#qatar living apartment

[obsessednothing]

Our love

George Russell x reader

Warnings: none, just fluff and love

A/N: amount of posts I read about George after the Qatar GP made me write this short fic. Also I feel lonely today, so this idea was easy to write. I don’t want to stir any discussion about what Max or George did or said, it’s just pure fantasy of mine and I felt the urge to write it down.

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

———

My peaceful sleep was disturbed by sudden sound of clinking of keys in the entrance door of the apartment. Humming a little, I tried to fall asleep again, not caring about who just entered the flat. From what I heard from hallway I understood that he’s home already, which was strange, he wasn’t meant to be home for another week. Getting my feet from the bed, I padded through the doorway of the bedroom, tiptoeing through the hallway, only to find George sitting slumped against the couch in our living room, scrolling through the phone, his face tired.

“Baby, you’re home.” My voice forced his eyes to meet mine. That mesmerising blue was full of sadness and.. regret? With a hum, he averted his gaze back to the screen of his phone and I knew something happened. Actually I knew that pretty well, because I read some posts on the instagram same as the comments even though I promised to myself to not do it. Slowly, I walked towards him, taking a seat beside him on the couch and he immediately leaned with his face into my shoulder, putting his phone aside, his nose gently brushing the material of my pyjamas.

“You smell like home, love..” his whisper made my heart flutter with joy, but at the same time made my stomach tight, because of the deep pain in his voice. Trailing my fingers through his hair, I heard his soft purr, his body relaxing under my touch.

“Tell me, what’s troubling you, George.” Even though I knew, I wanted to hear it from him, he needed to talk about it, to get it out of his mind.

“I acted like a child.. I was under pressure, nearly having that pole position, so I had to try to raise objection to have Max investigated, because he was driving too slow. Everybody is doing what they must in our field, it felt right, he got the penalty and I got the pole, but he’s now mad at me, saying that I’m fake person, who’s acting sweet in front of the cameras but behind the closed doors I’m a jerk.. as much as I’m trying to deny it, he’s maybe right.” His talking was fast, how much he tried to say everything he had in mind.

With frown on my face, I cupped his cheeks gently, forcing him to look into my eyes. “I understand, what pressure is on you, especially after Vegas. No, especially after that loss in Belgium.. you’re putting yourself under immense stress, and sometimes you unfortunately do something that doesn’t make sense, to make things right for you. You’re a great person, George, kind, sweet, caring, loving.. oh, I could write a love song about you and that wouldn’t be enough, but.. you’re also determined, ready to risk all, calculating, cocky.. sometimes we don’t do so good things, but that’s life. And the F1 life, oh god, there’s shitty persons everywhere, waiting for stabbing you in your back.”

Listening to my words, he visibly relaxed, his shoulders not so tight, frown on his face disappearing, replaced by smile. “I knew that it was a good idea to come back home.”

“You’re also very surprising, I didn’t even think about you getting home, even for a while, but that just means you love our home. Our safe space.”

“Main and only reason why I love our home is that I love you.”

Confession that I would like to hear everyday for the rest of my life (and I hopefully would). Every single one of his affectionate sentences was said with breathless clarity, like a warm breeze in summer, caressing my cheeks.

My lips curled in wide smile, eyes gleaming with love and joy, my thumbs brushing over his cheeks, still holding his gaze.

“I believe in you. Everybody can say anything they think. But nobody knows that heart of yours. I know. And it’s more than a social media, than brilliant poses in the magazines, than millions of interviews, smiling into camera like you have no emotions. Maybe there are some actions I don’t like you doing, but still I’m proud of you.”

He was just watching me, letting every single word sink into his mind. After a moment of silence, he reached for me, grabbing me by the back of my neck, pulling me closer, his gaze flicking at my lips, claiming them in sweet kiss. Oh god, how I loved his soft and hot lips.

Parting slowly, he looked into my eyes deeply, whispering, his breath mingling with mine. “I love, love, love, you, my darling..”

Caressing his hair, I chuckled, resting my forehead against his. “There are no other words that can describe how utterly and deeply I love you, George.”

“I would give you the world if I could.” He cocked his head a little with small frown.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I let out a soft laugh. “You already did.”

“How so?” He narrowed his eyes with quirked brow and smile.

Leaning closer to his lips again, swimming in the blue colour of his eyes, I whispered. “It’s you. You’re my whole world.”

And with that, we happened to take a hot bath, laughing and talking to the late hours of night, enjoying our closeness, because our safe space was more than anything that existed outside our home. Our love.

[dedeinthewild]

paul aron x reader, bestfriends to lovers

~ “Remind me never to travel with you again,”

summary : Paul and his photographer’s carefree road trip through Spain ended in an unexpected detainment in Qatar. With nerves high, they spent hours waiting, teasing each other to pass the time, until they were finally free to continue their journey, together as always.

The second-to-last race of the season awaited them in Qatar, a land where sand reigned supreme and the heat was unrelenting. After two months of downtime, filled with travels far and wide, it was finally time to get back on the road.

Staying put for long wasn’t something Paul and ___ did often, especially when they had a passport ready to use and suitcases always half-packed.

After a few weeks at home spent at family dinners and waking up late—she wouldn’t stir until he returned from his morning run and began making breakfast—they had hopped on the first of many planes.

Their first destination was Spain. In October, it was still warm and pleasant. They rented a car without much of a plan, updating their itinerary on her laptop whenever they stopped for gas.

Paul drove, and drove, and drove some more, while she handled the music, took photos, and rambled on about anything that came to mind. She knew he was just like her in that way. In two weeks, with only their return flight and each other as constants, they explored the entire southern coast of Spain, along the Costa del Sol.

They lived on water, paella, and thread bracelets they couldn’t resist buying from roadside stalls and souvenir shops.

Even Paul, the Estonian, managed to get a bit of a tan during their half-day beach stops, where he would always lie back with his T-shirt folded under his head.

“You should put on some sunscreen,” she warned him.

“I did,” he lied blatantly, hands tucked behind his neck.

“You did not,” she said, narrowing her eyes as he opened one of his to meet her gaze with that playful look he reserved just for her.

“I did not,” he admitted with a smirk.

They were so carefree, chatting as they strolled through picturesque towns and nodding along to Spanish dialects they didn’t understand. He would watch her as she looked around, camera in hand and her old backpack slung over one shoulder, a bandana wrapped around the strap.

The sun had kissed her nose, leaving it slightly red, and her freckles were more visible now, something you’d otherwise notice only up close.

Traveling with her was something else entirely. Sure, Paul loved being with Karl—losing luggage and playing pranks on him mid-flight—but nothing compared to being with her.

She was a completely different person when they traveled, far from the ambivert he knew. She was open, ready to embrace every moment, legs tucked under her on the car seat, her hair often braided, and always smiling.

And if there was one thing he loved most about her, it was her smile.

“Got everything?” she asked, hands on her hips, standing outside the Airbnb where they’d spent the last two nights. “Passport, passes, and IDs?”

Paul checked his pockets, rifled through the documents, and nodded, doing one last sweep of the small apartment to make sure they hadn’t left anything behind.

“All set,” he confirmed, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Wanna stop downstairs for breakfast?”

Downstairs was Málaga’s best café, renowned for its dreamy lattes and the most delicious pastries they’d tasted on this trip.

“Will you kill me if I say yes?”

“I would’ve killed you if you said no,” Paul replied with a grin, grabbing the car keys and pocketing them before helping her with her suitcase and heading down the stairs to the street.

“Karl said his flight leaves Tallinn in ten,” the Estonian said, showing her his phone.

She nodded, listening, as they entered the café and ordered their usual. She paid with her phone while Paul checked their flight tickets and team emails.

They settled into their favorite corner seat, near the window where they could watch people pass by, and savored their breakfast before driving to the airport to return the car.

“You feeling alright?” Paul asked as they stood on the escalator leading to their gate. He glanced at her while tying his hoodie around his suitcase.

“As alright as I can be before a flight,” she replied.

It wasn’t a secret that she was afraid of flying, and Paul knew this well. During turbulence, she often buried her face into his shoulder, clutching his arm for comfort.

“We’ll be fine, as always,” he reassured her with a slight smile.

Those might have been famous last words because, after a smooth flight, hell awaited them.

As always, they had settled into their usual seats, Paul refusing to let her sit anywhere but by the window, even though she preferred the aisle. He always took the middle seat to keep strangers at bay.

The flight had been uneventful—a shared playlist on their AirPods, a few moments of sleep, and some playful photos that would inevitably make it into a photo dump.

But once they landed and joined the passport control line, smiling and chatting, two customs officers approached them.

“Could you please step aside?”

The officers escorted them away from the queue into a small room.

They’d been detained.

“So, what brings you to Qatar?” one of the officers asked, arms crossed, his holstered gun visible at his hip. He placed their suitcases on a table for inspection.

“I’m a driver, and she’s my photographer,” Paul replied, mirroring the man’s stance with a sigh.

“Can we have all your documents?” the officer asked. ___ handed over their passports, flight tickets on her phone, and the media passes for the race weekend.

“You’re coming from Spain, and your flight was randomly selected for a passenger inspection,” the less intimidating officer explained, asking for permission to open their suitcases.

“What were you doing in Spain?” they asked.

“Road-tripping. We were on a break from the racing season and decided to travel,” she replied calmly, hiding the natural nervousness anyone would feel in that situation.

“May I open your suitcases?”

The taller officer motioned for Paul to sit, likely cautious about his imposing height. She, on the other hand, appeared calm and cooperative, hands in her pockets and glasses slipping slightly down her nose.

The agents emptied their bags and left to verify their tickets, passports, and passes, leaving them alone in the room.

“What’s Karl saying?” she asked, slumping into her seat, running her hands through her hair after letting it down.

“He said the team’s working on getting us out of here,” Paul replied, arms crossed, his cheeks slightly flushed.

“Calm down, Paul. It’s okay,” she said, checking the time on her phone.

“I just don’t get it. Maybe someone else is trafficking drugs, and they’re keeping us here,” he fumed, one hand on his knee and the other supporting his head, frustration evident.

An hour passed. A bottle of water. Another hour.

“My back hurts,” the driver groaned, standing to stretch, revealing a sliver of skin at the base of his back.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have gone to Spain,” she teased, tying her hair into a ponytail to cope with the heat.

“And why’s that?” he asked, yawning.

“We’ve been away for two weeks, and you’re exhausted.”

“It’s not the trip; it’s those damn agents,” he muttered.

She smiled, noticing the cluster of bracelets around his wrist as he paced the room, lost in thought.

“Make it meme?” she suggested, holding up her phone, and watched as he pulled out his own and joined her on the bench.

Another hour and a half. A packet of peanuts.

Paul was busy folding the peanut wrapper into a paper plane while she took a call from her mom, who was worried they hadn’t arrived in Qatar yet. When she hung up, Paul handed her the paper plane, smiling, his blue eyes locked onto hers.

“Remind me never to travel with you again,” she joked, standing between his knees.

“You have so much fun with me,” he teased, leaning back to get a better look at her.

“You drive like Dominic Toretto, got mistaken for a trafficker… shall I go on?”

“I’m good-looking, funny, educated. I always treat you—”

“And you have an enormous ego. Almost forgot that one,” she laughed.

Two hours later, after being interrogated again to cross-check their story with Airbnb bookings and team contacts, the agents finally returned with their documents.

They were both half-asleep and achy from the plastic chairs, but they leapt to their feet as soon as they saw the officers.

“You’re free to go. Welcome to Lusail,” the less intimidating agent said.

“All thanks to me,” she whispered outside, rolling her eyes as Paul flexed his biceps, acting smug.

She pretended to bite him, laughing as he chuckled and stretched one last time before slinging an arm around her shoulders.

“The longest day of my life,” he muttered.

“You know what they told me while I was alone?” she asked, amused.

Paul nodded, spotting Karl waving at them in the distance.

“They thought I was a legit photographer, and you were forcing me to help you get into the country.”

Paul burst out laughing, dragging his suitcase along, his exhaustion overshadowed by the absurdity of the day.

“To me, it’s the opposite way around,” he said.

She gave him a playful punch in the side as Karl waved more dramatically, trying to catch their attention.

They really were a mischievous pair. But no one fit together as well as they did.

