Does Anyone Have A Writing Challenge Or Something?? Help

wreckage - charles leclerc (3/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : charles leclerc x wife!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : as charles fights for his life, his wife faces the hardest decision: let go or fight for him. a small miracle gives hope for recovery.

୨ৎ : genre : emotional fiction, very... very... emotional, again ୨ৎ : tws : car accident/injury, arguments/conflict, anxiety/panic, trauma, medical trauma. ୨ৎ : wc : 1676

part one | part two | part three | part four

They say that the hardest part of love is knowing when to let go. The decision to hold on is easy—it’s the decision to release, to trust that the other person will be okay without you, that’s the hard part.

You’ve been sitting in the sterile, white hospital room for hours, each minute feeling like a year. Charles’s body is hooked up to so many machines, monitors flashing with numbers that seem foreign to you. His face, once so full of life, now looks pale, bruised, and still. They told you to prepare yourself for the worst, but you haven’t let yourself believe it. Not yet.

Not while there's still hope.

You’re not even sure what you're hoping for anymore. Some miracle, maybe. But deep down, you know the odds. They’ve been giving you the numbers—stats you can’t quite process, numbers you can’t make sense of. His condition is critical, and they’ve told you, over and over again, that his survival chances are slim. His organs are struggling, his internal injuries severe. The brain scans were grim at first, showing little to no activity.

But you can’t let yourself fall into that darkness. Not yet.

The room feels too cold, too empty.

"How are his stats?" you ask quietly, though you already know the answer.

The nurse glances at you, her face trying to remain neutral. "Not good. His heart rate’s been fluctuating. His oxygen levels aren’t improving, either. We’re doing what we can, but his body’s fighting against us." She hesitates, looking back at the monitors. "We’re not sure how much longer we can keep him stable."

You nod, feeling the weight of every word, but you can’t give up. Not yet.

Minutes turn into hours. You stay by his side, holding his hand, whispering to him. Every time you speak, you tell him how much you love him, how much you need him to come back. You’re not sure if he can hear you, but it doesn’t matter. You need him to know.

And then, just as you’re beginning to feel the overwhelming weight of your decision, something unexpected happens.

The steady beep of the heart monitor suddenly begins to accelerate, growing faster and faster. You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. Something’s wrong.

The nurse rushes over, her face pale as she watches the monitor. "His heart rate’s spiking," she mutters. "It’s too fast. His blood pressure’s dropping."

The room erupts into action as doctors rush in, all moving in synchronized chaos. You’re shoved aside as they begin adjusting the equipment, calling out orders, but your mind goes blank. You try to focus, but it feels like everything is spinning.

"His stats are crashing," one doctor says, his voice tense. "We need to stabilize him now."

"Is it time?" you ask, barely able to speak over the noise. "Should we—"

But before you can finish, a loud, sharp sound cuts through the room—the unmistakable alarm of a failing heartbeat. The doctor turns toward you, his eyes filled with grim determination. "I’m afraid we’ve reached the point where his body might not be able to hold on much longer."

Your breath hitches in your throat. Everything feels like it’s slipping away. You squeeze Charles’s hand tighter, as if willing him to come back to you.

But then, as if the universe is playing some cruel game, the chaos calms, just for a moment.

The alarms start to fade into silence, and the doctor presses his fingers to the side of Charles’s neck, feeling for a pulse. Your heart lurches, praying for any sign of life. The seconds feel like hours.

Suddenly, the doctor looks up, his eyes widening. "Wait… there’s something." He leans in, checking the monitors again. "His blood pressure’s stabilizing. His heart rate’s slowing down to a more normal rhythm."

You barely dare to breathe, your eyes never leaving Charles’s face.

The nurse who’s been working on him moves closer, shaking her head in disbelief. "It’s like he’s coming back."

You don’t know what to think. The last few minutes have felt like an eternity, and now, you’re afraid to believe it. "What’s happening?" you whisper, your voice trembling.

The doctor looks up at you, and for the first time, there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes. "It seems like he’s fighting. His body’s responding… it’s too early to say for sure, but this is a good sign."

You stare at Charles, trying to process the sudden shift. Is this the miracle you’ve been waiting for, or just another false hope?

The minutes stretch on, and then, just as you begin to allow yourself a small breath of relief, the monitor lets out another shrill, jagged alarm—the unmistakable sound of a fatal arrhythmia. A shocking wave of panic shoots through you as the machine flashes with an erratic, spiking rhythm.

"V-fib!" The doctor shouts, his voice urgent. "We’re losing him. Get the defibrillator ready."

The nurse scrambles to prepare the machine, and you feel your stomach drop out. This can't be happening. Not now.

