#i’m sick of everyone forcing positivity on me

[sonodaten]

#ffxiv #every day I walk in and am immediately overtaken with the urge to walk back out through the plate glass window #0 redeeming qualities. 0 opportunity for growth that doesn’t come at the expense of your dignity and current relationship with your coworker #I told them I wouldn’t do work I wasn’t paid for bc it wasn’t my job but would happily do so for a promotion/title change #the department has literally lost half their analysts and they’d rather work their current ones to the bone than give it to me. fuck off. #and it’s not just the money I literally NEED the unlimited PTO the new job would give me #I burned through all my renewed PTO AND my carried over time in January bc I was sick with a stomach bug for a week #THEN tested positive for COVID and wasn’t allowed back to work for another week. but bc they stopped giving COVID temp time those five days #were either coming out of MY PTO or were unpaid. and I didn’t even know until it was already halfway through the week. #so I have to scrape together hours now just to take days off for specialists and doctors visits #fuck me if I have a migraine. they denied my PFML request for intermittent leave so I just suffer at work and so does everyone else bc I’m #a ‘huge bitch’ and well you’d be too if it felt like your brain was trying to force its way out through a pinhole between your eyes

[twirlyleafs]

“Gold-digger.”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: Angst, arguing I guess

A/N: I’m in such a drought I need requests </3

~~~~

It had been a good weekend. A great one even. The weather had been nice, no rain but not too warm, and not one single DNF which had just about everyone feeling happy. Just a few hours ago you cheered for your boyfriend as he took the steps up to the top of the podium, giggling slightly as he sent you a wink from his high position. You never got tired of seeing Max win, you loved it. Loved how hardworking he was and loved that it gave result. Loved to see him happy. You also most definitely didn’t mind the adrenaline he still had coursing through his body when the two of you got back to the hotel, having him press you up against the shower wall with quick and hard thrusts. Looking at the two of you right now, smartly dressed and sitting on opposite sides of the big table surrounded by your friends, no one could imagine the whimpering mess you’d been just a while ago. You smiled as you watched Max across the table, one hand holding his beer as the other was cupped around Daniel’s ear. By the giant grin on Danny’s face you knew Max was whispering gossip to him and you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. All around the table people seemed happy, relaxed, and since it was three weeks until the next GP you all found it necessary to both celebrate a good race weekend and the well-deserved upcoming break.

“You think she’d be with me if I wasn’t rich?” You snapped out of your own thoughts, eyes trailing back to your boyfriend. He seemed to be in the middle of some sort of jokey rant, the glimmer in his eye tipping you off to the fact that he was slightly tipsy. Max nodded to you with a grin as the table laughed. “No way man.” You rolled your eyes but chuckled along. Tipsy Max always pulled stupid jokes but because he was so disgustingly adorable everyone was fine with it.

“Shut up Max.” You pointed your fork at him and he grinned, winking back. For a moment the table seemed to move on to other topics but somehow it ended with Max once again saying something about your relationship. He claimed that he didn’t only have his career to thank Redbull for, they had helped him land you too. This time you couldn’t shrug off the feeling that his words were deeper than just a silly comment and you felt the need for him to finally say he was joking. When he dropped a third comment you pushed your brows together, having had enough, and called him out.

“Max.” Your voice had him shifting his gaze to you, the smile still evident on his face. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the sudden frown on your face. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You don’t think we’d be together if you weren’t with Redbull?” You were in disbelief, not really comprehending what he was actually talking about. Joking about. Max only shrugged, sporting a carefree smile.

“Maybe if I drove for Ferrari too.” He joked, still keeping the conversation light.

“Not McLaren? That wouldn’t be good enough?” Lando spoke up from the other end of the table and when Max answered with an exaggerated frown and shake of his head everyone once again started laughing. You didn’t. You watched your boyfriend, the big smile on his face as he joked about your relationship making you feel sick. Was he even joking? Or did he actually sincerely believe that the two of you wouldn’t be a couple, that you wouldn’t date him, if he wasn’t rich? It took Max a few moments before his gaze landed on you again, the grin simmering down when he saw the look on your face.

“Are you serious?” You asked again, even though you were starting to realize you wouldn’t like the answer. Max just chuckled and you felt your heart crack at the prospect of him actually thinking you were with him for the money. With a hard swallow you leaned back in your chair, focusing your gaze down into your wineglass as the table moved on.

The rest of the night you did your best to keep up, forcing smiles and laughs even though you wanted nothing else than to sink through the floor. Max didn’t seem to notice. You took note of who payed for dinner, Charles, and made sure you transferred him your share the second you and Max got back to the hotelroom. You had never done that before, no one had, because one of the guys usually offered to take the tab and Max had told you they basically took turns paying. It had never crossed your mind before, but after tonight’s conversations it felt important to pay for yourself.

“Liefje?” Max called from the bedroom as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, removing your makeup. He popped his head through the door a second later, a slight frown on his face. “Chuck is asking why you’re sending him money?”

“Because he paid for dinner.” You answered simply, swiping a cotton pad across your cheeks. Max huffed.

“So?”

“So I’m paying for what I ate. And drank.” You paused to look at him through the mirror. When he still sported a questioning pout you sighed. “Don’t want him to think we’re just friends because he’s rich.” It took Max a moment to process your words, connecting them to earlier that night. When he did he couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

“You’re mad about that whole thing?” He asked and it honestly chocked you that he could be so surprised about it. When you broke the eye contact, moving back to start moisturizing your face, he let out another breathy laugh. “Seriously y/n?”

“You’re an asshole Max.” You muttered. Max shuffled closer to you. Even though you were annoyed, mad even, you didn’t stop his hands from smoothing over your hips. You watched his smile through the mirror but didn’t reciprocate it.

“Don’t be mad about that.” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. In moments like this you hated that he knew exactly how to make you break. You felt your anger slowly subside when he kneaded his fingers into the skin above your hips, lips still pressing warm kisses against your bare skin. You had almost forgotten how upset you were until he spoke up again. Max had placed his lips just against your ear, something that would usually make you shiver in a good way. Now it had your skin burning hot in anger instead. “I don’t mind paying for you, I like that you like it.”

In a millisecond you had pushed him away, quickly turning to look at him instead. “Are you fucking serious?”

“What?

“I don’t like that you spend your money on me. That’s not why I’m with you, I- how can you even say that? I would love you even if you worked at a fucking gas station.” You were frustrated now, even more so when you saw Max roll his eyes. He obviously still thought you were being dramatic, that this whole thing was kind of amusing.

“Oh let’s be real, we wouldn’t be together if I wasn’t driving in f1 and you weren’t a model. Drivers date models and we do that because we have money, it’s not more complicated than that.” He said it so casually, leaning his hip against the sink. You stared at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. It had been bad enough to know that he thought you used him, but now he’s admitting to only dating you for your looks and your work and suddenly everything felt ten times worse.

“You’re only with me because I’m a model, is that what you’re saying?” You asked slowly, impressed with yourself for keeping your voice steady and the tears at bay. Max shook his head.

“That’s obviously not what I mean, but-“

“Because in that case you can find someone else to spend your precious money on. I’m sure you can pay some hotter girl to be your girlfriend if that’s what you think a relationship is supposed to be like.” Your words were sharp and you saw his face drop just before you turned around, walking out of the bathroom. You immediately went to your suitcase, throwing it up on the bed. Max was quick to follow, stopping you from opening it with a strong hand on top.

“That’s not what I meant.” He repeated, finally seeming to understand the seriousness in his earlier words.

“But it’s what you said. It’s what you’ve been saying the whole night actually. You believe that we’re in some sort of business with each other where I get to use your money and you get to, what? Be like your friends? Date a model? That’s making you feel cool?” You shoved his hand away from your bag, dragging the zipper all around it to open. “I believe -believed- that we loved each other and wanted to be together because we enjoy it. I guess there was some miscommunication.”

“No, no you’re twisting my words.” Max argued, dragging his fingers through his hair in a stressed demeanor while he watched you start to pack your stuff into the bag. “I’m not saying-“

“I think you’ve said enough tonight, actually.” Shoving your suitcase shut again you paused to look up at your boyfriend. Or whatever he was now. He stared at you with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. The situation had escalated too quickly for him to follow and now all of a sudden he was panicking. “I’m gonna knock on Danny’s door, see if I can sleep there. I would advise you to figure out how you see us because if I’m simply someone you think you’re buying to be with you I’m out.”

“Schatje-“ he began, reaching a hand out to touch you. You moved away, pulling your bag down on the floor.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #verstappen x reader #verstappen fanfic #verstappen #f1 writing #f1 x you #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #redbull racing #redbull

[bunny-yan]

How about yandere king when the reader finally get stockholm syndrome?

Given how he’s taken away everyone that you’ve ever loved and prevents you from relying on anyone else for comfort and solace with their lives as collateral if a secret relationship ever gets found out, I can see Idris’s darling being completely in shambles, crying for him to comfort them. TW: Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of violence, slight depictions of depression, yandere themes — 

You’d been inconsolable for weeks now. 

Moping when you weren’t laying in bed, refusing to get up some days until you were threatened with being confined in that same position since you liked it so much. When you did leave the room you were despondent, distant with his attention and only offering noncommittal simple answers whenever he spoke to you. 

Idris supposed your newfound laziness wouldn’t bother him so much if you’d allowed him to take certain liberties, but whenever he tried to wrap his arm around your waist, brush a finger down your cheek, or make the barest amount of contact with your skin, you jerked away violently as if something was burning you. 

Of course he’d get angry, never learning how to handle rejection despite the experiences he’d had with you over the course of your lives, and you learned that his anger always came with pain. Your back had yet to heal from the last time you’d spoken brazenly, telling him to leave you alone. Despite the rage clouding his vision, he couldn’t help the amusement he felt at this new spark of rebellion he thought he’d long since crushed and even more confusing was the hope in your eyes whenever his punishments were meted out.

  He knew you weren’t stupid. Or maybe you were since you seemed to like provoking him so often these days, but he couldn’t understand why you were so desperate for him to hurt you. 

“My love?” he called out, a quick sweep through the bedroom revealed that you were right where he left you this morning. Curled up on your side looking as if you’d been devastated by the world. 

“It’s time to get up now. If you aren’t feeling well, surely a walk through the garden will lift your spirits.”

“Leave me alone.” came your muffled reply. 

He felt irritation strike the edges of his control, but he held back, thinking it prudent to find the cause for this misbehavior rather than giving you what you wanted. 

“Are you sick? Sit up so I can check.”

“Leave me-”

“Sit up.”

Something in his voice had your stomach lurching, forcing you to rise before you could tell yourself not to. Looking into his eyes, the predatory gaze softened as he walked to the edge of the bed. Putting a hand on your forehead, his eyes flicked between yours before he sighed. 

Your body began to relax when he pulled his hand away, but you choked on a gasp when his hand lashed out to grab your throat. His fingers gripped you lightly, feeling your racing pulse as your wide eyes stared into his narrowed ones. 

“You’re not sick. But I’m sure you knew that already.” Tapping a finger against your throat, you held your breath when his grip tightened ever so slightly. “What I can’t understand is why you’re so keen to make me angry.” 

Fingers clipped your chin before snapping your head up. “What’s gotten into you, my love?” His words caressed your ears and you shuddered, wanting to back away but not having the courage. Despite his placating tone, you noticed the wild look in his eyes. They promised to make you suffer if you did anything wrong. “I thought we’d moved past these childish tantrums. Why is your behavior regressing?”

Attempting to avoid his gaze, you tried to pull away from his grip, but his free hand lifted to rest lazily on your neck as the other cupped your cheek. 

“Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.” Despite his hissed threats, his thumb brushed across your cheek and for the smallest moment you let yourself relish in the affection. Barely leaning into his touch before jerking away with wide eyes that stared into his own expression slack in shock. 

Your heart dropped, wanting to deny that he’d noticed in that short time, barely a fraction of a second, but he’d seen it. 

Longing. A desire for something deeper, something that couldn’t be condensed in a word as simple as love. 

He’d never seen you make that expression before and from the panic in your eyes he was sure you didn’t mean for him to pick up on these carefully hidden emotions but he had. 

A grin stretched his expression, smile becoming unnaturally wide as his hands moved to grip your shoulders. You flinched from the pain, but it was nothing compared to the devastation you felt when he yanked you into an embrace, molding your body together and holding you as if he would never let you go. 

“Oh, my love.”

Your throat felt tight, fighting back tears as you begged yourself not to give in. He said it again, voice softer yet full of possessiveness as you choked on a sob. 

Trembling hands came up and wrapped around his middle, pulling him closer, desperate for his warmth to engulf you, terrified at the relief you felt when he only squeezed you tighter.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere male #ask #gn reader #yandere king #yandere king x concubine reader

[phillydilly]

On the edge

⊹♡— In which Charles has finally hit his breaking point and snaps at Ferrari, and his girlfriend is the only one who can calm him down

Charles Leclerc x fem!reader

Authors note: After processing everything that was the US Grand Prix, I decided to write this and pretend that this is exactly what Charles did in real life. I don’t know about Charles but I have certainly reached my breaking point with this fuckass team. Anyways, enjoy?

Charles stood on the grid, his red Ferrari gleaming under the Texan sun. He had secured pole position for the United States Grand Prix in Austin, but his excitement was short-lived. The team had a different strategy in mind, one that involved a risky one-stop tire plan, and Charles couldn't believe it.

"Charles, we're going for the one-stop strategy," his race engineer informed him through the radio.

"One-stop? Are you guys out of your minds?" Charles shouted back, his frustration bubbling over.

Ferrari had been struggling with tire degradation for years, especially at the Circuit of the Americas, and it was a recipe for disaster. He felt like he was being set up for failure. As the race began, he fought to keep his tires alive, but the degradation was merciless.

Lap after lap, Charles watched as other drivers on different strategies flew past him. His tires were giving up, and he felt betrayed by his own team. He couldn't hold back his anger any longer. "This is ridiculous! I can't believe you put me on these tires! What are you thinking?" Charles yelled over the radio.

