feel bad about himself.

He talked about The Fall and the life he lived before it; what he missed, what he hated, what he desperately wished he had back...

And came to the conclusion that he didn't so much miss or even care about the Celestial realm. It was nothing more than a controlling, hypocritical place after all.

What he did miss was his childhood, where being his awkward, silly self was encouraged instead of judged.

Main issue he works on in therapy: Loving himself despite whatever other think or however he perceives their opinion of him to be.

Leviathan is great how he is and the main person who needs to understand that is himself.

Satan:

Oh boy, this man was difficult to drag there 😅

Anything Satan thinks might insinuate that he is 'broken' is too big of an insult to tolerate.

It took some real encouragements and long talks with MC to even humor the idea of going

But he did, eventually.

Was very adamant about not speaking to the therapist during the first session, but his anger got the better of him and he said a lot, some actually being productive and not just name calling and threats slewed at the poor therapist.

Another brother whose first sessions were online, though more so for the therapist's safety than Satan's own comfort.

Eventually, Satan realized the sessions were actually beneficial for him and liked how much lighter they made him feel

So the threats towards the other demon diminished and the sessions became calmer.

Occasionally he would snap at the poor therapist again and would actually feel bad about

But the therapist would forgive him because look! Progress!

Avoids talking about Lucifer for the longest time, but eventually brings up his issues about his...father with the other demon.

His existential issues and his feelings about his father where all twisted together, making him so very sensitive about it all.

By being born the way he was, Satan was brought into this world as a complete mess. Emotions so strong that even a grown man couldn't deal with suddenly forced upon a small and helpless babe.

Satan grew up tortured by anger and pain that wasn't even his and it formed him into the man he was today; it wasn't fair, but he grew to accept that Lucifer truly didn't do it on purpose

But those thoughts just led to him feeling unwanted, a burden thrusted upon Lucifer and his brothers that they had to deal with.

That only made the blonde even more compelled to find himself an identity outside of Lucifer, outside of being the a life who was forced from his body with all of the former trauma he carried.

Just who was he? For years, he collected knowledge and hoped it'd bring him purpose, bring him respect from others and be seen as his own person, but it never made him feel more complete.

He still didn't understand most emotions that he wasn't born with, even when they overwhelmed him.

Main issue he works on in therapy: Understanding his emotions, both what he's feeling and why, and also becoming more comfortable with himself.

Asmodeus:

Told his brothers he was going to therapy to keep himself "just as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside"

But in truth, he started going because he wanted to be a good influence on his brothers and show them that therapy really isn't all that scary and it could help them too.

In truth, Asmo didn't realize just how vulnerable it would make him feel though.

When he got too uncomfortable, he'd change the topic or try flirting with them to distract them, but his therapist always kept him on track.

He spoke a lot about the Celestial realm, all of the great times that he had there, but grew to understand that it wasn't truly the place he missed, but the time.

After all, it was a lot easier to keep smiles on his on his siblings' faces back when they were all kids and Asmo himself was the Jewel of the Heavens.

Since moving to the Devildom and losing Lilith...it's become so much harder to make his brothers happy and even he himself has to force himself to be positive for their sakes.

That's always been his job, raising his brothers' spirits and he took it just as seriously as Lucifer took his job of protecting them and Mammon and Beel took supporting Lucifer.

Main issue he works on in therapy: Learning that its okay to not be okay sometimes, both in regards to himself and his brothers, and that he's not responsible for his brothers' emotional states.

Sometimes people just need to be sad and that's okay! No one can be happy all the time and if his brothers are going through a tough time, he can support them without taking responsiblity for the rough time they're in.

Beelzebub:

Joined a couple days after Asmo did; he understood his other man's message and signed up for therapy himself in order to be a good influence on their other brothers.

Their family was a mess; Beel knew this all too well.

If going to therapy and talking about the mess from his perspective could help his brothers in any way, especially with encouraging Belphie to do the same, then this man will go with no hesitation.

This demon is naturally the quiet sort so it's a bit difficult to truly start the process despite his willingness, but he eventually gets into the flow of all of it.

Mostly talks about The Fall, how he lost his sister and the guilt he feels towards both her and Belphie.

Sometimes he wonders if he made the right choice in saving Belphie despite knowing he never truly made one; when he saw what that Celestial archer was about to do and Belphie's eyes met his own...he just ran to his brother without thinking, causing the archer to choose to shoot Lilith instead.