"Charles!" you whisper, gripping his hand harder, your eyes welling up. "Please."

The doctors are already on him, paddles in hand, but it feels like time is standing still. Your eyes dart from the monitors to Charles’s face, feeling as if your heart has stopped with his. Then, the shock.

The force of the defibrillator sends a jolt through his chest, and the monitor flickers. Nothing.

You close your eyes briefly, bracing for the worst.

"Again," the doctor orders, and another round of defibrillation. This time, there’s a slight blip, a change. It’s not much, but it’s something.

The doctor presses the paddles down once more, adjusting the settings. "One more time. We need him back."

The seconds stretch as they try again, and then finally, the heart monitor begins to beat again—slowly, but steadily.

"Heartbeat stable," the nurse breathes.

Your breath escapes your lips in a shaky exhale. You look at Charles again, feeling a rush of relief flood through you as the panic of the past few minutes settles into a wary calm. But it’s still not over. His fight isn’t done.

Just as you think the worst is behind you, Charles’s mother bursts into the room, her eyes frantic as she surveys the scene. Her voice cracks as she calls out his name, "Charles!"

You feel a flash of guilt. You should’ve called her sooner, but there had been no time. The doctors had been focused, and you’d been too overwhelmed to think clearly.

You step aside, giving her space, but you can’t look away from the man you love, still unconscious, his body fighting to survive.

The doctor steps over to you both. "We’re stabilizing him, but we’re not out of the woods yet. We need to make some decisions."

Charles’s mother looks at you, her face pale with concern. She reaches for your hand. "Whatever it is… I trust you. You’re his wife, and you know him better than anyone. What do you think we should do?"

You swallow hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "I… I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do. He’s… he’s still fighting. But we’ve been here for so long, and I don’t know how much longer we can wait."

Her gaze softens. "You don’t have to do this alone. I trust you. We’re a family. We make these decisions together." She squeezes your hand tightly. "But if you think there’s still a chance for him, then we have to keep fighting too."

You look back at Charles, uncertainty and fear clouding your judgment. How do you even begin to make this decision? His body is failing him, but his heart—his spirit—is still trying.

"Let’s give him more time," you decide, your voice shaking with fear but firm with resolve. "But if his chances are too slim… if we’re just keeping him alive on machines, then we need to think about letting him go."

The doctor nods solemnly. "We’ll run more tests. But if things don’t improve soon, we may need to consider other options."

As the minutes pass, the machines continue to monitor Charles’s every movement, every breath, and the room remains tense, every decision weighed in silence. But then, something begins to shift.

"His blood pressure’s coming back up," the nurse announces quietly. "And… there’s more brain activity. His oxygen levels are improving too."

You feel like you might be dreaming. "Is this really happening?"

The doctor steps forward, shaking his head in disbelief. "I’ve never seen anything like this. His vitals are stabilizing. I think… I think he’s fighting."

"Fighting?" you ask, still not quite believing what you’re hearing.

The nurse, who’s been checking his monitors, speaks softly, her voice a little hopeful. "He knows you’re here. I think he’s holding on for you."

And in that moment, you realize: you’re not alone in this fight. Charles is fighting for you too.

The room fills with a cautious optimism, but the road ahead is still uncertain. Will he wake up? Will his organs continue to improve?

Only time will tell.

Then, the unthinkable happens.

"His breathing," the nurse says, voice shaky, "it’s improving. He’s trying to breathe on his own. We can extubate him. He doesn't need the tube anymore."

You stare, wide-eyed, as they carefully begin the process of removing the intubation tube, your heart in your throat.

Everything changes in a moment.

There’s still a long way to go, but for the first time in hours, you feel a flicker of hope.

He’s still here. And he’s fighting.

But you know deep down that the next few days will be critical.

You stand there, feeling like you’ve crossed a line between despair and hope. But Charles has always been a fighter. And if he’s fighting, so will you.

For him. For the life you built together. For love.

You look down at him, and the smallest of smiles begins to tug at your lips.

Maybe… just maybe… he’ll make it through.

And for now, that's enough.

taglist: @emryb , @htpssgavi , @aleatorio1234 , @ayap4paya , @prttylight , @meadhbhcavanagh , @iluvnewtie , @hiireadstuff , @armystay89 , comment to be added

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

I love journaling so much my fav moment of the day. but I definitely need f1 stickers ☠️ I WANT PHOTOS OF CARLOS AND SEB 🤍😩

Te llevo para que me lleves | Franco Colapinto

summary: Después de ganar su primera carrera en Fórmula 1, Franco le regala a Agus su casco.

pairing: franco colapinto x (fem)! singer agus luciani

wattpad: jinetacromadette

Era una tarde soleada en Monza, y Franco acababa de conseguir su primera victoria en Fórmula 1. Estaba empapado de champaña, con esa sonrisa que parecía iluminar cualquier lugar al que fuera. Cuando salimos del circuito, me llevó a un rincón más tranquilo, lejos de la multitud.