The Ferrari pit wall was silent for a moment before the voice of the team principal, Fred Vasseur, responded, "Charles, we believe this strategy can work. Just stay focused."

But Charles knew it was a lost cause. The moment the race ended he stormed into the garage after his pit stop, his frustration boiling over. "You guys sabotaged my race! This was a terrible call!"

Charles couldn't hold back his anger any longer. He stormed into the debrief session with his Ferrari team, the tension in the room palpable.

"I can't believe you guys," he began, his voice seething with frustration. "You knew how important this race was for the standings, and you still forced that one-stop strategy on me. It's like you don't even care about my success."

The team members exchanged uneasy glances, but Charles wasn't done. "I've been patient with this team for years, and this is how you repay me? By ruining my race?"

Fred tried to maintain order, "Charles, we believed in the strategy. We thought it could work."

Charles cut him off, his anger unrestrained. "Believed? Believed?! You destroyed my race, and you dare to say you believed? It's absurd!"

As the argument intensified, Charles's teammate Carlos Sainz couldn't stay silent any longer. "Charles, we win as a team, and we lose as a team. We have to trust in the decisions we make together."

Charles turned to Carlos, his eyes blazing with anger. "Trust? You want me to trust a team that has let me down repeatedly? Maybe you can, but I’m sick of this bullshit!"

The room descended into chaos as Charles and the team members went back and forth. Accusations were hurled, and frustrations boiled over. The argument was a maelstrom of emotions and raised voices.

In the midst of the heated debrief session, Charles felt the need to drive home a point. He turned to the team with a determined expression. "You know, Ferrari is not my last option. I've been contacted by several teams, including Red Bull."

The room fell silent as everyone took in his words. The mention of Red Bull, a team that was currently dominating the sport, hung heavily in the air.

"I've been loyal to Ferrari, and I've given my best. But you need to understand that other teams are interested in me," Charles continued, his tone unyielding. "I have choices, and I won't hesitate to explore them if I feel that my commitment and hard work aren't being reciprocated."

The team members exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that Charles had a point. The sport was highly competitive, and top drivers were in demand. Ferrari couldn't afford to lose a talent like him.

They had taken Charles’s loyalty for granted, and never thought he would entertain the idea of leaving. They knew he had other options, but this was a stark wake-up call.

In the midst of the shocked silence that had followed Charles's revelation, Fred began to speak, attempting to address the situation. However, before he could finish his sentence, Charles abruptly stood up, his expression resolute, and without saying a word, he walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

The team was left in stunned silence, realizing the gravity of the situation. The realization that Charles, their star driver, had reached a breaking point and walked out of the debrief without another word was a stark reminder that their actions had consequences, and the trust between the driver and the team needed to be urgently repaired.

As he stormed out of the garage and back to his driver's room, he noticed Y/n, his girlfriend, sitting on the sofa with open arms, waiting for him.

He collapsed into her embrace, his anger still burning brightly. Y/n wrapped her arms around him, letting him vent. "Charles, it's okay to be angry," she said softly. "You've been patient with this team for years, and they keep making these decisions that hurt you. It's not fair."

Charles took a deep breath, tears of frustration and anger welling up in his eyes. "I just don't know what to do anymore. I've given them everything, and they do this."

Y/n held him close, her voice filled with empathy. "I understand, Charles. You have every right to be angry. You've earned your place here, and they need to respect that. Let it out; I'm here to support you."

As he continued to express his anger and disappointment, Y/n listened attentively, providing a safe space for him to share his feelings. She understood that this was a breaking point for him, and she was determined to stand by his side.

Just as they were beginning to calm down, a knock on the driver's room door shattered the fragile peace. A Ferrari team member stood there, a worried look on his face.

"What is it?" Charles asked, his heart sinking.

The team member hesitated before responding, "Charles, we've just been informed that there's a technical issue on your car, and it's likely to result in disqualification."

Charles and Y/n exchanged a glance, their hearts heavy with the weight of the news. It seemed that the day had gone from bad to worse, and now the race he had fought so hard for was slipping away.

Charles ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "I can't catch a break today, can I?"

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #Charles leclerc one shot #formula 1 smut #Charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 #charles leclerc x female reader #Charles leclerc story #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x female reader #Charles leclerc x you

[eve175]

Clingy bat

Azriel x pregnant!reader

Summary: You really need to make your mate understand that you need some alone time...

Warning: Talk of pregnancy

Word count: 807

You stroke your now slightly swollen womb as you walk between the tall rows of bookshelves of the Town House, the place you and Azriel now call home. Rhysand and Feyre gifted you this magnificent residence as a mating ceremony present, since the both of them were now spending most of their time at the River House since the birth of Nyx anyway. You halt and smile in contentment when you finally pick up the book you were looking for. You spin around, and almost suffer from a heart attack when you face your mate, who had most certainly been following you for… Mother knows how long.

“Az… you scared me.” You sigh as you regain your calm, placing a hand on your chest. He smiles and places both his large hands on your small baby bump. He stares into your eyes and smiles, apologetically. “Sorry… I thought you had heard me.” You chuckle slightly and slowly make your way out of your personal library, heading for the long velvet couch. It wasn’t surprising that you hadn’t heard your mate following you, he always accidentally managed to startle you, thanks to his skills as a spymaster. 

You lay your back against the armrest, comfortably settling down on the couch. Your mate finds his way between your legs, laying his cheek where their babe was growing up, his hands back on your stomach as if they were pulled by some kind of magnetic force. You start reading, trying to concentrate through your mate whispering sweet nothings to their unborn child. “Az… weren’t you… supposed to meet Cassian or something tonight?” You start off, trying to sound… polite and unbothered by his permanent presence since the beginning of your pregnancy.

It’s not that it bothered you, not really. In fact, you always enjoyed your mate’s presence, you always would but… since the past few months, you barely have been able to enjoy some alone time out of when you were in the bathroom. Even then, he would have to check up on you to make sure you weren’t struggling with morning sickness. You just… missed having some tranquility. You already had to spend every minute of your existence with a baby growing inside of you, at least until its birth, and with Az constantly glued to you… It sometimes felt overwhelming.

“I thought you didn’t feel like going?” “Well… I thought you could go without me, you know.” He lifts his head from your stomach and looks up at you, brows furrowed in confusion. “By myself?” He asks as if I was talking to him in a foreign language he couldn’t seem to decode. 

You smile gently, and stroke his cheek. “Yeah, by yourself. It would… maybe it would do you some good to have some boys time. It’s been a while, I’m sure Cassian would agree on that.” “Mh. Cass can always wait, my pregnant woman needs me… baby too.” He places a kiss on your stomach, and gets back to his previous position. 

You sigh and bite your lip. “Az… I meant that maybe it would do me some good to just… breathe a little… for more than five minutes in the bathroom..?” I talked gently, stroking his hair. His eyes shot back up to me in an unreadable expression… “Yeah?” “Yeah…” You answer him back, giving him a soft apologetic grin.

He pauses, thinking, then gets up from the couch. He bends over, placing a hand beside your face on the armrest before kissing your lips softly, a small grin plastered on his delicious lips. “Alright, then. I’ll be back in an hour or two. You’ll both stay all safe, warm, and cozy until I get back to cuddle you… right?” Azriel knew and understood that you needed some alone time. You always have needed time away from everyone from time to time, and he realized that his protective Illyrian instincts had probably made it hard for you to have it. 

You smile and give him another peck before he leans away. “Alright, we’ll both wait for you and stay really safe in the warmth of our home until you get back…” He chuckles slightly, before winnowing away to meet Cassian, who would have to understand that he would need to get back in not more than two hours at max. 

You sigh in relief, drowning in the love and passion of your book for the following hours. You were glad and extremely grateful to have a mate, a partner who listens, understands, and fulfills your every need. Even if he sometimes needed to compromise on his own desires. You giggle as you gently poke at the shadow that stayed, enveloping the top of your belly, and can’t help but think of how amazing your mate already was as a father to your child…   

#acotar #fluff #x reader #my fic #acosaf #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel spymaster #azrielxpregnant!reader #x pregnant reader #pregnancy #dad!azriel

[billyrayjo]

Sick

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: fluff, comfort, illness

The room was stiff, the air feeling muggy as you coughed for the third time in a minute. Your body rattled as you shook, a few stray tears forming in your eyes at the pressure.

Once you had finally come down from your fit, you flipped onto your other side, finding it almost impossible to find a comfortable position.

Your whole body ached, your muscles tired and sore, your head pounding and eyes strained from the pressure behind them. It hurt to swallow, and you found breathing to be a little more difficult than normal.

You had just returned from a mission two days ago, sent to the Illyrian war camps to bare witness to an illness spreading throughout, your job to find out as much about it as possible. While it had seemed like an average cold, you knew that growing sick in your fae body meant that it was rather serious, your body taking longer to fight it off than normal.

When you returned, you tried to fight off the sluggish feeling, going through your daily routine as normal. At training, Azriel pointed out the strange behavior you expelled, questioning your slow movements and over the top sneezing, but you just brushed it off.

“I’m serious (Y/N). What’s up with you?” he questioned, peering at you through narrow eyes as you failed to block yet another jab from him. “I’m fine Azriel. Seriously. Stop worrying about me.” you pleaded, begging the mother above that he would drop it.

You weren’t afraid of people pitying you, actually finding some sort of comfort in the care your family showed you in times of need. What you did fear, however, was Azriel’s reaction to finding out you were ill. You knew he would take it over the top. He would skip training, lose sleep, fight off a million germs one by one if he had to until you got better. While it made a flutter rise in your chest at the thought, you really didn’t want to inconvenience him and his duties, instead choosing to fight this battle on your own (with a little help from Amren).

Amren had been stopping by a few times a day, bringing you soup and tea. Your awareness of a certain shadow boys reaction is what led you to holing yourself up in the townhouse, nobody else being around now that the new house was finished. You hadn’t chosen Amren as your accomplice purposely, instead being forced to beg her to keep your secret when she dropped by the townhouse for a book she forgot unexpectedly. She narrowed her eyes when she saw you bundled in blankets, eyes droopy as you fought sleep.

“Why are you hiding here, girl?” she muttered, walking up to you and resting the back of her hand on your forehead. “Didn’t want everyone to coddle me.” you rasped, your throat sore from the incessant coughing. In the past two days, she had continued her visits, only staying long enough to drop off the goods before she left, almost always muttering something about a stressed shadowboy under her breath.

You had just dozed off, your body shivering under the blankets involuntarily at the chill that swept through you. You were clammy, almost sweating from the heat roaming from the fireplace across from the couch you laid on, but no matter how hot you were the cold feeling just wouldn’t go away.

As your eyelids drooped closed, you heard a shift of movement behind you. Slowly raising your head, you turned to find a pair of amber eyes gleaming at you from the doorway, shadows filtering away from his body and revealing his fighting leathers. You blinked, really slowly, as you took in his appearance. His hair was messy, strands curling onto his forehead and pushed back like his hands had been running through it. His lip had a slight cut in it, and the bags under his eyes were heavy as he stared at you.

Just as you were about to speak, a cough tore through you, wheezing and shaking as it broke through your throat. When it finally calmed, you turned to reach for the tea on the side table, stopping short when a scarred hand held it out for you.

Too exhausted to be surprised at the sudden closeness, you took a few sips before bringing it down to rest on your chest, your eyes falling closed soothingly. The mug was carefully raised from your hands, the clink of the glass hitting the table making you crack an eye open.

As you peeked at him, Azriel took in your appearance. The tissues laying about, your hair pulled into a messy braid, the bags under your eyes, the slight red tip of your nose. He didn’t linger on the thin straps of your nightgown poking over the top of the blanket though, that’s for sure.

After his assessment, he raised his gaze to meet yours, muttering a “I knew she was lying.” before he raised his hand towards your face. He seemed to pause, his gaze landing on his hand as it reached for you, before dropping it slightly. To reassure him, you raised your chin, forehead coming up slightly to give him better access.

At your approval, he rested his hand ever so gently against your forehead, sighing when he felt how warm you were. His cool hand sent a wave of relief down your spine, your shoulders unintentionally sagging as your eyes flew shut, your sigh mingling with his at the contact.

When he went to pull away, your hand shot up. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled, bringing it down to your cheek instead. You felt his other hand come to rest on the opposite cheek as he slipped onto the edge of the couch beside you. A broken sound left your lips at the feeling of his cold hands, and you thought you imagined the feeling of his thumbs gently brushing across your cheekbones.

“Your hands feel so good.” slipped through your lips in a whisper, eyes fluttering back open to meet his. His lip twitched slightly upwards, the crease in his cheek appearing at his light smile. You could’ve sworn you saw a faint blush on his cheeks, but the thought quickly passed as you felt another cough rumbling in your chest.

Pushing his hands away, you brought the blanket up over your face as you rasped out another cough. Azriels hands found your back as you leaned forward, rubbing up and down soothingly until it passed. As you straightened up, his eyes caught the half-eaten bowl of soup on the table. “I’ll be right back.” he whispered, pushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Stay here.” passing his lips quickly as he stood, long legs striding for the kitchen.

“Hey.” sounded from above you, a frustrated groan leaving your lips at the interruption. You had dozed off again, head lolling to the side, laying against the armrest. The blanket had dropped to your lap, your arms tucked underneath your head for support. “I brought you some soup, (Y/N/N)”. At the sound of his voice, you forced yourself awake, slowly rising from your position to sit up. His hand found the underside of your arm, helping you gently as he came to sit beside you again.

After you got down some of the soup, Azriel took the bowl from you again, laying it on the table before turning to you. “Let me take you to the bed.” came from him in a mutter, already standing and reaching his hands out to you.

As you stood, you felt Azriels arms grip behind your knees and your head as he scooped you up bridal style, heading for the staircase. Once he got to the top floor, he swiftly kicked open your door, turning to the side to carry you through the doorway. Once inside, he gently sat you on the bed, only pulling away long enough to grab something off of the dresser before he was crawling behind you.

