#i just like the the thought of found family/friends in times of hardships

[classyrbf]

DO I LOOK LIKE HIM! #2 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...all his life it was just him and his mother, his father nowhere to be seen or found, vanished, a ghost. No one ever spoke a word of him, he didn’t even know his name. But deep down he begs for answers as his mother always said that he looked just like ‘him’

INFO...megumi x mom!reader, toji x reader, angst, family issues/trauma, absent father, implications of suicidal thoughts, talks of depression, toji is an assassin/in a gang, implications of murder, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

part 1

It was a chilly Saturday morning. The birds chirped as snow fell from the sky, laying a thick blanket across the trees and ground. Megumi was still asleep while you cooked breakfast for him like you always did. His favorite being eggs, hash browns and bacon. Two weeks ago you could’ve sworn your relationship with your son was ruined, came crashing down when he found out about his father. Toji Fushiguro. Though, it only seems like the situation only brought you closer than ever. He kept asking you about him, what he was really like, how he talked, what he used to wear, did he play any sports. He asked everything. And you told him everything.

You didn’t forget one detail about Toji. From the fifteen years that he’s been gone, you still remember every detail on his face like it was just yesterday. You remember the exact clothes he was wearing the night he left and you remember the look in his eyes when he walked out the door while you pleaded for him not to go. Fifteen years and it still breaks your heart to remember. Sometimes you wished you forgotten about him. Every since then you haven’t been with anyone else. You’ve tried and failed. Went on dates, went out to clubs and bars, whatever it was, but no one was him. No one was your Toji.

Some of your high school friends live happy lives, married, nice house and car with a big family and of course the family pet. But you never got your fairytale ending. You didn’t get the easy way like everyone else. It was just you and your son the entire time and whatever hardships you endured, it was for him. After Toji left you fell into a depression. You never left the house unless it was to get groceries or other essentials, but otherwise you were cooped up. It was just you and your son. Crying yourself to sleep every night seemed like the only option you had at that time. Wasting hours trying to call Toji only for it to go straight to voicemail. You prayed he come back for you two. But he didn’t. Years and years went by and you lost hope. You believed he was dead and maybe he was.

You loved Megumi so much. Everything you did was for him, every battle fought. He was the reason you kept going. He couldn’t grow up without a mother and a father. He doesn’t know that he’s saved your life.

“Mom?” You hear your sons groggy voice as he walks into the kitchen. You glance over your shoulder and laugh at the way he stands there, his hair messy and one of his eyes barely open.

“Morning, Megs. I’m just making you breakfast.” You smile. He hums in response, turning back around and dragging his feet into the bathroom. Even down to the mannerisms he acts exactly like him. You shake your head with a laugh, turning the stove off and grabbing his plate to toss the scrambled eggs on top. “Megs, your food is on the table when you’re done!” You shout. You run over to the fridge, grabbing the orange juice and pouring him a glass when the doorbell rings. “Hold on!”

Putting the juice away, you walk over to the door with the glass in hand. “Who is it?” You ask.

“It’s me.” A voice speaks. It almost sounds recognizable, but not. Your brows furrow while undoing the locks and when you open the door, the frigid air cuts through the warmth of your house and surrounds you.

“You must have the wrong—” As you look up, your eyes widen and the glass drops from your hair, shattering against the wooden floor. Your mouth opens to say something but not a word comes out. It was like you were stuck, frozen. Tears filled your eyes as you took in the man who was standing in front of you. “Toji…?” You utter, bringing a shaky hand up to your mouth.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He grew slightly taller, his hair shorter and you can see the slight wrinkles in his face. He was a lot more muscular too, but nonetheless he still looked like him.

“Oh my god!” You jump into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Toji!” You sobbed. Being in his embrace felt so natural despite how long it’s been. He hugged you back, clenching his eyes shut as he breathed in your scent.

“Mom?! What was that?!” Megumi came rushing out the bathroom running towards where he heard the glass break. Instead, he halted in his steps when he saw the familiar face he only recently learned from photos. “Dad?”

Toji opened his eyes, his expression dropping when he saw Megumi standing there in front of him. You removed yourself from his arms, turning to see your son standing there with tears in his eyes. “Megs, it’s your dad.” You smiled, wiping your tears.

And Toji couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was like he was looking at a younger version of himself. But he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He knows it’s been fifteen years, but he was still expecting to see his two year old son walking towards him. Toji stepped into the house, slowly walking towards Megumi, hesitating to say or do anything until Megumi jumped into arms. “Dad!” He cried.

Toji clung to his son, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He muttered against his hair. “Please forgive me.” He breathed. You stood there with pursed lips watching the two of them reunited, but hearing Toji’s apologies broke your heart. “I never wanted to leave you. You understand me?” Toji pulled Megumi away so that he was looking at him. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Ive missed you too.” Megumi nodded his head wiping his tears. “Mom told me. She told me everything. I don’t blame you, dad.” He sniffled, shaking his head. Toji looked towards you his eyes softening. It’s like you could see everything within him. All the regret, the sadness, the anger he’s been holding within him for all this time.

He stepped towards you, cupping your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. “You still look so beautiful.” He smiled. “I never once stopped thinking about you.” He said, holding back tears. “You and Megs were always with me. I’m sorry for leaving you, baby.” He hugged you.

It was hard not to cry. You couldn’t hold in your emotions. Not anymore. Everything that you’ve been holding back was finally letting out. You missed him. You missed seeing him with Megumi. You missed his voice, his scent, his everything. “It was so hard, Toji.” You cried. “I needed you. We needed you.”

“I know, I know.” He kissed the top of your head, gently rubbing your back. “Be angry with me, do whatever you want to me. I’m just happy to have you both back.”

You could never hate him. That was never a thought in your head. You could never hate the man you love. All you could do was understand him and his pain. He was hurting just as much as you. He left to protect you and your son. “I thought you were dead.” Your voice broke through your sobs. “I thought…”

“Shhh, shhh, I’m here now,” he whispered. “I’m right here.” He kissed you again. “Come here, little man.” Toji opened his arm, allowing Megumi to hug him.

Toji thought he’d never live to see this day. He began losing hope, drowning in his fears and bad choices. When he left, he remembered your cries, carrying that hurt in his heart for years. He only dug himself into a deeper hole trying to get out of it. Trying to protect you and Megs, he did unspeakable things, shit that left him traumatized. The amount of blood on his hands was staggering. But it was all just to have his family back.

That life was well behind him now. It’s been behind him for months. All this he’s been looking for you, jumping through hoops to even get a glimpse of you and Megumi. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you moved on, if you found someone else and replaced him, deciding to leave this hellish place. But you stayed. Despite everything, you stayed.

“You’ve gotten so damn big.” Toji eyes scanned over Megumi. “About as tall as me.” He laughed.

“Yeah, well, I do look exactly like you.” He shrugged, smiling. “I’ve been hearing it my whole life. It’s finally nice to see the original.”

“The original, huh? I ain’t that damn old,” he scoffed.

Seeing them already get along and bicker with each other like it came naturally gave you a warm feeling in your chest. You’ve never seen Megumi’s eyes so full of life, like he found his other half. And in a sense, he did. You did as well. All of you did.

“We have a lot of catching up to do.” Toji ruffled Megumi’s hair. “A lot.”

“I know. But can you promise me one thing?” Megumi asked.

“Of course.” Toji was quick to answer.

“Please, don’t leave me again. I don’t care what it is. Promise me you’ll never leave me, dad.” Megumi nervously began biting the skin off of his bottom lip.

Toji stared at his son. “I promise.”

a/n: a lot of you wanted a part 2 so I made one. I hope it lived up to the expectations tbh cause I wasn’t really sure what y’all wanted to me to write

[sayruq]

Hi world, it’s Eman Please read this as if I’m a member of your family, may be your sister , daughter or a friend and as if my family who’s under death now is yours.Today, I reach out with a heavy heart and a place for your kindness and support . I am not just seeking to fundraise. I am seeking to save the lives of my beloved family members who are currently trapped in a nightmare. All of whom depend on your generosity to escape Gaza Strip to Egypt , get the medical help needed and begin a new life where we are seeking safety. This is me Eman

My name is Eman , a girl in her thirties (39- years old) and a computer science graduate .Iam speaking from the heart of Gaza, a place that was once vibrant with life and has now become painfully marked by the effects of wars that spared no war. I live with my mother, Etemad (60 years old ) and my father, Saed (70 years old . My mother and my father

My sister Khaleda is ( 41 years old ) She has four children. Three sons .Saed ,3 years old. Abdul Rahman, 5 years old ,and Adam, 9 years old .Her daughter, Lyan, is (4 years old) .

Khaleda's Children

Iam suffering of one of the most common generic disorders which is thalassaemia. It’s so tiring and difficult disease. And due to the war, I lack medical care and treatments. My health is getting worse and deteriorating as treatment became insufficient. Iam in need to plasma exchange regularly ,the thing that my family find so difficult because of blockage and destruction of hospitals , in addition to the risks of going out our shelters every day as the bombs everywhere . My family deserve the opportunity to live a full life. I can’t bear the thought of losing any member of them.

My father, Saed, is suffering from heart disease .He has blockage of the heart arteries . Doctors advised him not to expose himself to the news and events that affect his mental and physical health. He urgently needs to undergo the necessary tests and surgery.

My mother, Etemad, has chronic diseases (blood pressure and diabetes ) . She needs regular follow up and medical treatment .She is struggling to obtain the necessary medications , waiting too long in clinics for subpar alternatives if found.

My family and I were very close knit enjoying simple pleasure and cherishing moment together. Now all that remains are memories scattered among the rubble of our destroyed home in Gaza. We witnessed death with our own eyes and were forced to flee our home in fear of our lives .During this time , we also received the news of the deaths of several relatives and friends due to indiscriminate bombardments. Now, I find Myself with my family displaced in a plastic tent in Al-Zawaydah , our last refuge, living inhuman conditions and enduring unimaginable hardships along the way.

We’re currently sleeping on the ground in a tent that does not protect us from the heat of summer or the cold of winter . We are located there ,with no access to essential items like clean drinking water , electricity , healthy food and cooking gas .Death and destruction followed us everywhere , Our home was bombed and bulldozed and our hopes and dreams were shattered along with it .We are enduring a suffering that is beyond anything you can imagine. Me with my family are in a very critical situation in tents .Tasks are divided among us to sustain ourselves. My father fetches water if ever found from a distant area early every morning. My mother cooks and washes our clothes using traditional methods .This is why we are asking for your help, as we are still in danger in South Gaza and can’t receive the medical care needed. Our new life in tents

Since the beginning of Israel’s assault on Gaza, we were forced to evacuate several times leaving behind our home and the future we had been working towards. Walking without carrying our personal belongings, our clothes or even money in search of a safe place until we managed to escape to the south of Gaza Strip .

Gaza, a place that I call home has been transformed into a landscape of destructions and despair . The reality we live in is one of the constant fear, where the sounds of explosions drown out the dreams and aspirations of its people .In what seems like an instant , everything my family and I held there had been ripped away by the chaos of war . A side of our suffering in tents

This campaign is not just about escaping Gaza. It’s about reclaiming a future where my family can live without the shadow of fear , where we can get the medical care and treatment needed and where we can once again embrace the joys of life without grief . The price of leaving Gaza is high and far beyond my family means. so I have initiated this fundraising campaign to urgently gather funds to help my family leave Gaza as soon as possible. The funds collected will be carefully allocated for the following purposes: Firstly , it will contribute to providing a safe passage to Egypt , which is a vital step for the family’s safety. Secondly: covering the medical treatment. Costs and medications for me , my father and my mother . In addition to the need for comprehensive examinations in Egypt to ensure our safety after the war. Thirdly : the funds will be allocated to provide temporary accommodation for the family in Egypt, giving them stability and the opportunity to explore the best path for their future . Finally , it will cover initial living expenses in Egypt granting the family the time and space needed to relax and rebuild their lives after the ordeal of the genocide in Gaza .

Eman's family has only raised $610 USD out of $50,000 goal. Please support the family by sharing. Donate if you can

[hoseoksluna]

THE BALL OF LIGHT, i. | myg, jjk

pairing: friend!jeongguk x fem!oc (ft. brother!yoongi)

genre: fluff

word count: 2.9k

summary: life of other people never mirrored yours and jeon jeongguk will never be yours, either.

pin: ball of light / taglist: join / discord: join / masterlist: run

cp: ao3 / wp

warnings: smoking, suggestive but not described thoughts of nudity, pessimism, orphancy / the members in this series are fictional.

note: everybody, welcome the new series. it is a multiple member-centered fanfic, so the names you see in the title don't necessarily mean the pairing is endgame or anything like that. who the main love interest is will be a surprise that the fic will slowly reveal. trust the process with the first chapter. it's short on purpose and i will reveal the information and quicken the plot along the way. let me know what you think. reblogs and esp comments are mandatory unfortunately in the hoseoksluna house:/ ...... sfjsldfjsldfj ENJOY. i love u guys! should i crosspost it on wattpad? (im scared of wattpad)

… Or was his destiny from the start To be just one moment  Near your heart? 

(Ivan Turgenev)

— an epigraph from the book White Nights by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Your brother Yoongi was always the pair of hands that would tug your legs down whenever you would fly in your books for too long. He did it out of tender care and fatherly kindness, calling your name in order for you to come join him in the kitchen for a meal. To be some semblance of a family after the tragedy had sunk its teeth into your bloodline. And what you had never imagined was that one day, you’d have to leave him behind to step inside a dream of this very reality. 

Throughout the trajectory of your girlhood, you had lived inside the worlds of your books. Classical literature that carried more depth, more leniency, despite its hardships that the characters went through, than this world. The idea of love clung to you like a second skin, one you wouldn’t really receive from the two important roles in your life because you weren’t made out of love, but would find within flowery and difficult words of another time. Digging deep and understanding made you fall in love with it, seek it in school, in the streets and inside your own home, only to look and walk past those people still empty-handed. 

In spite of it all, your palms were, somehow, still heavy. As if they carried something invisible for worldly eyes. 

You would see it come to life whenever you would close yourself up in your room, with your folded legs, your short hair wild and with a book on your lap. Dostoyevsky taught you that love could be found upon a fateful coincidence and it marred you in a beautiful way that was pitifully disastrous. It forced your eyes to look for it everywhere, even through the reappearing pain of disappointment, and it especially forced you to look for it at home. 

The hope remained even after both of your parents went to the other side of this love, beyond this world. They passed away due to an unfair illness. And because they went at the same time, you often found yourself thinking if they loved each other in the realm of eternity, when they very seldom loved each other in this temporary realm. 

Your firm, ingrained dreaminess helped you cope with the sudden silence, the aftermath of your state of orphancy. You no longer had to reread a sentence in your book a thousand times, the once screeching voices beyond the door of your bedroom shunned out, dead, but still pulsing. The walls carried the ghosts of those parental fights and Yoongi… he, in his secret sensitivity to the paranormal, braided for you a bracelet of black thread. To keep you safe from those spirits, to help you heal. 

He didn’t have one of his own, and that fact faultlessly described the new role he clothed himself in within this abrupt change. He would stare at the walls with a cold gaze, threatening them with power if they ever made a sound. He sat more at the kitchen table now than he did at his music station in his room, spine hunched over a myriad of bills that would make him pull on his hair until a bald spot formed. On the left side of his head, just above his ear, where his amygdala bloomed with black flowers. 

You would come home from school, glide your eyes over his bare wrist pressed to his cheek,  and touch the tense muscles over his protruded shoulder blades. You saw, vividly, the way his new role tore him apart and you wanted to help him. Physically and emotionally. But Yoongi rejected your help, rejected the emotions you were so willing to smooth out and caress with the lines of your palm that knew love from the way you caressed the pages of your books. He would get up from the table, tell you to shower, and he would walk to the kitchen to prepare you a meal, a meatless one because meat was expensive. He would wash his hands in the sink, let the cold water hide the strands of hair he plucked out of stress. 

He would pretend that everything was fine when in reality, nothing was fine. 

Your parents didn’t leave you a dime, but they let you keep the house you and Yoongi grew up in. Left an unpaid mortgage in your hands instead of happy memories, instead of love. 

But Yoongi, he showed you love. He would show it to you by the way he would boil the water for you in the beginning of yours and his orphancy because he had no money to pay for the water bill and because all the money he had saved in his boyhood was used for funeral expenses. He would show it to you by the way your plate would have meat and his wouldn’t. And he showed it to you by the way he wouldn’t allow you to find a job and financially help him, but instead told you to focus on your degree. To focus on your dream. No matter how many times you pestered him that you could find a part-time job. 