~ not a request, but when it comes to paul I'd write anything :)

[kathlare]

The One Where We Hit Reset

Welcome to the masterlist for this phase of Amelie and Lando’s story, set in 2024—a year where they’ve finally found their way back to each other. After years of missed chances, misunderstandings, and unresolved feelings, they are now in a serious and committed relationship. This timeline explores their growth, both individually and together, as they navigate the challenges and joys of being in each other’s lives again.

previous year / next year

Their journey hasn’t been easy—far from it—but it’s exactly what makes this year so meaningful. It’s a story of second chances, healing, and the realization that sometimes, the right person comes back at just the right time.

Thank you so much for reading and being a part of this journey! Your support and love for these two means everything to me, and I hope you enjoy watching them figure it all out (with plenty of laughs, love, and maybe a bit of drama along the way). 💕

full masterlist // request over here!

electric nights

behind the scenes

northern scapes

caught in the silence

fractures in the glass

across the world, for us

between us

taking the leap

this love

fanboy - Eras Tour Melbourne

just us

the little prince

the sushi test - Bahrain Grand Prix

sneaking glances - Saudi Arabian Grand Prix

caught in th glow - Oscars

tease and temptation

behind the grin - Austalian Grand Prix

reckless realizations

through the storm - Japanese Grand Prix

when the lights fade - Coachella

shifting tides

before the goodbye

burning midnight - Chinese Grand Prix

orange chaos

the alchemy - Miami Grand Prix

golden hour - Met Gala

bed chem

out of the bag - Emilia Romagna Grand Prix

stages of success - Saturday Night Live

virtual connection

drunk words, sober hearts - Monaco Grand Prix

tension on the field

inked in love - Canadian Grand Prix

please please please

surprise in the spotlight - Governor's Ball

between the quite moments

rebuilding bridges

sweet distraction - Spanish Grand Prix

perfectly still

shattered moments - Austrian Grand Prix

balancing act

it's so romantic in paris - British Grand Prix

stage lights & stolen glances - Summertime Ball

echoes of sacrifice - Hungarian Grand Prix

drunk calls

shifting focus - Belgian Grand Prix

homecoming haven

sunsets & sparks

sun, fun and a whole lotta you

mullet madness - Outside Lands Festival

short n' sweet - Short n' Sweet Release Day

even miles apart - Dutch Grand Prix

surprise, baby

fuck papaya rules - Italian Grand Prix

unspoken tension

shattered sparks - Video Music Awards (VMAs)

unspoken words - Azerbaijan Grand Prix

electric feel - Singapore Grand Prix

showtime - Short n' Sweet Opening Night

call it what you want - Amelie's Birthday Special

center stage - Short n' Sweet New York City

quiet chaos

a call to connect

shit show - United States Grand Prix

a night to remeber - Mexico City Grand Prix

you are enough - Sao Paulo Grand Prix

tears of triumph - Grammy nominations

juno - Lando's Birthday Special

everything as it should be - Short n' Sweet Closing Night

under the neon lights - Las Vegas Grand Prix

thankful for you - Thanksgiving Special

quiet respite - Qatar Grand Prix

tangled in love

papaya on top - Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

shining bright

feeling snowflakes

a symphony of lights

goodbye for now

just six more days

distant glow

through the screen

homecoming serenity

interrupted magic - Wicked World Premiere

buy me presents - Christmas Special

wake-up call

is it new year yet? - New Year's Special

[prettymase]

Meant To Be

NOTES: This fic is completely newly written and I haven’t written in ages but I hope this is good enough. Before you get into it I want you to know that some parts of the fic are quite personal to me and I was contemplating on whether to add or not, but I have included TW warnings. This fic had also been requested by my love @footiehoemcfc I hope you enjoy reading it babe. There will be a part two to this but I wanted to get the first part out first bc I’ve left @footiehoemcfc waiting too long for this 🫶🏼 ✨

WORD COUNT: 4.9k words

TW: mentions of car crash, drunk drivers

You promised yourself that you would never be in this situation.

This is the kind of situation you told your best friends to avoid. It’s basic girl code, telling them not to be stupid in going back to their ex. You know it never ends well. Most of the time anyways.

Most of the time they end up falling for their bullshit and then that causes them hurting even more.

You know right now, you are a dumbass.

Your relationship with Mason ended shortly after Christmas.

It’s bad enough you saw it coming but you didn’t expect it to happen quickly after Christmas as the way he broke up with you, you thought he would want to mend things. Things that haven’t been easy in your relationship the last few weeks. You thought he wanted to apologise for being a dick.

Before the World Cup, you both knew the relationship was falling short. However, you were determined to make it work. No matter how had you tried, you couldn’t afford losing him.

You tried to support him in every way possible. Travelling to Qatar, showing your moral support. You also suggested couples therapy, tried to get him to talk about his feelings he was keeping inside. And everything else that was on the list. Making you feel useless at times.

Mason however, wasn’t having any of it. He liked to feel like he could take care of himself. He knew he was pushing you away and he didn’t want to but this is what it has come to and he can’t stop himself now.

In Qatar, there wasn’t much you could do with him not being able to see everyday with the World Cup consequences. Which you understood. You tried looking at the positives, maybe time apart from you would make him realise how much he misses having you around and helping him out. You thought he would he would take his time to think about how shitty he has been with you the last couple of weeks leading up to the World Cup. To your surprise, it was the complete opposite. Mason came to the conclusion it would be better if the two of you went separate ways.

The night you two broke up, well when he broke up with you, always replayed in your head.

-

“I think we should break up,” Mason started to say, showing no emotion on his face whatsoever.

“What?” you definitely wasn’t expecting this.

He had planned a a nice romantic evening or so you thought. The dinner table was elegantly decorated, with rose petals and candles around the table, with two glasses of wine, which you dismissed because you didn’t feel like drinking.

You thought the best of things, thinking that he’d apologise for his behaviour these last couple of weeks. Instead he did all this to break up with you.

“I want you to know don’t think I don’t love you because I do, it’s just the things that’s happening this season, I can’t love you the same when I’m feeling like shit.”

“You’re having one bad season and you’re throwing me out of your life?!” You asked confusedly and annoyed. “You’ve had problems before but this was never the solution!”

“Y/N you don’t understand. This is my life, I have to try and help and the tea-”

“This is not your life!!” You snapped. “It’s what you do for a living, big difference Mason.”

‘It is now okay?! Everything else seems like a distraction!”

“I’m a distraction? Your girlfriend who has been trying to help you for weeks is a fucking distraction? Are you fucking kidding me?” That hurt. It hurt how little to no appreciation he showed for your effort. The tears that you tried to hold in just fell. Maybe it could’ve been from sadness but now you were just mad.

Mad at him.

“Baby,” he sighed trying to ease the tension. Both of you had arguements before but it was never like this. He’s now thinking of throwing the years you had together, which you thought of convincing him to not to do this but it was useless and once he makes his mind up there’s no going back.

“You have no right to call me that anymore. You’ve clearly made up your mind.” You snapped.

“I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t word that right. But you need to understand me.”

“Understand what? That your job is more important than me and everything else in your life? That all the things I’ve done for you in the past meant nothing? Our relationship was for nothing? And that I mean nothing to you?!” You managed to say In between your sobs that you have been keeping in for too long, and this was your thirteenth reason.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Mason stepped closer to you and tried to hug you which you refused at first, but you always found yourself giving in, in the end. This could be your last hug ever so you wanted to treasure it. Wanted to get close to him. Wanted to smell his aftershave that was lingering on his clothes. Wanted him to run his hands up and down your back for comfort.

All for the last time.

You could feel his tears dropping on your shoulder. This couldn’t have been easy for him too. Although you know he’s doing wrong but you also know the past year hasn’t been the best for him and no matter how much this is hurting you, you also know he’s hurting too. “I’m so sorry, my love. I know you think this is easy to do but i promise you it’s not. I love you so much and if it’s meant to be I’m sure we’ll find our ways back to each other soon.” He pulled away from the hug and held the sides of your face, planting a kiss on your forehead. His lips lingering on your forehead a lot longer than anticipated which relaxed your mind for a second.

“I’m going to go gather my things and go.” You sniffled.

Mason just nodded in response and let you get to it. You go into your shared bedroom, where you gathered most of your things, one thing that made you break down instantly was your scrapbook you made for his 21st birthday. It was his first birthday you celebrated with him and it was special too, so you wanted to make it memorable. You flicked through the book where you come across the first page which was the first picture you took together, him positioned behind you, his head buried in your neck while you looked so happy. The happiest you’ve been in a long while, you forgot what that felt like.

This book was meant to be what you show your future children, but you didn’t get that far ahead. You hesitated in whether to take it or leave it with him. However you decided to take it with you as you felt like he wouldn’t look back at it.

Once you finally got your things together, you looked back at your shared room which was now Mason’s for one last time. The good times you had in there would be looked back at for sure, at least for you anyways.

Mason who was waiting for you to be done was on the sofa, his head in between in his hands. When he saw you were coming out of the room he offered to help with your luggage but you refused.

“You can stay here for a little while once you get sorted out if you want?” Mason mumbled.

“I think it’s too late for that Mase. Thank you though.” You said as you walked to the front door and remembered that his front door key was in your bag which you handed to him. There was a keyring with the photo of the two of you on there. You walked towards the door until you heard Mason speak again.

“Y/n wait a second,” you looked back at him, hoping he would say this is a mistake and he wants to start fresh with you but was that the case? Nope. “Where are you going to go? It’s late. I don’t want you wondering about at this time of night.” He asked genuinely worried for you.

But you couldn’t help but answer coldly as this wasn’t his problem anymore. You weren’t his problem anymore. “You have no right to worry about that anymore. You start your life from scratch and forget what I ever meant to you. If I ever did mean anything to you. Good luck with the future, Mase.” You choked out.

Quickly, you got out of the door but you weren’t sure how much more you could hold your tears in for. Opening the boot to put all of your things in the back before you got into the drivers seat and drove away from his house for the last time.

There was tears streaming down your face the entire journey, luckily you still had your own flat that you didn’t end up getting rid of, but it’s been a while since you been in there so it will be weird at first but you’ll have to get used to it. After all this was your life from now on.

During your journey to your now new (old) home, you looked back on all the positives that your relationship had. For example; when he took you away just because he felt like it that was also when he said ‘I love you’ for the first time and you were wondering what you did to deserve this man. Now you were wondering what you did to deserve the situation he put you in.

‘Where in the relationship did we go wrong?’ You thought. You always thought you made him happy. But clearly not if he felt like he needed to chuck you out of his life like that. You clearly weren’t as important to him as you thought you were.

When you got to your old flat, as soon as you walked through the door, it’s like you were almost looking for a feeling of home come to you. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that it was Mason who made it feel like home. And now you had to live without him.

You had started talking to Mason in the most weird ways ever, you were going through so much at the time so him coming into your life during the most hardest times of your life you would describe it as was truly a blessing in disguise.

Let’s recap to that day..

-

It was one of those days.

One where you felt like God was never on your side, trying to understand what you did to deserve the last few days of chaos you’ve had.

Eyes closed. Trying to remain calm, steadying your mind and the pace of your breathing.

It had been a long day. You had just come back from the hospital 45 mins ago. No that wasn't your job, your mum had been admitted to hospital after having a traumatic car crash as you'd call it.

On Saturday night she was on the way back from dinner with her friends, until a drunk driver crashed into her and she remained unconscious up until Tuesday morning for a few minutes and remained unconscious again.

When you first got a call from the hospital your first instant reaction was shock and denial because as far as you'd known your mum was all about being a safe driver and she was always scolding you to drive safe. It hadn't settled in until you had seen her. All your emotions started crashing down at once.

You felt a bit helpless and guilty by not being able to do anything to help her, and you were losing hope slowly but deep inside you, you knew your mum will power through this, she's a strong woman after all. After having to raise 6 children when your father left you at a young age deciding that he wanted nothing to do with you, if she could go through that alone, you had hope that she'd get through this.

You couldn't help but feel alone. All your siblings were in their own little bubble and you didn't want to disturb them and you know that they wouldn't care because all of you were all so close but you couldn't help feel like you were burdening them.

All of you were equally upset, each one of them had their own distraction to help not think about this, but you had taken days off to visit your mum during hospital hours and just pour you heart out even though she hadn't had her eyes open you knew she could hear you.