That moment changed everything for his family and so much suffering followed...

He's grateful that event led to MC's eventual birth, but the guilt he carries from pain he caused his brothers is immeasurable.

If only he could have saved both, if only MC could have still been born if he did...

There was so much he wished.

Main issue he works on in therapy: Trying not to carry the past with him every second of the present. Though tragic, the past is the past and he has so many reasons to be happy in the present.

It will take a long time working on this issue to make some good progress with it, but what matters is that he is trying just like he hopes his other brothers will.

Belphegor:

Another brother who was forced into therapy by Lucifer.

This man has been extremely depressed in the most obvious way possible for centuries so of course he needs therapy.

Really, really fought it to the point where he was escaping the therapy sessions out the bathroom window and Lucifer would have to track him down at a shop or sleeping on bench in a random park.

It made things easier when Beel started to go therapy though. Seeing Beel take the time to work on his issues made the younger twin feel like he should be trying too...

But he still didn't like it.

He was very, very slow in opening up. Like, I'm talking months of just talking about trivial shit till finally he grew more comfortable to truly speak his mind about what he's gone through.

His survivor's guilt was strong and he truly believes he shouldn't be alive, not when his little sister was gone...

Therapy really cut open some old wounds and for awhile, it seemed like this man was more depressed than ever.

Slowly though, he became stronger from it all and the past started to hurt just a little less.

He loved Lilith with every ounce of his being, but carrying this guilt was not going to bring her back nor would she have wanted him to feel guilty.

Main issue he works on in therapy: Letting the dead rest and himself truly rest as well. Yes, Lilith is gone, but she lived a happy life as a human with the person she loved. His loss was her gain and if you have to lose at all, isn't this the best scenario? That someone you love was happy and free and had their dreams come true?

This issue might take a demonic lifetime to work through, but little bits of progress are made every day and his brothers grow to see that in him

And for now, that's enough.

Diavolo:

Attending therapy was something stuck on this prince's mind for some time now.

It stayed that was for a long time without even speaking it aloud.

Eventually, he did bring it up to Barbatos and his friend heard him out so patiently.

Barb has always sought to be a comfort to the prince, but recognized that he was not a professional so there was very little he could do in the long term for him.

The butler told him that therapy sounds like a good idea and that believes Dia could get a lot out of it.

Though Diavolo is usually a pretty expressive guy, that really didn't extend to strangers who he was paying to listen to him.

He went slow with the therapist, first only speaking about his workload and how almost every moment of his life was planned out for him because of said workload

Then it lead to his father's deep slumber, the very cause of all the responsibility that was dropped on him

And eventually led to him talking about the strict childhood that his father gave him and how he grew up without his mother

And just how incredibly lonely he has always been.

The arrival of Lucifer definitely helped with that last part, but the prince still wished he wasn't so sheltered and alone while growing up.

Main issue he works on in therapy: time management and how to make the most out of the present.

There was so much of life he missed out on when he was younger, but it didn't have to be like that forever.

With the help of both his therapist and Barb, he was able to manage his time a lot better and make the most of his time off by trying new experiences.

It was easier to handle his past when his present became so much more fulfilling.

Barbatos:

Only really went at Diavolo's request.

In truth, the butler felt that therapy was unnecessary for himself, but wanted to give the prince some peace of mine so he agreed.

His opinion of therapy doesn't change no matter how long he goes.

He starts going once a week at Diavolo's insistence

And mostly talks about the stress he feels with looking out for the man.

He looks young so even other demons assume he is either about Diavolo's age or younger.

In truth, he is older than the prince and has been looking out for him since Dia was a small child.

Barbatos has essentially filled the roll of second parent since Dia's mother died in childbirth.

Though a butler, his role used to be more of a nanny; he cared greatly for the man who was currently drowning in the responsiblity and has spent so long just trying to make life easier for him

Resulting in Barbatos neglecting himself over the years for the sake of the prince.

Main issue he works on in therapy: setting some time aside for himself.

Because of his job, Dia will always need Barbatos to some degree

But the prince is also a grown man now and can function as such without Barb being there 24/7

Starts taking one day off a week and attends therapy once a month, something that makes both Barb and Dia feel better.

Solomon:

Honestly, most people don't know he attends therapy and that's how he prefers it.

He never really thought much of therapy, not in regards to himself anyway.

For other people? It was a useful tool. For him? He simply believed he's been around too long for it to help.