—Tengo algo para vos —me dijo, todavía con el pelo revuelto y los ojos brillando de emoción.

—¿Qué? ¿La botella de champán? Porque ya la vaciaste. —Reí, intentando disimular que su mirada siempre me hacía sentir un poco más torpe de lo normal.

Franco negó con la cabeza y, de repente, apareció con el casco en las manos. Lo miré, confundida.

—¿Te lo sostengo? —le dije, tratando de entender qué estaba haciendo.

Él rió, esa risa suya tan natural.

—No, amor. Te lo estoy dando a vos.

Me quedé muda. Lo giré en mis manos y me di cuenta de los detalles que había puesto en él: una bandera argentina, pequeños símbolos que representaban cosas nuestras —como una estrella fugaz que habíamos visto juntos en uno de esos viajes de madrugada—, y ahí, en un rincón del casco, las iniciales AL.

—¿AL? —le pregunté, aunque el nudo en la garganta ya me daba la respuesta.

—Vos sos Agus Luciani. Y porque este casco no solo me protegió a mí en la pista, sino que tiene todo lo que soy. Y ahora también tiene lo más importante. Tiene amor. Y vos sos mi amor.

Intenté no llorar. Juro que intenté. Pero era Franco, y todo lo que hacía tenía esa mezcla de intensidad y amor que siempre me desarmaba.

—No puedo aceptarlo —le dije, aunque ya lo estaba abrazando como si fuera mi mayor tesoro.

—Sí, podés. Y lo vas a aceptar, porque ya sos dueña de mi corazón. Me parece justo que también seas dueña de mi casco. Ya es tuyo. Como lo soy yo.

🍚 —cosas por hacer:

planear novela

buscar retos de prompts

hacer prompts con mis personajes

hacer playlist

hacer ejercicio

el nuevo capítulo 😫

I need frando rec fics, any recommendations?

Reblog if you’re bisexual, support bisexual people or are actually a bunch of tiny velociraptors in a human suit

Reader Doesn't Eat Properly

Resumen: En algún momento de tu vida, empezaste a sentir que no eras lo suficientemente bonita, esto termina decayendo en restringir tus alimentos. Cuando Anakin ve que haz perdido peso nuevamente, no puede evitar preocuparse.

⚠️: Desordenes Alimenticios

Tags: Fluff, Confort, poquito de angst — ao3

En los últimos meses, tu relación con Anakin y tu trabajo fueron el centro de tus pensamientos. Habías tenido incontables citas, cenas ya sea con tu pareja o aliados. Fue un día que te levantaste de la cama vacía, que mientras te preparabas para tu jornada, que viste el aumento de tamaño en tus muslos y cadera, sin poder reconocerte a ti misma, la humedad de tus ojos se hizo presente con la idea de esconderte y no volver a salir.

Sabías que era imposible. Tu trabajo era requerido, y decidiste que si hoy no podías ser bonita, entonces al menos deberías serlo lo más pronto posible. Tus comidas disminuyeron considerablemente, aprovechando que Anakin estaba en una misión, no salías a comer a menos que fuera trabajo o sintieras que ibas a desmayarte. Tuvo sus resultados, en poco tiempo, tus piernas se tonificaron, la grasa de tu cintura y cadera desaparecieron, aliviada seguiste con esto hasta que Anakin volvió.

Lo esperaste como siempre, ocultando en tu expresión la preocupación de que estuviera herido, tus manos juntas adelante se separaron apenas lo viste bajar de la nave, con su pelo revuelto y una sonrisa, que brillo en cuanto sus ojos se enfocaron en ti.

Junto a otros senadores y jedis, saludaron a Obi Wan y Anakin, cortesmente. Al parecer la misión, fue exitosa, pudiendo respirar, todos se fueron a hacer reportes despidiéndose. Caminaste como si nada hacia tu oficina, sabías que tu novio te seguía con tres pasos de diferencia.

A punto de abrir la puerta, finalmente hablaste con tu sonrisa contenida.

—Me alegra que la misión haya salido bien, Anakin—no lo miraste, sabiendo que el lo estaba haciendo. Fue una sorpresa, más no fuera de lo normal, cuando tu novio te empujó suavemente hacia dentro, cerrando la puerta detrás de él y apoyándote en la pared blanca, fue lo suficientemente descarado para unir sus labios suavemente. Su mano descansaba en tu cintura, mientras que ligeramente presionabas la ropa de su pecho con tus dedos. Entre sus labios, intentaste suspirar su nombre de la sorpresa, sin embargo lo mucho que habías extrañado el contacto, lo hizo imposible.