Days prior to this, you had been struggling with your emotions already.

You had given your notice in for work because the environment was becoming so toxic and this guy at work would non stop harassing you until you couldn't take it anymore, mentally it was taking a toll on your mental health. Your ex had gotten back into contact with you repeatedly changing numbers, making different social media accounts to contact you, after numerously blocking him.

Overall you felt like crap, you didn't want to tell your friends about this because you felt like you were asking for sympathy when you didn't want that and you felt like they were all happy within their lives and you didn't want to burst that with your sad feelings.

So you just put a fake smile on your face which was believable to people, and when you were alone tears wouldn't stop flowing.

You hated yourself for not being strong enough.

The peace and quietness lasted about 2 minutes before a message came through your phone. You instantly thought it was someone from the hospital updating you about your mum but this message had confused you even further

Anna?

You most definitely weren't Anna and you most certainly didn't have a date today.

(Imagine you can see the face. Thank you😌)

It was like an addiction messaging each other, you just couldn’t stop. It was flirty banter most of time, he arranged for you to first meet him at a small cafè because he was eager to see you, and this meeting made you feel something for him, even more than you did.

The next meeting you decided to count it as a date, and ever since then you didn’t look back.

He was seriously a blessing in disguise. Your mum was getting better, you got a new job and you couldn’t be more happier that everything finally was starting to fall into place.

-

Over the months since your breakup you tried to forgive and forget; Forgive because he genuinely did have a lot going on and you also knew his passion for football and maybe you just need to find your way back to each other once the time is right. Forgetting about him and what he meant to you was the hardest thing to do.

It’s been five months now since your breakup and not a day goes by without thinking about him. You just had to remind yourself that he’s probably not thinking about you anymore and he’s probably moved on and as much you wanted him to tell you that he wanted you back probably wasn’t the case. Which hurt you deeply thinking about it but if that’s what helps you to move on then so be it.

The first month was incredibly difficult for you, wanting to text him every hour of the day to try and work things out, even though he ended it you wanted him to fight for you, you once thought you meant the whole world to him, and now acted like you were strangers.

His friends had found out about the break up and checked in on you to see how you were doing. They didn’t see it coming, especially Ben, he thought he was head over heels for you and he was always going on about how perfect his relationship is. Ben insisted on talking some sense into him but you refused, not wanting to force his way back to you, you’d much rather him come back to you when he was ready.

Whenever that was.

At this point you were starting to think that it would only happen in your dreams.

You felt a like crap and thought you were being over dramatic, thinking that Mason’s probably isn’t doing the same and moping over this, so over the next two months you tried pushing him out of your mind and start focusing on your mental health and yourself, getting your self love back.

Saffie, Libby and Imogen, who had been your support system since helped you through it and you couldn’t be more grateful. They also were shocked about the break up but as of right now you didn’t care. You had come to terms with that it wasn’t meant to be and you tried convincing yourself that you were fine with it.

When you moved in with Mason, it was difficult to see them, as they lived out of town and at the time things were just getting hectic that you didn’t have the time, even though you hadn’t seen each other for a while you had still kept each other updated on every little detail.

Tonight, you were going on a night out with your girls. It had been a while since you had a girls night and you couldn’t wait because you had missed your girls.

“Cheers!! I want to make a toast to Y/N. I want you to know that you’re the most strongest person I know and you don’t need no mannn that makes you feel like shit!!” Libby screamed through the loud music that was playing at the club, and you all took a sip of your cocktails. You promised to yourself and the girls that wouldn’t cry tonight and so far you were failing but you decided to blink the tears away and have the time of your life with your besties. It’s the least you deserved.

-

You don’t know how you got here but you’re not complaining.

You barely make it inside the house. As soon as you both are nside, you’re kissing, making out against the front door. Pushing him back, desperately wanting more, trying to suck every last drop out of the love that is still left.

You’ve missed him. Missed him so much.

“We shouldn’t do this,” Mason pants, pulling away, framing your face with his hands, and you nod.

“No, but it feels good, doesn’t it?” You say with a grin, that’s all your willpower gone out of the window.

Mason grins at you. Just like he used to; it’s just like it used to be.

“Fuck yes. Let’s go upstairs.”

You knows this will only hurt you in the morning but you can’t resist, you’ve missed him, missed how he feels, how he tastes. And all that matters right now is that your legs are wrapped around Mason’s waist and the way he groans when you push yourself into him.

Fuck, it feels good.

It’s not a long, drawn out fuck, no changing positions, no words. It’s not hasty either, but it’s desperate, both of them fighting for the perfect angle, chasing their release, needing it.

Still, it’s loving. The way Mason’s hand is in the exact right spot on your back, the way they kiss, breathlessly moaning into each others mouths. And the way they lock eyes, reading each other’s faces.

They’ve done this many times - spent so many nights entangled, making each other moan and pleasuring themselves. They know this, every part of it is familiar.

It happens too quickly, but you wouldn’t have the strength to prolong it anyways. It’s too much, there is not a single clear thought in your head as you kiss Mason through his climax.

“It will hurt more tomorrow,” Mason whispers when you pull him closer under the blanket. You know he’s not just talking about you aching. His tone is soft, laced with a shadow of a sorry, his hand gently stroking your arm, the gesture putting you to sleep.

-

When you woke up it was around four AM you weren’t surprised to find yourself sleeping next to someone but you couldn’t pinpoint on who it was as you were too drunk and didn’t remember a single thing about your one night stand as you rarely have them, silently cursing yourself for drinking too much.

This room seemed familiar to you though, you don’t know if your mind was playing tricks on you or if it was actually familiar to you. That was until the person next to you turned to face you, still asleep and you were met with none other than Mason.

You shot up at the exact second, accidentally waking up Mason doing so. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Let’s get back to sleep yeah?” Mason says in a sleepy voice but you were still in a state of shock of how this happened, you were about to reply until you turned around to face him to see him asleep again.

How did you let this happen.

You went downstairs to compose yourself with a glass of water and watched your reflection on his window.

‘You stupid idiot. Why did you do this to yourself?’ You thought. The more you thought about everything that had happened last night, how much you missed him touching you, kissing you, tears were forming because it just wasn’t fair that he was making you feel like this.

In the middle of your thoughts, Mason entered the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around your waist, buried his face in your neck, kissing it repeatedly. “Baby, why are you here? It’s 4am,” he whispered in your ear. You were just staring blankly outside at his patio, tears threatening to fall. Your lip started wobbling.

How could you be so dumb? He starts seducing you whilst drunk and it worked so easily he had you right where he wanted. You were never that girl to have one night stands, but this one felt like one because you knew what Mason’s decision was.

“Listen, you were drunk. We both had a little too much to drink. I saw you in the club alone, I don’t know where your friends were and you looked like you had a little too much to drink. I offered to take you home but you mentioned you left your keys with Imogen because you know how clumsy you can be and lose them. So I took you back to mine and I don’t know how it happened but there was sexual tension in the air and we both started kissing and one thing led to another, but I want you to know it doesn’t mean anything to me.” Mason said so confidently.

You needed a moment to hear the last sentence alone, but you wanted him to think that were coping well without him because he had moved on and somehow you needed to do the same, but after last night it’s become hard again. It’s like having sex with him has brought your feelings back again but it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t feel the same about you anymore, even though when you broke up he told you that he’ll always love you. You guessed that was lie.

You wanted it to mean something to him, you wanted him to ask for you back. You wanted him to fight for you.

Which will only happen in your dreams by the looks of it.

You wondered if he ever loved you? Now you just believed what your negative thoughts were telling you.

“I’m going to get my stuff and leave,” you said with a lump in your throat and glossy eyes.

Mason saw the expression on your face and was the sick of the sad expression you had on your face and he snapped, “Okay. Don’t expect me to stop you then. I have moved on.”

It’s like this was a different man in front of you, you don’t remember getting to know this guy, you don’t remember falling in love with him. The Mason you remember falling in love with wouldn’t let you go without a fight. You weren’t going to let him treat you like this so you snapped back. “Yeah because you sleeping with me last night really tells me that you’ve moved on doesn’t it?” You rolled your eyes.

“It was a mistake! I told you, I was drunk, you were drunk, one thing led to another and it’s a regret of mine now letting you think that you’ll ever get close to me again. Maybe, just maybe if you weren’t so needy all the damn time we could’ve given this a second chance.” Mason frustratedly said, with what he said, sounded like you hurt him, when he was the one to break up with you. It just didn’t make any sense to you.

You wished he hadn’t pushed you away. You pushed past Mason to get your things, not wanting to stay here a minute longer.

Mason stayed quiet, knowing what he said was wrong but in the heat of the moment it just came out. Once you came out of his room and got your things ready, you walked out his front door whilst he watched you leave.

-

It had been two nights since that night you encounter with Mason, you started thinking outside of box and tried moving on as he had, it was lot harder than you thought it would be. Maybe because the Mason you saw two nights ago was a completely different person in front of you.

Maybe if you went on a few dates it would help? You thought.

You never did see yourself separating from Mason, but that’s how things currently were and you had to accept that. You decided to scroll on Twitter for bit and what first came up on suggested posts surprised you a little because you weren’t expecting that when you opened the app.

To say you were more than hurt to see how he’s moved on quickly, but also you were convinced that the paparazzi make things worse from what they were. You experienced it when you were with Mason, so part of you were hoping that this girl pictured with him was just a friend but looking at the picture it was telling you something else.

You know it has been more than a few months that you’ve broken up now but a part of you wasn’t ready to let go. But you always promised yourself that if you saw Mason happy with another person you would be happy for him no matter how much it hurt you inside and you weren’t going to ruin his happiness.

That’s if this article was true.

Now you needed to move on because it seemed like Mason wasn’t going to come back to you by the looks of things and you need to accept that.

-

Mason didn’t know how to feel when the paparazzi photos came out, first of all the pictures were completely misleading to what they actually were.

He wasn’t on a date.

The only thing he was doing was playing Cupid, and setting this girl up with his mate, Ben. When Mason spotted Y/N on a night out with her friends, he was with Ben and a few of his other friends. This girl caught Ben’s attention but he was too much of a scaredy cat to go up to her. He thought he missed his chance.

That was until, the girl, Chloe, reached out to Mason on DMs and asked if they could meet to talk things through. He knew Ben wouldn’t dare to ask her outright, so they planned to call it a ‘blind date’ because Chloe actually had her eyes on Ben and it turns out that when she was about to go up to him that night he had disappeared, she couldn’t find him but she also knew Mason was good friends with Ben so she’s shooting her shot the long way.

Mason still deeply loved Y/N, he only said he moved on because he wanted Y/N think he’s doing okay without her. He really doesn’t know why he started pushing her away, and he regrets it because all he wanted know is Y/N between his arms. He would do everything for their relationship to be normal again, but instead he had to fuck it up.

Mason won’t be stupid enough to lose you again at any given chance. He was already stupid enough to know what life was like without you and he’s not risking that again.

He knew he needed to fix this.

—

taglist: @chilwellspulisic

[ferg0s]

Still looking for short requests. Any Blue Lock boy you want, they find their bored, time killing s/o playing with a soccer ball, but she's using it like a basketball or volley ball

Imagine Isagi paying a couple months of rent worth of money for an other wise ordinary looking ball. But if you were knowledgeable in the soccer - sphere, you could easily recognize it as the Adidas Al Rihla, the official soccer ball for the 2022 FIFA World Cup in Qatar. It had cost him an arm and a leg to get that, not to mention the various hurdles he has to cross to find some one willing to sell him an authentic one that wasn’t in the 6 digits.

In your shared apartment, he had this own bookshelf filled with various trophies and other Soccer memorabilia. With one little book dusted and saved for his newest addition. He was like a child on Christmas, waiting for it to be delivered, ready to proudly show it off to his teammates and friends - be the coolest guy in the group.

But the timing of it couldn’t have been more worse. He had been running late to practice that day, having forgotten to set his alarm earlier to account for day light saving , and almost ran into the delivery man when he on his way out. He grabbed the package, and rushed inside to place it in the table next to the entry way. But his eagerness got the better of him, and he opened the package to at least examine the ball. Perfect. It was perfect. He didn’t have much time to bask in the glory of his new possession, placing it next to the box it came in and running off as to avoid doing the 15 lap penalty for being late.