At the feeling of his hands in your hair, you let your body fully relax, reveling at the comfort of him undoing your braid. Once it was completely undone, he combed through the strands gently before braiding them back up. He stood from the bed, pulling back the covers for you as you ushered up to the pillows. Leaning down to peck your forehead, he whispered a “get some rest” before he pulled away.

Before he could get far, you reached out to him, your fingers grazing his as he stopped to listen. “Will you lay with me?” tumbled past your lips before you could think. At the realization of your words, you quickly backtracked with an “Oh. Nevermind. Sorry. I don’t want you to get sick.”, turning to roll in the other direction to hide the blush on your cheeks from his piercing gaze.

You heard shuffling behind you, followed by a few thuds, before rough hands were pushing you gently, forcing you to scoot towards the other side of the bed. Once you moved, you felt the bed shifting behind you, and a soft sigh from Azriel’s lips as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled your back to his front. At the feeling of his bare chest against your back, the clammy feverish feeling quickly disappeared, leaving you to sigh in relief as well.

Turning in his hold, you laid a hand on his chest, your gaze sliding up to meet his. “I really don’t want to get you sick, Az.” came from your lips in a whisper, your brows crunching in concern. The hand he had around your waist slowly rose, his thumb coming up to smooth out the wrinkle in your brow, before he lowered it back down to lay on your neck. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you at the feeling, Azriel’s thumb slowly starting to work in smooth circles against your collar bone.

“Should have told me you didn’t feel well.” grumbled from him as he pulled you closer, his face coming to rest in your neck, taking a deep inhale. He groaned in content, pulling you impossibly closer again, before raising his head back up to meet your eyes. “Don’t lie to me again.” he spoke, his voice hard in seriousness, contrasting to the gentle caresses still happening on your neck.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” flew from your lips in defense, your voice still raspy from the coughs. “You have more important things to worry about than me having a silly cold.” tumbled out shortly after, an almost pout taking over your features. He huffed, eyes hardening as he took in your face, eyes shooting from your lips to your eyes. Suddenly, the hand on you neck worked around to the back, wrapping in your hair and pulling your head back, and his lips met yours.

The kiss was lazy and urgent. Slow and demanding. Azriel taking his time in exploring your mouth. He worked his lips against yours, the hand in your hair tightening as he pulled your head back further. His other hand went up your nightgown in the back, palm laying flat against your spine to arch you further into him. A soft noise rose from the back of your throat, hands resting on his bare shoulders, before he pulled away. Sharp, jagged, breaths met your short pants, a growl rising from his throat as he leaned back in.

After another heated round of kissing, Azriel pulled away, looked into your eyes, and growled

“Never say that to me again.”

#azriel #azriel x reader #fluff #sick #comfort

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump Day 6: "You lied to me"

Content warning: hospital whump, (arguably) bad caretaker

“You lied to me.” 

Those were the words Caretaker was greeted with when they entered Whumpee’s hospital room. They looked small and sickly in their bed, medical equipment seeming to engulf their thin frame. A sickly blush covered their face, looking almost like a rash on irritated skin. Their eyes were still glassy, but far more alert than when Caretaker had last seen them. 

Caretaker hadn’t expected them to be awake yet. Let alone sitting upright in bed. Let alone glaring at Caretaker with so much venom that they nearly took a step back in shock.

:”Baby, what–”

“You said you’d never force me to do anything I didn’t want to do. You lied.”

“I–,” the denial died in Caretaker’s throat before it formed. Whumpee was right, technically. Caretaker had known they would refuse to go to the doctor. The only reason they’d gone before was because they’d been unconscious, and even then they’d demanded to be released as soon as possible. They would never willingly decide to go to the hospital.

Caretaker knew all that. And so when Whumpee, already struggling to recover from what they’d endured under Whumper, had fallen ill, Caretaker knew they’d never agree to see a doctor. 

And so Caretaker hadn’t bothered asking. 

It’d been easy to slip something into their food. They usually would’ve noticed it instantly, but illness had dulled their sharp mind and left them half delirious with fever. It’d been easy to bundle their limp, far too light body in a blanket and tuck them into the car. It’d been easy to ignore the look of betrayal in their half lidded eyes, and pretend their slurred objections were just incoherent mumblings. 

Some part of them had hoped Whumpee wouldn’t remember it. 

“I had no choice,” they said instead. 

“You had no choice?” Whumpee laughed, humorless and unpleasant. “You drugged me and dragged me to the hospital. Who forced you to do that?”

“I had to, Whumpee. You weren’t getting better. You were sick, and injuries from–...from before–,” Caretaker hesitated, stuttering. 

Whumpee did not. “From Whumper? You can say it. I’m not going to fall apart.”

Caretaker nodded, swallowing thickly. “You were already hurt, your body couldn’t handle illness alongside that. You may not remember but–,” the memory of the coughing fits that left Whumpee struggling to stay upright, the unfocused and cloudy eyes staring dully at nothing, the ever rising number on the thermometer, flashed through Caretaker’s mind. “--it was bad. I was worried you’d die. I just wanted to help you, and I knew you wouldn’t let me.”

“So it’s my fault now?,” Bitterness dripped from every word Whumpee spoke. They tried to lift themselves into a more upright position, arms shaking from the effort, and Caretaker had to resist the urge to rush over and help them. “It’s my fault I don’t get to make decisions for myself anymore?” 

“I never said that.”

“You think you just have a right. Because you ‘care about me’, you have the right to ignore every single thing I want. Because you’re smarter, because you know better.” 

“Just listen–”

“No, you listen,” the words came out in a growl. Whumpee’s hands gripped at the bedsheets, shaking. “Everyone’s always–always deciding shit for me! Treating me like I can’t be trusted anymore, like I’m some little kid who can’t think for themselves! Whumper thought the exact same thing, but it’s fine when you do it, right?!”

“Stop it.” the words came out more harshly than Caretaker had expected. Whumpee flinched back as if they’d been hit, falling silent. “Don’t compare me to them. I’m trying to help you, and you’re fighting me at every turn! We just got you back, and it’s like you’re trying to leave again,” the words spilled out of Caretaker, half angry, half pleading. “I’m not going to sit by and let you hurt yourself.”

The two fell into silence. For the briefest moment, a look of fear flash over Whumpee’s face. They shrank back, and in that instant the guilt Caretaker felt nearly sent them to their knees. Whumpee’s look of resentment returned only a moment later, but the anger that had fueled it seemed snuffed out. They wouldn’t look Caretaker in the eye. 

The beeping of Whumpee’s heart monitor, insistent and far too fast, felt like a condemnation in Caretaker’s ears. 

Caretaker let out a shuddering sigh, a hand coming up to rest in their hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Whumpee was silent for a long moment, not turning their gaze upward. When they finally spoke, their voice was quiet, drained of energy. “Just leave.”

“Please, just let me explain–,”

“Please. Don’t make me beg.” 

“I’m sorry.”

Whumpee didn’t respond. They didn’t look up when Caretaker left.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 6 #caretaker #whumpee #defiant whumpee #stubborn whumpee #bad caretaker #for their own good #betrayal whump #my stuff #recovery whump #whumplr #whump

[bellezaycafe]

Get Your Shit Together

genre: I don’t know

pairing: none?

warnings: swearing

context: Sadie volunteered for the 2024 Melbourne GP during a gap year away from uni. She is 20.

comments: i don’t know what this is

Sadie had to force a deep breath through her system. The drivers were not going to like the news she had.

“Alright, listen up!” She called, feeling a bit like she was talking to a random sports club team. “The FIA has finalised the penalties and we have two drivers dropping down.”

There was a chorus of “what?”, “no!” and “fuck me,” in different languages.

“Lance Stroll, you have been given two 5-second penalties for track limits. I’m told that you were only informed about one.” Sadie tried to give him a gentle smile.

It might not have come across that way as she braced herself for the next one.

“Max Verstappen and Pierre Gasly, you were both given a 10-second penalty for overtaking under yellow flag conditions.” A small cry of outrage came from Charles Leclerc. “This was decided during your last lap and was not conveyed to your engineers in time for them to tell you.”

Max Verstappen’s face pulled into a glare of fury, while Pierre buried his face in his hands.

“What do you mean, 10-second penalty?”

Sadie hoped he didn’t explode at her during the next piece of news. She looked down at the iPad in her hands and read the standings.

“Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri and Charles Leclerc were all under ten seconds behind you, so you will now be P4.”

“What?! Are you serious?!” The world champion did explode. “Pierre overtook me and I was just taking it back!”

It had been a long weekend for Sadie. She had never been to an F1 race before, let alone volunteered at one; she knew she would be busy but she hadn’t expected to be thrust into learning the hard way at 7 am. And again at 10. Again at 2. And now again at 5:20 pm.

“I understand that, Max-“ She held up a placating hand, reining in a scathing reply.

“Obviously you don’t if you are giving me a penalty for -“

Sadie cut him off with a sharp laugh. “Who do you think I am, Verstappen? Huh?”

He stopped leaning towards her, something he hadn’t noticed himself doing.

She took advantage of his hesitation. “I am a volunteer. What power do you think I have to change this for you?” she spat.

A scowl appeared on his face as he began to lean in again. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie saw Lewis start forward. She put a hand out to stop him.

“I know who I am talking to. You are a three time world champion who will survive coming P4, just this once. You are Max Verstappen the reigning Champion, not Max Verstappen the upset child! Get your shit together!”

He stopped at that. All of the drivers did. Several looked ready to jump forward and restrain him, Lewis included.

Sadie saw the anger leave his eyes and said to everyone, “if you’re all sick of the FIA imposing these penalties just before interviews, maybe you should all say something. Together, as the drivers.”

It was Carlos who shrugged. “If something happens in the final laps, it is fair for it to reach us after the race.”

“Yea,” Lewis agreed. “But not half an hour after the checkered flag.”

All the drivers conceded that.

“I’m going to read out your standings and you’re going to stand in that spot. Do not“ -Sadie glared at Max- “complain to me, I cannot help you.”

And read them out she did. Charles had won, Oscar had come a close second and Lando an even closer third.

Max silently simmered in his P4 position and Daniel Riccardo smiled at Sadie from P5. Lewis, in P6, held a fist out for a fist bump.

The rest of the grid lined up in their order. They went out one by one and did their interviews.

Sadie sighed once they were all gone. At least, she’d thought they were all gone. Carlos Sainz, who had crashed out in lap 4, hadn’t gone out for his interviews yet.

“I don’t know if that was brave or stupid.”

Sadie jumped and shook her head. “I don’t know either and to be honest, I’m too tired to care. He was angry, I understand that, but my patience has been worn very thin.”

Carlos hummed thoughtfully as he left with a soft wave.

Sadie pulled in a deep breath. Her last job for the day was done. She’d be back in the morning to help pack down the equipment.

She needed some time to contemplate how she’d just yelled at Max fucking Verstappen.

——$——

If you want to see more of Sadie interacting with the grid, let me know! - Belle

Masterlist

#f1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x oc #formula 1 #formula one #get your shit together

[withacapitalp]

@lazylittledragon did more Mombin (check it out here it's great) which I think means I might be contractually obliged to write more fic that is inspired by it. Like wowza I am obsessed with this concept

Tw: vomiting/morning sickness, reddit, discussions of cancer

Robin was dying. 

That was the only explanation. 

Dying. 

And the worst part was, she was dying of something that was both incredibly funny, and incredibly sad, and she had been so desperate for answers that she had gone to a place no mortal should ever dare to go to. 

Reddit. 

Posted by u/familyvideobrokeme

I (24F) think that I might have breast cancer, and I have no idea how to tell my (25M) best friend.

So my best friend “Sam” and I have been attached at the hip for as long as I can remember. He’s not just a friend to me, he’s my person (and before you get any ideas- I’m a lesbian, so no, not happening.) we tell each other everything, even the super gross stuff neither of us wants to hear- like seriously he’s asked me to check his ass to see if he managed to pop the pimple he found there before- so I’ve never been in this position before…

But I think I’m dying of breast cancer, and I have no clue how to start this conversation. 

It just came on really suddenly??? Like last month I was fine, and this month my boobs just hurt in this really weird way I’ve never experienced before? Like I’m sore and tingly and my bras don’t fit?! Boobs are kind of a joke between us though, so I feel like if I just blurt it out then he will start saying ‘boobie cancer’ over and over at me and we will just end up laughing and he’ll think I’m kidding. 

Sam is also my roommate? I don’t know if that matters here? I also haven’t gone to a doctor yet, but there isn’t anything else this can be, right? Nothing else just magically makes your boobs hurt and get big?

Robin had made the post at three am the night before while crying and eating Ben and Jerry’s, and she had forced herself to not look at replies all night, even going as far as to shut her phone off entirely.

But now it was the next day, and she had steadfastly ignored the notifications from Reddit all the way through Saturday Brunch and Bitch. 

She couldn’t ignore them anymore. 

“You’re good if I work a little?” Robin asked, pulling her laptop close to her and carefully angling it so Steve couldn’t see the screen. 

“As you wish,” Steve muttered, completely absorbed with whatever dog video he was watching. 

“Dingus,” She whispered affectionately, an odd mixture of love and guilt crashing in her chest as she opened the website and logged into her account. She had over a thousand notifications now, and the comments were still rolling in as she opened her post and scrolled down. 

Endofthebeginningoftheend

OP are you sure you’re not in love with Sam

Grapenuts Dude she said she’s a lesbian

View 564 more replies

Robin rolled her eyes. She had expected that, but she didn’t expect it to be the top comment. She quickly scrolled past. 

Cheercaptainfromhell

OP I would definitely go to a doctor before anything else! 

SmeddieSmunson Seriously how has she gotten this far without going to a doctor??