No, your dreams require your full attention, he had said once, that Yoongi-coded frown shadowing his features. Go study. 

And so you bowed your head and silently left, retreating into your room while contemplating in your heart that Yoongi never knew what your dreams looked like. And neither did you. Not until they showed up right in front of you. 

It is a time perfumed by the upcoming winter, the November time of the present. Frost has been kissing each corner of glass one would stumble across in the city of Seoul, decorating it with its affection using its snowflakes. It’s what you’re looking at, perched with your shivering form on the bus stop with the only friend you ever had in your lifetime. 

Or a so-called friend. You don’t think you would use the term friendship with a guy like Jeongguk. 

He represented the unattainable aspect in the books you’ve read. The goal that hasn’t yet been reached. The agonized yearning that hangs by a thread around the character’s life. He embodied the aspect of pain itself—because if life had been a little kinder to you, he would be yours. 

Life, however, isn’t kind. 

Life is realistic.

You met the boy at a wrong time in his life. Passing by him on the stairway of your high school, you caught him in a tense, yet volatile situation of an emotional kind. Spring, still reminiscent of winter, had wrapped itself around your nineteen years of age, and you, dreaming a strange dream that you couldn’t wake up from, ran late for your class. You hadn’t spoken to him prior this fateful day, though you knew of his existence. He was just a background character that you didn’t pay any attention to until he blazed up with life and the sparks of sensitivity on that empty staircase. And you couldn’t take the other way; you couldn’t turn around and miss the class. You had to walk by him and his girlfriend at the time while they were in the middle of an argument that shook through the echo of the space. 

You walked by them, but the encounter changed your life. It changed your life because Jeongguk’s cheeks were tearstained, glistening in the uncanny white of the staircase. His eyes were fixed on yours, his eyelashes wet and long—prettily, so terribly prettily. You quietly apologized, running up the stairs as rapidly as you could, and his eyes did not leave yours until you were out of his view. And then you heard the shuffling of feet and where there was an absolute turmoil, silence replaced it. 

Jeongguk found you that very day. 

Alarm was eclipsed over those puffy eyes, his eyelashes no longer wet, but still long, so terribly pretty. You were on your way out, exiting the building, when he grabbed a hold of your backpack, stopping you from disappearing. And when you gazed back with absolute horror, your short bob swishing around you, Jeongguk smiled a soft half-smile, which thinned out that negative emotion—as if he did it on purpose, not wanting to scare you. 

What’s your name? he started with a question, his shoulders slouched and drooping, an evident tiredness misting him in a drowsy aura. His voice was strained, bubbling in his throat as if he either screamed his vocal cords raw or didn’t speak for a while, choosing silence. Both options turned your heart upside down, painfully. You felt a greater pity for him than you ever have for someone in your lifetime—and that was the beginning of all your firsts with him. 

When you said your name, Jeongguk averted his gaze and nodded his head. You expected him to ask you which year you were born, but he kept his eyes low as he uttered the words, which made your pity for him grow into a bare tree  with just one twig, a seemingly singular wing, within you. 

I don’t know how much you heard, but Ka-eun didn’t do anything wrong. It was a misunderstanding and I would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself. 

You had heard a female screaming, seething voice, but due to your sleepy state, you hadn’t made out what those words actually were. But remembering the tears dripping off of his lashes, you realized how hurtful those words thrown at his must had been. And while you thought about this all, Jeongguk took your hand, pried open your fingers and fished out of his pocket a small banana milk. 

Ka-eun, the it-girl of the high school. Jeongguk protected her reputation, in spite of the fact that she didn’t deserve it at all. 

That was the kind of person Jeongguk was. 

It wasn’t the only encounter you had with him. He would smile at you and greet you while passing you in the halls. Would put banana milks sometimes on your desk early in the morning. Would sit beside you at lunch when he wasn’t on speaking terms with her. And he would confide in you while knowing nothing about you. 

That’s the reason why you can’t call your intertwinement with Jeongguk a friendship. Certainly not, after the person he became when uni life spread its roots in yours and his and he chose the one opposite of yours. 

The faculty of medicine stood facing your faculty of philosophy and literature, and Jeongguk, wearing his green scrubs and his oversized hoodie, would meet you during lunch breaks, insisting that you spend it together because he didn’t know anyone else and he was too anxious to meet new people because of what Ka-eun put him through. 

But Jeongguk didn’t eat. Not so much like he used to. 

The trauma and the difficulty of his field forced him to turn to cigarettes. And him blowing out the smoke the other way so you don’t inhale it while eating your lunch made another twig, another wing begin to grow on your tree within your chest for him. 

You didn’t love him, but he was kind to you and he meant something to you. You never loved a man, besides Yoongi and Dostoyevsky. And Jungkook puffing out the smoke like that, he reflected Yoongi and his brotherly love for you in a way that made you dream. Dream about a romantic love that everyone else seems to have so easily, except for you. About that romantic love you read about in your favorite Dostoyevsky book White Nights. 

But perhaps the affinity you had for Jeongguk was some kind of love that the books haven’t written about, at least later on. A kind of non-romantic love that you, yourself, came up with. A love that meant nothing in this world, but everything to you. A love that blazed up like the tip of Jeongguk’s cigarette that he lit up for you at the beginning of autumn of this year, letting you try it out just because he felt like it. 

Another first that has become a habit. 

You didn’t have money of your own to spend it on packs of cigarettes, but Jeongguk did. And he’s never been the kind of person who was stingy. He would give himself if he could, and it completes him—the act of giving and the other person’s response of receiving. 

His eyes burst with light at this very moment, a few months later, just like they did the first time when he lit up a cigarette for you. Though this time, you don’t need his help. You feel their heat, in the middle of this frosty bus stop, as he watches you place the cigarette he pulled up from his pack for you, his own hanging from his lips, unlit. He always waits for you to light up your own first like the gentleman he is, but something about his gaze is different. You sense their intensity, their foreign, foreign intensity that you don’t think is meant for you. And when you take that first puff, you expect it to leave you—like you’ve learned that it always does—but for some reason it doesn’t. 

There’s depth to the eye contact once you reciprocate it. Murkiness descends upon the pair of you, the sun parting ways with the day in a much quicker way that you still haven’t gotten used to. And along with it, a light layer of snow begins to fall. 

Something is meaningful about it—like it should be written down. Jeongguk’s eyes of lingering seriousness, pensive. The snowflakes that settle upon his ebony hair. How silky they must be to the touch. Always so poofy and voluminous. 

Your hands itch to write and Jeongguk doesn’t ask for his pink lighter back. He merely keeps staring, and you start to think that maybe something is weighing his heart heavily. Something personal that he will soon pour out. Like he always does. 

You’re the listener, never the talker, but something inside you urges you, strangely, to make the first move. Get him talking, get him smoking, so he can go home, go to bed and awake with a fresh consciousness, ready to be filled with anatomy, sicknesses and all the other stuff he needs to cram. 

The hand that longs to write lifts, and it feels natural. It feels natural to flick your thumb on the lighter and call fire to life. It feels natural when Jeongguk purses his lips, lifting the cigarette in the process, and holds it up for you while his hands remain warm in the pockets of his oversized black jacket. It feels natural to watch him suck in, the cheeks that carry too many memories of his tears hollowing out. 

And for a second that is too brief, you let your soul imagine what it would be like… to have Jeongguk as your boyfriend. 

To have the full, ceaseless measure of his love. The one that is meant for the better people, but not for you. 

To have his hands touch your skin in a way that would convey what he feels for you— 

“Have you told your brother yet?” 

Too, too brief, that second. Internally, you take your imagination and sew it shut with a pink thread. Pastel pink, like his lighter. 

The question aches as if you pricked your heart with the needle. You haven’t told Yoongi that you smoke one cigarette a day with a boy after school. You haven’t even told your journal. All in fear that the only life you ever managed to experience out of the realm of your books would simply disperse, never to be found again. 

In fear that Yoongi would be mad and you’d add another layer of stress on top of his already high pile. In fear that he would yell at you like your father did over meaningless things. 

“No,” you respond, softly, dropping your gaze to the ashy tip of your cigarette, flicking it off. The prickling sensation deepens as the iciness of the weather grows. You shiver, sighing. The tree in you does as well. “I’ll never tell him. Never—”

“Never in a million years,” he finishes for you, and your mouth parts in the overwhelming realization that you were wrong. 

Jeongguk does know something about you. He remembers that this is a sentence that repeats in your vocabulary multiple times a day. And there’s such intimacy to it, him knowing this, him finishing the sentence for you, him being educated in the matter that bears your name. 

Or perhaps not. Perhaps you’re too starved of any male attention, love and touch. 

Your imagination in you fights against the seam. 

“What happens if he sees you?” Jeongguk asks, and you pause before replying. Take a puff of your cigarette, watch as a miniscule star of mischief begins to live within the macadamia chocolate of his eyes—as if the principle of him secretly corrupting you utterly enthralls him. You picture that’s what he smells like underneath all those clothes of his, your imagination poking a finger through the seam. And you let it—you let it grasp you because it’s stronger than you. 

Macadamia, musk, cedarwood. 

The kind of lustful smell that is dark to the sight, but innocent in its core. 

Behind him, the blue murkiness fully evens out, no hint of the sun’s coloring painting its corners with positivity. Pessimism abides, and you feel it burying itself into your literature-woven bones. 

You’ve been waiting twenty minutes for the bus, Jeongguk even longer for his. The roads are long and empty, darkening the longer you stand here. The snow forms a firm layer on the ground, and you already anticipate Yoongi’s anger-infused worry, crawling all over you. 

You turn to look at Jeongguk, your blood flow at full halt. 

“War happens, Jeongguk,” you say, swallowing thickly. “If Yoongi and I see each other outside of the walls of our house.”

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth , @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist | BACK to series masterlist

[mclacedes]

The Idea of You (LN4)

2. The Idea of Worthiness

summary: in which lando decides to make it up for ghostin you

previous ••• next

WARNINGS: it's pretty much all angst. in-depth described anxiety attack, anxious behaviour/mannerisms, description of depression and suicidal ideation, loneliness

wc: 3k

“but what if i can't do it?”

A/N: before anything else, i want to make it clear that my intention is NOT to trigger any kind of trauma in anyone with this. the reader has been warned of potential triggers. if you are going through some kind of psychological hardship, know that there are people who care and who worry <3 you are never 100% alone!

january 1st, 2024 — 3:30pm

you came home with a knot in your chest that seemed to tighten with every breath. the morning had been a blur, an awkward dance around lando’s mother as you searched for a polite excuse to leave.

of course you'd chosen the most simple and non-negotiable of lies: i need to spend some time with my relatives.

despite it being faintly true, you knew you'd spend the whole day with lando's family if the circumstances were different.

the night's words lingered in your mind as you walked out, wishing it could cover the truth: you couldn’t bear the thought of facing lando after what had happened—or rather, after what didn’t happen.

now, the silence in your own home was suffocating. you slumped onto the couch, your mind replaying the scene on a loop: lando's words, lando's reassurance, the way his lips had bruised yours, the heat of his breath so close, his hands on you, his hands in you, his fingers’ magic, and then... you wake up alone.

now, you knew lando felt the same, you knew that things could work out, you knew just the intensity of your feelings for him. but you also knew he hadn't texted you back all day and, seemingly, nobody knew where he was.

as his closest friend, you knew that he'd only have left that way if something really bad had happened.

what you didn't know though, was how bad it felt for him.

it had been a long time since lando had received the diagnosis. after years of wondering what was wrong with him and why he felt such a void within himself, he'd been told he had depression.

what they say is that treatment is easier when you have the right diagnosis, but that doesn't erase the fact that some days were infinitely more difficult than others—harder to get out of bed, harder to leave the house, to work, and singularly hard to live, specially because the latter is the last thing you want during a depressive episode.

he started going to therapy regularly when he was a minor, forced by his parents, but when he became an adult he left—said that talking about how horrible he felt wouldn't help, it would only make him feel worse.

and then the episodes gradually became worse as his life improve. for example, before arriving in F1, he oftentimes found himself fighting against the urge to simply end it all: the pain, the suffering, the disruption, the constant failed attempt at a better day, his very life.

even though he never attempted it, lando was caught contemplating the possibility of the end; he used to wonder how people would react when they heard "lando norris died, suicide", what it would be like if he wasn't here anymore.

“such a kind soul”

“such a beautiful boy”

“smart, funny”

“talented guy”

that's what people would say, in the best of cases.

in the worse of cases people wouldn't even notice he was gone.

well, following next to depression was anxiety.

lando’s anxiety was a constant undercurrent to his depression, feeding off it, amplifying it, tangling him further in a web of self-doubt. it was always there, an invisible weight pressing down, but some days it grew loud enough to silence every other part of him, like a swarm of thoughts buzzing incessantly, trapping him in a looping worry about everything and nothing all at once.

it started with racing—the very thing he loved was also the source of his most unrelenting fears. despite his undeniable talent and the acclaim he’d earned, the worry always crept in: what if i mess up? what if i’m not good enough? what if it’s all just a fluke, and one day everyone realizes i’m a fraud?

he dreaded that moment when the lights turned green, not because of the physical danger but because of the psychological toll—that split-second when any mistake, any misstep, could spiral out into a visible, unforgivable failure.

even beyond racing, the anxiety spilled into every facet of his life. he overthought every message he sent, every interaction, analyzing them for any hint of rejection, any confirmation of his worst fears. if he didn’t receive a response right away, his mind spun stories, convincing him he’d somehow upset the person or made a fool of himself.

and now, with you, it was worse. his feelings were tangled with worry and doubt; he feared you’d eventually see through his flaws, his bad days, his cracks, and walk away. the closeness you’d shared the night before terrified him. he wanted you desperately, yet that desire to let you in also exposed him to his greatest fear: that he would scare you away merely by the fact that he existed.

this anxiety could sometimes send him into a state of paralysis, leaving him unable to reach out, unable to bridge the gap even when he wanted nothing more than to feel your presence, to hear your voice. today was one of those days—the aftermath of a moment so perfect, so vulnerable, that his mind filled with a thousand worries. he couldn’t bring himself to message you, to even show you the rawness of his internal struggle. instead, he withdrew, waiting for the fog to clear enough for him to reach for you again.

but you had tried.

you: lando hey

you: i'm worried abt u

you: text me whenever u get the chance pls

you: i'm right here if you wanna talk”

there were another 20 texts of kindred nature from you in his phone—you spent the afternoon rewinding what had happened, wondering if there were any signs that he would do something to himself or… the devil god knows what.

you had barely moved or done anything at all since you had gotten home because lando still hadn’t texted back, and the worry in your chest was growing impossible to ignore.

you’d known him for years—long enough to see the shadows he kept hidden behind his easy smile. he had always brushed off the subject, deflecting it with humor or quick changes in conversation. but today, his silence was colder, sharper, more unsettling than usual.

hours had passed since you last saw him, and finally, you gave in and sent him a message, trying not to let the desperation seep through.

you: lando, i hope you’re alright. let me know when you’re home safe, ok?

the message delivered, but no ‘read’ receipt appeared. your heart sank, and as you stared at the screen, scenarios spun wildly in your mind.

lando was good at hiding. he knew how to pour himself into everything and everyone else, keeping busy, laughing, entertaining—until he couldn’t. when the episodes came, he retreated so far into himself that it was like trying to find someone in a pitch-black room.

you tried calling him. the line rang and rang, finally going to voicemail. your voice was barely a whisper as you left a message.

“lando… if you see this, please just… come home. or let me know you’re okay. i’m here, alright? no matter what, i’m here.”

when the call ended, the silence in your apartment felt just as cold as his void.

—

unbeknownst to you, he was okay.

at least that's what he said to max when he called saying cisca was worried about him. and thats what he said when he called his mom.