The entire time at practice that’s all hr could think about. Wondering where he would place it. How he would casually bring it up in conversation. He practically ran off the field when practice was over, speed running the shower and putting on his boxers backwards - not caring how uncomfortable it felt during the drive back. He took the stairs, the elevator took too much time and he was faster on foot, the key to the apartment already in his hand. He didn’t want you waste any time. Opening the door the first thing he did was look to the little table he had left the ball on and… it was gone….

The box was still there, but the ball… no where in sight. He figured it must’ve rolled off, which prompted him get on all fours and look for it in every nook and cranny within eye sight. That’s when he noticed your shoes - you were home. “Babe!” He called out, still on all fours. “Oh you’re home-“ he heard your voice call out. “A delivery came for you. It’s on the table by the door-“ you added. “About that-“ he sighed. Maybe you had assumed it was one of his practice balls and put it with the others, or maybe his closet.

He got up, dusting him self off before going towards the living room. “Have you seen-“

It seemed like you had. He watched in horror, his eyes widening and his body seeming to stiffen up. You, on the couch, tossing the ball in the air and bouncing it off your finger tips. Casually playing with a literal modern antique - in his eyes. He could have shed a tear right there. You turn to him, catching the ball and putting it in your lap. “How was practice?” You ask, blissfully unaware of the crime you had committed. A worried expression beginning to form when you noticed how distressed he look. “Are you okay?” You asked, placing the ball to the side of the couch as you got up.

He was not okay. You watched him inspect the ball under the light of the lamp, trying to find any dents and scuffs. You told him that you had come home 10 minutes before he did, and you doubted that it would have damaged the ball by the 3 minutes you were playing around with it. But you soon figured he wasn’t one to listen to reason at the moment.

[matan4il]

Daily update post:

A 47 years old mother and her 15 years old son were seriously injured in a Hezbollah rocket attack today, aimed at the northern city of Kiryat Shmona. I'll just point out that even though the Iran-funded terrorism group always claims their attacks on Israelis are a retaliation for this or for that, they chose to open fire at Israel on Oct 7 (when this country was busy with Hamas terrorists still infiltrating it in the south), and they haven't stopped since.

I just wanted to show you what it looks like when Israel's border is being fired at, but please keep in mind that Iron Dome was only implemented in 2011, but we have been fired at by one hostile entity or another (often more than one) for a very long time. I can't remember a time when we weren't afraid of rockets being fired at us. And Iron Dome, as demonstrated again today, with all due respect to it, is like every other defence system: it's not foolproof. Any person who wouldn't accept being at the receiving end of these rocket barrages, has no right to demand that Israel continues to accept this distorted reality.

(audio: Golda Meir)

So this is a reminder that this is what Israel has been dealing with almost non-stop since Oct 7 from several fronts.

Here in Israel, we continue to follow with alarm the rise of antisemitic incidents around the globe. This time, I have to share with you this horrifying bit of news, about a Jewish student, Lahav Shapira, being beaten so badly, that he had to be hospitalized and undergo surgery for the facial injuries that he endured at the hands of an Arab (so called "pro-Palestinian") student. Police says this was following an argument over the war in Gaza, Lahav's family says he and his gf were stalked, then he was jumped, while the attacker shouted, "Why are you posting pictures of kidnapped people?" To make matters worse, this happened in Berlin, and Lahav is the grandson of an Israeli athelete who was murdered by Palestinian terrorists in Germany, while he was participating in the 1972 Olympic Games. Berlin's Free University's response was weak, focused on explaining that the law prevents them from expelling the attacking student.

While ignorant social media users insist that what's happening to the Palestinians is a genocide, the niece of Qatar-based Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh gave birth in an Israeli hospital. Her baby was born prematurely, and is taken care of in the NICU. Haniyeh has 3 sisters who married Israeli Bedouin Arabs, got Israeli citizenship through that, and live in Israel with full citizen rights. I've worked with so many victims of actual cases of genocide, and NONE went to get medical treatment from the people who were massacring them.

I've now seen Tumblr posts accusing Israel of bombing over one million people in Rafah. These are posts referring to the rescue raid, where Israeli soldiers raided one apartment, SAVED two hostages, and then left. If you're trying to save two hostages from terrorists who would kill their prisoners and themselves first, you wanna sneak in there as discreetly as possible. You wouldn't bomb an entire city. Even Hamas' false spin, blaming Israel of a massacre (and don't forget that Hamas is the organization telling the world how many died during this operation), didn't try to claim that the IDF attacked the whole population of the city. There's something insanely wrong in a reality where people on social media uncritically pass along lies that not even a terrorist organization dares to tell.

The graduating student in the cap is Matan Levi.

He studied law, and was about to have his graduation ceremony when Hamas' massacre took place. He left everything, and went south to fight as a reservist that verey day. On Oct 14, he was hit by a mortar, and when he woke up in the hospital, he discovered that he had lost his eyesight. According to his own account, that was very hard to hear, but his first thought was regarding how this won't break him, how he can move on from this. Since then, he's been accompanied by a former soldier named Amit Barel:

Amit fought and was injured in the Second Lebanon War, back in 2006. He lost his sight, too. He has since developed a career, married, and had kids. He's a part of a program where wounded former soldiers are helping those who have been recently injured to cope with their new challenges. He said that simply seeing that life is possible even with serious injuries is very helpful to a lot of the newly wounded soldiers. I thought it's inspirational, how people can put their misfortune to good use, to help others, how these new bonds and friendships get formed, so I wanted to share the story of this touching project.

But I also wanted to reflect on how Israel is a society of wounded people. Not just physically. We have the collective trauma caused by thousands of years of antisemitic persecution, including the Holocaust and the expulsion of Mizrachi Jews from Arab and Muslim countries, and we have the on going trauma caused by the continued use of violence against us in a war that was started against us in 1947, and has never really ended, whatever form it has taken at different points in time. No one has a right to speak about this conflict, unless they're willing to acknowledge this hurt, too.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[andy-wm]

Do you realise that this is it for them?

Soon their relationship will be a criminal offence.

Jimin and Jungkook will enist when they return to Korea.

This little getaway will be the last chance they have to spend quality time together. These are the last few days they have to be young and in love and free to be together.

Dont ruin it for them.

I am BEGGING armys to leave them alone so they can be together. Don't follow them. Don't photograph them.

Please, let them be.

Who knows when they will see one another again?

The military criminalises same sex relationships, even outside the barracks and on leave passes.

Imagine that for yourself.

Imagine the person you love most in the world being taken away from you for 18 months, and even when you get to see them you can't be with them.

They've lived together for 13 years and loved each other for almost as long

They've been inseparable from the start.

Other enlisted men can go home to their lovers when they are on a pass but for same sex couples that's so risky.

The cruelty of it is palpable.

Stigmatisation and homophobia are scaled up to criminalise their love, when men in same sex relationships are in the military.

My heart breaks for them and for every man in a same sex relationship doing their MS in Korea.

With recent revelations that Jimin accompanied Jungkook to Qatar, we know for sure that even when we think they're apart they are not.

They've been there for each other through all the challenges and turmoil, from struggling to make ends meet, to dealing with the pressures of fame.

And soon they will be on their own.

So, how do you come to terms with spending 18 months far away from your person, knowing that if you're lucky and your leave passes line up, you can be sentenced to jail time for being with them.

No wonder Jimin won't let go of Jungkook for a single second.

So please, if you are trailing after them to take pictures or spy on them or even if you just want to catch a glimpse, please think twice.

[charlotte-of-wales]

“Buckingham Palace's £369m refurbishment means no state visits until 2027”

There will be no more state visits held at Buckingham Palace for the next three years, as it undergoes one of the biggest upheavals in its history.

After next month's visit by the Emir of Qatar has taken place, all state visits will take place at Windsor Castle until 2027, due to Buckingham Palace's ongoing ten-year, £369 million refurbishment, which means most of its grandest rooms will be closed.

It comes as building works at the 775-room palace have resulted in the King moving out of his private office space in the north wing in what was previously Queen Elizabeth II's private apartment.

Charles, 76, has now moved his office, meeting rooms and dining area where he has afternoon tea daily, to the Belgian Suite on the ground floor of the palace's west-facing Garden Wing.

The suite of rooms he is now using includes the Orleans Room, the room in which he was born on November 14, 1948.

The King has decided to personally fund the redecoration of his private suite of rooms in the north wing, which are not expected to be ready for use until the end of 2027. The rest of the palace's refurbishment is being funded by the taxpayer, but those close to the King say he is "mindful that the public purse should not pay for personal touches".

Royal sources say Charles will continue to use the palace as "monarchy HQ" in the future.

While the palace used to insist that the King and Queen would definitely move from Clarence House to live at Buckingham Palace when the refurbishment is complete, royal sources now concede his private rooms will be redecorated only for "potential residential occupation".

In 2017, The Sunday Timesreported that Charles planned to give up Buckingham Palace as a royal home when he became King. Clarence House strongly denied the plan at the time and said in a statement: "Buckingham Palace will remain the official residence of the monarch." The same stance was reiterated five years later.

Royal sources who know Charles and Camilla have said they are both "very comfortable" at Clarence House, previously occupied by the Queen Mother and a short walk from Buckingham Palace. "I know he is no fan of 'the big house', as he calls the palace," a source said. "He doesn't see it as a viable future home or a house that's fit for purpose in the modern world."

Another royal source said: "It is certainly true that Camilla doesn't want to live at Buckingham Palace."

The Prince of Wales, who lives with his family at Adelaide Cottage on the Windsor estate and Anmer Hall, Norfolk, also agrees that the palace is not suitable for modern family life.

A friend of the King, said: "This is the gradual shifting of monarchy. There was a time when people said 'if the [latel Queen doesn't live at Buckingham Palace, then what's the point of Buckingham Palace?' The King is mindful that it will continue to be monarchy HQ with the advantage that he can open it up and make it even more accessible to the public in the future —it's win-win."

Charles and Camilla will continue to host some smaller receptions at Buckingham Palace in the Picture Gallery and other state rooms for part of next year, but those rooms will also close during 2025. After this closure, all royal receptions will move to St James's Palace or Windsor Castle until the palace fully re-opens in 2027.

Over the next two years, the palace's grandest rooms will go through "phased closures" for renovations, starting with the White Drawing Room, the Music Room, the Blue Drawing Room and the State Dining Room on the palace's "garden side". The Ballroom, where state banquets are traditionally held, will be renovated next, followed by state rooms on the palace's "Quad Side" including the Throne Room and the Green Drawing Room.

Building work will be temporarily "paused" during the summer months to allow the traditional summer opening of the state rooms to the public, and the annual themed exhibition, to proceed as usual from July to September.

Tours of the East Wing, including the Centre Room which features the famous palace balcony, were limited to 20 people at a time, and tickets sold out within hours. Charles has authorised a significant increase in availability for next year's tours, as part of his "determination to improve and encourage public access to Buckingham Palace, while retaining its central role as the operational HQ for the monarchy", according to a palace source.

When he was Prince of Wales, Charles's plan to open up the royal residences when he became King, transforming them from "private places to public spaces" was revealed. Earlier this year, he opened seven rooms of Balmoral Castle to the public for the first time, inviting visitors into the royal family's private Aberdeenshire home where they spend the summer holidays.

The final stages of the palace's refurbishment will be funded by a temporary increase in the sovereign grant, which provides funding for the royal family's official duties and maintenance of the royal palaces and is calculated as a proportion of the profits from the Crown Estate land and property empire.

A palace source said: "The temporary uplift to the sovereign grant commencing next year is an instalment to fund the completion of the palace reservicing project - being the essential preservation and protection of an historic asset for the nation, including the phase of works now commencing. It is not a permanent increase or for general expenditure. This will enable the ten-year project to be delivered on time and on budget."

[kanmom51]

Just dropping these here for a sec

Obviously I will talk about this when I write about my impressions about Standing next to you, but that might take some time, and this popped out at me and well, I had to share this like NOW!!!