The answer was easy. Robin was terrified of doctors. Why go to a doctor when Steve had EMT training? 

Because in this instance she couldn’t ask Steve for help. 

Robin kept scrolling. 

Frenchiefreis

You might be pregnant honestly…I would take a test first

Headphilosopher She’s a lesbian so I doubt it, but pregnancy can also cause those symptoms-

Robin snorted to herself, side eyeing Steve to make sure he didn’t look up when she did. 

Did everyone just ignore the part where she said she was a lesbian? 

…was Robin ignoring the part where being a lesbian didn’t mean fuck all when it came to her chances of getting pregnant?

Yes she was ignoring it because it was once just once and they had barely even gotten to do anything at all and-

Robin scrolled again, growing more and more desperate

Rummingbird

That doesn’t really sound like breast cancer to me My mom had similar things happen when she was pregnant though-

Another scroll. Another flutter of her heart. 

No. It wasn’t that. She was dying. Dying was bad but the idea that she was…that she could be…

HyllyBRd

OP have you considered that you might be pregnant? I know that you’re a lesbian, but if you’ve had penetrative sex in the last month then you might want to consider-

“Are you going to be good for me?” 

Robin gasped as the memory hit her, closing the reddit tab with a slam of her finger on the mouse pad, her entire body starting to softly shake as she panic opened a google tab.

Boobs hurt????

Not exactly the most scientific way of phrasing that question, but Robin needed an answer that didn’t involve nine long months of what the fuck. Luckily there was a read more question that got right to the heart of the issue. 

What kind of breast pain indicates pregnancy? 

It was going to say something completely different to what she had, and Robin was going to laugh, and then she would turn to Steve and let him know she was dying of boobie cancer. 

It wasn’t going to be the same. 

It wasn’t. 

Robin looked at the screen. 

Fuller. Sorer. Tingly pain that felt unlike anything else. Aka exactly what she had. 

Robin’s fingers moved on autopilot, asking another question of Google

How late should my period be before I worry?

Worrying about what? She knew about what, but she couldn’t bring herself to type it, she couldn't even think of that word yet.

Google said after a week of missing your period it was time to see a doctor. Robin’s period was over three weeks late. 

And a month ago-

A month ago…

“Fuck you’re so tight,” The woman above her whispered. Robin whimpered, unable to help herself as the stretch-

“I need to use the bathroom.” She blurted out, slamming her laptop shut and practically throwing it off of her, stomach twisting into knots. 

“I’ll tell you what I tell my students Bobbin,” Steve said, barely looking up and completely unaware of her meltdown, “You don’t need to ask me for permission to go take care of your bodily functions,”

“Oh, shut up,” Robin replied, laughing breathlessly. It was such a stupid joke, such a meaningless stupid joke. But it was safe, and it was familiar, and if the sneaking suspicion creeping down Robin’s spine was true, then nothing would be safe and familiar again for a very long time. 

She stood up, stopping to press a kiss to the top of Steve’s head as she walked by, just because that was familiar too and she needed it. Steve hummed, leaning over to bonk his head against her tummy as she passed him.

A bonk on the tummy that may or may not be-

Nope. It was a no. It was definitely a no. There was no possible way. 

Robin was going to be sick. 

She basically flew the last few steps to the bathroom, managing to lock it tight before she threw up in the sink. It was disgusting, and messy, and she pushed the tap on before kneeling down at the porcelain throne and continuing to hurl. 

I need Steve.

It wasn’t even really a thought. She couldn’t think while throwing her guts up, that was an experience that required every bit of her attention and mind power. 

No, not a thought, just an instinctual message from the universe, a pull from somewhere deep inside her that felt like more than just a truth. 

Because Robin didn’t need Steve because she was throwing up. Or because she thought she might have boob cancer. 

Robin needed Steve because she knew she was pregnant. 

“Fuck me,” She groaned, leaning back from the toilet only to lean forward once more as the rest of brunch came back up. 

#steve harrington #stranger things #st #st drabble #robin buckley #mombin #platonic stobin #Steve and robin #robin and steve #tw: vomit #tw: vomiting #tw: mentions of cancer

[strniohoeee]

Dolor

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader💌

Synopsis: Y/N can sense that Chris and hers relationship might not last. When they talk will they work it out, or call it quits?🫂

Warnings⚠️: None, I was just feeling a sad Chris imagine today 🥹 shit lowkey made me tear up….it do be hitting home

Song for the imagine: Changes- XXXTENTACION

You’re changing, I can’t stand it

My heart can’t take this damage

And the way I feel, can’t stand it

Everyone knew….everyone saw it, but I chose to ignore it. Not wanting to come to terms with how Chris and I’s relationship was truly going. We were dating for two years at this point, and it just wasn’t the same. Chris was no longer mine….we just weren’t meant for each other.

This started within the last 2 months, Chris just started being different, and I feel like we almost grew apart? I was always with him and his brothers, but it just wasn’t right I wanted us to go back to normal? I’m not sure what I wanted honestly

It really started to make me question what was going on between us when their fans started commenting on their videos, their posts, my posts….making edits, and assuming things about our relationship. It made me physically sick….if it was clear as day to their fans why couldn’t I just come to terms with it?

There wasn’t any anger towards one another, but there just wasn’t any of that love we used to have….our honeymoon phase was finally over, 2 years later….. I just couldn’t let Chris go. He was all I had…he was all I ever wanted, but I knew it was coming soon.

I knew Chris was going to break up with me at some point. As a woman you just know when a man no longer has interest in you, and it broke my fucking heart.

Currently I was at the triplets house, and I just sensed this vibe from Chris all day. He was constantly in thought and anxious, and it made me sick to my stomach. I know what he was thinking, what he was plotting, how he wanted to go about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to him. I wasn’t sure if his brothers knew because it didn’t seem that way, but man I have never wanted to disappear more than in this moment.

I was watching Chris in the kitchen pacing back and forth, deep in thought. God I hated this, he was so unhappy with our relationship, and trying to make it work, and here I was dragging him along forcing him to do something he doesn’t want to.

Chris had finally walked down to his room, but before going down he looked over at me…..no emotions, no smile, no warmth, his eyes looked saddened and burdened like he was fighting himself to talk to me. I looked into his eyes, and looked away. I couldn’t sit here and hurt myself

About five minutes later my phone vibrated with a text from Chris

My Baby🐣

-Hey, could you come to my room I want to talk

My heart sank…I felt a lump in my throat begin to form. I just wished in that moment I was not in this position, that I didn’t know Chris, and that I didn’t put myself through this for two years.

Reluctantly I got up, telling Nick and Matt I was going down to talk to Chris. I headed down the steps and walked to his room….not wanting to enter, but I took a deep breath and walked in shutting the door behind me

He was sitting on his bed with his head in his hands…make this stop….take this pain away from us

I sat down next to him hoping he’d start talking first. I felt this overbearing feeling of nausea

“I’m so sorry” he said finally looking up

“You don’t have to be…I know where this is going” I said looking over at him

“I just….I just think we shouldn’t be together anymore” he said finally looking at me

“I had a feeling” I said rubbing my lips together in anxiety

“I just feel like we’ve grown apart. I feel like what we had was amazing and I’ll cherish every moment. You were the best thing to happen to me in my whole life, and I love you so fucking much, but I just feel like we’d be better off separate” he said getting tears in his eye

“I should’ve known sooner when everything changed. I’m sorry for that, sorry for not allowing you to feel safe enough to come to me sooner, and express how you felt” I said to him allowing my eyes to get watery

“This isn’t your fault okay. We are humans you know, we grow apart, and although it may suck it’s what’s best for us” he said letting tears falls

“I just love you so much this is hard Chris” I said letting my tears fall too

“I love you so much, okay? I’m just not in love with you anymore” he said sniffling

My heart shattered at those words. The only guy I’ve ever loved, and he’s telling me he fell out of love with me

“I just don’t understand how we got here” I said wiping my nose

“It’s normal. People grow apart, relationships end that’s just how life works, and it’s not fair, but everything happens for a reason” he said wiping his nose

“I know Chris, it’s just hard I’ve loved you for so long, and now we will no longer be together” I said crying a bit harder

“I’m so sorry, I need you to know that you’re the woman I want to want. You have no idea how badly I want that to be you” he said looking down and shaking his head while crying

“I know…and that’s okay” I said in a whisper

“It’s just I’m going to keep pursuing what I’m pursuing, and you’ll be doing what you want, and we just won’t have time for each other, and this will cause us to resent each other. I’d much rather break it off now than to ever grow any form of hate in my heart for you, okay?” He said rubbing my back and crying with me

“Yes…yes I know, and I’m so glad that you’re doing what’s best for you, but this is going to be so fucking hard. I don’t know that I can let you go” I said breaking down even more, choking out broken sobs

“You will okay baby, you will hurt and so will I, but we’re both strong and we will be okay. We will survive this, and who knows it could be the right person at the wrong time. But without taking this break we will not know this” he said wiping his nose again

“I love you Chris. I love you so fucking much” I said sobbing

“I love you, and I will always love you. You will always be my number one girl. You will always be in my life no matter what, but for now we have to take this time away from one another” he said pulling me in to side hug him

“Yes Chris. We will be okay, I will be okay. I will keep it pushing for you. You will always have my heart, and I hope that you eventually see a future with me” I said hugging his arm that was wrapped around me

“But for now you have to let me go, you have to let me let you go. I need you to do that for me” he said pulling away

I leaned away, keeping my head down and nodding. I finally lifted my head up to look into his red eyes

“Okay I can do that for you” I said crying

“You will always be my girl okay. You are my life, and I love you so much” he said smiling at me

“You’ll always be my number one guy. I love you so much” I said smiling back at him

He pulled me in for a hug, and one last kiss

“I’m going to miss you” I said pulling away from him

“I’m going to miss you too, and I hope we’ll eventually cross paths. If you ever need me just know I’m here for you okay. I will always be just one call away. I hope in a few months time we can hang out again as friends” he said smiling at me

“I hope we cross paths too, and I hope we can continue this friendship in the future” I said wiping my eyes

“We will..I’m never not seeing you again” he said laughing a little bit

“I love you” I said looking into his eyes as I choked on my words a bit

“I love you too” he said giving me a reassuring smile

“Should we tell your fans? I won’t be in the videos or with you guys anymore” I asked him

“Only if you want to” he said

“I think we should. Maybe uh you can make a post about it tomorrow, and then I will too” I said nodding at him

“That’s fine with me” he said standing up from his bed

“Okay cool. I uh think we should tell Matt and Nick” I said

“Yeah we should” he said

We both left his room, and walked to the living room where Nick and Matt were.

“Hey guys” Chris said

“Hey you guys okay?” Matt asked

“Um yeah. We just wanted to let you know that we broke up” Chris said

“Oh…” They both said

“Uh yeah it’s for the best, and we’ve decided to full on break apart, so I’m going to be taking time away from you guys as a whole” I said to them

“We’re going to miss you so much” Nick said looking sad

“I’m going to miss you guys too, but maybe we’ll eventually see each other” I said trying not to cry

“We will. I hope nothing but the best for you guys” Matt said smiling at me

I looked at them before fully breaking down

“I love you guys so much, and please never forget me okay” I said crying

“We would never. We love you so fucking much” Nick said getting up and running over to hug me, Matt getting up and joining us in a group hug

We all pulled apart, teary eyed and sad

“I love you guys, and I’ll be seeing you soon. I’m going to head out now” I said wiping my eyes

“We love you, and always reach out to us for anything” Matt said

“I will. Thank you guys so much” I said waving at them

“I’ll walk you out” Chris said wiping his eyes

“Okay” I said giving him a weak smile

Chris walked me down to my car before giving me one last hug, and then he pulled away

“I guess this is bye for now” I said, unlocking my car, and sitting in it. Closing my door and turning the car on and rolling my window down

“It’s not bye, it’s see you later” Chris said wiping his tears again

I smiled at him putting my car in reverse

“I’ll see you later then Chris” I said to him slowly backing up

“I’ll see you around” he said trying to give me a reassuring smile

“See you” I said giving him one last smile before rolling up my window, and backing out his driveway, and then driving down the road

Leaving behind the man I’ve loved for two years, the man who was my everything. Just completely driving out of his life and potentially never seeing him again. Of course we would love to see each other again, but that could be 1 year from now or 10 years from now….I allowed myself to break down in my car. This was going to be so fucking hard.

The next day Chris and I decided that he would make the post and collab it with me, so I can share it as well, but he picked the picture and wrote the caption attaching the song see you later by Jenna Raine. He posted it and within minutes the comments and DM’s were flooding in. Our post getting shared and edits immediately being made. Nick and Matt even shared our post adding comments on it, and what to expect from them now that I’m no longer in the picture. So many people accepted our decision, and so many people were sad about us splitting. Most of his fans loved us, and they were so distraught.

I hadn't read the post yet I was scared to have to finalize this decision we made, but when I did I broke down immediately

❤️nicolassturniolo, matthew.sturniolo, sturniolo.triplets and 650,000 others

christophersturniolo: I have loved this girl for the past two years of my life, and I will continue to love her. We have decided to separate as it’s what’s best for us in this chapter of our lives. We will always love one another, and we hope that one day we cross paths again. Y/N may be the right person at the wrong time, and while we figure this out we’d really appreciate it if you guys respect our privacy. She will no longer be in our videos, and we want you guys to respect that decision we have made. We love you guys dearly❤️. But most importantly I love Y/N with my whole heart….she will always be my number one girl. Even though you didn’t make it to the end of my story, I’ll always have the corner folded down on your page; because it was one of my favorites. I love you Y/N🥀

This message broke me. I loved Chris so much, but I had to let him go. I hope to see him in the future.