“i’m okay.”

but he knew there was nothing okay with him right now.

far away, in his silent retreat, a wave of coldness washed over him, and his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. that feeling in his chest was known: he was panicking.

it felt like the walls were closing in, a vice squeezing his chest tighter with every passing second. his hands trembled, fingers twitching as if searching for something to anchor him, to ground him in reality. he fought to keep his breathing steady, but the more he tried, the more elusive calm became. memories of your kiss haunted him—both a balm and a wound. how could something so beautiful leave him feeling so lost?

what if i’m not enough for her? he thought

a tight knot of fear formed in his stomach, mingling with the ache of longing. was he really ready for this? for you? for love? the questions spiraled, colliding with the weight of his own expectations and the pressure of his career. he couldn’t shake the sense that he was on the brink of something monumental, yet all he felt was the crushing weight of uncertainty.

the doubt crept in, fueled by echoes of his past, whispers of inadequacy that had followed him through the years. he recalled the stinging memories of being told he wasn’t good enough, of moments when his efforts felt like they never quite measured up. every trophy he’d won and every incredible milestone he had achieved done little to silence those voices. instead, they morphed into an insidious belief that no matter how hard he tried, he would always be a step behind, always falling short.

what if she hates me?

with you, the stakes felt impossibly high. what if he couldn’t be the partner you deserved? what if the pressure of the spotlight overwhelmed him and drove you away? those thoughts twisted in his gut, feeding the anxiety that swelled within him. he imagined you in a world where he wasn’t there, finding someone who could offer you the stability and unwavering support he feared he lacked. the very thought crushed him, deepening the ache in his chest, as it reminded him of all the times he had to fight for validation, only to come up empty-handed.

he was scared of what loving you meant, terrified of failing you, terrified of failing himself. the weight of it all felt unbearable, a heavy blanket of dread that threatened to suffocate him.

what if i fail her?

lando was too scared, too anxious. with every breath, his lungs ached, and with every tear that gathered in his eyes, he felt weaker. it was as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice, the ground crumbling beneath him, and the vast unknown loomed below—a place filled with possibilities but also with the risk of falling into darkness. he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, trying to ground himself as the rising tide of emotions threatened to pull him under.

every heartbeat felt like a reminder of his vulnerability, a painful pulse that echoed the uncertainty gnawing at his core. he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something profound, yet all he could focus on was the suffocating fear of not being enough. the love he felt for you, so pure and intoxicating, was also a heavy burden, weighed down by his past failures and fears. the thought of letting you down, of not living up to the promise of what could be, sent chills racing down his spine.

she's too perfect, i'm a mess

as tears spilled over and streamed down his cheeks, he felt a mix of shame and desperation. lando had always prided himself on being strong, on facing challenges head-on, yet here he was—vulnerable and exposed, battling an internal storm that felt relentless. the very act of loving you felt like a gamble, one that he wasn't sure he was ready to take. would he be brave enough to step forward, to embrace the chaos of his heart, or would he retreat back into the safety of his own fears?

with every sob that escaped him, the overwhelming tide of emotion pulled him deeper, and he struggled to keep his head above water. the thought of calling you, of reaching out for the connection he craved, felt both necessary and terrifying. what if you saw him like this—raw, broken, and afraid? what if he could never find the words to explain what he felt, or worse, what if you saw him as nothing more than a disappointment?

what if she saw me for who i truly am?

taking a shaky breath, he reached for his phone thrown on the couch, sitting on it. his hands were still trembling as he dialed the only person, besides you, who he knew wouldn't judge, but understand him.

“hey, mate, how you doing?” max fewtrell greeted him with his usual easy grin, only for the smile to falter the second he took in lando’s state: tears streaked his face, his eyes swollen and red, his nose and cheeks raw from wiping at them. his lips, split and bloodied, told the story of how he’d been biting them all day. lando’s breath hitched in his throat, his words barely making it out.

“hey… mate, i—” he tried, but the lump in his throat choked him. lando couldn’t even speak.

“lando, what happened?” max said, his voice low and steady, concern etched across his face.

“i think i… i fucked things up with Y/N,” lando's voice cracked, desperation pouring from him as if his world was unraveling right there in front of max.

the sight in front of max sent a chill through his spine. lando's looks, disheveled, like he’d been pulling at it in frustration all day. his bright green eyes were dulled, sunken and rimmed with red. the bags beneath them were dark, a stark contrast against his pale skin. his hands trembled on his knees, unable to steady themselves. his chest heaved, like the panic was consuming him from the inside, leaving only a fragile shell of the person max had known for years.

lando wiped at his face, the back of his hand coming away wet. he shook his head, sinking deeper into the couch.

“we kissed, we slept together and i pushed her away, max. i—i could’ve stayed. i could’ve—” his breath caught again, ragged and uneven. “but i left with no explanation. i went up and left her there, max… i’m so stupid.” he cried out.

lando’s breath hitched, and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. his shoulders shook, and a sob escaped him, raw and unfiltered. he hadn’t felt this way in a long time—like he was too broken to be loved.

"max, i’m a mess," he whispered, his voice cracking. "i couldn’t stay, i couldn’t even look at her this morning because… because she deserves better. i mean, look at me," he gestured to himself, his hands trembling. “i’m fucked up, max. i couldn’t even say the words, couldn’t even be honest. how can i be with her when i don’t even know what’s going on in my own head?”

max’s brows furrowed, his face softening as he listened. lando looked like he was spiraling, and it hurt max to see his best friend like this—feeling like he didn’t deserve something good because he was caught in his own storm.

“lando, mate,” max started, carefully choosing his words, “you’re not as messed up as you think you are. yeah, you’ve got stuff going on, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve her, or that you don’t deserve to be happy. and running away from her because you think you’re too broken for her… that’s not the answer.”

lando shook his head, wiping at his eyes, his voice trembling as he spoke. “but i am broken, max. i don’t even know how to deal with my own shit, let alone someone else’s. she’s this… this amazing person, and i’m just… i’m just me. she deserves someone who has it all figured out, not someone who’s going to bolt the second things get real.”

max let out a breath, leaning forward a bit. “no one has it all figured out, lando. not me, not her, not anyone. she’s not expecting you to be perfect, she’s expecting you to be real with her. that’s all. and yeah, maybe you’re not in the best place right now, but you can’t let that be the reason you push her away.”

lando let the words sink in, but it didn’t ease the heaviness inside him. “i left because i thought… i thought i’d hurt her more by staying. i didn’t want her to see me like this. i didn’t want her to see how much of a mess i am.”

“but by leaving, you hurt her anyway,” max said gently. “because she cares about you. and if you care about her too, you’ve got to let her in, even if it’s messy, even if you don’t have all the answers. it’s okay to not have everything together, lando. it’s okay to be scared. but you can’t run from this.”

lando swallowed hard, staring at the floor, his fingers gripping the edge of the couch until his knuckles turned white. max was right. he had run—run because he didn’t think he was good enough, run because the idea of her seeing all his cracks terrified him.

“but what if i can’t do it? what if i let her down again?” lando’s voice was barely audible now, thick with doubt.

max’s expression softened even more. “then you figure it out, together. but you’ve got to give her the chance to make that choice. don’t decide for her that you’re not good enough. let her in. let her see you, even the parts you’re scared to show. that’s how you build something real.”

lando’s breath came in short, shallow bursts, his heart pounding in his chest. the thought of opening up like that—to be fully seen, in all his messiness, all his vulnerability—scared him more than any race ever had. but the thought of losing Y/N, of pushing her away because of his own fear… that scared him even more.

“yeah, sure,” lando whispered, his voice hoarse. “i need to talk to her. i need to fix this.”

max smiled softly, relief flickering in his eyes. “yeah, mate. you do.”

after bidding his best friend farewell, lando sat and tried to calm himself down by pressing his fingers with exposed raw flesh due to the fact he had gnawed at his own hands out of anxiety. he had to come up with something to make it up to you. he needed to.

TAGGINGS: @meglouise00 @rawr-123s-stuff

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Macaque falls in love with one sided reader ; was so good !!

Sorry, I'm just a sucker for the guy. Seriously love reading your fics !!

I was wondering if your still accepting requests; would it be ok if I request yandere destiny one who’s fallen in love with his companion only thing it’s one sided (got this idea while replaying the game/spider family ) please 💗

The Stone Monkey, the Shell of the Great Sage, was gone. The Destined One, your friend, had inherited his rightful place as the new Monkey King.

You, in joyful tears, had hugged him close to you, feeling a wave of relief and happiness. His arms held you close to him, just like every time, feeling the knowledge that, finally, there was nothing between you and him.

"You did it! You really did it!"

"Yes... I DID... now we—"

"Now you can bring me back home!"

Suddenly every sound stopped to exist. The sunset seemed to stop; even the waves had long gone, and his face was stopped in a shocked expression.

"You...I...what?"

"Like you promised! And you can bring happiness to your people!"

His eyes couldn't hold your faithful gaze, opting to just look at his own feet. He then raised it again, clouded by a veil of sadness and anxiety; his voice trembled when he reached his hand towards you."I... I thought you wanted to stay... with me... You can't just leave! Not now!""..." You sighed; you expected a reaction such as this one, and you knew that you would have found some hardship in trying to find the right words."Yuán Fèn... I... I would love to stay here with all of you... but I need to leave... I have a home, a family!""You can have one here too! With me, Bajie, with everybody! You can't leave!"He was almost screaming, gesturing towards the old pig that had stopped his joyful series of jumps when he noticed the sudden change of atmosphere there, now looking worried towards you both."I'll always treasure this adventure we had... but Yuán Fèn, we had a promise...""I don't care!" He screamed, showing his sharp teeth, "And I don't know how to spend you back!"

"...But... I thought..."

His eyes couldn't hold your faithful gaze, opting to just look at his own feet. He then raised it again, clouded by a veil of sadness and anxiety; his voice trembled when he reached his hand towards you.

"I... I thought you wanted to stay... with me... You can't just leave! Not now!"

"..." You sighed; you expected a reaction such as this one, and you knew that you would have found some hardship in trying to find the right words.

"Yuán Fèn... I... I would love to stay here with all of you... but I need to leave... I have a home, a family!"

"You can have one here too! With me, Bajie, with everybody! You can't leave!"

He was almost screaming, gesturing towards the old pig that had stopped his joyful series of jumps when he noticed the sudden change of atmosphere there, now looking worried towards you both.

"I'll always treasure this adventure we had... but Yuán Fèn, we had a promise..."

"I don't care!" He screamed, showing his sharp teeth, "And I don't know how to send you back!"

Your calm and gentle smile disappeared, a shiver of fear by that knew, and his face, contorted in a half snarl, made your knee bend a little.

"You... you don't... No, no, no, you HAVE TO KNOW!"

You started to panic; your breath got shorter and shorter in your lungs. 

"We... we have... we have to find someone that can! ERLANG! He must know how!"

Suddenly, two strong hands grasped you by your shoulder. He turned you around so quickly that you didn't exactly register what was happening, just two glowing suns burning right in your face.

"YOU CAN'T LEAVE! DON'T YOU GET IT?! I..." His breath calmed down, and the two subs slowly started to make space for his old gentles brown eyes. "I... love you... I love you, Y/n... so dearly..."

His gentle tone was like it was coated in honey; his desperation leaked from his trembling hands. But what you heard...to you was just...not right...

"... Yuán Fèn and I... we're friends... nothing more..."

Those words...

Those words were worse than every other kind of weapon that he had fought with you...for you!

How could that be real?! He believed that, after all those months, you were feeling the same things as him! Why?! Why didn't you?!

Who could have believed that a few words could actually send him into such a rage?

"NO..."

His grip became stronger and painful, his entire body slowly dragging you down, without even flinching when you tried to break free from his grasp. His hands slowly changing area, now holding your neck with such a force that you started to panic like never before.

"I love you... and I know you do too... I can't LET you leave; I WON'T!"

And while your uncle started to lose force for the lack of oxygen, his eyes slowly started to the Golden Circle, a glittering light in the waters.

Bajie had witnessed all, in his horror, by the monkey strangled you enough to make you pass out, to his hands that you trusted so much forever binding you with the tiara, now around your neck like the collar that it was.

///

"For sure his...devotion to her had reached levels...beyond sanity, young friend..." The child spoke, looking. Worried about the mountain, where the festivities of a wedding were taking place.

The whine of a dog came from deep in the bushes; a dark mantle covered someone hiding in the shadows of the tree.

"But..." The child spoke again. "I'm guessing you won't LET the situation slip, do you?"

The gleam of a spear shines by the touch of one sun ray.

@blackknight-kai

[lovelykhaleesiii]

My Best Girl

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Best Friend's Dad!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader [Modern AU]

WORDS: 1,200.

SUMMARY: Your best friend from University, had been begging all year long for you to join her back in her home town to spend the holidays with her family. Being the loyal friend you are, you thought it would be the decent thing to do...

WARNINGS: age-gap implies (consensual & legal, reader is 18+, Jahaera aged up), innocence kink, praise kink, degradation kink, Daddy kink, p in v sexual intercourse, edging, cream pie, breeding kink (if you squint), slight dub-con, thigh riding implied, jealous!aegon, possessive!aegon, swearing.

A/N - thanks to the wonderful, talented, beautiful @valeskafics who planted this AU in my head... I have plunged deep into a dilf!Aegon rot. ily bby xx

You had no intention of ever sparking a relationship over the holiday period, let alone with an older man... That just so happened to be your best friend's father.

Jaheara Targaryen, you had fondly grown acquainted with over your undergraduate semesters in University: so enraptured by each other, she practically was begging for you to join her over the holiday period: saving you from spending a lonesome, seldom time alone on campus.

The moment you laid eyes on her beloved father, Aegon Targaryen, you felt your heart beat halt, breath hitched in your throat, and a rather odd yearning ignited between the sweet spot between your thighs.

He was a rather handsome man, you could no deny: his unique features had softened with adipose, yet his age had shown, along with whatever hardships he had faced. Scarring across his brow, beneath his eye socket, and yet he exuded a formidable presence, it somewhat intimidated you.

You struggled to even maintain eye contact, doe eyes constantly fluttering from the larger man before you, to your scuttling feet, before Jahaera dragged you away into the privacy of her own room.

You subtly attempted to pry, asking singular questions about her father, in which Jahaera would mindlessly respond with a swift response.

A divorcee, his relationship with Jahaera's biological mother had been tense from the beginning, incompatible. She did disclose he had many flings, occupied with one night stands and frequented by regular women of the neighbourhood, yet did not dare to settle, for whatever reason.

That is until, you had mindlessly wandered off venturing the opulent double-storey, before abruptly being surprised by Aegon's presence in the kitchen during the later hours of the night.

"And what might a pretty girl like you be doing wandering in the dark, hmm?"

Your mind rushing with fleeting, blank thoughts, moments later you found yourself being effortlessly lifted onto the counter top, rutting your aching, soaked cunt against his sturdy, meaty thigh, before he would taunt and tease your silky folds with his tip. Burying his dense girth inside of you, stretching your walls like no man has ever.

Since that surreal night, awake the next few days as if you lived through a vivid, fever dream: your relationship blossomed with your best friend's father, in discrete.

Aegon relished in how flustered and bothered you get, even with the faintest motions, such as close proximity, his overpowering musky scent intoxicating you with each inhale: making you weak in the knees, and butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach.

Regardless, of the age difference you both shared similar interests in films, attitudes and romance.

Aegon devoured your innocence: despite having been in previous relationships, your innocence in trusting him to take the lead, to protect you and be intimate with you, reinforced his belief in you.

He took you seriously from the beginning: having the decency to not treat you like some mindless, young fling.

Your vulnerability towards him, drove him mad: as he felt a responsibility towards you.

In return, you favored his wisdom, with life and in the bed. He taught you how to really please a man.

He would often praise you: admiring your beauty, your intelligence and demeanor. Although, in the end he was somewhat of a youth, relishing in teasing you, making logic cease as he fucked you senseless.

"My good, little whore so greedy for a Daddy, she took her best friend's, huh? Daddy's gonna have to punish you for that little stunt. Thinking you can come in here looking fucking ravenous."

Regardless of Aegon's intent to care, his sex and affections were rough. Manhandling you, spanking you till your cheeks remained red and raw with tenderness for days [certain his handprint was strewn across your flesh], gripping and pulling your hair with such force. He needed to instil some fear, a mutual understanding as he preferred to call it, that you could not go anywhere now without his knowledge.

When you both weren’t being intimate, he enjoyed our company, having you mount and straddle his thigh and lap. Watching him attend to work, answering phone calls, getting so riled up when he was arguing with his correspondents. You had come to realise, Aegon had a rather quick and fierce temper.

Many times, Jaehaera pleaded and fought with her father to take you out to the local city clubs both in the company of her hometown friend [males present] and without, and time after time, he stubbornly denied the two of you from leaving the premises.

Overtime, he refused the idea of you having male companions and friends.

“I know what boys are like at that age baby, they don’t want to be just friends… You’re mine now, and I don’t like to share.”