Letter

Baby, don't leave Just stay by my side, yeah To you, who see me bigger than what my little self is (to you) So that I can give as much as I’ve received (oh-oh) So that I can keep my word (oh-oh) Don't worry, just stay by my side, yeah (Yeah) We don’t know what the future holds (holds, yeah) And that’s scary and makes us afraid (oh-oh) But don’t forget that we’re always together (don't forget)

Standing next to you

Screamin', I testify that We'll survive the test of time They can't deny our love They can't divide us We'll survive the test of timeI swear that I'll be right here

And side by side:

I will also say this without getting into it too much at this point, but Standing next to you is heavily Jikook coded. For example:

Yeah

And this one:

and:

So, we have rain (rainy day fight which both JK and JM brought up kind of out of nowhere again in their June lives), we have the pain (JM's Like crazy lyrics in English: "Can you help me numb the pain?"), the very visible 13 again. We have JK as probably a dark angel, but looking very much like his Black swan back in 2020. A black swan that a one PJM really liked. Like REALLY LIKED.

And it's kind of a circle here, cause when you think of black swan you think of:

And when you think about this Jikook, you think about this as well:

And there you are, we are back to the sun and moon.

Now, JK did say this:

And yes, the lyrics were not written by JK.

But: a. JK not writing the lyrics does not necessarily mean that he did not have an input as to certain words or descriptions he wanted inserted into them; and b. People shouldn't read the songs as autobiographical, as in, unlike what fans have been farting out of their asses (and do forgive me for the language, but it had to be said), JK doesn't fuck a different woman seven days a week, and hasn't just broken up with his gf, whom he still loves but has to hate cause that's the only way he can handle it, you know, that same gf he was seen making out with back in LA Dec 21, or maybe Nicole? or was it the blond from Qatar? No, it's the pregnant gf from the clip of the apartment that isn't his. Bottom line being, JK saying this was telling stupid ass fans that he's an artist, just incase they didn't know that already, and as such he is performing songs that he did not write and that do not necessarily represent him in real life.

There is definitley more to say, but I think I'll stop here for now.

Like I said, just dropping this here for a sec.

[hero-israel]

Same anon who asked about Gaza post 2005 and pre war. I want to know were they just laughing at dumb westerners that they took advantage of? Was it all a scam? Or was it an elite living on the backs of a brainwashed underclass who lived in poverty? Did these formerly comfortable Gazans buy into the martyrdom thing or was that only for the poor? Because if they did it kind of makes me believe that to the average rich to middle class Gazan it's not death before dishonor but death before discomfort. Like they're happy to die as martyrs but G-d forbid they have to eat canned food. Because that's just bizarre to me. .

Is it true that they're willing to die, that they love death more than Israel loves life? But that the average Israeli soldier is willing to suffer for their survival and cause in a way most Hamas members aren't?

The hardest-core apocalyptic fundies in the leadership (and certainly everybody pulling the strings from a safe distance in Iran and Qatar) believe in martyrdom and eternal war. I believe the average Gazan is likely to both hate Jews and also to not want to be killed or surrounded by violence, and that's a position I can accept.

We also need to bear in mind the very high likelihood that Hamas never thought they could make Oct. 7 as big as it was, and wound up with a "catastrophic success".

I have mentioned here repeatedly that Netanyahu weakened Israel militarily. In his desperation to avoid whatever trivial prison sentence comes with his trivial crimes, he pushed through a judicial overhaul plan that tore society apart, and he could only be defended by a coalition with the West Bank Race Riots Party which set about eagerly causing more West Bank race riots. With all eyes focused on totally avoidable protests and riots, the army was redeployed away from Gaza. I was losing sleep all through 2023 fearing something like that would happen - it was too obvious that Israel was distracted, even to a layman like me. Probably not a coincidence that they also struck during the period when the U.S. Congress was paralyzed and couldn't choose a Speaker.

But even Hamas surely could not have anticipated the complete failure of the IDF, that some towns would see no defenders arrive for 12+ hours. It's a small country - you could probably cross it on a pogo stick in 12 hours.

I could totally see them planning to kill 100 and kidnap 7, then found themselves with the opportunity to kill thousands and kidnap hundreds. Drunk with victory, they took it to a level beyond Israel possibly negotiating, beyond Gaza possibly left standing.

[evilwickedme]

(image description in alt text)

@wyf-of-bathe I actually love this question because it's definitely something I feel like doesn't really get addressed! I tried to answer it last night and my connection timed out just as I was saving the draft and it fucked off unfortunately, but let's give it another try.

Ok so important figured to know:

Obviously, President Biden, the current head of the USAmerican government

Also obviously, Bibi Netanyahu, the current prime minister of Israel, member of the war cabinet

Yoav Gallant, current Minister of Defense in Israel, member of the war cabinet

Benny Gantz, a minister without a portfolio, entered the government when the war started in order to join the war cabinet

Gadi Eisenkot, another minister without a portfolio of the same party as Gantz, also joined the government to join the war cabinet

Itamar Ben Gvir and Betzalel Smotrich, extreme right wing ministers (Minister of National Security and Finance Minister, respectively). Not in the war cabinet

There are other members of the Biden government that are in practice important to the relationship between Israel and the USA, but aren't important to general understanding of what's going on, so I won't name them

Same for members of the IDF

I'm going to try to paint a general picture of the development of relations between the Biden administration and Israel over the last seven months since October seventh. Considering I am a human being I might get certain dates wrong; please forgive me, I will try to be as accurate as possible.

October seventh, as I'm sure most people here know, is the start of this narrative. Following the brutal attack on Israel by Hamas and PLJ, with the attack on land happening in the Israeli south and the rockets reaching as far as Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and Netanya, leading to the deaths of 1200 people and kidnapping of 250 Israeli citizens, member of the IDF, and foreign workers, the majority of them women, children, and the elderly, Israel launched a counter offensive on Gaza. At the time worldwide sympathies were mostly on Israel's side, especially as the number of deaths and severe injuries rose as well as the brutal nature of the attack became clearer. The Biden administration immediately contacted the Israeli government assuring them they were on their side, and offering aid, including armaments. Biden even visits Israel, the first US president to do so during wartime. Biden personally meets with several families of hostages, especially those which are American citizens.

The US was also extremely involved in the process to achieve the first (and so far only) hostage deal/ceasire between Hamas and Israel in late November, alongside Qatar and Egypt. 112 people total were released during this deal in exchange for several days of ceasefire and humanitarian aid, but when Hamas insisted on returning dead bodies instead of live women and children as per the agreement, the ceasefire fell apart and the war resumed.

Following this the IDF attacks expanded from Gaza City to Khan Younis, at which point talks between Biden and Bibi were becoming increasing tense. While the US continued to support Israel in public and continued to veto various resolutions in the UN which did not call for the immediate return of the hostages alongside the end of the war, the phone calls between Biden and Bibi made it clear that the Israeli government had no clear plan for what is referred to as "the day after", and as the death toll in Gaza continued to rise and the majority of the population became refugees the American government became more and more concerned with the dire humanitarian situation in Gaza. Biden often ended up essentially chastasing Bibi for both of these, and asked Israel to come up with a plan for who will take control of the Gaza Strip following the end of the war, as well as putting particular emphasis on letting more humanitarian aid cross the border into Gaza.

Bibi and Gallant's relationship also becomes strained as they disagree on what the war efforts should look like, such as Gallant calling for entering Rafah, something that would ruin Bibi's relationship with the USA permanently at this point. Biden continuously asks for the IDF's plans to clear Rafah before attacking there and is unimpressed with the response.

A concurrent focus of the Israeli government as well as the families of the hostages was to get medication to the hostages, many of whom are known to have received grievous injuries on October seventh or who have conditions that require regular medication. Especially the elderly men, who at this point are about a third to half of the hostages still remaining in captivity. A mini deal is reached to bring in to Gaza a large amount of medication in exchange for Red Cross access as well as medication being given to the hostages. This access was not given, even though the medication did enter. Oddly enough, while obviously all the other intermediaries were involved, France was also involved in this one, and many summits since then have also taken place in Paris.

Following this the US abstaining rather than vetoing a UN resolution calling for ceasefire, as it while not conditioning it on the return of the hostages did still call for their return (hence not a veto, but also not voting for it). This was incredibly bad timing as just then Bibi was supposed to send a team to the US to explain and discuss the current war plans with the USAmerican, but this abstaining led to Bibi pulling the plug on that.

As this is happening, Bibi was calling for the war cabinet to convene less and less, and was sharing essentially no information with its members. The war efforts are still focused on Khan Younis, but frankly, the army is rapidly running out of things to do. Hostage deal negotiations are going nowhere. However the only reason Bibi even still has a government is because of Ben Gvir and Smotrich's presence, and they continually threaten a. to veto any hostage deal which involves the end of the war and b. to leave the government if the war is ended. Bibi puts extreme restrictions on the negotiating team, as well as constantly pulling them out. The relationship between Bibi and Biden continues to worsen, and the US continues to pressure for more and more aid to come in.

Then, without warning, Gantz gets on a plane to Washington. This is extremely unprecedented and frankly out of line, but ultimately in my opinion a good move; it temporarily improved relations between the US and Israel, as well as finally revealed the strained relationship that had been worsening for months to Gantz and Eisenkot, who had somehow (and this is frankly ridiculous, it was constantly on the news) completely missed how terrible this relationship had gotten.

Gantz and Eisenkot are constantly pushing forpre cabinet meetings, which Bibi does occasionally call. These debates are frustrating and circular. Biden continues to be disappointed with the lack of planning for Rafah and the day after, as Gallant continues to clarify that the IDF is ready to act on Rafah anytime, should Bibi actually decide to do so.

Things take another turn for the worse on Bibi's side when the US starts dropping aid and creating the harbor without consulting Israel. Meanwhile the US starts to put sanctions on Israeli citizens who commit acts of terror in the West Bank, and following what is actually a several year investigation, also against the Netzah Yehuda Battalion, a Haredi majority battalion known for committing acts of terror against Palestinians in the West Bank as well.

If this seems bad for Israel, it's because it is. As much as people on this website love to claim that Biden is "supporting a genocide", the truth is Biden is an old school diplomat. Israel is a long standing ally of the US, and the Trump style of making grand statements in front of crowds is considerably less effective than the constant pressure Biden is putting on Israel behind closed doors. This pressure is why the aid to Gaza is constantly increasing! No, it's not enough, but it is increasing. This pressure is also why until this week, following the sudden rockets shot at south Israel once more, Israel did not enter Rafah.

The current situation is more of the same. The US continues to be involved in the negotiations with Hamas for a hostage deal/ceasefire, which I detailed in a post a couple of days ago; their involvement is even more important now that Qatar has dropped out. Biden continues to pressure Israel to avoid activities in Rafah, and recently threatened to forbid the use of American weapons and armaments if it becomes more serious. There have been no new sanctions for a while, but I don't think the US would hesitate if that came up. The Biden administration, including both Kamala Harris and Biden himself, has started even criticizing the IDF on television!

What do I think is going to happen next? Personally I genuinely have no idea. Best case scenario, the current negotiations for a ceasefire/hostage deal succeed, and the IDF pulls out of Gaza, while somehow managing to replace Hamas as the people in charge in the Strip, followed by Bibi's resignation. This is not going to happen. The definitive victory Bibi keeps promising is not in reach, and if the IDF go for it without essentially emptying Rafah over the course of weeks or even months (currently a few hundred thousand out of 1.9 million (!) Gazans have fled to Khan Younis), the US is going to follow through on their threat and forbid the use of their armaments (the worst case scenario). The best case scenario that could actually happen is a hostage deal that leads to several months of ceasefire followed by a POSSIBLE cessation of the war, and Hamas continuing to control Gaza. The issue of who will take control of the Rafah crossing is also on the table, as Israel is interested in building a subterranean wall on the Egyptian border like the one that exists on the Israeli border. I suspect it'll be Egypt, which views the possible escape of Gazans into Egypt as a security threat; but this will probably lead to fucking riots in the street in Egypt, where public opinion is on the side of the Palestinians and often also pro Hamas, which will lead to the end of current Egyptian president el-Sisi's career.

Another issue I should have brought up and forgot to was the normalization process between Israel and Saudi Arabia, which the US and Biden were overseeing before the start of the war. It was progressing really well til October seventh; while it is getting back on track, following October seventh and the way the Palestinian issue has been brought to the forefront, the normalization can no longer go through without Bibi giving lip service to the possible future of a Palestinian state, the two state solution that Biden believes in. Bibi will simply not do this. Even if he wasn't a right wing nut job would never do that, it would definitely guarantee Ben Gvir and Smotrich's exit from the government, and Bibi's government falling immediately.