The End

This was pure self indulgence and now I’m sad LMAOAO. But let me know if you liked this one 🥹🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #Spotify

[yjhariani]

hii, i've an idea. can you write something about the 141 team trying to fast for one day bc reader is also fasting and they're curious abt how it feels etc. thank you in advance :)

“I was thinking maybe we all try,” Soap said.

“Try what?” Ghost asked.

“Fasting,” Soap answered.

“Never once I thought such an idea would come out of you, Soap,” you chuckled.

“It’s not a bad idea either,” Ghost commented.

“I’m an amazing friend, how could you say that?” Soap protested. “Are we doing this or not?”

“Fuck yeah, I’m in,” Gaz nodded.

“When are we gonna do it?” Soap asked.

“Tomorrow sounds good,” Ghost said.

“Excuse me, tomorrow is cleaning day, my guys,” you pointed out.

“So, what? If you can do it, then, I can do it,” Ghost stated.

“Yeah, why not?” Soap supported. “You’re doing fine, we’ll do better than fine.”

“I already said I’m in,” Gaz shrugged.

“Fine,” you nodded. “I’ll wake you up for suhoor and you’ll eat and drink before dawn. After that you practise chastity, you can’t eat, drink, or smoke until dusk.”

There was a pause where everyone was looking at Ghost.

“I can survive without smoking,” Ghost said. “Been trying to quit anyway.”

“You said that like twelve times already in the span of one year,” you said.

“Still trying,” Ghost said.

Soon the time came. It was not that hard getting them out of the bed. However, getting them to wake up took a little bit more time and a lot of food.

The mess was not as full as how it would have been for breakfast, but still more people than it would have been any other month. Mostly, the people here were the ones who participated in Ramadan with their friends who were challenged to fast or simply curious to know what it felt like, maybe as a sign of respect to their friend.

It all went quite well, but after all it was only the beginning of the day.

Dawn came a few minutes after everyone was done eating and drinking. Everyone was oddly in a good mood. Maybe you were in a better mood than most of them because yesterday you did this all by yourself.

Then, fast forward to about hours later, it was about midday, and you were mopping the barrack floor with Ghost’ help. Gaz was asleep in the most uncomfortable position. Soap was nowhere to be seen, but Price did tell him to wash one of the cars.

“Hey, LT,” you called.

“Shut up,” Ghost said, more harshly than he intended.

“Okay,” you said as you turned around, hiding a smile—knowing that Ghost would be snapping at everyone soon if you kept pushing to talk to him.

Sometime later, you walked outside and found König holding up a hose downwards to Soap who was sitting underneath it, face up, eyes closed.

“Is he okay?” you mouthed at König.

König gave you a light shrug for an answer.

“Soap, are you okay?” you asked.

Soap opened his eyes and saw you.

“I’m,” Soap said, but he got water poured into his mouth and he moved his head off the water to talk to you, “I’m fucking thirsty.”

“Dude, you don’t have to force yourself. That’s literally part of the religion. I mean, that’s referring to sick people, pregnant and breastfeeding people, and elderly, but, really, you don’t have to force yourself,” you said.

“No,” Soap whined.

“Well, a lot of kids fast only up to midday,” you brought up.

“Why, because I’m a big baby?” Soap questioned.

You looked at König who slightly tilted his head in amusement.

“I’m just gonna leave you to it,” you decided.

About three hours before dusk, everyone was miserable. However, at least the cleaning was done. 

Everyone sort of had their own way of killing time. They had way less energy than usual, but still kept themselves busy.

Around the last hour of fasting, everyone was a little more spiritful again. They were excited about iftar and a lot of the conversation you were having was food related.

The four of you ordered a lot of food and plated everything in the common area of the barrack. There were warm drinks, cold drinks, savoury snacks, sweet snacks, portions of meals, but seemed to be lacking some water that no one realised would be necessary.

Hours came down to minutes before dusk. Everyone was sitting around the small coffee table where you put the food on. You put your phone on the table as well, waiting for it to announce the time to break your fast.

Your phone soon blared out as a sign that it was time to break your fast. Right away, the four men around you went to take their drinks and food and chugged everything in. However, they took a pause when they noticed that you only had one cup of warm beverage in your hands and you silently prayed before taking a sip. They slowed down then.

Regardless, after drinking a little bit of liquid and eating barely a few finger foods, everyone just sort of sat there and looked at each other.

“We’re never gonna be able to finish all these, are we?” Ghost questioned.

“Not even half,” you chuckled.

“This morning, I pissed seven times in the span of an hour because I drank three jugs of water,” Soap said, “and I’m still fuckin’ thirsty at noon.”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #könig x reader

[nrilliree]

Why is it always “Rhaenyra should’ve been a better friend to Alicent” and not the other way around? Have people forgotten how friendships work? It’s a two way street and it was Alicent who betrayed Rhaneyra not the other way around.

Everyone seems to conveniently forget that Rhaenyra was confiding in Alicent about her concerns regarding the council plotting to remarry Viserys so soon after her mother’s death so there’ll be a male heir and what does Alicent do? She dismisses Rhaenyra’s concerns, tells her it’s not for them to worry about and “what if your father were to marry?” (which is rich of her to say considering her own father hasn’t and doesn’t remarry). Alicent doesn’t say these things out of naivety or ‘girlish’ innocence, she says them because she knows she’s apart of the plot to get Viserys to remarry - she IS the plot.

God. I’m so sick of people acting as if she was an innocent bystander. She had HALF A YEAR to tell Rhaenyra about her talks with Viserys. Viserys doesn’t raise the question of whether Alicent tells Rhaenyra until half a year into it. She had ample opportunity to say something and she chose not to because she knew what she was doing and the way her and her father were going about it was cunning and conniving and wrong.

And then people are mad at Rhaenyra for not being more understanding of Alicent and the position Alicent was put in when it’s revealed that she’s to marry Viserys - Rhaneyra put two and two together and realised Alicent was scheming just as much as the council was. But yeah, she totally should’ve welcomed Alicent with open arms.

It’s not out of the ordinary for a child to be mistrusting of a step-parent in today’s world - IN REALITY - so, I’m not sure why people act as if it’s so weird or out of the ordinary or like Rhaenyra is overreacting about being mistrusting of Alicent after she becomes her step mother ESPECIALLY given everything above.

But yeah blah blah Alicent the eternal victim, nothing is ever her fault, she can never ever bear responsibility for her actions because she’s ALWAYS the victim first blah blah 🙄

I wrote this a moment ago, but I deleted the post because some anonymous person was making a mess again. Alicent, in Rhaenyra's eyes, lied to her and betrayed her. Alicent, as a young woman of marriageable age (not a child, as some say, because it was not the 21st century), secretly met in the evenings with a single man whom everyone knew was looking for a wife. She went to his chambers alone. She had dinner with him. She gave him gifts. To ANYONE looking at it from the side, it would look like Alicent WANTED to be queen. What do you think the servants who took two meals to the king's chambers and saw Alicent there thought? "Oh, what a poor girl, I feel sorry for her" or rather "she seduces the king"? Because that's what it looked like. And this is the version Rhaenyra knows, because for several months Alicent didn't say "my father forced me, I didn't want it." After half a year, Viserys asked if Alicent wasn't telling Rhaenyra about it, and he didn't forbid her from talking about it. After half a year.

Why did Alicent expect Rhaenyra to confide in her about bed matters when Alicent hadn't told her for half a year that she was meeting her father in the evenings? Especially since she knew Otto wanted to destroy her and Alicent was secretly trying to become queen (according to what Rhaenyra knows). And seriously, what girl would want to continue to be happily friends with a girl who has sex with her father? Honestly. Rhaenyra stopped trying for this friendship, but that's not surprising. Because Rhaenyra doesn't know about the "Otto forced me" version. But she still managed to show some sympathy towards Alicent - when she accidentally offended her with a comment about being locked in a tower, she apologized. During the last dinner, she said that she appreciated Alicent for taking care of her father. And Alicent? She declared open war on Rhaenyra at her wedding, and then spent a dozen years trying to ruin her life.

#house of the dragon #team black #anti team green #pro team black #rhaenyra targaryen #anti alicent hightower #anti team green stans

[agentstarkid]

FOREVER IS THE SWEETEST CON ✦ DR3

✦ summary: While isolating in a hotel room, some things can't be ignored any more and, as stars fade in the dawn's light, some bonds were meant to be broken, like whispers carried away by the desert wind.

✦ pairing: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ words: 4.3K

✦ warnings: female!reader, latina!reader, established relationship, lots of angst, covid-19 & quarantine mentions, there's a nine-year age gap, forced proximity (if you squint), language.

✦ pit wall live: holis babes! before you all come for me with your pitchforks, I'd like to remind you that english is not my first language so I wanna give a big biiig thank you to Tally (@onceuponaoneshotfanfic) for englishing this baby and for encouraging me to write it when I told her I was thinking about it ❤️ I actually wrote this back in october and I can finally post it!! It is tied to Saudade, if you want more context to their story. This is not the end, okay?... or is it? hehe byeee

─── The Joker & The Queen (Masterlist)

Wednesday, just a day before his scheduled morning session, the symptoms began to show. They knew from the moment he started to complain about his body aching all over. The uncertainty and concern were present from the first moment, intensifying when, as a precaution, he underwent several medical tests to verify whether he suffered from Covid or not. However, the first test came back negative. It was a breath of relief, at least for a moment. But on Friday afternoon the alarms went off, and the Aussie driver's negative became a terrifying positive that further disrupted the false peace that they had tried so hard to preserve in recent weeks.

Practice for the opening race was scheduled for the following Friday, and having to isolate in accordance with local regulations meant that Daniel would go into the new season without having driven the car since last month.

Locked away from the outside world, tension brewed within the confines of a hotel room. This forced proximity only served to accentuate the strains that had long been present. The fraying edges of your relationship were now illuminated under the harsh fluorescent lights, magnified by the claustrophobic confinement of quarantine.

You entered the bedroom and found him lying on the bed, wearing a navy shirt and a pair of sweats, his feet locked at the ankles and his attention focused on his phone.

“How are you feeling?”

“’m fine,” he sighed.

“Do you need anything?” you tried again.

“Nope.”

You went to lay down on your side of the bed. “Heard Lando had problems with the car today.”

“Seems the car is even shittier than last year.” He let out a dry laugh. “But I wouldn’t know because I’m stuck in this fucking hotel room for the rest of the week.”

“Look on the bright side, you’ve got a couple of extra days to relax before the craziness of the season begins.” You gave a half shrug.

“Wouldn’t exactly call this relaxing. But you wouldn’t understand.”

“What does that mean? I know how you’re feeling-”

He shook his head and huffed, dropping his phone on the bed. “No, that’s the thing. You don’t know, sweetheart. How would you know? You didn’t get a fucking positive result and was forced to stay inside these walls, watching how everyone else gets the chance to freely try out their cars before they really have to focus on the season. You’re only stuck here as a precaution. It’s funny, you know…” He snorted. “You’ve been traveling a lot lately. And it’s been fine in the meantime. But as soon as you get here—”

“Are you saying that all of this is my fault?” The tension in the room was palpable as the argument raged on.

He rubbed his forehead as he looked up at the ceiling. He wouldn't even look at you — and somehow that annoyed you even more.

“Oh, I’m sorry for not being considerate enough to also get sick, it’s not like I can actually control that. But that might be my fucking fault, too. I’m too fucking busy being worried about your health. My bad.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm your beating heart. You turned back over to face away from him.

You felt so tired and hurt. In the last few days, these walls have felt like a battleground, waiting for you to engage in combat. And all you keep doing is try to stand tall pretending to be the bravest soldier.

It all began with the relentless hate that had been heaped upon you recently. At first, it was fine, it was expected, and you would laugh about the things they were saying. You must have been blinded by the honeymoon phase, as some people call it, but all things must come to an end. Lately, Daniel's devoted fans had turned into a fierce mob, outraged and blaming you for his performance last year, saying it was all the time he's been spending with you instead of focusing on his career. The hateful comments and messages had started to poison the relationship.

You guessed that it was easier when you were the only target. It was bearable to an extent; you could take it. Wasn't the first time it happened, and you supposed it was all part of the “big show”. But once they started targeting him too – things took a 180-degree turn.

Daniel and you had been inseparable for two years, celebrating your anniversary not too long ago. Now, you both lay silently in your hotel room; the once fiery love now reduced to smoldering embers.

He sighed and turned his head in your direction. “Babe, I—”

“It’s okay.” You mumbled squeezing your eyes shut, trying to keep in the tears that threatened to fall. “Goodnight.”

He covered his eyes with his hands; he didn’t mean to snap at you like that. He could hear you taking deep breaths, and something in his chest felt heavy. This need to bicker, to fight with you had been present for a few weeks, but lately had reached an all-time high.

The 2021 Formula 1 season had brought with it a surge of emotions that Daniel hadn't anticipated. As he settled into his new role with McLaren, the pressure to prove he was the more experienced driver in his first year with the team weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Every race was a chance to show the world that he still had what it took to compete at the highest level of motorsport. The expectations were high, and the scrutiny was relentless. Fans, the media, and fellow drivers all wondered if the Honey Badger could return to his former glory.

The season brought a mix of highs and lows. The highlight, undoubtedly, was the victory in Monza. It was a moment that should have been celebrated longer as a triumph for both Daniel and McLaren. However, amidst the jubilation, there was a bitter undercurrent of frustration. It seemed that the team's focus was already shifting to the next race, their first win in 12 years overshadowed by the relentless march of time.

Daniel's frustration grew as he watched the spotlight turn away from Monza's victory. He yearned for the recognition, the culmination of a year of hard work and perseverance. But as the season continued, the pressure only increased. The wins were non-existent, and the losses weighed heavily on him, each one gnawing at his confidence.

The expectations for the coming season were higher than ever. He knew that he had to perform at his best to silence the critics and prove that he still had that competitive edge. The weight of those expectations seemed to hang over him, a constant reminder of the challenges that lay ahead.