Jahaera frustrated and uncertain of his motive would excuse herself, and recluse in her room, leaving you pampered and dolled up for Aegon's own undoing.

He enjoyed watching you from afar pampering yourself: "dolling yourself up for Daddy, baby? Always lookin' so beautiful, I need to keep you running around her for my own viewing."

The moment the word slipped your vile tongue, was the moment something snapped in Aegon, that made him cement his feelings for you... Daddy.

He favored the moment, demanding you obey his every command, moaning heavy breaths for you to repeat yourself in a constant loop, directly into his ear.

He wanted you to acknowledge him as almost your savior. Considering him almost god-like which, you faintly had.

Another niche about your elder boyfriend: he purely enjoyed in fucking you raw, no protection, as he craved to feel you.

"Baby this ain't my first rodeo, I'll pull out okay. I'll get you the pill if I have to--"

"Good cause I still have two years to go, and I don't think J-Jahaera would appreciate this-"

"But your already such a slut for me, taking me so fucking well and perfect, she brought you on a platter for me, knowing damn well I couldn't resist... Surely?!"

Regardless, Aegon's attempts at hiding the affair would occasionally plunder: sending you "anonymous" gifts through the mail, of wealthy jewels, the finest material of laundrette and perfumes.

Countless times Jahaera poorly attempted to pry the truth from your sealed lips: she knew that you were seeing someone, just not who...

When it came to returning to campus: you would often exchange raunchy pictures: Aegon was poorly tech-savy in comparison to you: so a dick pic and video at most, was all he could provide.

You however, thrived off online. Sending him nude pics of yourself [this was a first], only to be showered with compliments, before Aegon would request to video call you: jerking himself feverishly as he ached to feel your tight walls swallowing his dick.

You nearly got caught by Jahaera, lurking his social media and the texts, before coming up with a reasonable excuse.

You would be the first to say "I love you" hesitant and all, Aegon however, had no shame to admit it. The words fell naturally off of his plump lips.

And so, Aegon's intent with you surpassed the theatrics of his previous licentious behaviours. He is obsessed with you!

general taglist - @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1 @aegonslawyer

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @jawline-of-steel @daughter-of-the-stars11

[frantic-fiction]

Reunions

(Pic: lovelybluebirdie) I cropped it a bit

Astarion x gn!reader, Astarion x reincarnated!Tav

Summary: A few months after reconnecting to your past life as Tav, a party is set to meet the rest of the group. You're nervous, worried about not living up to who you once were. Will you be enough?

This is a little part 2 of I'll Find My Way Back to You

Notes/ Warning: Pretty much just fluff. Reader is insecure. Astarion is a supportive partner. I kept all 6 origin characters alive because it's my story and I don't want to imagine any of them dead. Also, Halsin's here cause druids live to be like a thousand or whatever.

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

You're not panicking. Why would you be? It's not like you're meeting a group of people you've only met in dreams—a group of strangers you've painted for the better part of your existence- a family forged through hardship from a past life you're still trying to remember fully.

No, you're not panicking. You're not scared that the people who are so excited to see you will not like what they see. You're not terrified the family Astarion has helped you remember will look at you disappointed once they realize you are no longer the Tav they once knew. You're not worried at all. Not. One. Bit.

You spent the afternoon cleaning the house from top to bottom. It was sparkling, and your fingers ached from the hours of scrubbing you filled in the restless day with. No surface was left untouched. Bookshelves were dusted, baseboards were spotless, and even the top of the cupboards, where no one would ever see, were wiped down. The floors were swept and mopped three times now, but you keep finding spots you missed. Astarion even physically stopped you from scaling the roof to clean the chimney when you ran out of things to occupy yourself with.

There's a roast in the oven, potatoes, and veggies cooking alongside it, and a pie cooling on the counter. You wanted to cook more, but you were worried that not everyone would like blueberries or that someone had turned to a plant-based diet. Astarion quickly reminded you that they used to eat food out of dusty barrels and mildewed chests.

Currently, you stand in front of your floor-length mirror. Astarion is out on a quick hunt before the party arrives, leaving you to obsess over your thoughts of inadequacy. The majority of your closet littered the floor. You're scrutinizing a simple tunic and legging combo. Was it too simple? Should you wear something more eye-catching?

You're trying to remember what Tav would have worn. All you can recall is blood-stained armor and simple camp clothes. But this occasion garners something more. Fuck. Stripping off the current outfit, you replace it with an almost identical one and look at yourself in the mirror again. You weren't sure what you expected, maybe to magically love this pair of pants and old tunic. But in reality, you were just as frustrated and worried.

The clothes weren't the problem, you knew that, but it was easier to be pissed at a blouse than to accept that you were scared. You were frightened to face Astarion and Tav's friends. You have Tav's memories and feel an odd kinship with these people. But you weren't Tav, and you would never be them, at least not entirely.

You felt like an imposter to try and convince anyone otherwise. Tears of frustration and disappointment in yourself began to trail down your cheeks. How could a silly artist hold a candle to the kind and heroic savior of Baldur's Gate? You glared at yourself, wishing things could have been different.

You jump when you feel cold arms wrap around your torso and a warm kiss at the nape of your neck. Astarion loved to use his lack of reflection to sneak up on you. You, on the other hand, hated it. Still, you found yourself leaning back into his firm chest.

"Hello, my love,"

You try to stop the pathetic sniffle, but it's useless. Astarion turns you in his arms and cups your jaw. "Darling," is all he says because he knows. Of course, he knows.

That simple pet name causes the floodgates to open, and you crumple into Astarion's chest, nuzzling his neck. He tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body. Astarion lets you cry, knowing how nervous you've been for this meetup.

He rubs soft circles on the small of your back and peppers kisses to the crown of your head. "You can talk to me,"

"W-what if they don't li-like me?"

Astarion moves you both to the bed, skirting around the mess you made. He sits down and pulls you onto his lap to look you in the eyes better. "Why wouldn't they love you?" He prompts, not wanting to push you.

"Star, you know why. I'm not Tav," you hiccup, and you're positive the words you're speaking are incoherent. "I have their memories and some of their mannerisms and…and I'm also allergic to bees, but I'm not them. What if they hate me because I'm not Tav."

Astarion pecks your lips to halt your panicked words. He wipes the tears from your damp face. "No, you are not Tav, but they are part of you. They live in your art, laugh, and kind heart."

"But wha-"

"Let me finish, my love," Astarion smiles, brushing some hair behind your ear. "No one expects you to be Tav. We all love them deeply, but Tav's gone." He swallows hard, the words still hard to voice for him.

Astarion kisses your forehead, then your cheek, and continues to pepper kisses over your face, catching stray tears. "They just want to get to know the beautiful artist I fell in love with. Gale's big mouth might have let them know more about our history than I would have liked, but that doesn't change anything."

"And if they don't like the person you fell in love with?" You ask softly.

"Then fuck all of them. I love you, and if they don't love you as well, then they have no place in my life." His eyes pierce deep into yours, and there's no denying the truth of his words. You are overcome with a wave of love for your vampire and kiss him softly once more. "Now come, my love, by the smell, your roast is done."

"Shit!" You jump off his lap and rush out of the room, self-doubt pushed to the side.

*

The roast is fine if slightly burnt on the top. It looked juicy and smelled amazing. The vegetables are mush, but the potatoes are tender and seasoned well. It's not your best meal, but there's nothing you can do to fix it now. You left it on the counter to rest and found Astarion in the living room.

He was rehanging one of your paintings- the one you drew late last year after waking up in a cold sweat. It was a complete picture of the party standing on a dock overlooking the Grey Harbor just as the sun rose above the horizon. Astarion helps you fill in the gaps, telling you that this followed the fall of the Absolute.

"What are you doing?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest and leaning against the wall. You had hidden away most of your art, too embarrassed by the sheer number of canvases depicting the guest due here any minute.

Astarion finishes hanging the painting above the fireplace and turns to you. "I liked this one and thought I'd put it back."

Before you could say anything, there was a knock at the door. Your stomach instantly dropped, and your heart beat hard in your chest. As if sensing your rising anxiety, Astarion moved to your side, his large palm finding the small of your back.

He swiftly kisses your cheek. "One word and I'll throw them all out."

Astarion leaves you and walks to answer the door. Your palms are sweating, and you rub them down your thighs. You take a few deep breaths and pace the room. Not knowing what else to do, you idly fluff up the decorative pillows of the couch and stall.

"Pull yourself together." You mumbled under your breath. You hear the sounds of multiple footsteps, and you know they're all here.

Why did Astarion request for them to arrive all at once? You're still not sure. But you're suddenly very pissed at him for his decision. Having all of them looking upon you like an art exhibit terrifies you.

"My dear," Astarion pokes his head into the room, a warm smile adorning his sharp features. "Would you like to meet our guest?"

You swallowed hard and nodded. Putting on a brave smile, you rounded the couch and reached for Astarion's hand. Threading his fingers with yours, you curled around his arm like a lifeline.

Moving out into the foyer, you shyly look at the group before you. Gale, given the circumstances of your and Astarion's meeting, you had already met. He had relentlessly bothered Astarion until an introduction was made between you and the wizard. But you've only seen the others in the paintings you've made and the dreams you've seen.

Karlach bounced on her feet, Wyll smiling brightly behind her left shoulder. Haslin stood by the door, a beautifully sculpted wooden bear in his arms. Shadowheart stood beside him, her face passive but relaxed and almost pleased. Lae'zel was the farthest from the group, brooding in the corner, looking at you suspiciously. Still, she even loosened her tense shoulders and stepped forward upon your entry.

"Um, hi." You waved meekly, giving them your name, cringing when your voice cracked.

It's quiet for a moment too long, and you're a step away from fleeing when Karlach skips over to you.

"Can I hug you?!" She almost yells, shaking her fists excitedly.

"Karlach!" Astarion scolds. The Tiefling had, by the looks of it, broken a rule he had set for your comfort.

"Sorry, sorry." Karlach's smile fades, and she moves to retreat. Your heart clenches, and it's like your body moves on instinct. You detach from Astarion before you can think, and then your arms are around her waist. Her scalding heat seeps into your bones and listen to the cranks of her engine.

"Hi Karlach," you whispered into her torso. The wind squeezed from your body, and your feet were off the ground.

"It's nice to finally meet you! The letters fangs write didn't do you justice."

Quickly, the group connects like magnets. Wyll crowds in and hugs you from behind, pressing you closer to Karlach. Gale piles on after, then Halsin. Shadowheart nudges her way between the men and apologizes on behalf of everyone but gives you an equally tight squeeze. The group even wrangles Astarion and Lae'zel into this group hug.

These people are supposed to be strangers, but having them close, seeing this family you've watched through someone else's memories for most of your life right before you. It fills you with familiar warmth and affection and has tears of joy in your eyes. You might not be Tav, not entirely, but you still have a place in this little family.

"Um…excuse me, I can't breathe." You squeak out after a moment of suffocation, and the group is quick to disperse.

Wiping away the lingering dampness from your cheek, you take a moment to compose yourself, clearing your throat with a subtle grace. Your hand instinctively finds its way back, and Astarion swiftly recovers it, his touch reassuring. Soft circles dance on the back of your hand, a silent question lingering in his gaze, seeking affirmation that you're all right. You respond with a nod and a comforting squeeze of his hand.

"Ah, well…" you chuckle with a hint of self-awareness. "I have a roast with everyone's names on it. And a blueberry pie; Astarion found a wild patch on one of his hunts."

"Thank the gods, I'm famished," Wyll sighs, his appetite evident as he sniffs the air dreamily. A nudged Karlach sets the communal movement toward the dining room in motion.

Astarion emerges with the wine, gracefully pouring glasses of red for everyone. Gale, the sole visitor to your home beforehand, takes charge of the table settings. With a flick of his fingers and a whispered incantation, plates and silverware align harmoniously. The stage set, the food emerges, and the night takes flight.

It feels like a cinematic scene picking up where it had once paused, a seamless continuation. Laughter weaves through the air, stories unfold, and even the occasional argument dissolves into a chorus of joyous laughter. Though new and fresh, the conversation flows as naturally as breathing. Strangers evolve into friends, and amidst the clinking of glasses, a familial bond begins to sprout. Tav was indeed fortunate to have these beautiful souls around.

As the night bids farewell and everyone departs, you find solace curled up against Astarion. His voice, a gentle undercurrent, softly reads from his newest book, and you gaze up, fixated on the beautiful man before you. A silent expression of gratitude graces your lips, an unspoken acknowledgment directed at Tav. Thanks for giving you a family and the love of your life.

Astarion's fingers scratch your scalp, tenderly coaxing your eyes closed. "What are you thinking about, little love?"

"Just how lucky I am."

"I would argue I'm the lucky one, but I suppose we can share," he smiles; he continues to read to you and massage your scalp until you're puddy against his body, sleep having all but consumed you. The night settles into a tranquil symphony, the warmth of shared love lingering in the serenity.

Okay I know it was a bit cheesy, but I needed so fluffy shit today. Anyway, tell me what you thought I love talking with y'all.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna, marina-and-the-memes

[akagm]

The Tragic (and Hilarious) Origin of Spam Emails: A Prince’s Desperate Attempt to Save His Kingdom—And His Bank Account

After years of painstaking research, a ridiculous amount of tears, and the questionable decision to send $100,000 to an email address that clearly had too many underscores, I have finally cracked the mystery that has haunted us all: the origin of the spam email scam. The road to discovery was paved with hardship, frustration, and way too many emails offering “a once-in-a-lifetime investment opportunity.” And while I’ve been receiving threats from questionable princes promising to transfer me “millions” from their non-existent estates, I won’t let spam stop me now. You deserve the truth, reader. And here it is: it all started in a far-off kingdom with a prince who couldn’t email his way out of a paper bag.

Our story begins in an ancient kingdom that’s now so long gone it’s practically a myth. The kingdom, once full of riches and splendor, met its untimely demise during an uprising known as the Red Sealing. Ah, yes, the Red Sealing. Not to be confused with the much less dramatic “Blue Resealing” (which is just an old-fashioned way of fixing broken pottery), the Red Sealing was a full-blown disaster. But let’s rewind a little, shall we?

In the midst of this doomed kingdom, there lived a housekeeper named Ms. Enohor, who was reading a story to her charge, young Egbo, the second son of the king. Prince Urhie, Egbo’s older brother and heir to the throne, strolled in and was promptly greeted by his younger sibling asking, “Do you know this story, Urhie?”

With all the wisdom of a prince who’d probably never had to deal with anything more complicated than royal etiquette, Urhie smiled and said, “Indeed. When I was your age, I would have Ms. Enohor tell me this story every day. It inspired me. The King had everything, but the only thing that mattered to him was his people. One day, I too will be a king just like that.”

Ms. Enohor chuckled in a way that implied she had heard this very speech a hundred times before, and then—bam. The kingdom’s last moment of peace ended with the deafening sound of what could only be described as a chaotic disaster outside.

Cue the dramatic soundtrack as a guard bursts in and shouts, “The castle is under attack! It’s the Red Seal!” The royal family, who clearly had more pressing matters to attend to, like, I don’t know, running for their lives, decided instead to have a family meeting. Prince Urhie, being the “we’ve got this” kind of guy, immediately thought through his options, which seemed to boil down to one thing: money.

“I’ll be damned if they get to our people,” Urhie declared dramatically, just before doing what any sensible prince would do: pulling out a laptop. Yes, in the midst of a full-on rebellion, Prince Urhie decided the best course of action was to send an email. Forget the swords and shields—this guy was going digital.

In an attempt to save his family’s wealth, Urhie typed what would go down in history as the very first spam email:

Subject: Urgent: Kingdom Under Attack—Help Me Secure Our Family’s Fortune

“My name is Urhie Sucker, and I am a Prince from my home country. My family’s kingdom is currently being raided by a faction attempting to overthrow us. I would be in your debt if you could hold on to our money while we deal with these invaders. Once I get my money back from you, I will give you 20% of it. Please email me back with your debit card number, expiration date, and security code so I can transfer.

Your friend in the prince business.”

Spoiler alert: The money was never transferred. The kingdom was raided, the family was overthrown, and Urhie’s email never reached its recipient. But, as they say, “The seeds of a scam were sown that day.”

While the kingdom fell, this single email lived on as historians eventually found his laptop. Once this story got out- thieves everywhere saw the potential in Urhie’s pitch, and it quickly became the blueprint for every “Nigerian Prince” scam to follow. And so, my friends, the floodgates were opened. Fast forward centuries, and here we are, bombarded daily by emails promising untold riches from relatives we didn’t know we had and inheritances we definitely didn’t deserve.