I think I've covered the main points (in uh... So many words. Probably too many words.) I'm currently not taking any more questions on i/p, I'll let y'all know when the inbox is "open" so to speak. If this was helpful to you and you feel like supporting me, my ko-fi is linked in my bio.

[m4xgirlie]

somethin a little shorter this week, the past couple of days have sorta fucked with me so i apologize if this really isn’t that great of a chapter. hopefully i improve! word count: 1,233 TW: Allusion to past domestic violence

A Surprising Invite

Chapter 3

As Raela huffed around her apartment, frustration seeming to vibrate off of her in waves at how the Qatar GP had gone, with the mirror in the track and all the crashes around turn one, let alone Max’s place penalty (despite her overwhelming pride at him finishing P1), she heard her phone going off. She groaned, annoyed at someone having the audacity to call her after she set it to vibrate so she didn’t feel like she needed to answer anyone, also having the day off of work while Fable was at daycare. It had only rung twice by this point, so she walked over to where it sat on the kitchen counter and glanced at the screen before squeaking loudly. In her surprise at the caller, she rushed to pick up her phone, accidentally dropping it directly on her toe and hissing at herself in pain as she hastily bent down to pick it up.

“Hey Max! That was one insane race!” She speaks lightheartedly as she answers the call, trying to hide how out of breath she sounds, all annoyance washed from her voice at his unexpected call.

“Yeah it was! You watched it all? You didn’t pull an all nighter just so you could, did you?” He asked, having already learned she usually didn’t properly wake up before ten in the morning on her days off (if she even did get sleep), right when the race would have been finishing for her.

Raela had been threatening for the last two days that she would stay awake to see his race, and Max had to very adamantly demand she didn’t each time. She laughs loudly, thinking back on the numerous conversations they’d had in the last three days with her threats, let alone just how much they’d spoken in the last week.

“Yes, I got a full 3 hours of sleep before I watched your race.” She says, smirking to herself.

“Only 3?” Max scoffed, appalled at how she was sounding so chirpy off so little sleep.

“Oh that’s plenty. I can function perfectly fine off 3 hours.” She responds, giggling. Max couldn’t ponder it, grumbling at her about her bad health habits. Then he sighed and groaned. Raela could hear her new friend’s distress.

“Whats wrong?” She asked him softly, not wanting to push in case he just didn’t want to talk about it.

“Just, this whole race, the entire FIA, the GPDA but mostly George cause he’s president of it. This entire season has just been so chaotic.” He mumbled, sounding like he was fighting a migraine.

“But hey, you came out on top,” Raela pointed out, pausing a moment before adding; “Even after that ridiculous place penalty after you rightfully earned pole.” She scoffed, her nerves heated again. Max only groaned louder.

“I can’t understand why George advocated for them to do that.” Max grumbled again, clearly upset.

“Wait George told them to?!” Raela gasps in shock and aggravation as she walks into the living room and over to her couch, plopping down after being tired of standing at her kitchen counter.

“Yeah. He said I was driving unnecessarily slowly during Q3.” Max responded, his tone flat but not entirely clear of frustration.

“That’s entirely bullshit! Is that why over the radios Gianpiero was all snarky when he said ‘You certainly didn’t drive unnecessarily slow today’?” Raela squawked, her own snarkiness slipping smoothly into her tone as she asked the question. Max chuckled, surprised this woman would jump to his defense after only being his friend such a short time.

“I agree. And yeah. GP was pissed at it all, he was close to going on a tirade.” Max said, chuckling before noticing his teams tech chief waving over to him from where he stood. “Hey, looks like I’ve gotta go. Team needs me for stuff.” Raela could hear the smirk in Max’s voice.

“Alright Mad Max, try not to be too awesome in there.” Raela grinned, sending him off with well wishes as they hung up the call.

———

Raela’s POV

After getting off the phone with Max, Raela sighed, leaning her head back onto the arm rest of her couch. As she thinks back on the last 6 months of her life, she can’t help but wonder how it all led her to here. Standing up to finish the cleaning she’d been attempting earlier, Raela can’t help but laugh at herself.

6 months ago she was a mother who had been in a solid relationship for just over a year, with a man that treated her daughter like his own, a relationship that she thought would result in marriage, only for it to blow up 2 months prior to when she met Max. As Raela’s thoughts drift to her ex, she notices the corner of the wall from the living room into the hallway to the bedrooms has a chunk of it missing. Subconsciously she reaches to the scar on the back of her head. Her impact one night into the wall because of him had caused both the crack and the scar.

4 months ago, she was preparing her daughter for her first day of pre-school, both of them crying simultaneously with each other and for each other, excitement at how the day had gone at the end bringing the mother and daughter pair to the kitchen for a dinner full of laughter and stories.

Then, 2 months ago. Out of nowhere, Raela’s ex-boyfriend Jackson had moved out of state. He hadn’t told her he was, and he was going so far as to tell his friends he never wanted to speak to her again.

Finally, last month. Raela had been working diligently at the firm for the month, not wanting to think about Jackson but knowing she needed to keep herself and her daughter afloat. As she’s putting together what feels like her millionth discovery but is probably closer to her 10th, her boss walks into her office, places an envelope and a note on her desk, and all without her even having a chance to speak, he walks back out. Dumbfounded, Raela opens the note.

“We all see you. We all see how hard you work. We all see how much hurt you’re in right now, and yet you’ve worked harder this last month than any paralegal we’ve had. And:

We ALL know you’re the biggest fan of Formula 1 racing in the firm. Enjoy Las Vegas!” Raela couldn’t help but squeal as she’d read that, immediately being hugged by 3 of her closest coworkers.

“I knew he’d take our idea!” Her first friend in the firm, Luisa had chirped, proud to be the one to bring it up to him.

“I’m happy he did.” Her best friend Marigold had agreed.

“I’m just wondering whats in the envelope? It looks thick.” Her auntie figure Liz pointed out. Raela remembered fondly what she had found. A fully fleshed itinerary, a paper with the name of her hotel as well as the room number, as well as her tickets to every event of the Formula 1 Las Vegas Grand Prix.

As Raela continued to clean, she realized one thing she had to be gateful to her ex for. He may have hurt her and broken her heart; She was now friends with a 4 time world champion. And she couldn’t be any more proud to call Max her friend.

taglist: @chaoswithus

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Yaakov Katz

A person could be excused for thinking that Borrell and Albanese live in an alternate reality; unfortunately, they do not. Sadly, these useful idiots who pretend to run serious and influential organizations are promoting a system of values that will consistently give terrorist organizations a victory, for at least as long as they are attacking Israel.

Borrell and Albanese pay lip service to the rescue of the hostages, but the truth is that they don’t want Israel to be rescuing anyone. They are promoting the reality that if Israel comes under fire while rescuing its people, it should not shoot back and instead let its soldiers die. What they want is for Israel’s hands to be tied so that they are unable to launch a rescue operation to begin with.

Sadly, when it comes to Israel, we already know that brains go out the window, replaced by moral insanity and hatred that prevent understanding why Israelis are fighting. This moral absurdity allows people to shed tears when Israelis are killed and subsequently declare that Israel has the right to defend itself, but then, when Israel does exactly that, these same people immediately condemn Israel and call for it to stop.

Instead of promoting false claims of a massacre, why do these people not ask why hostages were being held in apartment buildings in Gaza to begin with? If they care so much about ending the war, why do they not raise questions about Hamas’s war crimes and wonder why the hostages were being held in civilian areas in the first place? That, of course, they won’t do. Instead, they willfully fall into Hamas’s trap and blast false accusations against Israel, condemning it for doing what any country would do: rescue its people.

And while we never really needed the proof, what The Wall Street Journal revealed a few days ago underscores the point. According to the article, Gaza-based Hamas leader Yahya Sinwar wrote to his terrorist colleagues in Qatar that the deaths of Palestinian civilians were “necessary sacrifices.” Sinwar went on to compare it to the civilian losses in conflicts like that in Algeria, where hundreds of thousands of people died fighting for independence.

Anti-Israel activists prolong war

THIS HAS long been Hamas’s strategy: civilians are killed in Gaza, and the terrorist organization knows that no one is going to bother to ask why it embeds itself in civilian infrastructure, why it keeps hostages in apartments, or why it shoots rockets from children’s bedrooms. Instead, Sinwar knows that people will blame Israel and Israel alone.

The problem is that when Borrell and Albanese do this, they are emboldening Hamas, putting Israel – as Sinwar himself wrote, according to the WSJ report – “right where we want them” when it comes to the question of who is winning the war. When Sinwar sees that Israel rescues hostages and comes under fierce international criticism, does that make him feel motivated to release hostages in a deal or to hold on to them for longer? Why wouldn’t he feel emboldened when Israel is slammed every time it attacks Gaza?

[charlie-lec-stories]

Dirty Little Secret - Part 2: Guilt // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character

Series Summary: Charles' wife went to The Other Side and came back, but her past did too.

Chapter Summary: After going back home, Charles and Max notice that Y/N is acting strange, is it all PTSD or is there something else?

Series Warnings: Death, descriptions of CPR and a car crash, sexual comments and implied sexual acts, mentions of blood, mentions of suicide and depression.

Author’s Note: This is a special I decided to write inspired by Halloween and the Qatar GP, it's five parts long. It's the first time I write something for this page instead of editing thing I have written before, I hope you guys like it. Rate: +16 (descriptions of medical procedures).

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After two days at the hospital, Charles ended up not only taking his wife back home, but Max too. The Dutch lived alone and he was specifically told not to be unsupervised for at least a week. That's how Charles ended up back in Monaco, his wife sleeping on next to him and her best friend snoring in the guest room. Physically, they were both as good as one can be after a car accident, their bodies were sore, they had some cuts and bruises but nothing major. Max had passed out from heat exposure and dehydration, so once he was recovered from that, he was better, his legs took the worst part of the crash, they hurt a lot and had a lot of cuts covering them, three had to get stitches. He had some trouble walking and for his own safety Charles invited him to stay as long as he needed. Y/N got the worst part with the concussion, she ended up with some swelling and a lot of pain. The doctors did three MRI and everything seemed to be fine, nonetheless, no one could ignore the fact that she died, so she had to rest and be under extreme supervision. There were a few symptoms the doctors told Charles to stay alert to because they could indicate that late brain damage could be developing: black-outs, dizziness, nausea, disorientation, persistent headache, confusion, and worse, convulsions or seizures, sensory affections, slurred speech and severe episodes of loss of consciousness. Charles and Max agreed to keep an eye on her and make sure none of those symptoms were showing.

"Hey, good morning, mon amour. How are you feeling?". Charles kissed her nose when she stirred on the bed.

"Better". She simply answered and moved closed to him, hiding her face on his chest and sighing contently. He hugged her closer and stayed quiet for a moment. He wanted her to say more, but since the accident, she started talking less, always answering monosyllabically to everything he asked. She wasn't like that and it pained him to see her like this. The doctors told him that many patients of resuscitation suffered from depression, anxiety and some from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). He knew that he had to patient with her, and he will, because he loved her and he had her back, he wasn't losing her again.

"Do you want breakfast now or later?". He ran his hand up and down her back and he felt her relax against his body.

"Later".

"Okay, amour, later then". He felt her tense up again. "What is it?"

"Worried". Her word muffled by his chest.

"About what?". It was so hard for him to understand her sometimes since she answered giving so little information.

"Max". He kissed the top of her head.

"What about him?"

"Guilt". The wetness he felt in his chest was all the proof he needed to know she was crying.

"Don't worry, Max knows it wasn't his fault. It was FIA's and if he ever forgets that, we'll remind him. He's your best friend, he would never hurt you on purpose, he knows you know that".

"Okay".

An hour later Charles was in the kitchen making breakfast for the two convalescent drivers. Max was the first one to get up, walking to across the apartment with the help of his two crutches. He sat down at the kitchen table while Charles served him his breakfast. The monegasque was a terrible cook, but his childhood rival choose to ignore that and eat anyways, after all Charles was kind enough to let him stay at his home and cook for him. The truth is, even though they liked each other now, they didn't have a friendship and it was kind of awkward whenever Y/N wasn't there with them. For Charles there was something strange about Max's friendship with his wife, like they both shared this huge secret that Charles wasn't part of, which made things kind of uncomfortable. For Max was this guilt that stung at the depths of his chest for such secret, he was fully aware that Charles suspected something and all he could wish for was for the monegasque to never find out. Their time alone together was so weird, the atmosphere so charged with unspoken words that the air felt heavy, literally heavy. But there was also moments when they genuinely liked each other and Max was notoriously happy that his best friend married Charles.