Each race weekend would become a test, a chance to prove himself once again. The roar of the engines, the smell of burning rubber, and the pressure of the competition were all part of the Formula 1 world that he loved, but they also added to the mounting stress.

You couldn’t sleep at all.

Sleep evaded you that night. Your mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to fix the fractured parts of the relationship. Where did it go wrong? The question replayed over and over again like a broken record.

You stretched your arm to grab your phone from the nightstand and check the time.

2:30 A.M. Just a little bit less than 4 hours until the sun would come out. And 5 more days until you both would be free to leave this room.

You stood up from the bed and went to Daniel’s bedside table to look for the fingertip pulse oximeter. Once you found it, you knelt down and took his hand, careful not to wake him, and placed the oximeter on the tip of his index finger. After a few seconds of waiting for the values to remain constant, you sighed with relief when a big 98 appeared under the oxygen saturation. Thankfully, his symptoms were not of great concern, and he showed constant improvements. But you didn’t want to risk it, so every few hours you made sure to check his vitals just so you could have a little peace of mind. Especially when he was sleeping.

You couldn’t help but look at him for a moment. He looked to be in a profound state of sleep, so calm and so beautiful. His features, usually animated and lively, rested in a serene calm. You observed the rise and fall of his chest, the tranquil expressions that danced across his face, and the gentle harmony of his breathing. In these hushed moments, it was like nothing had changed, where you were still you and he was still the same Daniel that promised you that you were a team.

As you gazed upon him, your heart was a mix of conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was the undeniable warmth and affection that comes from witnessing his vulnerability in slumber. Yet, a touch of sadness lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the unresolved tension from the previous fight. The serenity of his sleep served as a poignant backdrop to your disagreements, and you desperately longed for the chance to mend the rift and return to the peace you once shared.

It didn’t take long for the tears to appear again and you couldn’t help but curse being so sensitive. You stood up; you knew that going back to bed was useless, so you headed out of the room. You ended up curled up on the couch in the dark living room of your hotel room, the soft glow of your phone screen casting a bright light on your tear-streaked face. You debated whether calling one of the girls or just text them in need of letting all this helplessness out. But you didn't want to bother them with your problems, you knew they already had enough with their owns. So, you gave up on the idea.

Your relationship with Daniel had been a whirlwind of love and excitement, a passionate journey that had weathered ups and downs, but always coming out stronger on the other side. Now, you weren’t so sure you would come out of this unscathed.

Was it time to let it go? You couldn’t help but wonder. You weren’t new to this predicament. It happened before with your last relationship. But with Harry, the revelation that it was over came naturally and gently. You both were on the same page and knew it was inevitable. But with Daniel, your heart told you to continue, begged you to keep fighting while your mind was sending out warning signals that you chose to completely ignore.

The bright Bahraini sun shone through the big windows when Daniel, out of habit, rolled over to pull your body closer and instead felt the coldness of the sheets on your side of the bed. He opened his eyes and searched around the room. The bathroom door was open, and the lights were off, so you couldn’t be there. He stood up and left the room, yawning. He found you in the same place you ended up last night, curled up and holding a pillow to your chest.

The dark bags under your eyes were more prominent this morning. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in his chest at the sight of you. He got closer and leaned down to place a tender kiss on your forehead and felt you stir for a moment before slowly opening your eyes. You rubbed your eyes before looking up at him silently.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you said in a sleepy voice.

“What are you doing here?” he yawned, taking a seat on the couch as you moved back to give him space.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you replied in a muted voice, eyes downcast, fiddling with your fingernails.

And that was the routine after an argument: fight. One of you would try to walk away to calm down (most of the time it was you). Pretend nothing happened and go back to normal – well, whatever normal meant these days. Repeat.

A heavy silence settled between you. He leaned back on the couch, just staring at your face. He knew he should say something. Apologize even. But the words refused to come out. Meanwhile, thoughts swirled in your mind, doubts that had been lingering for a while now. Was it all in your head? Had you been the problem all along?

No.

As the seconds ticked by, the fog began to lift, and with it came a newfound clarity. It wasn't all in your head, and you weren't the sole problem. You had believed for so long it was your responsibility to make things right, to hold everything together. But it had been a shared responsibility, a partnership that had eroded in different ways.

Yes. You had both contributed to this.

You had underestimated the significance of his actions, his choices, and his words. In the process of taking all the blame, you had overlooked how he had let things slip away, how he had failed to communicate, and how he had allowed the distance to grow. You realized that it was a two-way street, and while you had been quick to accept responsibility for your part, it was time for both of you to acknowledge your roles in your shared demise.

Something within you was stirring, a growing realization that you couldn't keep shouldering the blame for everything. It wasn't fair to you, nor was it the path to a healthy and equal relationship.

"I can't do this anymore, Daniel," you murmured, your eyes brimming with sadness.

"No, no no— no we're not doing this—"

“Amor, please,” you pleaded in a whisper. Tears welled up in your eyes, but your resolve held firm. “We've been arguing about everything lately. All of this is hurting us. Your fans—”

Daniel's heart ached, but he lashed out in defense. “You know it's not that simple! I can't control what my fans say—”

Your irritation boiled over. "But you can defend me, Daniel! You can stand up for us!”

Frustration welled up in Daniel, his voice growing sharper. "I'm trying to protect what's left of my career, YN! Last season was awful for me, apart from one win, which was insignificant, apparently. I've got my own fucking problems!” He stood up forcefully and started to pace around the room.

Your anger flared and big angry tears streamed down your face. “You think it's only your career that's on the line? What about us? We're supposed to be a team, supporting each other. ‘Us against everything else’, remember? But you're making it all about you!” you screamed at him, standing up from where you were previously sitting.

He suddenly stopped in front of you. “You're too young and naive to understand the pressure I'm under. It's not just about us. It's about my career, it’s about my life! And that’s very rich coming from you,” he scoffed. “What about your fans, huh? The hate I'm getting from them and other people, it's taking a fucking toll!” he hissed. You stared at him, feeling shocked by his words. He kept going. “And let’s not forget how fucking clingy you’ve been. You suffocate me sometimes. Must be nice to have a job where you can just drop everything anytime you want and take paid vacations to follow me around.”

His words left you feeling as though the ground had been yanked from beneath your feet.

You're too young and naive. How fucking clingy you’ve been — You suffocate me sometimes. His words echoed incessantly in your mind like a stuck playback.

When did the insecurities shared transform into arrows, aimed at your most profound wounds?

You snapped, “You knew what you were getting into when we started dating. And I warned you. I gave you an out so many times, but you decided to stay.” A bitter laugh left your mouth. “You said I was the greatest risk you’ve ever taken and the greatest reward—”

“And I did think that, YN,” he uttered. “We lived inside a bubble for so long, but reality is different. Maybe we rushed into this too soon.”

“Come on, bury my heart deeper, Danielito. If that's what you're trying to do— it's working,” you said with a pained smile, eyes only focused on him.

The room seemed to grow colder, and your voices decreased in volume. But the damage had been done. Daniel realized the pain his words had caused, but his own frustration clouded his judgment. “This wouldn’t even be a problem, if you wouldn’t make one out of it,” he muttered bitterly.

“Please, don’t make this worse than it already is,” you agonized; your voice was shaky. Invisible claws of grief and anguish were tearing at the muscles and tendons in your chest. You never knew that emotions could possess such tangible, physical presence.

“If only we had met on different grounds. Then maybe things would have been different, we would be different.”

You couldn't help but add more fuel to the fire. You lacked the capacity for a graceful exit, and if you were aflame, you'd ensure that he, too, would turn to ashes. “Do you mean what if I was different?” A new wave of anger swept over you.

That question caught him off guard, forcing Daniel to pause and stare at you, honest surprise and confusion coloring his face. “What?”

Your voice trembled with a mix of frustration and hurt as you confronted him. “Heidi's constant presence in the paddock these past few months, the way you've been talking to her, and how people are speculating about you two... It's causing me to doubt myself and my place in your life.”

Daniel's brows furrowed, and his voice carried irritation. “YN, this is ridiculous. Heidi is just a friend. We've been through this countless times.”

You inched forward as you tried to make him understand. “I know she's your friend, but the way you've been spending time with her lately... it's different. I can't shake off the feeling that there might be something more.”

Daniel rolled his eyes, his frustration mounting. “You're being crazy, YN. We're just friends, and it's unfair of you to accuse me, and especially her, like this.” In a further defensive move, he shot back, “You're the one who had those cheating rumors circulating, not me. You should know how destructive and unfounded these accusations can be. And now, you're doing the same thing with Heidi?”

It felt like a hard punch to your gut, you took in a sharp breath, “So, you're bringing this up again? We already cleared the air about those false accusations when they hit us. I would never dare cheat on you!” Your frustration was palpable.

“And why is it so fucking hard to believe I wouldn’t either?” Suddenly, you could clearly see how sadness clouded his features.

The room seemed to close in around you both. Then, all of a sudden, you realized that healing from this and moving forward required a level of understanding and compassion that seemed beyond reach in the heat of this argument.

In that moment, you knew for certain that it was over. The love you had once celebrated, the memories you had shared, now felt like distant echoes of a happier time.

How did you both allow things to spiral into such chaos? This living room had transformed into a battleground, where words cut like knives. Where were the Daniel and YN who were deeply in love? The ones who, for the first time, felt safe to be vulnerable and discuss a future they had envisioned together; one with a couple of tiny little feet running around the farm in a couple of years and joking about how wild a perfect mix of Australian and Latino genes would be. Now, you stood face to face, unrecognizable, refusing to show any sign of surrender.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

It wasn’t supposed to end at all.

The silence in the room was suffocating. All the energy and adrenaline left your body at once. You felt emotionally drained, as though a storm had swept through your heart and left it battered and exhausted.

You took a sit back on the couch and ran your hands across your face, squeezing your eyes shut. “We can't go on like this.”

So, this is it, Daniel thought. Dread twisted in his gut; he felt like he might throw up. His shoulders slumped and he raked his fingers through his hair as he took a seat next to you. The vulnerability in your words cut him deeply, but he understood the gravity of the situation. "You're right," he admitted, his voice choked with emotion. “We tried, didn’t we? We gave it our best shot” a sad smile adorned his tired face. “For what it’s worth, I really am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” he murmured as tears shone in his eyes.

“I'm sorry, too. I wanted to make it work. I always just wanted to be the one.” Your heart seemed to shatter into even smaller fragments. As you wiped away a single tear that trickled down your cheek, the physical act of brushing it away only served to accentuate the profound pain that had settled within your chest. It felt as though each tear carried with it a piece of your shattered dreams and the love that was now slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. In that fleeting moment, your heartache intensified, and you realized that this breakup was leaving you more broken than you had ever thought possible.

As the final words echoed in the room, you, your tears spent, turned and walked out into the bedroom, leaving Daniel alone with the weight of what had just transpired.

As soon as you left the room, you locked yourself in the bathroom and texted Blake. You asked him if there was any chance, he could talk to the hotel so you could get another room for the remaining time you had to be in quarantine. The request took him by complete surprise, and you explained shortly that Daniel and you had just broken up.

He assured you he was going to do everything in his power to get you a new room. You were sure that as soon as you hung up the phone, he was already texting Daniel asking for a better explanation.

As you sat on the bathroom floor, the pain was all-encompassing, a relentless throb deep within your chest that left you gasping for air. It felt as though a gaping void had taken up residence in your heart, and you weren’t sure how to fill it.

Tears flowed freely down your cheeks. Numbness had started to settle in. A surreal feeling that this couldn't be real, that you would wake up from this nightmare at any moment. You wished that a switch would flip and make it all go away, but the pain persisted.

Bitterness and anger boiled within you. You felt wronged by the universe, by the cruel twist of fate that had torn you both apart. You resented the public scrutiny, the relentless judgment from fans and strangers alike, and the demands of your high-profile careers.

You felt unbearably alone. You longed for Daniel’s presence, for the familiar comfort of his arms, but he was no longer yours to hold. Your heart ached for the man you thought, for a short period, you would spend the rest of your life with, even though you knew that was no longer possible. The pain of heartbreak was, for you, an agonizing and inescapable reality, and you had yet to discover how to heal and move forward.

Turns out Blake went beyond of what you initially asked for. He arranged for you to take the PCR test again to confirm that you had not contracted the virus while sharing a room with Daniel.

After two slow and torturous days, where you spent your time curled up on the couch and Daniel spent his in the bedroom — a decision you made, he was the sick one after all. After two consecutive negative results, you were given the green light to leave. You had already packed your things after your call with Blake a few days ago, hoping you could change rooms. He had asked you if you needed anything else, saying he was willing to facilitate everything for you. He saw you as a fundamental part of this little dysfunctional family and had developed a deep affection for you. You couldn’t thank him enough.

Soon you had a plane waiting to take you back to L.A., to a house, not a home, all alone. You were leaving behind what you've come to realize was your home in the last two years.

You awkwardly said goodbye to Daniel. Your voice sounded tired, while he shifted on his feet on the threshold of the bedroom door. Curls wild, beard a bit longer than the past days and the bags under his eyes looked even more prominent. Despite the visible signs of weariness on both of you, you still couldn't draw any solace from the shared pain.

You knew you had to find your own path, to heal from these wounds, and to rediscover who you were outside of the relationship. As the plane took off, you made a silent promise to yourself to emerge from this ordeal stronger, wiser, and ready to face the world, no matter how unforgiving it might be.

#daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #latina!reader #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo angst #( agentstarkid's works )

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 27.7k | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: howdy ya’ll! This chapter took me a HOT minute to finish because i’ve been severely sick (if you’ve been on this ride with me since esos you know i struggle with my health) but it’s finally here! I cant thank everyone enough for reading and as much as I wish i could hear from you guys more often, i’m just going to keep writing along and hope someone likes it! The smallest interactions bring me so much joy.