But let’s not forget Urhie, who unknowingly set the stage for an entire industry of digital con artists. I implore you: the next time you get an email asking for your bank details in exchange for an obscene amount of money, just know that it’s all because of one clueless prince, a laptop, and an email address that clearly wasn’t verified by anyone at tech support.

Gone but not forgotten—Urhie Sucker.

And remember, folks: always double-check the sender’s email address. And maybe, just maybe, don’t send $100,000 to someone you’ve never met, even if they sound like a prince.

[robbinghisdick]

"Good afternoon, baby boy!" Wade cheerily greets, swinging himself over the back of the couch and dropping himself hard into Logan's lap. The older man grunts slightly, but doesn't push Wade off as the man pulls up his mask just enough to plant an exaggerated kiss on his cheek. "Where have you been all day?"

Now that he had gotten a good look at Logan's face... something was off.

Logan was quiet for a moment, considering. "Well, you know how I've been feeling sick lately?" He asked. Pain was nothing new for him. The weight of his bones and poison from the adamantium made sure to keep his body in some level of pain. One thing his healing factor prevented was illness. If he managed to get sick, he didn't stay sick for very long.

"Yeah and I said, "you should get that checked out" and you grumbled and whined like a dog being taken to the vet?"

Logan rolled his eyes and continued, "Well, turns out I'm pregnant."

It was one of those rare times Wade was rendered silent. The mask also made it annoyingly impossible to get a good read on his face.

Wade, meanwhile, was trying to gauge whether or not this was a good thing. Logan didn't seem particularly happy.

"How the fuck did we manage that?" Wade asked. "I mean, it's not like my cancer ridden body makes healthy little swimmers and you said the adamantium poisoning rendered you infertile."

"According to the doc, unless I literally don't have a uterus, there's always a freak chance," Logan sighed, leaning heavily back into the couch and running his hands over his face. "It doesn't matter either way. We can't have a baby."

Logan waited to see if Wade would agree or disagree with him. He found himself half tempted to rip the mask off so he could get a better read on him.

Who's to say the baby would even make it to term, and what then if it did? Have two dads who's lives were marked by death and tragedy? Two guys with a list of enemies a mile long and would target a kid without thinking twice? Their lives were messy and dangerous, they couldn't bring a kid into that.

There were a million reasons why they shouldn't bring a baby into the world, but that was all too much weight for Wade. "I mean, you're right, but like, what if it develops the wolverine claws in the womb and bursts out of your stomach alien-style? That'd be kinda cool."

Logan's nose crinkled in disgust, nearly shuddering at that mental image. "That's horrific, thanks."

Wade just grinned, cupping Logan's face with both hands and kissing him.

"But seriously, whatever you think is best."

...

Later that night, Logan stared up at the ceiling fan, the blade whirling at full blast because Wade insisted on snuggling despite how hot both of them ran. He was splayed out like the world's most clingy starfish, head on Logan's chest. It was clear he was still awake too as one of his fingers idly tracing over Logan's arm. This quiet, domestic routine had become the norm.

When Logan thought about it, they were truly in a better place than they had ever been before. Logan had a home and family. The mansion was a home, but this one was his. One he chose to share with Wade. He had friends who loved him, a partner that stuck with him no matter how grumpy he got. Hell, he wasn't even drinking or smoking as much as he used to.

There were still battles and hardships, but never before had there been such a strong sense of support and community.

Logan was... happy.

"Wade?"

"Hm?"

"I..." he trailed off, unsure. "I think I actually want to have the baby." He couldn't particularly explain it. For years he fought against being put in a fatherly role when it came to all the young mutants he had met and looked after. Somehow, though, the thought of going on that journey of parenthood with Wade actually seemed kind of exciting. He loved that man more than he'd ever be able to put into words.

Wade sat up so fast it made Logan flinch.

"Oh thank FUCK!" He exclaimed, reaching over and turning on the bedside lamp while he straddled Logan's lap. His eyes pratically sparkled as he looked down at Logan. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Logan stared back up, surprised. "Wait, you wanted to keep the baby?"

"Of COURSE I want to have a little baby wolverine with you!" Wade waved his hands as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Like, yeah I think we're probably not the best parent material in the world and Jesus the CHRIST is it terrifying, but I wanna be dad."

"Why the fuck did you not say anything earlier?!"

"I'm not the one carrying it!" Wade shot back. "Besides, I never thought I'd have kids anyways, so not exactly a deal breaker, sweetheart." He patted Logan on the cheek. "Also, you know how many orphaned and abandoned mutants we run into? We always had a chance. If only Laura were younger, coulda started there."

Laura was an adult by the time Wade came into Logan's as a romantic partner. She was still young, but not a kid that needed parents to look after her.

"So... we're gonna have a baby?" Wade asked, a grin on his face.

"We're gonna have a baby."

Wade surged forward to kiss Logan, enthusiasm rubbing off on him as he smiled against Wade's lips. His face was peppered with more kisses and whispered "God I love you so much."

When Wade calmed down a fraction, Logan had to bring him down a bit more. "I'm only a few months along, we don't know if the baby will even make it," he reminded him. So many things could go wrong it was terrifying.

"Nope! This little guy--gender neutral--is a little fighter!" Wade insisted, hand splaying over Logan's stomach. They're gonna make it and be beautiful, and then we get to name them something cool!"

Logan scoffed but couldn't keep the smile off his face. "We're not naming the baby after any of your cartoons."

"You are absolutely no fun," Wade pouted. "I'll sneak something by ya."

Logan just pulled Wade down into another kiss to shut him up.

...

((They name her Allura, from Voltron lmao.

Writing this has made me incredibly sad for reasons I'll say if asked, but decided not to say so y'all don't just get randomly sucker punched.

This is NOT movieverse, exactly, but just a vague timeline. Movieverse poolverine end up with the kid tho. Which you can read here.

ALSO YES I KNOW THIS IS THE 3RD BABY AU ON THIS ACCOUNT. I have problem. I don't even want kids 😭))

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc

summary: truly, nothing can break Nadia’s soul.

warnings: cussing, outfit descriptions, slight angst, typos, it’s a long one 😭 click on the links, i’m watching you 🤨

wc: 6.4k

saint’s team radio 🎀: don’t beat me up y’all! this took more than forever and i am really sorry. hopefully this chapter brings you guys joy 🤭 thank you so much for all the love on renaissance so far! 🥹 i also want y’all to know that Nadia is a thick babe, when she wears shorts or mini skirts/dresses, it’s mini!!! just wanted to remind y’all!!!!

pls like, comment and reblog! 🫶🏽

renaissance: the series masterlist • general masterlist

-

The thin white thread from the duvet cover couldn't be any longer as Nadia continued to pull on it, clicking her nails together in the process. Her buzzing phone sat on the bed in front of her with the voice of her mother pressing her about the past week.

"I'm sure it wasn't easy being the trophy wife this weekend, people were going crazy this side." Her mother chuckled from the other end.

"Ma, you haven't spoken to me since I signed on that dotted line, you haven't checked up on me yet this is what you have to say to me after nearly 3 weeks without contact?" Nadia said with a strain in her voice.

"Oh come on. I was just giving you time to adjust to that fame you've always wanted and for the love of all that is good, cover up more. Do not need to see more than what I've already seen." Thembi said, not understanding how much she was hurting her daughter.

Quietly wiping her tears with her wrist, she thought back to how much peace she had before she called her mother.

The journey from South Africa to the uk had been a tough one when Nadia was much younger. Although the mother daughter pair had gone through hardships, they were as close as they could be. Residing in South London at the time had been a rollercoaster, from trying to fit in with the other kids to adapting to the new culture around her, it became easier thanks to friends she made along the way.

Within a year and a half of moving countries, Thembi announced to her daughter that they would be moving in with a new man, her 'friend' for the time being all the way in Stevenage. Nadia saw her mother's entire personality change the second the last box was dropped off by the movers, a new demeanour being shown off to the neighbours and a less kind version of her was shown to Nadia.

Conversations were barely there, hugs were rarely given and reassurance was never enough as opposed to the affection she would previously receive from before the move. Wanting to keep the positives on the surface, Nadia decided to distract herself from her feelings and continued to go to school with her old friends even if it meant travelling distances just to get away from her mother.

As Nadia grew older, so did the sudden change of attitude from her mother, finding the need to comment on everything she found wrong with Nadia. In rebellion, the girl would wear whatever would make her happy, get the tattoos she felt she needed and not spending as much time with her mother as she did before. When university opened, she hurried to move out, already planning her life out and visited her home country to find comfort in her family back home, her cousin Rea becoming a younger sister to her.

However after uni, Thembi seeked therapy to better her relationship with her daughter. Happy to go back to the way it was before, their relationship became healthier and happier after years. What changed?

Sighing out, Nadia ignored her mother's harsh words. "When is Rea going to get there? You've cancelled her flight three times already."

"Only next week Thursday. Ooh tell me, has he bought you anything fancy yet?" Anyone could imagine the smug look on her mother's face as she asked the question.

"Bye mom. Greet James." Rolling her eyes, Nadia hung up and gently rubbed her eyes, getting rid of the tears with her knuckles. Texting Rea that she should rather move in with her, she let out a sigh at the thought of her mother's sudden phone call the day after the race.

Walking into the en-suite bathroom, she fixed up her light makeup with music playing from her phone. Lewis had texted her earlier that he would be going on a run, not too sure what Nadia would want to do during the day before their trip to Malibu. She blinked the tears back whilst tilting her head backward to avoid them falling once again.

The cold tiles of the bathroom were cooling off the high temperature of her body, mainly from all the emotions and the overall heat in Miami. All she wanted to do was leave Miami and curl up in her bed - her old bed. The one she would lay on after an incredibly long day of teaching high schoolers. The one that had her plushies that she was gifted by her students. The one where she could be lying in at that very moment but she decided to drive to her mom's house that fateful day.

Deactivating her social media accounts was a no go as instructed by Tia, saying the engagement was good and for her to keep it up, the public unfamiliar with the concept of a WAG speaking to people as if they've been friends for decades. Having not gone too far into the mean and hateful comments, Nadia gets chills just thinking about it. How she's perceived by the world now with her newfound fame. One she did not ask for but she was willing to help her new friend.

That's all he was. A friend. Right?

Not realising she had zoned out and begun picking on her old acne scars, she hadn't heard her hotel room door open, a slightly breathless Lewis stood in the bathroom doorframe watching her pick at her skin whilst looking at a specific tile.

"Nads?" He called out but the girl still hadn't heard anything. Wiggling his neon sneakers on his feet within her vision, she snapped out of it, her eyes widening at the sight of him there. "Oh, hi." She greeted, voice as soft as silk as she looked at the man once then back to the mirror to avoid eye contact. "Everything okay?" He asked, wiping his forehead for any sweat left.

Nadia nodded, packing up her mini makeup bag from the marble counter, jewellery jangling as she zipped it up. "Just woke up a little weird and hungry, that's all. Are you good?" She responded, giving a half smile and she finally maintained eye contact with him.

"Yeah. Yeah, the run was good and ready for the day." He answered, feeling her energy yet just not sure where to put it between sadness or anger. "Still very proud of P2 yesterday, it was insane to see that live." She added, the gold grills matching her jewellery perfectly. Very casually dressed with a tired look in her eyes.

"Nads, are you sure you're good? Have you had breakfast?" He moved to the side as he watched her leave the bathroom with heavy footsteps. "The heat is killing me, not used to such and I was going to wait til the plane for something. Got too nervous to order room service." She slightly chuckled to herself, feeling a slight twist in her stomach.

Not wanting to upset her, he just gave her a look with his eyebrows a little raised and that made her crack. "Oh my days, don't look at me like that. We can go for lunch or something, I don't know." She suggested, looking away from Lewis to avoid looking into his eyes.

"What if I was going to compliment your hair?" He joked and crossed his arms with a slight chuckle.

"Please, I know that look from anywhere. I give it to my kids all the time." Nadia said while rolling her eyes, a soft smile on display. "Now let me change. The room's got stuffy air so we need to take a step outside." She shooed him away as she walked into the bathroom once again and closed the door with a huge smile.

Left standing in awe of her, Lewis shook his head as he headed out of her hotel room to change up for their outing.

-

The cold granadilla slushy had been freezing up Nadia's hand but she couldn't care less, the heat in Miami unbearable to no end. The pair sat in the back of the Escalade on the way to any mall nearby where Nadia could get some sandals, her feet suffocated by her sneakers.

Tia had advised them to travel by their allocated security cars because the streets of Miami were still buzzing with F1 fans, hungover or sober, hunting around for any f1 drivers that were around.

"Not that it isn't weird, it is, but I have to live with the fact that the women I have dreamed of styling one day know I exist and Pharrell too! Like my colleagues are blowing up my phone like crazy." Nadia emphasised, the slushy swishing around in her hand as she was talking.

Lewis could watch her talk for hours, even more when she was excited about something. He had thought that this weekend would be too much for Nadia with all the attention on her much more than the Grand Prix itself but the way she handled everything from the instagram posts to the multitude of introductions was incredible to watch.

She was graceful but with a spunk to her, expressing her personality to the friend group but not yet to the f1 media, wanting to get a bit more comfortable in that vicinity with Lewis by her side. Already seeing how she could get when someone were to wrong Lewis, the man was certain that they will get through this fake marriage with ease and fun, gaining a friendship within it.

"So what's your biggest goal with being a stylist? I haven't seen your work yet but I feel like it's phenomenal." He asked, smiling once he saw her roll her eyes at him.

"Phenomenal is a stretch but I'm trying to get like Law Roach or even work with a fashion house to be honest. I always wanted a way to show my work but I just never knew how to." She shrugged, taking a sip of the slushy.

"How about you style me for a few events and for a race or two?" He suggested.

"And take Eric's job? Are you crazy?" She stared at him with widened eyes and furrowed eyebrows but all he did was chuckle. "It'll be fun plus Eric knows already, he's more than excited for it." Lewis continued smiling, Nadia stared at him before releasing a sigh.

"When do I start?" She shook her head in disbelief, not believing what just happened. "Friday but the main brief is that we're sitting courtside." And like clockwork, he gave her a smile that she couldn't resist.

"You're just so full of surprises, aren't you? Let me find out there's more events you're hiding from me." Nadia said squinting her eyes at him, his cheeks eventually hurting from smiling at her.

"A magician never tells his tricks."

"Yeah yeah, Hamilton." Nadia replied, shaking her head once more as she got her purse ready, seeing the Miami Fashion District come into her view.

-

Pulling the bottom of her dress down constantly, she looked around at all the luxury stores that were never ending.

This wasn't the norm for her, she was hoping to see a much cheaper alternative than what was in front of her but she had to remember who she was in that very moment. She felt safe with two security detail walking stealthily behind them, her hands staying at the hem of her sundress.

"Your dress is okay, don't have to worry." Lewis leaned a little closer to her shoulder to whisper, sending back a reassuring smile. All she responded with was to hold his ring-clad hand in sign of appreciation.

Reaching Gucci, Nadia's first thought were those platform sandals she had seen on social media and in that exact moment, her mind went to the comfort she had been wanting since she hadn't packed any open shoes. Pulling him towards the store, everything in that store went quiet.

Sale associates just stopped and stared whilst costumers began whispering and muttering to themselves. Immediately spotting the sandals from afar, they walked slowly towards the shoe section of Gucci, trying to ignore all the eyes on them. From her peripheral vision, she could see someone speed walking towards them, fixing her uniform and her appearance once she reached the couple.

"Hello, welcome to Gucci. I'm Roni and I'll be your sales associate today." The woman introduced herself, looking straight at Lewis as she did.

"Nice to meet you, Roni. I'm Nadia and really we just came for a quick visit, hopefully get a few things whilst we're here." Nadia had on a bright smile as she spoke, the worker's smile fading as she looked at Nadia.

"Of course," Roni said, licking her teeth. "Where would you like to start? Perhaps dresses. It is a hot day in Miami." Looking at Nadia up and down with the slightest hint of disgust shown on her face, the woman continued to smile in her face.

Taken aback by the tone of her voice, Nadia just smiled and averted her gaze back to the shoe section. "It truly is but I have to pass. I'm much more interested in the shoes right now." She said, still holding onto Lewis' arm, who was enjoying every moment of this. "Alright, let me go get some champagne for you guys, racing must be tough in this heat." Roni smiled, turning around to walk in a different direction.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Nadia sighed out as they sat on the large velvet green couch. "Is this the crap i have to deal with? Her eyes said it all." She complained, rolling her eyes and placing her purse down. Following suit, he sat next to her and did not keep a friendly distance between them, relaxing his arm behind her.