"This is great, Charles. Thank you". Max lied through his teeth, praising the awful breakfast. Charles clicked his tongue, accepting the lie.

"You're welcome, mate". He placed two other plates at the table and then the mugs, sitting down and waiting for his wife to join them. "How are you feeling today? Is the pain any better?"

"Yeah, I think that the medication is working". Max took another sip of coffee. "But I think I'll feel a lot better once I finally get rid of this dreadful stitches. Can't stand them anymore".

"Give it time and keep them clean and you'll get rid of them before you know it". They both heard some muffled sounds coming from the main bedroom, Y/N getting up and ready for breakfast.

"How's she doing? Anything weird?". Max whispered at Charles, trying to find out how his friend was doing.

"She's fine". Charles answered on the same tone as Max and then continued. "She's worried about you. Maybe you two should talk".

"She's not speaking, mate. That's the problem". Max sighed. He really wanted to talk to his friend, but she wasn't doing any talking with him.

"I know, Max. Be patient with her. I know that she's not speaking, but just try. Okay?". Max nodded his head and then they heard the footsteps getting closer. "Morning, mon amour. Breakfast?". He asked once she was at the kitchen's doorway. She nodded and sat down, mumbling a soft 'morning', which Max mimicked.

"I need to get some things from my apartment". Max started after a few moments of silence. Charles looked up and Y/N just picked on her food. "I was thinking that maybe we all could go together and get some fresh air. What do you guys think?".

"I think that's a good idea". Charles instantly agreed. Y/N barely nodded her head. "Fresh air will do wonders for you two".

After Charles' horrendous lunch attempt and the take-out he brought to compensate that, they all changed out of their pijamas and started their long process to get down to the garage of the building. Between Max's difficulty to walk and Y/N not being allowed to be unsupervised, going out took time to do it right. After twenty minutes of Charles helping Max putting on his jeans and sneakers, while they both bickered at each other in the process, they were ready to go. Charles helped Max in the backseat, making sure that his legs were comfortably placed across the seat, then he watched Y/N get in the passenger's seat, always keeping an eye on her to see if she did alright on her own. Charles' Ferraris had little room for three people, so he ditched the sport cars and switched to a SUV for them all to have more space, specially Max. The drive to the Dutch's apartment was not long, but the traffic on Monte Carlo was pretty bad that day. They were at stop light when Charles felt his wife's breath change next to him. It became irregular and she looked pale, her eyes big and focused. Max felt the change too and Charles saw him sit straighter in the backseat through the rearview mirror.

"Everything alright, Bunny?". Max asked and Charles took her hand to try and calm her down. Her eyes were looking at the corner across the street, but Charles couldn't see anything that could have freaked her out like that. The light changed to green and Charles kept driving, Y/N following the corner until it was out of sight. She spent the rest of the drive looking at her lap, notoriously shaken up.

At the apartment Y/N seemed to have calmed down and Charles made the mental note not to take that street driving back home, she didn't need to be more stressed out after everything she went through. Max showed him the clothes he wanted to take to the Leclerc's household and they started packing everything up in a suitcase. Charles had been at Max's apartment a few times, but never in his room. It was everything Charles expected though: messy and full of Red Bull's merchandizing. There were a few pictures hanging off the walls, mostly from his childhood, he would have never guessed for Max to be the melancholy type, but he always knew that he was a family guy. He could see the young and cheerful face of his wife's teenage and child versions in some of the pictures, both her and Max posing with trophies and toothless smiles in some. He took the time to admire them while Max looked through his closet and Y/N waited in the living room, relaxing on the couch. He noticed that there were a few familiar faces, like Alex, George and Pierre, he himself was even, in one picture. Fate had made it impossible for Charles and Y/N to cross paths when they were kids, but there was a girl in the pictures that he remembered from a few races when he was kid. He didn't remember the girl's name but he remembered her helmet, pink with a dog's paw draw on it, it was a peculiar helmet, that's why he remembered it.

"I remember this girl". Charles said out loud, Max just hummed without looking at him. "I can't remember her name...".

"Which one?" Max asked, still not looking at Charles.

"The one here with you and Y/N, with the pink helmet". Charles was met with silence, the sound of Max moving things inside his closet no longer in the air. He waited and waited, but Max never spoke up.

"She's a Dutch driver". Max said after a while and before Charles could ask more about her, Max continued. "I have everything I need. Let's go". The blond grabbed his crutches faster than the speed of light and limped out of the room like his life depended on it. Charles stayed behind, frowning at the door of the room, his mind racing with thoughts. He knew that Max and Y/N childhood was a sensitive topic, but he didn't expected to be that sensitive. With one last look at the picture, he walked out of the room.

Max's mood didn't get better after that. He asked to go back to Charles and Y/N's apartment right away, even though he was the one that suggested they went out in the first place. Once back at the apartment, Max went to his room and stayed there till the next day, not even coming out for dinner. In the morning, the Dutch acted as if nothing happened and Charles decided not to bring back the topic again. After a week, Max was getting better, his stitches healing great, but Y/N was getting worse. Every day she would get scared looking at literally nothing and Charles and Max started to suspect that she was hallucinating. They constantly asked her what was wrong, but she always dismissed their worries. 'Nothing', she would say every time and even thought they didn't believe her, she refused to tell them what had her so frightened. Charles knew that she had mandatory therapy and hoped that she was at least telling her therapist what was happening inside her head. Worried about his wife, Charles called her parents back in Netherlands and told them everything.

"She gets so scared out of nowhere, Mr. Y/L/N". Charles explained to his father in law. The older man hummed at the other end.

"Did you tell that to the doctor?". Charles sighed.

"Max and I believe that she could be hallucinating, but since she denies it, I'm not sure what to do. I can't force her to go to the doctor if she insist that there's nothing wrong". The older man hummed again. "Maybe she needs to go back home and spend some time with you two. Maybe I can take her there and we can stay for a few days".

"She doesn't like it here, never comes back when she feels alright, not gonna come home feeling unwell, Charles. But maybe we can go to Monaco". Charles found that strange, she went back every year.

"What do you mean? She goes back with Max every year on summer break". He heard the man scoff.

"Here? It's been years since she last came home". The silence that followed was so thick that it could almost be touched. "Charles, are you messing with me boy?"

"I think I need to talk to my wife, Mr. Y/L/N. I'll talk to you soon. Take care". Charles didn't even give the other time to say goodbye before he quickly hung up.

What the hell was his wife doing with Max then? Was she cheating on him? He never expected her to do something like that. He was sure that they had a sick friend or something when they told him that they were visiting an old friend, but now he didn't know what to think. She always told him that they stayed in her childhood home but now it turns out that they weren't? He never talked to his in-laws unless it was necessary, he didn't had a bad relationship with them, but he wasn't close either. He never thought about bringing up those trips to them, not wanting to talk bout such a delicate topic while they were having a nice time. Maybe he should have. He respected Y/N's privacy and it turns out that she was lying to him. He heard the living room TV from the bedroom, knowing that the movie Max and Y/N were watching was still on. He let Max in his home, gave him a bed, cooked for him and he had been screwing his wife behind his back all these years? He felt so betrayed that he could break something, probably Max's legs but before he could actually decide what he wanted to do, he heard his wife's scream like she was right next to him. He forgot about everything he was mad about once he set foot in the living room. She was sitting in a corner, crying her eyes out, while Max did the best he could to limp towards her.

"What happened?". Charles asked, Max looked at him panicked.

"I don't know! She just screamed and ran to the corner". Charles walked to Y/N, curled up with her face hidden on her knees.

"Y/N, what's wrong?". He tried to speak as softly as he could, not wanting to scare her more than she already was.

"I'm sorry". She mumbled between sobs. "I am so, so sorry. Please, forgive me!". She said louder this time, rocking back and forth.

"We'll get though this". Charles told her, not even knowing he could be so forgiving, for fuck's sake, she shamelessly cheated on him for years. She looked up, but instead of looking at him, she looked past Max, to the other side of the living room.

"I'm so sorry, Maud!". She cried. "Please, please, please!". Charles frowned, she wasn't speaking to him, she wasn't speaking to Max. Who the hell was Maud? There was no one else there. He looked back at Max and saw him pale, his eyes with a hint of hurt as they got glossy with tears. He had never seen Max cry before.

"Max, what is she talking about? Who's Maud?". But Max didn't answer him, he kept looking at Y/N, not moving a muscle as the tears kept falling down his face. "Max, answer me!"

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Second part is here! I hope I can finish this before Halloween.

[0alanasworld0]

Perseverance (Hakim Ziyech x reader)

Request: I was wondering if you could somewhat continue the storyline where they continue their tournament and it’s now ended and when Hakim comes back home, his wife decorated the whole house for to celebrate and congratulate. But now Hakim is back at Chelsea and is not as happy as he was during the World Cup and the thought of going to a new club, and the reader has to support his through this tough period ❤️‍🩹

A/N: I dont really do these but just so y'all know, I intended for this to a part 2 to Dedication which i have linked. I think it works fine as a stand-alone fic too tho so enjoy!

Pt1 - Dedication

warnings: none

You let out a breath you were holding as you took in the decor you put out, wanting to truly spoil your husband. The couple weeks apart felt like much longer and especially when you couldn’t be there for the rest of the tournament for him. Of course you were watching every minute of every Morocco match on TV and he almost certainly knew that you were supporting him just as passionately from home as you were while in Qatar. 

You bounce up and down on your toes with a smile on your face, excited beyond belief that you get to have him in your arms again, your wizard. You're startled by the ring of your phone, running over to it quickly and picking up Hakim’s call. The smile on your face only widens at the sound of his voice, obviously tired as ever.

“Everything okay, gorgeous?” he asks. He’s itching to hear your voice at the moment. He knows that he’s going to be seeing you in the flesh within half an hour at most but he can’t help it. He lets out a sigh of relief at your soothing tone.

“It will be…” you tease. You’ve been slaving away the whole day, preparing his favourite food and getting your living room in check. A small, candle-lit dinner is just what he needed to celebrate the past month. You hadn’t seen your husband enjoy football in a while. Pure joy and excitement on his face as he walked out onto the field, listening to his national anthem, playing with people who truly understood and appreciated him. It was truly the time of his life and for the first time in a long time, he felt pride and love for the sport. It all came back to him. 

The taxi ride back home wasn’t very long objectively but to him it felt like years. Your voice alone wasn’t enough now. He needed your touch, the subpar sound and camera quality of his phone just didn’t match the real thing, he needed you.

The second he sees his house and the taxi pulls up, he’s out the door and hurriedly grabbing his luggage and handing over a generous sum to the driver before speeding over to the door. You can see him bound over through the doorbell camera he had installed a while back and quickly get up, straightening out the dress you chose and running a hand over your hair. First you hear the keys jingling and door unlock and your heartbeat only accelerates when you finally see him. 

“Welcome home, my love!” you whisper, looking for his reaction as the nerves wrack over your body. His eyes flicker over the decor and food and he smiles at you. Of course you had to go all out for him. He expected nothing less of you. He closes the door behind him as quickly as he can and you both run over to each other. You wrap your arms around each other as tightly as possible, basking in eachother’s warm embraces after spending too long without. He loosens his hold only slightly so he can look at your face before pressing a kiss to your lips. He takes your breath away and you tilt your head slightly so you can deepen it. Before you get too lost in it, you pull away but his grip is still pretty strong on you so your forehead is still pressed against his. 

“You need to eat.” you point out and he chuckles lightly at your concern. He’s missed this so much. 

“One more kiss for good measure.” he clarifies, kissing your lips once more before releasing you from his grip. You grab his hand and pull him over to the dinner table. His favourite food is sitting pretty and waiting for him. It was a dish he knew took hours and he feels guilty for how exhausted you must have been preparing it for him. 

“Sooooooo? How’s my wizard feeling?” you ask excitedly, still buzzing from his world cup success.

“Pretty good, I can talk to my wife without the line cutting every two seconds and that dress…” his eyes trail up and down your form as you blush. He always just had to do that: make you all flustered and shy under a sea of compliments he would shower you with. 