Masterlink

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Chapter 5: On My Way To You

He’s never been more humiliated in his entire fucking life. Never—not ever, has he ever felt this embarrassed about someone seeing him naked. He’s been shot down mid alleyway make-out when she’d pressed too close and felt it. He’s been left in a hotel room when he had a woman naked under him and he finally pulled his pants down. Hell—he’s been told it hurts, asked to stop—asked to leave. But never has it made his heart pound and his cheeks stain red, never made him wheeze from anxiety and dread.

He didn’t mean for it to happen—he’s been doing his best to avoid you, give you the space you want, but you’ve been nicer lately and it makes him want to get closer, test those waters and get to know you, but the second he lets himself start to give in, his body goes full force and he has to get away. Today was a hard day for him because he’d been up late the night before trying to rewire a break in the fence that let out three heifers and the little calf you’d saved on Christmas.

He’d crashed hard last night and woke up too late to work himself over before starting his day—it usually helps him keep his cool, but today he spent two hours hours in the saddle of one of Hank’s horses, moving the heifers getting ready to calf to a smaller pasture, the older steer that were about to be sold off from last years calves to a quarantine pen. It was mindless and easy and Joel spent the whole time thinking about you and your pretty eyes and the way you still wear that necklace every day, like you haven’t even thought to take it off.

By the time he stops by the house for something to drink, he’s already spent half his morning picturing you in every position possible—real like he’s never had it before. He’s smack dab in the middle of one of his favorite fantasies, one where you’re going down on him, fully aware of what’s under his belt buckle and wranglers. You’d be so sweet to him, make him feel desirable without feeling like a chore. You’d kiss the length of him over his denim, drag his pants down his thighs and you wouldn’t gasp in shock. You’d want him—your mouth would water for him and you’d give him those pouty lips and bright eyes when you finally run your tongue from base to tip—it would be perfect—

“Morning Joel.”

He’s so caught up in his vision of you in his head he’s completely unprepared for this version, with berries smeared on the corner of your mouth, like the jam is just too sweet for you to leave untasted—you’re swimming in a sweater too big for you and christ he hates when you wear legging, hugging every curve of your body, filling in the shape of your body like a shadow. He does his best to form a sentence, keep himself from staring at the necklace chain he can see poking out of your collar. you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it.

When you lick the spoon clean, his stomach hits the floor and his head spin’s suddenly from loss of blood as everything warm and tingly in his body travels south. He knows he has to get out of there, doesn’t have time to stand here for another second if he wants to keep what's going on in his pants to himself.

He’ll kick himself later for not giving you an excuse to run off, but he doesn’t have a choice in the matter right now. He practically runs for the barn, the small bathroom inside is a well learned friend, where he can rub one out fast and get it out of his hungry system. His body is famished, starved for your skin and he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

He gets his pants down as fast as he can, spits in his hand and starts quick. God, the way you’d looked at him when he walked in there, like you were happy to see him for once, glad to share his company—if only he wasn’t such a complete piece of shit who can't take a kind gesture for just that.

He sees your smile and he wants to dig his hands into the meat of your ass and hoist you up. Wants to hold you down and take you apart with his mouth. Your eyes meet his and he wants to watch them roll back when you take all of him, like no one ever has, ever will but he can let himself imagine it in this tiny bathroom that smells like livestock and dirt. He can imagine the way you’d want it, want him. The way you’d tell him how good he felt, how good he made you feel despite what he’s always been told about himself.

Just a few more—a couple more tugs and he’s almost there, so fucking close to the thought of your body and his, and…and…

The next thing he knows your eyes are on him, then tick down to his hand wrapped around himself like the pathetic man he knows he is. He’ll never forget the way you looked at him, the way you told him how traumatized you were to see him like that, he’s sure it would have hurt less if you’d stabbed him in the heart with a dull knife.

He fucking runs back to the cabin and get’s himself under a cold shower, trying to keep his hair from getting wet so you don’t know while his body takes a shock to its system, flushing out the desire and replacing it for his shame. When he’s red and shaking from the cold, he re-dresses and heads back towards the house. The longer he hides, the more likely you are to piece together the odd string of occurrences surrounding his disappearances. The longer he waits, the more guilty he looks, so he forces himself up the stairs, trying his best to catch his breath outside of the door until he finally has the gull to knock. He knows you’re in there, he can faintly hear something, soft little sounds that he can't quite make out, so he calls your name when the small rasps don’t catch your attention.

He nearly leaves when the door finally comes open, and…fuck if you aren’t a sight for his painfully sore eyes. You’re red all over, stunning, breathing hard with wide eyes like you’ve been caught at something. Maybe you have, he can imagine, maybe you were touching yourself—thinking about him. It's a futile dream, but he lets himself have it anyways.

No matter how much he runs, how much he tries his hardest to stay away, everything you do ropes him in and hog ties him up, unable and unwilling to be moved until you’ve decided what to do with him now that everything he is, is yours.

It’s shame that keeps him from embarrassing himself again once he drives into town, because the way you press against him in the truck makes his skin boil. He doesn’t deserve to have you beside him after what you’d been forced to witness, but that doesn’t stop him. He wants to slip his hand along your thigh, wishes Tommy wasn’t sitting beside you and he could stuff his hand down the front of your leggings and show you a thing or two—he knows he’s good with his hands—his mouth, he has to be if he wants to get a woman off. He wants to show you exactly what he could do for you, to you, but he keeps his mouth closed and taps his fingers against the steering wheel the whole way. It’s infuriating, how much you get along with Tommy now, who’s been nothing but crude to you, making passes at you left and right and god help him, you let him. He wants you to talk to him like that too, he wants to make you laugh, make you giggle and blush prettily.

But he just loads the truck. Watches when you and Tommy snicker over a bottle of whiskey he knows he can't touch because last time he made a fool of himself. He tries not to intrude on your space, tries not to bother you and Tommy around the fire later after he’s done unloading the truck alone. Not even Tommy helps him around here anymore, too far up your ass that he’s damn near useless.

He watches from the window like a fucking creep, trying not to work himself up over the way you smile at his brother, the way you throw your head back laughing at something stupid he probably said. He wants that to be him, sitting beside you with whiskey making him bold, faking it for him since he doesn’t have the ability to just talk to you. He’s sure he’d tell you everything, how beautiful he thinks you are, how much smarter than him you are. He’d probably tell you how many times he’s thought about you with his hands wrapped around himself, in the dark of his room with your name on his lips.

He doesn’t do any of that, instead he watches you from the window and lets his heart ache and pound until he sees the way Tommy lingers closer, touches your leg absently and you let him. He has to put a stop to this, so he tracks out into the cold and tries to put his foot down. Maybe Tommy will go to bed, you’ll let him walk you home and it will be so cold that you’ll ask him to stay again. But before he has a second to beg you otherwise, you’re kissing his brother.

You’re kissing his brother instead of him and he can't watch for another second, so he hightails it inside and slams his bedroom door behind himself. He can usually hear right through Tommy’s wall, but he holds his hands over his ears and tries his hardest to keep the sound of his ragged breaths from making it through the walls. At some point, he falls asleep, wishing you were laying right beside him, sprawled out, satisfied and spent with the shape of his teeth on your shoulder.

When he wakes in the morning, it’s not even close to sun up yet. He has a long day ahead of him, has to ride up to the north pasture, acres upon acres of beautiful pine covered land, but Joel has to ensure that the streams aren’t frozen over if he wants to move the heifers and their calves there soon. He gets dressed with a ache in his bones that he knows didn’t come from his age, his stomach is in knots because he knows what's been done, he knows he can’t change it—that he might not ever stand a chance with you now that you’ve been with him. Women always preferred Tommy over him, all the same cowboy charm with a bit more confidence.

He slips on his boots and places his hat on his head before lingering in the hallway for a long moment. He stares at Tommys door and imagines you sleeping on the other side of it. Did you like it? Do you like him?

He turns and starts down the hallways when the door comes open with a slow creak. He turns back around in the dark light of the hallway and, there you are wearing one of Tommy’s shirts and nothing else, your hair is mused and you have this look on your face, one that reeds shame and worry and for what Joel just can't quite put his finger on. You don’t say anything for a long time, just Joel and you and the fading darkness outside, your eyes tracking over him with a shiny hue to them.

“Where are you going?” Where is he going is the first thing you have to say to him? Like he climbed out of your bed and snuck off. “I uhm…I have a long ride up to the north field, thought I would get a early start on it.” He clears his throat and glances down at his boots, then back up at you. “Though I should give ya’ll some space, no one wants their brother listenin’ in.”

He starts to turn away again because he can’t look at you for another second when he knows you have his saliva on your skin and the shapes of his hands on your body.

“Can I come with you?” Go with him? You want to go with him when there’s a warm body waiting for you in a warm bed, where you can hide from the cold world, the impending darkness and a man like him. “You want to go? Why?” You close the bedroom door behind you like you don't want to wake Tommy and it makes Joel’s heart pound out of his chest for reasons it shouldn’t. “I don't know, it’s cold out there, you’re uhm…you’re naked.”

He tries, really tries to keep his eyes off your bare thighs, the shirt hanging off your frame and your sock-less feet on the hardwood. “I’m not naked, I have underwear on,” you lift one side of the shirt like you have to prove it to him and his eyes track to the black lace hugging your hips. Saliva builds in his mouth and he clears his throat, needing to turn away from you again. “If you want to come you should probably put some clothes on, I’ll meet you in the stable.” He starts to gather up his things, a light and his phone, trying to make himself busy so he can get away. “Well, will you wait for me—I don’t want to walk alone.” And Joel doesn’t want to do this right now, walk with you for a half mile back to the stables, sit beside you, wondering if it aches sitting in the saddle because his brother fucked you.

But he waits anyway, fiddles with the brim of his hat while he sits on the couch in silence as he waits for you to get dressed. You come out in your clothes from the night before, bundled up in a big jacket with your hair tied back. He tells himself not to think about it and heads towards the door. The walk to the stables is nearly silent, but the pounding in his ears drowns out the awkwardness in the interaction. How can he stop thinking about it? How you slept with him but dragged yourself out of bed to follow Joel into the cold? How you would trade a warm body for Joel’s cold shoulder?

“Need help with your saddle?” His voice feels raw from not using it, his hands aching from the cold while he cinches up the girth strap. This time next year, hell be saddling up Cersi to take this trip, he cant wait, but for now he’ll ride Hanks sturdy horse through the mud and snow. “I’ve got it, thank you.” There's no snap in your tone like he expects there to be and you work with him in unison, getting your mounts ready while the sun starts to climb into the atmosphere. By the time he gets out of the barn, you’re smiling at him. Smiling from your spot in the saddle with the reigns in your hands like you’re made for that.

“You ready to get a move on, cowboy?” His chest tightens at the way you gaze at him, wondering if you’d given Tommy that same look the night before. He wants to pretend it was all for him, pretend that you’re looking at him like that because you see something you haven’t before.

“You ready, cowgirl? When's the last time you were in a saddle?” He tries his damndest to keep his tone light as he hooks a foot in the stirrup and hoists himself up. “Been a couple years, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget how to ride.”

Did you practice last night? He shakes his head and wills away the image. He doesn’t think he'll be able to stop thinking about it for the rest of the ride, he can’t get the image of your mouth on his out of his head no matter how much he tries. It’s always fucking Tommy. He’s always been the favored brother, no matter how much of a fuck up he is. He’s always been the one to get the girl, the popular one in school, hell even his wife—

“You okay in there cowboy?”

Your voice comes like a shock to his system, snapping him out of another unpleasant memory. “Huh?” He looks around until he lays eyes on you, riding beside him with your hands resting on the horn of the saddle. “I was asking if you’re okay…you’ve been really quiet for the past half hour.” Half an hour? It's been a half hour since he started this ride? “Yeah, no, sorry. I have a lot on my mind, is all.” You pick up the pace beside him a little, till your horses are walking alongside each-other on the path. “Anything you want to talk about?”

He sits on the words for a second. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not particularly—but its you and your asking him and fuck, he wants you to get to know him. Maybe if you knew who he was, maybe if he had a chance to explain why he’s like this you might change your mind.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout my ex-wife.” He keeps his eyes ahead of him, because he doesn’t want to see the look on your face when you hear that, that he had a whole other life away from this place. “My mom told me you had an ex-wife. She didn’t tell me what happened.”

You knew? He’d told Hank and Louise a lot about his life, he had to if he wanted them to trust him. He wasn’t a bad man, just a burdened one. “We uh…we had a rocky marriage. Got together young, right out of high school. I was learning to work a cattle ranch and I thought I would be able to give her a good life but—she wanted more, I suppose. Started steppin’ out on me. She got pregnant by another man, but I still didn’t leave. Helped raise that little girl like she was my own.”

He thinks about Sarah and her curly hair that definitely didn’t come from him or her mom, her sweet smile, her first day of school—all the things he missed.

“What made you finally leave?” Your voice is so quiet beside him. He looks over at you under the brim of his hat and sighs. “She slept with Tommy. Came home from picking up Sarah from school and I…caught ‘em together in bed. Tommy said he did it because he wanted to prove to me that she wasn’t any good for me but, I don’t know, I’ve never been very good and stayin’ angry at him.”

Your eyes look far away in that moment, like you’re clouded in some kind of guilt, maybe because you’d slept with Tommy, too. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Joel.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head absently. “Ain’t no thing. I’m used to it by now, he’s always had a way with ‘em that I never had.”

He has, Joel can't even recall every encounter he’s had with a woman that ended with them leaving with his brother. Hell, it had been five years since the last time he’d (kind of) had sex, no thanks to his cockblocker of a brother. The first time in years since he’s felt more than just attraction to a woman and Tommy takes that from him too.

“We should get a move on, we don’t have all day and I have a lot to do when I get back.”

He digs his heal in and the horse picks up speed and to his surprise, you keep gate with him along the trail.

When he gets to the gate of the north pasture, his ass hurts from being in the saddle and his face feels wind chapped, but you don’t complain about a lick of it, like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now. “Joel?” He’s closing the gate behind you when you call his name. It makes him look up from the latch. “Yeah?” He gets it in place and mounts his horse again, adjusting his hat on his head. “I’m really sorry, about how I treated you when I first came home.”