Apretando tu cintura y profundizando el beso, Anakin te rodeó con su otro brazos, sus cejas se fruncieron y el beso se detuvo. Abriste los ojos con confusión, más al encontrarte con su expresión tensa, su dedo acaricio tu cintura como si tratatara de sentirte sobre la tela. Sus ojos bajaron analizando su toque, y a tiempo te diste cuenta que estaba enojado.

—¿No estas lastimado, verdad?—alejándote de él, tu cuerpo pesaba, y una incomodidad creció en la habitación. Sonreíste tratando de aliviarlo, no funciono, el negó.

—Bajaste de peso—volvió a agarrar tu cintura con su palma.

—¿Lo hice?—preguntaste como si no fuera lo que querías, te sentiste culpable por su reacción, estaba preocupado.

—Lo hiciste, estoy seguro—Anakin te miro intentando ver tus ojos bajos—¿Estuviste comiendo apropiadamente?

Tragaste saliva, mentir no era una de tus habilidades.

—Supongo que el trabajo me tuvo muy ocupada y me olvide de algunas comidas—levantaste la cabeza con tu mejor sonrisa—No tienes que preocuparte, podemos tener una cena juntos esta noche.

Al final de la frase, tu voz que casi se quiebra fue disimulada, pero tu pareja no lo pasó por alto. Te acerco a él, dejando que sus pies se mezclen y sus abdomenes se toquen, tu mejilla fue sostenida amablemente. Y con sus ojos celestes, no te saco la mirada de encima.

Fue demasiado, y los hilos de tu garganta que enrrollaban también. Su amor, repentino en una semana donde no te habías dado ni una palabra amigable a ti misma fue un golpe de realidad sobre lo que te estabas haciendo a ti misma. Cristalinos tus ojos se cerraron, vergüenza inundó tus mejillas, y ocultaste tu cara en el pecho de Anakin, donde su corazón golpeaba. El lo había notado al instante, y odiaste lo mucho que te conocía.

—Amor, dime que esta mal—sus labios besaron tu cabeza, y con un deseo poseedor de protegerte de todo, no te dejo. Quería apretarte más, amarte más, besarte en toda piel visible.

Tu vergüenza se mostró en lágrimas, aferrandote al cuerpo de Anakin entre sollozos pudiste decir tus sentimientos.

—Soy horrible, tan fea—dejaste ir el nudo—Solo quiero sentirme bonita por un tiempo al menos.

Tus palabras le fueron inentendibles, tu belleza siendo su máximo resplandor de sonreír, que no fueras capaz de verlo le contrajo el corazón. Sus labios se separaron solo para apretarse. Tu cabeza fue envuelta por su mano, quiso esconderte de ti misma, este dolor que te habías provocado.

—Desearía que pudieras verte como te veo—susurró tu pareja, su abrazo fue donde tus sollozos quedaron, tus ojos rojos e hinchados. En todos tus aspectos, Anakin te amaba, con una sonrisa dolorosa, un murmullo sincero se quedó entre ustedes—Eres hermosa, cada centímetro de ti... Es más bello que cualquier otra cosa en esta galaxia.

Tus mejillas fueron besadas, tus párpados rojos dejaron de doler bajo sus labios y esa noche, tocando cada centímetro de piel de ti, Anakin destruyó todas las inseguridades de tu cuerpo, dejando que su amor se adentrará en cada fibra de ti. No pudiste dudar ni un segundo de ti misma, Anakin nunca te mentiría, tu belleza era infinita.

lando summer moodboard!!

"Will you still want to see me after the summer is over?"

"Are you kidding? You were the best thing that ever happened to my life, I would be a fool to let you go."

'summer love with lando' moodboard.

hope you enjoy it! 🧡

also, i'm so so sorry i've just realized i've attached this to your previous request rather than the one you were more specific :( but nonetheless, hope it met your vision!

its so cute omg im crying

More Diverge AU Reylo Doodles! 😁

1) After a mission, Rey invites Ben out to get drinks with their other Resistance friends. Takes places shortly after their conversation about her scar.

2) Rey starts out taking more initiative when it comes to affection, and surprises Ben with a cheek kiss just after (or even in the middle of) a battle. Ben’s all flustered and is gonna need to step up his game soon. Rey hasn’t outright kissed him yet so… hehe 😙

BONUS AFTERMATH DOODLE:

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST. REBLOG ONLY!!