“Eat your food.” you mutter, digging into the meal before you said anything else. He smirks at your state, the love in his eyes all the more evident as he truly took in the amount of effort you put in for him. You were always his biggest supporter next to his mum, his shoulder to cry on, his best friend. Never for a second did he ever feel unloved when he was with you. If only he could put into words just how much he adored you but alas, he had to do what he could with making you all nervous and hot under his loving gaze.

The meal goes over like a dream, your labour proving to be all the more worth it as you see his eyes flutter closed at the taste of the meal. 

“You and your magic hands! it gets better and better every time, i swear!” he exclaims. He’s given up on trying to eat slowly, now scarfing it down like it was his last. You can only smile softly at the scene in front of you. It may have only been a couple of weeks but you sure as hell missed his real life presence more than anything. You just felt incomplete. And now here he was: sat right in front of you, barely taking a breath between every bite of the meal you prepared so lovingly for him. 

Your wizard was finally home.

Although you’ve been ecstatic to have him back, a number of strange habits have emerged that have you mildly concerned. 

It was as if on instinct he would go to that beloved red no.7 shirt while getting ready for training. It broke your heart to remind him every time but it had to be done. You knew just how much his national team meant to him. The coach, teammates and fans that made every minute of play worthwhile. The people that treated his mistakes as only a bump in the road rather than the full picture and instead cheered for him. He felt like he was home and you completely understood how jarring it must have been for him to have to leave it behind. 

You couldn’t bear to remove the no.7 necklace he bought you. Sure, he couldn’t live that dream all the time but he could most certainly find solace in remembering it. The one time you did wear it with the no.22, you found the latter gone from around your neck by the time you woke up from your nap. And you only managed to find it weeks later on top of the wardrobe while cleaning up. You could only guess who the culprit was. But nonetheless, you continued without saying a word. It was a difficult adjustment. From being the pride of his nation and being a crucial part of their historic world cup run to being on the bench and still facing the blame for his club’s lacklustre performances.

“Princess, this doesn’t feel right.” he admits quietly. You look up from your phone to see him fiddling with the blue sweater. 

“Sweetheart…” you don’t know what to tell him. How do you comfort someone who’s been forced from their home and thrown back at the team that robbed him of his passion for the sport for so long. He had every right to feel the way he was feeling.

“I know that this is my club and I need to get over the world cup but I just can’t. It’s not as easy as putting on the other shirt and just playing. It’s like no one knows me here.” he confesses and your hands immediately move to wipe the stray tears from his cheeks. 

“My love, it’s okay to feel disconnected. It's only early days, remember? It’ll get easier with time, you just need to…trust yourself to move forward! It doesn’t feel good now but it’ll feel okay soon enough, I promise.” you finish your weak attempt at a pep talk with as tight of a hug as you can manage. You smile when he reciprocates and you feel his lips on the side of your neck. He certainly wasn’t in the mood for anything. Rather, it was a sweet gesture of thanks. It was undoubtedly what he needed before having to endure the bench treatment in about an hour. 

You both finally make it out of the car and go your separate ways. You make your way to your seat while the place is still fairly quiet. He makes his way to the locker room, trying his best to ignore the heaviness of each step. It feels like his feet are tied down with bricks. Or like he’s in the shoe shop trying on the Doc Martens that Abde and Bilal insist are the coolest thing since high fades. Yassine was not impressed by their taste to say the least. In the fade or the shoes. He’d really grown into the dad role come to think of i- no. that had to stop.

It was Chelsea now. Blue. God that stupid logo, the shade of blue, the number made him sick to his stomach but he had to push through. Time would make the separation easier for him.

You couldn’t really decipher the look on his face as he took his place on the bench. Obviously he was hardly overjoyed by the situation but you wondered still. Surely there must be some relief because at least the bread-dead fans couldn’t pin whatever this performance was on him this time. As the match reaches its final 20 minutes you can see him be called over and the linesman ready the manual substitution board for his entrance. You can’t help but feel a little excited as you see him warm him. He looks a little more lively now and you cheer along with the crowd as you see him take his position. Your heart is in your throat and the 20 minutes feel like forever but you’re proud of the fact that he’s able to alter the pace of the game with the few minutes he has. Unfortunately that's as good as things get. The multiple created chances go completely unnoticed by other members on the team and you can feel his frustration climb from your seat. Going from teammates that were livelyenough to pay attention to the field to a bunch of sleepers must have been quite the culture shock. The final whistle only acts as a slap in the face as the players all walk dejectedly back inside. 

Hakim is completely zoned out of Potter’s team talk. What was there to say this time? Was he made to seriously believe that everyone gave it their all? That the decisions made were sound ones? Sure. he does his best to be quick with getting changed. Finally out of the blue and into the red sweater he loved so much. The number and logo on it always brought a smile on his face, even after horrible days like this. He sits down on the bench once more just to take it in before leaving, smiling softly at it. 

He’s feeling a little better now that he’s out of the stadium but some of the frustration still remains when he gets in the car, falling into the passenger seat rather ungracefully.

You decide not to press him until you get home because the silence is actually rather comforting. At the first red light, you look over to see him almost knocked out and you’re happy with your decision. He needs a bit of time at least.

The second you reach the house, he’s rushing to fumble with his keys and get the door open. Finally it clicks and he’s met with the comforting sight of your shared hom. All squeaky clean thanks to your efforts. He bounds up the stairs with you trailing behind him and throws himself onto the bed, sighing out at the feeling of the cool sheets against his skin. He’s a little bit more awake now so opts to check through his phone as you get ready to start your night routine. Unfortunately for him, despite his earnest efforts, he’s yet again facing the brunt of the blame for the goalless draw. Typical. Every tweet is more harsh, unreasonable and condescending than the next. It’s almost as if these people didn’t watch the match at all because of course he had to be the problem. Not the 3 other forwards that did nothing to convert his chances. Although there was a fair share of comments pointing out the fallacies, Hakim was seemingly blinded to those and could only see the horrible ones. It was commonplace for him but it never really got less painful. He perhaps got used to the pain but it was still there. Those words would still circle around his head. They were still strong enough to nearly strip him of his passion entirely. 

Luckily for him, you’re there to pull him out of his misery.

“Hakim, sweetheart; you do realise that twitter is a breeding ground for degeneracy right?’ you ask, looking at him through your vanity mirror as you finish up on your skin care. You’re not satisfied by the vague hum of acknowledgement you make your way over to the bead and lay to face him. He’s still too caught up in reading the horrible messages to notice so you tap him on the shoulder, finally breaking him free of the trance. He smiles softly at you but his eyes widen at the small scowl on your face. 

With that in mind, he concedes his phone to you and allows you to put it on charge at the bedside table that's out of his reach.

“You’re amazing…” you sigh wistfully, running a hand over his cheek with a smile.

“Is that supposed to be sarcasm?” He narrows his eyes.

“Never! Just because a bunch of sad, lonely, racist creeps tell you the opposite, doesn’t mean that they're right!”

“There’s so many of them, princess… it’s too much.” he admits, the tears start forming again and you’re quick to wrap him up in a hug. It breaks your heart to feel the deep breaths develop into full on sobs but you know that it's probably best for him to let it all out. So you do just that. No words for a little longer, just a hand on the back of his head and the other smoothing down his sore back. Some time passes and the sobs slow back down into deep breaths as you wipe the remaining tears away. You resented the club more than anything for what it had done to him. But now wasn’t the time to display that so you go by different means.

“Remember when Bilal and Abde made you try on those shoes?” you reminisce with a growing smile.

“And the look on Yassine’s face when he looked around the store!” you feel him laugh against your chest and release a small sigh of relief. 

“He looked like he’d seen a ghost when they were advertising them!” you add with a small laugh of your own and your eyes light up when you both recall one particular line in sync.

“Freshest thing since high fades!” and you’re both cackling as you remember the visceral horror on the resident baba’s face. The laughter only grows as other memories bubble to the surface. Thankfully the smile on his face doesn’t dissipate even when it all dies down.

“I miss them, you know?” 

“I had no idea” you joke, whining when he flicks your ear.

“No but how unlucky must I be for the people who understand me best to be living thousands or miles away!” he mutters, dejected as ever. 

“Love, I think it’ll be easier for you to process it all if you just keep talking to me. You can stare at the jersey, watch the edits and hide that necklace all you want…” you pause to analyse his facial expressions at your revelation. He’s a little rattled that you’ve seen through everyone but he needs to hear this.

“Keep those memories alive, keep retelling those stories because they’ll always be there with you. I promise you that you’re gonna leave this deadbeat club but that’s gonna take time. Just hold onto those memories because what you have over there is special.” he nods with a sigh and you can feel the exhaustion radiating off him so you reluctantly release him from your embrace and you both quickly shuffle under the covers. He quickly moves towards you to lay on your chest again as he lets the sleep overtake him for the night. You take a bit longer to get to sleep as you plan something to lift his spirits a little. 

You reach behind you, trying not to disturb your husband as you send the texts.

Weeks later, Hakim is simply enjoying his rest day, with you peacefully snuggled in his arms. He’s been getting a few more of those recently and he’s grateful that he isn’t having to spend as much time dealing with the club and can dedicate more of it to you. Of course you were right. Time was healing and although he still missed the team terribly, there was comfort in the fact that he would be seeing them again. He wasn’t even sure of that this time last year so things were looking up. And talking with boards of new clubs was also a factor in boosting his morale. Teams that truly wanted him. He had seen it himself on the degenerate site: fans already making shirts at the mere rumour of a possible transfer. He was actually pretty hopeful about the future. Of course, he couldn’t have gotten this far without you being there by his side. Always reminding him of his worth. Always there to see the bright side and be his number one cheerleader when things didn’t go his way.

He’s brought out of his thoughts by the doorbell. You stir and attempt to get up to answer it but he’s there before you. 

“Go back to sleep, my love.” he kisses the side of your head as you settle back into the couch cushions.

He opens the door and mumbles a thank you to the delivery man, taking the parcel from his hands and closing the door. Once the door is locked, he turns back around to see you a little more lively now. He narrows his eyes as he makes his way over.

“Oh hurry up!” you whine as he sits down slowly, carefully undoing the wrapping paper. The way his eyes light up is so worth it. He begins to laugh again, the same way he did with you that night after the match.

“I don’t know about you but I think these babies are the freshest thing since high fades!” he reads aloud as you double over with laughter. It only gets better every time you hear it. The other side of the note goes unnoticed by you but thankfully he flips it over, eyes widening.

“What?” you ask, confused at the sudden change of demeanour. It appears he’s too stunned for words as he hands it over, hand slightly shaking.

"Brazil?” you ask quizzically, eyes widened like his as the smile on your face grows.

“We need to start packing!” he says excitedly as you both go over the details of the poster. You spend the rest of the day planning everything out, albeit a few weeks early but this was exactly what he needed. 

He couldn’t help but be hopeful, truly hopeful about what the future held. Things were looking up, he just needed to let time take its course. Especially with you by his side, he was going to be just fine.

About damn time, amirite? anyways this took me forever so i hope u enjoy, my loves xxx

[darkeagleruins]

Punishment for illegal entry:

Hungry: up to 8 years in prison Italy: community service

Malaysia: corporal punishment

Canada: deportation

Azerbaijan: 2 years in prison

Bangladesh: 5 years in prison

Belgium: 3 months in prison

Bulgaria: 5 years in prison

Chile: 61 days in prison

China: prison

Cuba: 1 year in prison

Denmark: up to 3 years in jail

Egypt: prison, fine then deportation

Georgia: 5 years in jail

India: 2 to 8 years in jail

Iran: 3 years in jail

Iraq: 3 years in prison

Israel: 5 years in prison

Japan: 3 years in prison

Lebanon: fine and deportation

Lithuania: 2 years in prison

Morocco: detention then deportation

Pakistan: 10 years in prison

Poland: 2 years in prison

Qatar: 3 years in prison

Romania: 3 years in prison

Russia: 3 years in prison

Sri Lanka: 5 years in prison

Ukraine: 3 years in prison

UAE: prison then deportation

Uzbekistan: 5 years of prison

United States: a job, a drivers license, food stamps, a place to live, healthcare, housing, child benefits, edition and you can take over entire apartment complexes.

If you don’t vote red straight down you deserve everything that is coming.