Fuck do you have to do this right now? Out here, where he has nowhere to run off to? “You're not the one who needs to be sorry. I never should have done half the things I did to you. I didn’t even know you and I assumed the worst of you. Should’ve never done any of that to you.” He never should have left you in the cold, never should have treated you any differently than anyone else because he thought you came from somewhere that didn’t like folks like him when he really likes girls like you. So smart and put together, so capable and confident.

“We got off on a bad foot, I suppose…do you think maybe we could…start over?”

You want to start over? With him? give him a second shot to not fuck this up again? Or maybe you don’t mean it like that, like he desperately wants it to mean, even if you fucked his brother last night, he doesn’t care, he’d take his sloppy seconds any day because it’s you.

“I’d really like that.” There's a sweet kind of shimmer in your eyes when you smile at him, rosey cheeks and a crinkle by your kind eyes. His sight ticks down to your chest, where he can see the necklace he’d given you sticking out of the top. You’re still wearing it, had you worn it last night? When he laid you down on his cold sheets while Joel wished desperately it was his?

Despite the pang in his chest, the rest of the ride is easy and light, you talk about nothing and absolutely everything, your favorite color, your favorite time of the year, Joel tells you how much he loves the spring and you excitedly agree, going on and on about watching the world come back to life.

You tell him about college, how out of place you felt surrounded by people who were so different from you. How nervous you were for the first year, but you’d made a best friend out of your room mate Mel, and you finally got the hang of it in your second year.

He tells you about drifting from place to place because Tommy usually stirs up some trouble and runs them out of town. He tells you about all the times he’s had to save his ass to your parents and how much he’s tried to hang on to the one good place he’s had in so long. He could talk to you for hours, all day if you’d let him, and you do. You hold his conversations like you’re a pair of old friends, catching up after years spent apart.

He’s so lost in you that he doesn’t even realize you’re back home until the house comes into view. He’s spent so much time immersing himself in talking to you that he’s completely lost track of where he is, letting the miles blow past him. It’s mid day and he still has a lot to do and he can tell you’re starting to get sore in the saddle. “I’ll get them cooled down, you should probably get some rest. You couldn’t of gotten much sleep last night.” He swings his leg over and climbs off the horse before taking yours by the halter so you can do the same. “Thank you for today…it’s been a while since I’ve had a good reason to ride.” You give him one of those smiles again and it takes everything in him not to lean in and kiss you because of it. He’s wanted to kiss you all damn day, slide his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull and hold on tight, slot his lips over yours and breathe you in deep until he can’t let you go again.

He doesn’t and you head off towards the house while he looks on. He watches till you make it inside and then some before getting back to his chores.

Work consumes the entirety of his day, until the sun sets and it starts to get dark and chilly when he’s finally got the animals fed and the equipment locked up. He knows Tommy is back at the cabin because he dropped off a plate of dinner to Joel in the stable on his way home. He’s about to start the walk back to the cabin himself when he hears the creak of the screen door on the house just across the yard. He closes the barn door behind himself and follows the sounds. You’re standing on the porch in a pair of sleep shorts and slippers, a tee-shirt that's too big and a nervous look on your face. You don't say anything, but Joel’s feet carry him to the steps, then up them one at a time, carefully and painfully slow, like he might spook you away if he moves too quickly. The wind is absolutely howling right now, whipping your hair around and cinching your shirt tight against your frame.

He hits the landing and takes a few more steps forward, until he’s a foot away from your shaking form, your big pretty eyes that are searching every corner of his. He should say something, he should say how much he enjoyed today, how much he wants to do it again and again and again.

“I didn’t have sex with him.”

It’s not what he expected you to say standing out here in this unforgiving cold, but its the best damn thing he’s heard you say all day. It feels like an endless weight coming off his shoulders and he lets out a loud gush of air he didn’t know he was holding. “What?” You puff your chest out a little, like you’re trying to get a point across to him. “I didn't have sex with Tommy last night.” You say it so matter of factly.

“Why didn’t you?” He reaches up and pushes his hat up a little, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His heart is pounding, his limbs shaking at the admission. “You know why.”

All at once, his pounding heart comes to a staggering stop, standing there on the porch looking down at you while he tries to keep himself upright. He doesn’t know why but the way you're looking at him now tells him there's something else here besides anger and hatred and shared distaste. You didn’t sleep with Tommy, because on the other side of that wall you were wanting him just as desperately as he wanted you.

“It’s cold out here…do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Joel’s bottom lip quivers so much he has to suck it into his mouth to make it stop, bite down on it to put it at ease. “Yeah, I…I’d like that.”

A warm little hand finds his, tentative fingers intertwined with his while you lead him inside of the house. You don’t take him upstairs, Joel doesn’t expect you to. You lead him to the couch and he sits down, kicking off his boots when you reach up for his hat. You set it on the arm rest beside him and grab a blanket off the back of the couch when he lays himself back on the pillow.

His body aches, his eyes feel heavy, but he doesn’t dare close them when he’s got an angel standing right before his eyes. “Goodnight, Cowboy.” You hum sweetly, lean down and press your lips against the apple of his cheek, more delicate than he’s ever been touched before in his entire fucking life.

When you pull away, those same cheeks are painted pink and he does his best not to grin too stupidly. “Goodnight, Cowgirl.”

You take the stairs up to your room but Joel rides the elevator to heaven from his spot on the living room couch.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #archive of our own #joel tlou #cowboy joel miller #rancher joel miller #slow burn joel miller

[drdemonprince]

I deeply agree that weve got to meet people where they are at, and that there are multiple factors to consider in a masking situation. But I’m gonna be real as someone who was deeply disabled by covid something still urks me about the way people have been discussing covid protection with you. It is all so overwhelmingly from the perspective of someone not sick. It’s all about how one made the choice to not mask in certain situations and how doing otherwise would ruin ones life, and that’s like, sure, makes sense. But I don’t get that choice. That choice was taken away from me. And I am not making a ill-informed strategic decision in shaming others, I simply have no empathy for the hurt feelings of the people who put me on my deathbed, to be quite fucking honest. I am all for strategic discussions but I am not here to be tone policed by people talking about their choices that I don’t even get to take, sitting here struggling to even type.

Thanks for sharing this. One of the big tension points with COVID is that the target behaviors that need to be changed are located within people who are, statistically, not the most vulnerable -- and so, on a tactical level, we are tasked with extending compassion and aid to people who might not show the same consideration to us as disabled people, if we want to be safe.

As HIV spread throughout queer, sex worker, and intraveneous drug user communities, it was often these very communities that organized in order to influence behavioral change within their own ranks. Gay bars handed out condoms to gay men. Gay sex clubs facilitated fisting nights so people could have safer sex. Needle exchanges run by current and former drug users helped keep drug users safe. The people most likely to be infected were also the people whose behavior could be positively influenced to protect them, and thus protect the community as a whole.

That's not quite the calculus here. In order to protect disabled and high-risk people, we need EVERYONE to be on the same page with regard to COVID mitigation strategies. We need people who are not themselves high risk to mask, test, get vaccinnated, improve ventilation in their homes, etc.

Now, many of these "low risk" people are not actually low risk; the data is pretty abundant at this point that it is in actuality quite hard to pin down who will develop long COVID and who will not, it can happen to just about anyone. And indeed, even many people who know themselves to be high risk are still taking significant risks regarding COVID right now -- because they are forced to go to work in kitchens and grocery stores and live with roommates who travel and etc or because they are so filled with despair they are risk resigned.

So trying to demarcate who is a disempowered victim here and who is an inconsiderate abled person is not actually so easy -- we must resist the urge that has been drilled into us to issue moral judgements about whom is righteous and whom is deserving of suffering. That is not a disability justice politic. No one deserves long covid, no one deserves to die, no one deserves to overdose, no one deserves to get AIDS, no one deserves to perish because they could not handle the loneliness of social isolation either. We must believe that all disabilities are legitimate and in need of accommodation here, and that includes mental ones that make strict mitigation adherence hard for some. (hello, hi, i have crazy risk-taking brain disease, and even so i care about COVID mitigation, and i need community care too).

EVEN SO, it is undeniably true what you are saying, that we are focusing more on the actions and choices and hang ups of the people who have some freedom to choose, and not the people who have been at home for years at this point, completely isolated, because they are high risk or disabled by COVID already.

I would always caution people to remember that there very much are folks who are high risk and have long COVID who are still forced by economic circumstances out into public life every single day. so we can't equate who is at home and who is out in public taking risk with how disabled or sick someone is. But still, I digress, and on the whole you are right, we are concerning ourselves with people who have the freedom to choose how they respond to COVID, and doesn't that seem unfair?

Sure it's unfair! But the people who have the ability to choose how they respond to COVID risk are the exact people whose behavior we are trying to influence here! We want more people to mask, get tested, get vaccinated, socialize outdoors, etc. And so we do have to put considerable resources and messaging into reaching those people and influencing their behavior if we wish to protect disabled and high risk people.

Someone has to do the work of listening to their concerns, educating them, validating their feelings, giving them access to masks and tests, and removing barriers to them taking those kinds of desired actions. a LOT of people have to do that work. You don't have to do that work as someone who is chronically ill, but I'm gonna do it. and I wish more of my comrades would join me in it, for your sake too! We need to be doing the footwork of getting all your neighbors masking so that it is safe for you to go outside!

We also DO want to protect those people who are taking big risks. Their lives do matter just as much to me. Many of the people who are disabled with long COVID were them once. The fact that someone takes a risk does not mean they deserve to get sick and die. Again that is a fundamental cornerstone of a disability justice politic.

But yes, I hear you, it's annoying from where you are sitting to have to hear people who get to out in public and take big risks complaining about how they are sad when they get criticized. You don't have to listen to these conversations. It shouldn't be your job to hold those conversations. But they do need to happen.

[00fairylights00]

Hypersomnolence

Haha funny story, I was diagnosed with a sleep disorder in November after struggling with it unknowingly for give or take 18 months. Turns out I’m not crazy and falling asleep against your will multiple times a day is actually not a good or normal thing.

So permit me to write the puppet like a sap as I need this right now lol. Yes these are in fact all things I experienced but I am medicated for them now hooray!

One task, that was all you’d managed to get through today. You felt sick and heavy, opting to sit on the cold ground before your body made you, it was a battle to stay awake as sleep attacked you again.

It was only early afternoon and you’d struggled through your one task of sweeping, you were certain everyone at the hotel thought you to be lazy, even if they’d all told you otherwise.

You’d been sick like this for a long time, long before the petrification disease or the puppet frenzy, both events having a negative effect on the way you’d usually manage your symptoms. 

And while you appreciated the sanctity you’d been spared at Hotel Krat, the nagging feeling of needing to repay Lady Antonia for her kindness was not helping your case.

You sat with your head in your hands, slipping in and out of consciousness, losing the battle again. Usually, Polendina would find you, send you to your room to rest and that would be it for the day, once you were in bed you found it hard to do much of anything else. Which you supposed was good for your body but it made your emotional well-being an absolute wreck.

Lady Antonia had asked you time and time again to be kinder to yourself, to feel accomplished of the things you could do and that you were welcome here no matter how sick you were, and she would know a thing or two about being sick.

But, you had a bad habit of being nasty to yourself, and with your sleep-related illness only seeming to get worse you couldn’t remember the last time you’d spoken kindly to yourself.

You felt like shit.

A hand at your shoulder, delicate and tender shook you but it didn’t do much to rouse you. Your vision swam uncomfortably through the gaps in your fingers, your head being too heavy to lift up. Hands grasped your wrists, pulling gently to reveal your face that was then taken into those same hands, one soft and warm, the other firm and cold.

With the weight of your head now being supported by P’s hands you could somewhat force yourself to look at him. His expression was unreadable, as always, but his presence was a balm to your spiralling thoughts.

The friendship of Geppetto’s Puppet had been good for you, P didn’t care how tired you were he was just happy to see you, he didn’t expect anything but your presence and that was something you could give freely, tired or not.

He tilted his head in question to what you assumed to be your position on the floor, slumped over rather uncomfortably.

“It just came on, I had to sit down,” you mumbled, he seemed to frown, getting down on one knee and shifting you against him to pick you up.

With you cradled to his chest, he ascended the stairs. You burrowed down against his chest, relishing in how nice it was to be looked after. 

It was almost like the trip up to your room didn’t happen, one moment you were snug to P’s chest, the next you were under your sheets and propped up against the headboard. P took it upon himself to remove his shoes and coat and sit on the opposite side of the bed to keep you company.

“Sleepy?” P asked innocently, you nodded trying desperately to suppress another yawn. 

“I-“ he started, a thoughtful look crossing his face, “-want to help. How do I help?”

He gently took your hand in his own, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. The astounding amount of care he treated you with was sure to tear you apart in the best ways, making your exhausted mind spin.

“Just stay here with me for a bit,” You laid your head on his shoulder, “I think that’ll help.”

“Okay.”

He mimicked you, resting his head on top of yours, pulling the sheets further up your lap. Doing what he could to keep you comfortable, a concept he was still trying to grasp.

“Thank you P,” you mumbled, snuggling closer, “love you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to your head, nose buried in your hair, “I love you too.”

#I wrote this for me and it was going to stay in my drafts but the other shots I've been working on aren't done yet and I am itching to post #yes this is how most of my days went unmedicated it was hell on earth #started playing lies of p just before I got the diagnosis and started on treatment actually #the boy makes me very very happy #this could probably be read platonically but I did not write it with that intention #hence the lil kiss at the end #but close friends kiss each other on the forehead sometimes #will be crossposted elsewhere later #cause i need to go to bed right this second #lies of p x reader #p x reader #pinocchio x reader #lies of p #god i have missed writing my silly little fanfics #self indulgent to the nth degree #dec 2023 #🦋 let your conscience be your guide