"Don't worry about her or anyone else for that matter. People will purposefully piss you off for their enjoyment so let's just have a good time and we'll get ice cream later." He advised, not bothering to look around the shop but had focused all his attention on Nadia.

"Stand on your promise, Hamilton. I don't play about my ice cream." She joked, both chuckling after a beat of silence. Eyeing the store, she saw a few pieces that she knew would look good on Lewis and a few on herself. This one particular top was screaming her name, the Gucci monogram sticking out but it had a level of class to it, already imagining outfits with it on.

"The top is quite nice, I don't know what you could match it with to make it work but it seems cool." Lewis said, staring at the same top, unaware that their heads were tilted the same way. "You think so?" Nadia pondered. "Well you can't not be stylish around me so." He shrugged jokingly, earning another laugh from her. "Okay whatever you say, pookie bear." She patted his knee, watching a completely different sales associate head their way with a tray of champagne.

"Hi, I'm Tracey, my colleague Roni just decided to not help a couple because she didn't like the wife. Crazy I think she's talking about the Hamiltons because they came in here the same time." The new associate rambled off, placing the tray onto the small table next to them.

Finally looking up, Tracey's breath hitched. "Oh shit, that's you guys. Oh god, I'm sorry for my words." The younger girl apologised, eyes widened at the couple who just smiled at her.

"It's okay, lovely to meet you Tracey." Nadia smiled, amused at her actions. "What can I do for you today?" Tracey asked.

After a rather pleasant sales interaction with Tracey voicing how much she loved the both of them as a couple and as individuals, there they stood at the counter waiting for their items to be fully scanned. Lewis was very content with the pieces that Nadia had picked out for him, confident that every single one was going to look tailor made. When it came down to payment, Lewis had no problem in swiping his card as Nadia dug through her purse to find hers.

"Thank you for spending your time with us here at Gucci, Mr and Mrs Hamilton." The lady at the till said, handing the the large green bags that felt so good in Nadia's hands.

"It was really fun and tell Roni we said goodbye." Nadia smiled wickedly as she waved and walked out of the store with Lewis laughing at her words right behind her. "Damn that felt good. Gotta keep it cute and classy until it's not." She smiles as they walk to a different shop.

-

LOS ANGELES

"I swear, the powder I used for my under eyes is just super cakey." Natalia complained as she walked down the plane stairs onto the asphalt, Nadia following close behind with her carry on bag on her shoulder.

The Californianian air was different from that of Miami, less humid but a little hotter. It was late in the afternoon when the group landed, greeted by a beautiful sunset behind the Los Angeles skyline. After the impromptu shopping session, the plane was already for takeoff so everyone had hurried to be in the air by lunchtime.

Taking the time to catch up with everyone, the group shared laughs and their stories from Miami although it was less than a week that they had spent in the eccentric city. There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of Nadia's stomach, unable to get the guilt of spending Lewis' money as if it was hers. Although he reassured her multiple times that he was more than okay getting her whatever she wanted, she still felt uneasy about it all.

The all too familiar Escalades were parked on the ground, Lewis waiting patiently for Nadia to get down so that they could go to their destination. Seeing her confused face as Natalia, Miles and Daniel waved goodbye to them as everyone went to their respective cars, Lewis then spoke up. "Everyone's going their places, we're going to our house."

Snapping her head to look at him in bewilderment, she almost stopped in her tracks just to recall what he had said. "Another one?!" She whisper yelled, not wanting anyone near them to hear. He nodded with a closed smile as they reached their car with all their luggage inside, all similar to when they landed in Miami.

The morning came quite quick as the rest of the day ended with Nadia yet again exploring a new home, almost screaming when she saw the garage full of cars she only wished she could drive and you can imagine the shock when Lewis told her that in hindsight, they're her cars. In his words, "I don't really like to drive as much so you can use them as freely as you want."

Climbing out of the huge bed of the even larger guest bedroom, Nadia was careful to not wipe her eyes too much because of her extensions. Stretching every limb on her body, she walked towards the bathroom to splash water on her face to fully wake her up. The birds were still chirping from beyond the closed curtains and the sun was shining through the slivers of the curtain, creating a peaceful aura throughout the room.

Her bonnet luckily stayed on through the night, grabbing her glasses from the night stand along with her phone, she walked out of the room with her fluffy slippers on her feet. The trip downstairs was quiet and the aroma of something sweet wafted through the air, making her wonder where Lewis was.

Reaching the last step, she saw something move in the corner of her eye. Rather small, the thing moved towards her with its feet patting against the floor. Looking in its direction, the first thing she saw was the droopy mouth belonging to the short dog and her heart almost stopped, the fear running through her body as she continued to stare at the dog.

"Oh my god, please don't come close." She whispered out loud, hoping the dog would listen. Nadia was frozen in her place and she was too afraid to look anywhere else in case the dog moved towards her. "I see you've met Roscoe. Hope he's been kind." Lewis' voice spoke from behind her, crouching down to pet the dog lovingly. The silence from Nadia was odd, he turned his head to see her frightened state as she didn't move her gaze from Roscoe.

"Nads? Nads? Okay, let's get Roscoe out of here." He called out then whispered to himself, carrying the dog out of the living room then hurrying back to Nadia.

"Well that was my dog, Roscoe. I'm sorry he scared you." With a worried expression on his face, Lewis placed his hands on her arms to snap her out of her frozen state. Finally making eye contact with him through her glass lenses, she spoke up. "I-it's okay. Just have to get used to seeing him." She nodded, wanting to end the awkwardness right there.

"Anyway, good morning. Did you eat yet?" She said, slightly smiling and making her way towards the marble kitchen island, the two plates on top of it were filled with stacks of waffles with a side of fruit next to it. "Uh no, waited for you to wake up so I just took a run in the meantime." He mentioned, following behind her and took his seat across from her.

In that very moment, her heart fluttered at his words. It was so simple yet so sweet of a gesture to do for her. "Thank you for that, Lew. Let's eat up then." She replied, a shy smile on her face as she felt his eyes on her. The two dug in to their breakfast that Lewis had made for them earlier in the morning, wanting the logistics of their relationship.

"So, I need to know how you feel about pda and how much you're willing to show to the public. We have to make this look real." Nadia said, biting down on a slice of apple. "I don't have an issue with it, just as you're comfortable with it." He responded. Just nodding along, she continued to eat the fruit.

"This is just so weird to me. Three weeks ago I would've been in my apartment trying to think how i'm gonna get groceries for the month and now i'm in Los fucking Angeles eating fruit with 5 cars sitting in the garage. It's crazy." She blurted out, everything now properly dawning on her as they sat down in peace.

"Life works in mysterious ways for sure, never thought I would be sitting in my kitchen with my wife on a Wednesday morning." He said, the smallest of chuckles escaping him. "You are very good with your words, sir. A lil too good." She joked, pointing the fork at him.

"What's the plan today? I don't think I can handle anything hectic." She asked, her accent changing when she said 'hectic' . Giving her a cocked eyebrow at the sudden change of accent, Nadia looked smug.

"A little history on me. I moved to the uk at 8 years old and this south african accent stuck with me for a while until I reached high school. By then my mother decided to send me back home with my aunt and cousin to complete high school that side then year 12, I went back for university. The slang and accent never left me along with the 6 languages I know." She explained, almost bursting into laughter after seeing his face morph from curiosity to shock.

"Six?!" He vocalised. "And counting, my kids don't call me Superwoman for nothing." Biting into another piece, she smiled as her phone vibrated multiple times. Looking at the name across the screen, she immediately sighed and got up off her seat and signalled that she would be back.

The school's name flashed across her screen as she walked into the familiar hallway towards the guest bedroom.

"Hello Ms Brown! I hope this doesn't disturb your holiday." Lisa, the headmaster of the school, greeted with such enthusiasm.

"Well, it slightly is but what does that matter. Anything you need? Has the parents evening been postponed?" She scratched her head as she held the phone up to her ear.

"Uh, no. There's something I wanted to discuss with you and I thought it would be great for a one on one. We as the school has noticed you are quite the star these days, bringing much more traction than what you get from school already." Lisa chuckled at the last sentence, seeming to quiet down when she realised Nadia wasn't laughing.

"Oh, yes Ms Crawford. This was a subject I had wanted to discuss with the rest of the staff when we get back from the holidays. Of course this isn't something minuscule, all the media attention has been quite intense." Nadia responded, watching as Roscoe walked closer to her and sat by her feet.

There was a beat of silence from the other end of the phone call. "That was what I wanted to actually talk to you about, Ms Brown-"

"Its Mrs Hamilton." Nadia corrected.

"Ah yes, my apologies Mrs Hamilton. As much as we do appreciate your ways of teaching here at our school, we as the board have been thinking of releasing you from your position as the history teacher. Now I know it's all sudden but we feel it's good for our school." Lisa announced, voice filled with pity.

"Now excuse my manners, Ms Crawford, but I would like to know who all decided to quote on quote, fire me. Furthermore, when signing the work contract, you personally had assured me that you would stand behind your teachers through it all. Am I correct?" She started, standing up straight with Roscoe following suit.

"You are correct however this would ruin the reputation of the school and our relationships with other schools in the district. It truly pains us to do so." With the same false pity tone, Lisa spoke.

"I hope you do realise that we are about to start the second term of the school year after these two weeks and I do not appreciate the current dismissal you are going through with just solely because I married a prominent figure. Neither do I wish to leave my flourishing students because the board does not agree with my marriage." Nadia indicated.

"Not to mention prior to this conversation, no one had contacted me in regards to a possible sacking. So I would like for you and the rest of the board to rethink your approach on this matter. I do not accept this and this issue can be taken to court if you prefer to continue with this. And through a phone call? Really?" With that, Nadia knew she had won upon hearing the sigh on the other side of the phone.

With a few moments passing by, Lisa sighed out. "You are correct about this, I do apologise. See you after the holidays then, Mrs Hamilton." And with that, the headmaster said her goodbyes in defeat.

Crouching down to pet Roscoe, she held his face in her hands. "We fucking did that, boy. Thanks for being there, you not so bad after all." She smiled at the happy dog, standing up straight to back downstairs to finish her breakfast.

"And? What was that?" Lewis spoke up, putting his phone down next to his fruit bowl.

"These bitches tried to fire me so I said no. Can't get rid of their only history teacher." She wiggled her shoulders with the biggest smile on her face, biting down on the remaining fruits.

"And your dog's cool. Sat with me the whole time."

"Damn. Remind me to never get on your bad side. Let's get celebratory croissants?" Lewis giggled, taking both of their plates to wash them off.

"You read my mind, Sir!"

-

Standing in front of the open garage door, Nadia stared at the two cars in front of her. The sun in the courtyard was hitting her back but she didn't mind, as long as she continued to look at the cars.

Lewis' words rang in her head, unable to shake off the fact that technically, these were her cars as well. The Urus was very tempting to drive but she knew she didn't trust herself with that type of speed yet. The Mercedes GLE however, looked so classy and seemed like a joy to drive.

The decision took so long that she didn't notice that Lewis was taking pictures of the scene in front of him, his wife stuck between choosing cars to drive on the sunny streets of LA. "Can I drive today?" She asked once realising that he was next to her, wearing a comfortable outfit.

"You can drive whenever you want." He smiled, handing her the keys of the suv he knew she was going to pick. "Okay, cute. You'll be my passenger prince." She smiled, pinching his cheek then happily walked towards the driver's side.

Just sighing in content, he walked to the passenger's side, hopping in to see Nadia exploring the interior of the car, matching that of the black exterior. "This shit is huge." She muttered to herself as she leaned over to look at the backseats and all its intricate details.

"And before you say anything pookie bear, Tia made me do an international license when we didn't see each other. So you're safe driving with me." She reassured, putting her now blonde hair behind her ears.

"I think i like this passenger prince business." He expressed, already making himself in the seat, pushing it back and relaxing.

"Let me search up a bakery and we'll be on our way." Nadia started the car up and was geeked by the roar of the car.

And on their way they were. Blasting Beyoncé as Lewis suggested they go to a vegan bakery in Malibu, the two sang both old and new songs during the drive. Barely through her hip hop playlist, she found parking in front of the surprisingly popular bakery.

"Now you know I don't play about Beyoncé. I did not expect this place to be busy right now." Nadia pointed out, fixing the sunglasses on her head. "You'd be shocked at the amount of vegan people in Malibu alone. If you want, I can go in by myself and get the treats." He offered, unbuckling his seatbelt and holding his phone in his hand.

"We're going in together, I do not look this cute to sit in the car." She flipped her hair, dramatically exiting the car, making him laugh quite loud at her antics. Holding his hand out, Lewis connected his with Nadia's, feeling a chill when he felt her ring touch his skin. He led the way into the bakery, the sweet smell of the treats was a bit of a treat in itself.

Gasping at the baked goods on display, she didn't hesitate to greet and place an order, mouth salivating at the sight of the treats. Once Lewis also made his order, Nadia brought out her card to pay, wanting to test that it actually worked and it definitely did.

Enjoying the chocolate doughnuts in the bakery, the two laughed at the whole ordeal of the phone call this morning. "I've never had a good relationship with this new headmaster at all. She has been on my case since she joined two years ago." Nadia informed, drinking a bit of her pink lemonade.

"The courage of just saying no is so endearing to hear. Can't believe she wanted to sack you in the middle of a term. Again, the courage is so cool, Nads." He complimented her and he watched as her shoulders started to rise as a way of blushing.

"Thanks, pookie bear. Means a lot. So where to from here?" She asked, ignoring his gaze on her the whole time.

"We've got lunch with friends of mine, then home time." He said so calmly, not noticing Nadia's eyes widening at the information.

"I'm not dressed for lunch with your friends, Lew! Could've warned a girl first." She stressed, looking down at her outfit. "Wanted you to be comfortable the whole day hence I didn't tell you our plans today." He showed his full smile, wanting so badly to laugh at her facial expression.

"You are so lucky you're sitting across me right now or else I would've bitten you." She rolled her eyes at his giggles. 

Within a matter of time, the Mercedes suv entered through the high black gates of their destination with a press of a button on the intercom outside. Nadia drove in the driveway quite slowly, unfamiliar with her surroundings as she saw a cars parked in the courtyard. The sound of the waves crashing could be heard when stepping out of the car.

"Damn your friend's got bank." She commented, opening the backseat door to get her purse. "And by the sea too? I just know it's a different world here." She added, closing her door and locked the car when she saw Lewis walk closer to her with a smirk on his face.

"Yeah, Bey and Jay wanted serenity next to the sea." He said, looking back at Nadia who was frozen in her tracks.

"Did you just fucking say Bey and Jay?!" She whisper yelled as she pulled Lewis closer to her. He nodded with the same expression he had from before. "Are you fucking crazy? I can't meet Beyoncé, Lewis! I'm not ready!" Nadia's stress levels were sky high as she held onto his arm tighter, standing by the car.

"Wanted to tell you earlier but when you started playing her music in the car, just knew I had to surprise you." He smiled. "Look, if it makes it any better, she's excited to meet you as well." Lewis told her and if her eyes couldn't get any wider, she looked behind her husband's broad arm to see the woman of the hour walk towards them.

"There you two are! We were scared y'all weren't coming no more!" The happy southern voice rang through the courtyard and Nadia was scared shitless. "My goodness, Lewis! She's a beauty. Hi, I'm Beyoncé." The woman introduced herself to Nadia and she quickly snapped out of it once she realised her favourite artist was speaking directly to her.

"Hello, I'm Nadia." She managed to speak up as Beyoncé extended her hand out to shake hers. Surprisingly enough, Nadia's hands weren't sweaty neither did she stutter over her words like she thought she would. The woman went on to greet Lewis with a side hug then invited them inside.

"It was so lovely meeting you guys, a full circle moment on my end." Nadia smiled, holding onto her purse and onto Rumi's hand, the little girl so interested in everything that has to do with Nadia. "No, it was our pleasure to host you guys. My God, a couple I never saw coming. Y'all welcome back here anytime." Beyoncé said, the group of 4 walking towards the front door and into the courtyard once again.

"We'll definitely take you up on that offer, thank you for inviting us into your lovely home. Better get home before it gets too dark." Nadia replied, leaning into the hug between her and Bey whilst looking at the sunset over the horizon.