I mean, he was literally born in 990 B.C.E.

He was older than even some of the demons he interacted with.

He was unique, but that didn't feel as much of a good thing as he pretended it was.

His existence was a lonely one, but he hid such thoughts away.

He started going to therapy because of Simeon, because of his angel friend's gentle nudges to do so, and eventually he caved.

He went to weekly sessions and was honestly more uncomfortable than he directly expressed to his therapist.

The sorcerer always kept a light smile on his face, even when he talked about the immortality that he never wanted

Because he didn't want it.

In truth, he doesn't really remember much before he became immortal. A side effect the experiment gone wrong, he assumed, because surely he didn't purposely do this to himself.

He vaguely remembers being a king in the Human realm, a job he never wanted but was thrusted upon him buy the angels' Father, who Solomon himself worshipped at the time.

Other than that...his memory of that time is very fuzzy and it's always bothered him.

He just carries around this feeling that...that he's forgetting something important

While also carrying another, even greater feeling, that he doesn't want to know

But at the same time, he does! It's been driving him mad for thousands of years.

It felt like he had lost part of himself when he became immortal and it hurt just as much as the pain he felt from loosing others in his life from time.

Main issue he talks about in therapy: Stressing himself out about the past won't help him now or in the future. Yes, his life is long and he is tired, but the best way to cope is by seeking new experiences that make life worth living

Which he tries hard at...but can't help the tug at his brain that seems to want him to remember the past

And whoever 'Naamah' was.

Simeon:

Decided to go after convincing Soli to do so.

Simeon as his own problems, same as his human friend, and worried he might be perceived as a hippocrite if he didn't try to work on his own as well.

Very much wanted to be seen as a person who takes his own advice, so to speak

But therapy wasn't an easy thing for him.

I mean, he's an angel. It's his job to help others, guide them into making safe and healthy choices for themselves

So to be the one being helped instead of the helper was really new to him and felt very unangelic of him.

Main issue he talked about: growing so attached to the Devildom.

I mean, this place was as different from the Celestial realm as anything could be and he was taught that it was such a bad place because of it

But that didn't match his own experience here and that caused him to feel so conflicted.

The Devildom was a place of freedom while the Celestial realm was a place of order

And though, like most angels, he found comfort in that order, he also saw beauty in the chaos of the Devildom

Simeon has to grow to understand that life isn't in black and white, that things don't have to be only one or the other.

Both the Devildom and the Celestial realm can be good places despite being opposites

And it's a lesson he was so grateful for learning, feeling like he was really helping himself grow as a person and as an angel too.

Luke:

After being in the Devildom for a while, the small angel had become more quiet, distracted even

And it worried his guardian, especially when the child wouldn't talk about it with him.

Simeon eventually enrolled Luke in therapy, something that was so new to the child that his curiosity made him open to trying it.

Since he was still just a child, his sessions weren't the same as it was for the men on this list.

Instead, Luke was brought into a room full of different toys and told he could play with whatever he wanted as long as he answered the therapist's questions as he did so.

The angel was a bit apprehensive at first, but so grew to enjoy his visits to the therapist.

He often chose to make fake sweets out of play dough or draw while the therapist talked to him

And would often bring the drawings home to PH as gifts for Simeon and Solomon.

Simeon always hung the pictures on the fridge with a proud smile on his face

While Soli would hang them up in his room on the wall to the point where he was taking down the expensive paintings that came with the room in favor of giving the child more space to fill with his art.

Main issue he talked about: growing to like the demons around him while also worrying Michael won't like him anymore if he knew Lukey was friends with them.

The child tried so hard to keep to the belief that demons are bad just like Michael taught him. He really, really tried

But he had a lot of fun here in the Devildom, especially baking with Barbatos, who the small angel started to see as his best friend, but was too scared to admit it.

Would Michael not like him if he found out Luke is friends with the demon butler?

His therapist ends up helping him see that it's always good to make friends and often the bad reactions we think those around us would give about something is often just our brain scaring us.

Ends up talking about this Simeon when he gets home after this session.

The older angel held him close and told him that the therapist is right, that it's always good to make friends and that he has nothing to worry about.

The next time he bakes with Barbatos, he tells the demon how he feels, how he sees him as his very best friend and how he looks up to him.

Barb smiled at the child and patted his head, telling Luke that he sees him as a good friend as well

And the child spent the rest of the baking session blushing and hanging off the older man.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me boys

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