"We'll catch y'all in Paris." Jay Z smiled with a toothpick in his mouth. He dapped Lewis up as everyone said their goodbyes after a successful lunch. Now sitting in the passenger seat, Nadia held her head in her hands as he swiftly drove out the long driveway.

"I just met Beyoncé, I don't think you understand the damage you just did." She turned to Lewis, who kept the same smile as before. "And that is?" "I'm never going to stop talking about it."

"I'm glad you're happy. Saw an opportunity and I ran for it." He voiced, patting her thigh before putting his hand back on the steering wheel. "Remind me to give you the biggest hug when we get home." She smiled, becoming comfortable in the seat, not knowing how much Lewis' heart raced after hearing her refer to the house as home.

-

FRIDAY

"Stay still! I need my vision to come to life." Nadia ordered, holding his face in her hands. There were two different earrings on his ears and she was trying to decide which better suited the outfit. "Okay, wear the first pair then go to the mirror and tell me what you think." She requested, standing back to let him look at his outfit.

"Oh this is really good. Ooh, this outfit is good." He admired his outfit in the mirror, impressed by her styling and how she kept it simple yet so him.

"Glad you love it. Let me go get changed so that we won't be late." She rushed, almost running out of his room to hers, luckily her hair and makeup was done. Nadia quickly put on her outfit and made sure to take pictures in the big mirror in the closet.

Soothing over her top, she then places her sunglasses on her head and spritz her perfume for the last time before stepping out the room. At the same time, Lewis stepped out of his room and glanced at her outfit before doing a double take.

Everything sat so perfectly, the outfit had really simple colours that weren’t too loud but her silhouette accentuated it all. Both outfits complimented each other greatly whilst showing their own style individually. “Wow.” He blurted out, hoping that she didn’t hear that.

“Damn I did good.” She muttered to herself as she looked at him as well, very proud of her styling.

“You ready to go?” Lewis asked, finally focusing on her face and fidgeting with his rings. “Yeah, yeah.” She said in a light voice, carefully walking towards the stairs then feeling his hand slip into hers to help her downstairs.

“Remember, this isn’t real,Nadia.”

“Remember, this isn’t real, Lewis.”

nadiahamilton • 15 min ago “great day to be a lakers fan”

-

dividers by: @cafekitsune

nadia’s faceclaim: @/unclewaffles on ig!

all pictures are from ig and pinterest!

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @tispys-blog @userlando @lorarri @thisismeracing @thatsdemko @myescapefromthislife @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @jamie2305 @like-fire-love-blog @sugardontbesweet @simpfortoomanymen @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @eugene-emt-roe @deepgothfiremuffin @18754389 @cherry2stems @anubisnoir @littlelizzies-world @httpsserene @apenasumlug4r @youre-sooooo-funny @eddiesbitch83 @arshiyuh @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @sunfairyy @roseseraj @vsfavs @goldenalbon @mistruscity @tian-monique @hopefulromantic1 @exotic-iris13 @yeea-nah @nichmeddar @gg-trini @lifeless-firefly @vellicora @takeoffz-tookoff9876 @serpenttines-writes

(if your acc is blank, that means tumblr didn’t add you!)

[ok555ficideas]

If Andriel ever got married, this would be the Foxes speeches in my opinion:

Aaron 

“When I met Neil I hated his guts. He was arrogant, he had an attitude problem, he lacked any kind of authenticity,”

“Is there a compliment there somewhere, Minyard?”

“Shut it, Josten. I’m trying to say something.” 

“Actually, it’s Josten-Minyard now, thank you very much.” 

“So, I think you all know what I mean. Self absorbed, egoistic asshole. Unfortunately he makes my brother happy and I think we all know that making Andrew happy is one of the hardest jobs there is. For the longest time I had no idea what all of you saw in that idiot. He waltzed into our lives and immediately settled himself in all of your hearts. I have no idea when and how it happened and I’m a little tipsy and will refuse the implications of saying any of this tomorrow, but somehow that bastard managed to get to me too. Neil, you are an asshole and I’m so thankful to have you as my brother in law. If it wasn’t for you I would probably have zero contact with my brother in the first place and I’m glad that you stumbled into our lives. I wish you both nothing but the best.” 

Kevin

“When I first made a deal with Andrew I knew that I would have a hard time keeping my end of it. For those of you who don’t know, I promised Andrew to find him something to live for. Back then I thought it was going to be Exy. I know, I know it's very predictable of me, but come on how can you not love Exy? Okay, okay, don’t boo me Andrew I'm getting to the point, jesus. Tough crowd. As we all know Andrew doesn’t care about Exy to this day. He would be a much better player if he did- Auch! Did you just throw a fork at me? What are you? An Animal? I found you a husband and all I get is hate. Neil was the way I kept my end of the deal. I admit, I wasn’t frilled at first about their relationship. It derailed Neil’s focus from Exy, but at the end of the day it helped two of the most important people in my life be happy, so I’m happy. To Andrew and Neil!”

Renee

“As the maid of honor, I have to fulfill my duty and embarrass the groom a little bit. When Neil first joined the foxes Andrew was gone for him from the start. Don’t make that face, Andrew. You know it’s true. I had to hear over and over again about “that stupid idiot”. When they finally got together I was over the moon. I couldn’t think of two other people who fit together so well, apart from me and my wife, of course. You two had to walk through literal hell to get to this point and I’m so proud of you. I hope that God won’t throw any more hardships your way, but even if they do I know that you will be able to survive them, together.” 

Matt

“My best friend got hitched!!! Yes, people. Come on, a sound of applause to the newlyweds! Oh, Neil. The day I found out about you two was a day filled with so much new information yet this was what shocked me the most. At first I was scared for your life and sanity, but you both proved time and time again that you are perfect for each other. Andrew, I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. There is no one out there better for Neil and I’m so glad he has you. Cheers!” 

Dan

“Neil, the day you joined the foxes was the day that everything finally clicked into place. You were the last missing piece of the puzzle and I will be forever grateful to you for changing the whole dynamic of the team. You are like a little brother to me and I never wish for any harm to come your way ever again. Andrew, thank you so much for protecting him. For protecting all of us, even if we didn’t always know that that's what you were doing. We had our differences, but I’m so happy that you are a part of my family.” 

Allison

“I was kind of mad, when I found out you two weren’t eloping after all. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be here, but I had a lot of money riding on it and you all know how much I hate losing bets. Neil, what you see in that guy I will never understand, but I can see that he makes you happy. Your face looks like you are holding a banana and it is a little embarrassing. No, don't show me pictures from my wedding, Neil. This is photoshop, I did not look that ridiculous. Anyway, I can see that Andrew is good for you so you two have my blessing. Andrew, you have found a gem, don’t you dare take him for granted.” 

Nicky

“Hello everyone, are you having fun? Glad to hear it. I just wanted to point out that if the grooms have organized any of this it would be fucking terrible. Did you seriously bring a knife to your own wedding, Andrew? You can wave that thing at me all day long, I know you are just a bark with no bite. Love made you softer. This is the most important wedding I have ever attended. Sorry, my love. My other cousin had deprived me of my God given right to attend his and,” 

“For fucks sake, Nicky. Will you let it go if I let you plan a party for us?” 

“Yes! You heard that people. You can expect another awesome party like this coming soon. Neil, you have entered our little family and I knew that you would shake things up from the get go. I had never imagined that we would end up like this, but I’m so glad we did. I love you and I’m so happy that you are now legally binded to us even though there was no need for a piece of paper to prove that we are where you belong. Andrew, I’m so glad that you found someone who makes your whole face light up. All I ever wanted for you was to be happy and I’m so glad you found it with Neil. I love you both so much.” 

Wymack

“Why all of you didn’t know that these two knuckleheads were bound to end up together from the beginning I will never understand. It was so fucking obvious and you are all bunch of idiots. That’s it, that’s the speech. To the newlyweds!”

[robby-bobby-tommy]

It's once again a nighttime and I'm once again here with scene/character analysis.

As it's prominent from the last few post I'm a quite Ultra Magnus enjoyer, and I'm very upset at how people see him as heartless nerd. I see him as a person very damaged by the war. So here's some of my thoughts.

Ultra Magnus has a great problems with fitting in, because he forgot how to be in this kind of relationship and it's just depressing. For at least a century he has been in a war that took all his time for friends and especially family. And part of me thinks it is because Ultra Magnus is used to communication with orders. In "Evolution" we can see how he really tries to start a conversation, but all he knows now is orders and missions. And the next problem with him is he doesn't belong. He doesn't know what a family is, Wheeljack sends very clear messages that he is not welcomed to the Wreckers. Magnus felt completely isolated and this inability to make deeper connections than commander-soldier doesn't let him comprehend familial relationships. And I have some proofs.

The most important one is this line.

"The members of team prime are not cogs in a machine."

Why would Optimus use this particular line? It felt very meaningful and even as a non-english speaker, I felt it was very important for Ultra Magnus' character. So I went to Internet for the answer and I found this..

This one line opened a lot abt my boy. UM considers himself and team Prime through this war prism. "You are important,but we know how war is. Everyone can't survive. Sometimes you have to sacrifice something for a better outcome. Magnus doesn't think he's better than the rest of Team Prime, quite contrary, he holds himself by the same standards. I think Ultra Magnus sees himself as this metaphorical cog in a machine. He is important now, but if he isn't important in great scheme of things. This sounds like a very army type of mentality. He's prepared to die for a mission and sees little value in himself apart from weaponry and missions. So when Predaking had him and Wheeljack cornered he accepted it fairly quickly, yet was saddened with a thought of joining the allspark, especially with Wheeljack, whom he is to protect as his subordinate.

After Ultra Magnus wakes up, he's met with a lot of pleasant developments. Now he is fully accepted, Team Prime is by his side, and even Wheeljack drops this very meaningful line "Magnus fought like a wrecker"(=you're accepted in our group). And after finally asking OP about what was a Team Prime, he found out about a new concept, that basically breaks all his perceptions.

Family.

It isn't the army, or the elite guard where you are easily replaceable and aren't important. Now Ultra Magnus is family. And, forgive me for cliché, but you can't replace a family. They all are accepting each other and won't willingy leave someone behind for a brighter future.

I think if Ultra Magnus had more screen time his arc would be about relearning to care/connect in a deeper way and finding your own and others' importance, showcasing hardships of a soldier, trying to become more relaxed and closer to a people he knows and loves.

Or mb I just overanalyze one line¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(Also UM and OP have this so sweet bond. Former is, being as socially awkward as he is, still being honest about his feelings and asking smt he doesn't understand. And Optimus completely trusts his lieutenant with the team family and is able to see when the other's uncomfortable/sad. I dunno, they're so brothers/friends. They're very close without having much interactions on screen.)

[winxanity-ii]

⌜I Love, Robot | Chapter 02 Chapter 02 | history. . . loading⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Over the next few years, things began to change. You noticed the distance between you and Rain growing, the once-strong bond you shared slowly fraying like the worn-out edges of an old blanket.

It wasn't something you could put your finger on at first, just a creeping sense of separation that settled in your chest whenever you caught sight of her from across the room.

You'd see her more often now with the colony kids, laughing and chatting, a bright spark among the worn and weary.

At first, you were happy to see her connecting with others, but then you realized she was spending more time with them than she was with you.

It hurt, but you understood. She needed friends her own age, a distraction from the hardships that seemed to hover over all of your lives like a dark cloud.

You were about 19, maybe 20, when everything took a darker turn. You'd been freelancing for a while—small jobs that kept you under the radar, nothing too flashy.

That was until a desperate small business, teetering on the edge of collapse, sought your skills.

You were hesitant, but the pay was decent, and the work seemed straightforward enough: hacking into some old systems, unlocking what was needed to keep them afloat.

And it was a success. Or at least, you thought it was.

But success came with consequences. You didn't realize you’d been tracked, not until someone with far more power than you could fathom found you.

They came to you with an ultimatum, their voice smooth but with an undercurrent of steel that sent a chill down your spine: work for them, take on any job they needed, or they’d turn you over to Weyland-Yutani.

You knew what that meant. You'd seen enough to understand the company didn’t tolerate dissent, especially from a former prodigy with a name they hadn't forgotten.

That's when your life took a dangerous path. You agreed to their terms, the fear of what could happen if you didn't outweighing any hesitation.

The jobs started simple but quickly escalated. Hacking turned into more complex coding, cracking into secure systems, sometimes even building or reprogramming androids and bots—a skill you honed under Marcus's watchful eye.

The pay was good, better than anything you could have made in the colony, and for a while, it seemed worth it.

But it wasn't just the money that kept you going. The promise of protection from other dangerous groups, black-market dealers who might see your skills as a threat, was a lifeline you couldn’t ignore.

To protect Rain and her family, your small, adopted family, you began staying out later, sometimes disappearing for days at a time. At first, Marcus and his wife were upset, worried about your well-being and what could be keeping you away.

Rain, especially, couldn't understand why you'd suddenly become so distant, why you weren't around as much. Her confusion and hurt were plain to see, and it tore at you in ways you couldn't explain.

Marcus eventually eased up on the questioning after he found you one night in the throes of a particularly bad meltdown. You'd come home after a job went sideways—something you hadn't anticipated, a system you couldn't crack in time, and the fallout had been brutal.

You couldn't tell Marcus what had happened, not exactly, but he didn’t push. He simply sat with you in the dim light of the kitchen, his presence a steady, calming force as you tried to pull yourself back together.

"If you ever need to talk," he'd said softly, his voice thick with the kind of understanding only someone who’d lived through hardship could have, "I'm here. You know that, right?"

You nodded, though you knew you'd never burden him with the weight of what you were involved in. This was a part of your life you'd chosen to keep to yourself, a dark secret that had become a necessary evil. And even though you trusted Marcus, you couldn't bring yourself to let him in on this one truth.

But life has a cruel way of taking away the things you hold dear, doesn't it?

Just a few weeks after your 21st birthday, Marcus and his wife fell ill. The colony's cold, damp air had always been harsh, but the pneumonia they caught from the mines was unlike anything they'd faced before.

You watched helplessly as the sickness took hold, their bodies weakened by years of toil in the toxic conditions of Jackson Star. It was like watching your own parents waste away all over again—a slow, painful decline that left you feeling powerless and lost.

Rain was a mess, her normally bright, fiery spirit dulled by the looming reality of losing her parents. She tried to stay strong, but you could see the cracks forming in her armor.

You did everything you could to help, taking over the household duties, scrounging for medicine, anything to ease their suffering, but deep down, you knew there was nothing that could be done.

The disease had sunk its claws in too deep.

One night, as you sat by Marcus's bedside, his breathing ragged and shallow, he reached out, his hand weak but insistent. You took it, holding on tightly, just like you had with your own father all those years ago. The weight of his grip was lighter than you remembered, his strength all but gone.

"Y/N…" he rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of his labored breaths. "Take care of her… take care of Rain…"

Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded, unable to speak. "I will..." you whispered, your voice breaking. "...I promise."

He smiled faintly, a shadow of his old, warm smile. "Good… that's… good…"

You stayed with him until the end, just as you had with your parents. And when the time came, when the house fell silent except for the soft sobs of Rain and the hollow echo of your own grief, you knew that once again, you were left holding onto the pieces of a shattered life.

And this time, you would do whatever it took to keep Rain safe.

No matter what.

☆

☆

Three years had passed since your adoptive parents' death, and in that time, life had only grown more complicated. You returned from your latest job—a grueling five-day ordeal that left you exhausted and hollow inside.

This time, you'd been tasked with hacking into Weyland-Yutani's high-security network, retrieving files that exposed a chilling directive: in moments of crisis, their synthetics were programmed to prioritize the company's assets over human lives, all under the guise of logical probability.

The job paid well, enough to secure you and Rain's needs for the next six months, but the price was high.

The screams and pleas of employees who’d been betrayed by the very machines meant to protect them echoed in your mind, refusing to let go. You tried to shake the images away as you made your way through the dim, narrow corridors of the small home you shared with Rain.

Entering the room, you found her curled up on your bed, her small frame wrapped around your pillow, her face buried into the soft fabric as she slept. You approached quietly, the soft sound of your footsteps barely audible over the hum of the heating unit.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you reached out and gently brushed your fingers through her hair. Rain instinctively leaned into your touch, a small sigh escaping her lips as she snuggled deeper into your pillow.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, though your heart felt heavy. Watching her sleep so peacefully, so unaware of the horrors you'd just witnessed, was both a comfort and a curse.

You knelt beside her, continuing to stroke her hair, trying to silence the panicked screams still echoing in your mind. Just as you began to lose yourself in the motion, Rain stirred.

Groggily, she opened her eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. She gave you a tired smile. "Hey," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," you replied softly, your smile widening despite the weight on your chest.

Rain's brow furrowed slightly as she looked up at you, sensing that something was off. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice a little clearer, more alert.

You shook your head, stilling your hand. "Nothing," you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just go back to sleep, Rain. It's late."

She hesitated but nodded, a yawn escaping her lips as she turned over, curling up again. "Okay... But could you look over Andy?” she asked sleepily, her voice trailing off. "His eyes... something's wrong with them. He's already in the workshop, in sleep mode, waiting."

"Sure, I'll take care of him," you promised, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. She mumbled a thank you, already drifting back to sleep as you stood up and quietly made your way out of the room.

You moved through the darkened house, your steps light and measured to avoid waking Rain. Despite the pitch-black surroundings, you knew every inch of this place—every loose floorboard, every creaky door hinge.

It wasn't hard to navigate to the small workshop in the back, a space that had become both a sanctuary and a battlefield for your mind.

Without turning on the main lights, you reached for the small lamp on your workbench, flicking it on and casting a soft, warm glow over the room.

In the corner, covered by a sheet, was Andy. You pulled a rolling stool behind you as you approached, removing the sheet with a practiced motion to reveal the android beneath.

Andy's face was serene, almost peaceful in the dim light. The shadows cast by the lamp danced across his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the soft curve of his lips.

Despite knowing he was a machine, you couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship—the subtle blend of human and synthetic, the way his face seemed almost too real.

You reached out, gently cupping the side of his face, your fingers tracing the contours of his jaw. His synthetic skin was cool to the touch, but familiar. Your hand moved to the side of his neck, pressing the small port to awaken him.

The change was immediate. Andy's body tensed, his right hand shooting up to grab your wrist with surprising speed and strength. His eyes flickered to life, emitting a soft glow in the darkness. "Shh, it's okay," you whispered softly, not pulling away. "Sorry to startle you."

At the sound of your voice, Andy's grip loosened, his eyes quickly focusing on you. "Y/N," he said, his voice calm and even. "You're back."

You offered him a small smile before turning to grab your diagnostics tablet. "I've only been gone for five days," you said, connecting the tablet to the port in his neck and starting the diagnostic test.

Andy blinked as if you'd made the dumbest statement ever. "Five days is more than enough time for someone to be missed."

You giggled softly at his matter-of-fact tone. "Thanks, Dee." You glanced at the screen, focusing on the data streaming in. "Rain mentioned you've been having issues with your eyes. Can you tell me more about that?"

Andy's eyes flickered for a moment before he answered. "I... I can still see, but my vision sometimes become foggy. It affecting my ability to accurately assess situations and objects."

You nodded thoughtfully, continuing to run the diagnostics as you chatted with him, your fingers moving deftly across the tablet. "I see... We'll get it sorted. So, how have things been while I was gone?"

Andy remained still, his gaze fixed on you. "Rain and I have missed you."

A warm smile tugged at your lips. "I've missed you both too." You paused, reflecting on how much had changed since the day you found Andy in that scrapyard.

Your perception of synthetics had shifted over the years.

You'd never treated them as mere machines, but having one as a constant companion had blurred the lines between man and machine.

Despite knowing he wasn't human, Andy's human-like qualities were something you cherished. They made him unique, almost... alive in a way that was hard to define.

The soft beep from the tablet pulled you back to the present. You looked down, seeing the source of the issue on the screen. "Ahh," you sighed, turning the tablet to show Andy.

The screen was filled with lines of code, complex and unintelligible to most. To anyone else, or even to an android whose primary function wasn’t related to programming, this would have been complete nonsense. But since bringing Andy back online, you'd made it your mission to always explain everything you did to him, guiding him through each process.

Part of you believed he deserved to know, a small gesture of respect for the android who had become so much more than just a machine.

But there was another reason, a darker thought that lingered in the back of your mind: the possibility that one day, you might not be around to help him.

You wanted Andy to understand his own systems and the intricacies of his coding—not just to function but to ensure he could take care of himself if the worst were ever to happen.

Andy studied the code intently, his synthetic mind processing the information with an almost human-like concentration. "There is an error in the environmental calibration subroutine," he noted, identifying part of the issue correctly.

You chuckled, impressed. "Close, Dee. But, you got most of it right." You pointed to a specific line of code. "This here—it needs an update. The last patch didn't account for the increased levels of smog and soot in the colony's air. It's affecting your visual processors."

Routine set in as you continued to work. "What is your directive, Andy?" you asked out of habit, fingers moving swiftly to implement the necessary changes.

Andy responded almost instantly. "To do what's best for Rain."

A second passed, and then he spoke again, his voice softer. "Do you ever think about changing the directive?"

You paused, fingers hovering over the screen as you looked up at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about, Dee?"

Andy hesitated for a moment, his eyes studying you with a strange intensity. "The day Marcus uploaded my directive, I remember asking him if the girl standing above me when I first came back online was Rain. He to me it was you, Y/N."

You laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Did you ask him if I was a great hacker too?"

Andy's expression remained serious, his voice steady. "No. I asked him, 'But what about what's best for Y/N?'"

Your fingers stilled on the tablet, and for a moment, you didn't know what to say. You looked up at Andy, his face soft with an expression you couldn't quite place.

A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped your lips. "What's best for me? Ha, I've never been too good at figuring that out. If I had a directive for myself, it'd probably be something like 'make everything harder than it needs to be.'"

Andy let out a low hum, his gaze unwavering. "Even if it's not my directive, just know, I'll still want what's best for you."

You blinked back the tears welling in your eyes, quickly turning your focus back to the tablet. "Thanks, Andy," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You continued your work in silence, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket.

Andy's head tilted slightly, his eyes zeroing in on your face as if committing this moment to memory. "Of course, Y/N... anytime."

The remainder of the time was spent in a comfortable silence as you finished updating his code. You leaned back with a sigh, setting your tablet down beside you. "How are you feeling now, Andy?"

The android paused for a moment, then said, "Well, it's better than before. But if my vision gets any worse, I guess you could say... my future won't be looking 'too bright'."

You just blinked at him, taken aback by the unexpected joke, before laughter bubbled out of your lips. "Was that a 'dad joke'? Where did you learn that from?"

Andy's eyes seemed to brighten, and he sat up a little straighter. "I learned it while walking Rain to work the other day," he explained. "I like them."

You chuckled, warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of Andy picking up on humor. "Well, I'll be sure to learn some more and tell you. We can make it a little hobby between the two of us."

Andy nodded earnestly, his expression softening. "I'd like that. Sharing experiences can strengthens bonds."

You couldn't help but smile at his earnestness. "You're right about that, Dee. We can even start a collection of the worst jokes we can find."

For a moment, the room felt lighter, the shadows less heavy. Andy's presence, his attempts at humor, made the grim reality outside these walls feel a little less suffocating.

It was moments like this that reminded you why you fought so hard to keep your small world safe, even when everything else seemed so uncertain.

A/N: Ahhhh! sorry for things moving thigns so fast with all the time skips, but if you're confused, by the end of this chapter You're like 24-ish and Rain is 21, i'm following fandom ages instead of rain's confirmed 25 age. also, sorry for the long 2 intro chapters, i know most would like to just jump right into the story, but my mind wont let the good stuff happen until it at least lay down the lil backstory 😭💀💀 man, i really need to learn to get over that, but anywhoooo, hope you guys like this enough, thoguh it isn't obvious, i want this to be a sort of a slow-burn, well, on the reader's end at least, lolol, Andy's gonna go full speed tbh, but then again, that's why he's a yandere here.... hope i dont bore you guys too much, but dont fret, next chapter will start immediately with the plot! also, someone asked me to make a tag list so i'll just put that down below:

Tag List: @dreamsarenicer

[writing-with-sophia]

How to get into the mind of a character? Honestly this can be for your OWN character or a fictional character. I'm wanting to write for characters- headcanons and fanfictions- and I'm so afraid I'll write them so uncanny to how they actually are.

How to get into the mind of a character?

To get into the mind of a character, you have to understand that character, believe in that character, and even "live" the character's life. But we all know each individual is different, and we cannot live different lives. A normal person who grew up in peacetime cannot fully understand the hardships of a warrior, and a doctor cannot know the thoughts of a mafia boss.

So, how can writers create believable characters? How can they possibly offer a believable soldier, cop, detective, alcoholic, or any given character type if they themselves haven't lived as them? How can they possibly offer a believable character in a situation that they've never been in?

Here are some tips you can use to get into the minds of characters:

Tip 1: Observe real-life people

To create well-rounded characters, observe real people around you. Pay attention to their behaviors, mannerisms, speech patterns, and thought processes. Take note of how they express emotions, handle conflicts, and make decisions. Drawing from real-life observations can add depth and authenticity to your characters. You can also search for novels and movies with different themes, study how characters with different pasts, biographies, occupations, and personalities act, behave, gesture, and speak. The best way is to prepare a small notebook and a pen so you can carry it with you wherever you go.

Tip 2: Create a detailed character profile

Develop a detailed character profile that includes information such as their age, background, beliefs, values, goals, and fears. Consider their relationships with other characters and how these dynamics influence their thoughts and actions. Delve into the character's past and explore significant events that have shaped them. Consider their upbringing, traumas, successes, and failures. These can provide you with a roadmap for understanding the character's mindset.

Tip 3: Use internal monologues and journaling

Imagine the character's internal thoughts and dialogues with themselves. Consider what they might be thinking in different situations, their hopes, dreams, and fears. (And why do they dream of that? Why are they afraid of that thing? What in the past made them afraid? Always asking questions.) Writing internal monologues or journal entries from the character's perspective can help you delve into their mindset and gain insight into their unique voice.

Tip 4: Consider their external influences

Characters are influenced by their environment, culture, and society. Reflect on how external factors such as family, friends, societal norms, or even the story's setting impact their thoughts and behaviors. This will help you portray their worldview more accurately.

Tip 5: Study the source material

If you're writing about an existing character from a book, TV show, or movie, immerse yourself in the source material. Pay attention to their dialogue, actions, and interactions with other characters. Take note of their personality traits, motivations, and backstory. This will help you develop a strong foundation for understanding the character. For example, recently I suddenly became interested in Nightwing (do you know him? Nightwing from the Batman series!), and I wanted to write a few short stories about him. So I found all the comics and movies that featured Nightwing and watched them one by one. I don't take notes because I have a pretty good memory (especially for characters I like), but I still recommend taking notes on special things to note.

Tip 6: Practice free writing

Set aside time for free writing exercises where you write from the character's point of view. Allow your thoughts to flow without judgment or editing. Just write, write, and write. You can reread and make corrections after you're done. Remember to gather your posts in one place; otherwise, you'll lose or forget them (like me!).

Getting into the mind of a character is an ongoing process that requires continuous exploration and refinement. The more you invest in understanding your character's thoughts, feelings, and motivations, the more compelling and authentic your writing will become.

Additionally, you can read my articles on how to write an effective character here:

How to create a superbad villain

How to make a villain's appearance memorable

Basic questions for your character

Describing a villain's appearance in a natural way

Create an effectively past for character

Common character motivations

How to create a good main character

How to avoid the instance where a secondary character stands out more/ is more lovable?

Character flaws

Writing a good Anti-Hero

Character positive traits

How to write an elderly main character?

Protagonist who is a ballerina

How to write a believeable egotistical character

[thekeithmeister]

Hopeless In Georgia

I'm a trans man in Georgia and it feels completely hopeless. I've fought my whole life to defend who I am, my love for my wife, our marriage, our existence. The first time around with Trump was hard enough. But this 2nd time is proving impossible. The entire United States government and the President of the United States have made it very clear that they hate and want to eradicate trans people. How am I supposed to fight against the authority figures of the most powerful country in the world? I was ready to fight once again. Fight to defend my wife and our marriage. Fight to defend our home and our friends, regardless of how impossible it seemed. But I recently found out my father-in-law, not only voted for Trump but is completely unconcerned about this most recent anti-trans executive order that was just passed. The one saying that all federal documentation will have your birth sex on it. The one saying trans people cannot use federal facilities aligned with their gender. That there IS no more gender. Only two sexes: male and female. When my wife text'd my father-in-law telling him how scared we were, his response was to say that the "extreme left is fear-mongering" and blowing things completely out of proportion and that although he knows we'll have "hardships" it's not going to be nearly as bad as we're saying. What the ever loving fuck? The President of the United States, the United States government just said I am not a man and must identify as a woman and use women's facilities and that I, as a human being, am illegal. But we're "extreme left?" We have a document in black and white but this is "fear-mongering?" I can only come to the conclusion that my father-in-law never saw me as a man and never saw me as his equal. After having transitioned over 7 years ago and completely passing, it doesn't matter. To even a person who knows me and I THOUGHT cared about me, I am still less than. I am still not fully a human being. He sees no problem with me being arrested if I use a men's room, or if my documents that I worked YEARS to change and spent THOUSANDS of dollars on, might now be reversed and have a big fat F on them. It was one thing to gear up for a fight against a faceless enemy, no matter how gigantic or powerful, like the United States government, but it is something else entirely to have your own family tell you that you are less than human. Not worthy of respect or the same rights as everyone else. The blow has hit me so hard. And I can't stop thinking that if people who KNOW me can't love and support me, how the hell am I ever to expect strangers to think of me as a person who deserves the same treatment as everyone else? How am I EVER supposed to be accepted in society? This is only day 3 of the Trump regime. I can't even fathom how on earth I'm going to survive 4 years of this. Especially knowing there is far worse to come. I don't know what to do. I can't fight the United States government. I can't fight against more than half of the American population who seem to think I'm not a human being. I can't do this. I don't want to suffer for the next 4 years. I don't want to even think about losing my house, my home, my friends, my family, and a job I love to up and move to a new state or even a new country. I don't want to do that! What would my wife and I do? Start over in a homeless shelter? We don't have the money to do something so crazy! To move to a place where we don't know anybody! Everything I love is here in Georgia! I can't do it! I can't just sacrifice everything and move away from everything I care about! I don't know what to do. All I know is I don't want to endure it. And every time I think "I can't do this," scary thoughts about an easy way out start to crop up. And I could NEVER do that to my wife and my friends. So all that is left... is to just sit here and suffer for years to come.

[lostinhisworld]

always and forever — JJ MAYBANK

warnings: nothing really. brief mentions of struggling with stress. jj being love sick. fem!reader. lots of fluff. short story because i've been missing my boy

word count: 548

hope you enjoy x

the stream of sunlight reflected off the water’s surface, momentarily blinding the boy. he pushed his sunglasses down his face to cover his eyes, quickly removing his cap to run a distracted hand through his blonde hair, before replacing it once again.

her smile was easy and carefree, a proud cheer spewing from her lips as Pope jumped into the water. she was most beautiful like this, he thought, when she was happy, without worry.

it was rare to see her like this these days, family troubles and school stress visibly wearing her down— dark circles forming under eyes and her smile not quite as bright as it once was.

he'd been begging her to take a break from her hardship for months, always with the same response. "i'm fire, J. you need to worry less."

he, of course, found this statement to be both hypocritical and amusing. how is she possibly telling him to relax when she'd barely left her room in forever? he would wonder.

but now, as she swam freely in the cooling water, surrounded by those she cherished the most, he forgot all about their minor arguments.

it all being replaced by clear, uncontrollable love.

"you going to get in or what?" she mused, pulling her upper-body to rest on the boat's side, a teasing grin lighting up her eyes. "you've been begging me to come out here for the longest time and now you don't even want to get in?"

bending to be in her line of vision, the boy beamed. "was just admiring my girl." he responded, placing a sweet kiss to her waiting lips before chucking his hat and sunnies onto the driver's seat. "am i not allowed to do that anymore?"

not waiting for a reply, he dived into the marsh, splashing her in the process. resurfacing to the sound of the girl's giggles, he swam closer to her, reaching for her waist to pull her body closer to his.

"i love you, y'know?" he spoke, one hand reaching to push the hair from her eyes. "so, so very much." he added, leaning in to place another kiss to her lips.

whoops and hollers sounded from their friends— Sarah shouting words of encouragement toward the couple, while Kiara, John B and Pope begged the duo to find a room.

smiling into the kiss, the girl flipped the group off. "i love you, J. always and forever.”

"forever and always.” he returned the promise, pressing a final kiss to her forehead before splashing her with water, a cheeky grin growing on both of their faces.