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enwoso · 2 days

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GOODBYE, I’LL MISS YOU — alessia russo

part two to crushed read the first part here!

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flattening the banner across the garden fence, the big bright letters that spelled out 'GOOD LUCK GIRLS!' which you had spent many hours perfecting the big letters over the past few weeks considering the amount of free time you'd now gained while alessia was at training.

you had planned a little going away party for less and some other girls with a little help from your girlfriends two brothers and best friend ella toone.

alessia was due to be back any moment and the other girls you had invited were due to arrive in the next hour, along with some of alessia's family which were up from down south.

"gorgeous i'm home!" the blonde sung as the sound of the door closing echoed in the hallway. "i got the six variations of crisps and the tray of sandwiches that you asked for!" she held up the bag of shopping her arm carrying the tray of sandwiches.

"hiya" you smiled, limping back through the canopy doors from the garden as the blonde placed the bags onto the counter, her eyes drifting towards the different coloured bowls filled with snacks and other picky foods to you who was definitely a little over dressed to be just watched films all day like you had told the blonde earlier this morning.

"what are you up to?" alessia narrowed her eyes towards you as a cheeky smile appeared on your face as you began to unpack the tray of sandwiches.

"just thought i would do a little something for you and the girls before you all leave for the world cup!" you wondered off towards the blonde who stood processing what you'd said, a pout appearing on alessia's face as she brung you into a bear hug attacking your face with several kisses.

"i love you, i love you!" she repeated with each kiss small giggles falling from your mouth, the blonde stopping but still keeping you in her grip, "why though?" alessia asked.

"can't i do something nice for my girlfriend and her friends without a good reason?" you hummed, raising your eyebrows as alessia rolled her eyes playfully at your response.

"no in all seriousness, just thought it would be nice to relax a little before you go and it gets all serious" you smiled softly kissing your girlfriend cheek.

"how did you manage this all by yourself?" the blonde asked as gap between the two of you got a little bigger, your back pressed up against the counter top as alessia's hands were wrapped around your waist.

you gasped, "you don't think i'm capable of doing this all by myself?" the blonde beginning to back peddle as you laughed a little to yourself, "i'm just joking with you lessi, luca and gio helped me"

the blonde now looking confused as the timer on the oven began to ring, "but there both in london?" she pointed out. "yeah, they were in london two days ago-" you smiled moving towards the oven to take out the baked goods out which were muffins.

the ball dropping as alessia hummed, her lips curling up into a smile as she come over to try and take a hot muffin but as she reached out you slapped her wrist away.

"hey! i wanted one of them" alessia frowned as you side eyed her mumbling that she could have one later as you moved the muffins onto a cooling rack, opening your mouth to say a remark back but the sound of the door bell ringing beating you to it.

"oo that'll be tooney" you mumbled to yourself, limping around the kitchen counter towards the door a white bandaged still covering your left knee, "and don't touch the muffins russo" you warned her as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands surrendering but a cheeky look on her face.

"party starts now!" ella cheered holding up two bags of what alessia guessed where things you'd asked her to bring as the midfielder walked into the kitchen where alessia had a muffin in her hand peeling away the muffin case from it, you following shortly behind ella.

ella placing the bags in the kitchen counter beginning to recite the things she's brought along with her, "i've got karaoke, a card game, ball-"

"alessia teresa russo i told you not to eat them muffins!" you gasped, alessia innocently smiling as you glared at her as she ate the last little bit of the muffin which was left.

"just checking they were okay to eat!" alessia shrugged as she walked past you pressing a kiss to your cheek before putting her rubbish in the bin.

"oo muffins! i'll have one!"

"NO!"

all the girls had arrived, along with those of alessia’s family who made the long journey up from south to manchester.

a cool may night, the sun setting late as you all gathered in the garden. playing the little games that ella had brung along with eating all the food you’d spent all day preparing the muffins not making it to the table of food, listening to music and taking photos to capture the moment.

you watched as everyone looked relaxed, alessia joking and laughing on with her brothers and friends as she looked over to you, every so often silently checking in.

after standing up for too long and you knee beginning to feel a little irritated you found yourself sitting down on your garden lounge lifting your legs up to lay along the garden furniture, a fluffy blanket you’d brought out earlier on coving you as the crisp air hit your bare legs.

checking your phone for a few minutes before hearing the voice of ella toone approach you, “you okay?” she asked sitting down at the end of where your legs where laid.

slotting your phone into your hoodie pocket, you nodded. “yeah my knees’ just starting to play up” you shrugged.

ella hummed placing her drink down on the table, “thank you by the way” the midfielder smiled as you looked at her with slight confusion. “for what?”

“for tonight — such a good way to let everyone to relax and enjoy themselves before, well you know” ella said sincerely as you nodded with a smile.

“well they don’t just pay me for my good looks you know” you joked as ella shook her head a few giggles coming from her from your comment.

“glad to see your still humble as ever!”

“of course i am”

"so when's your surgery" ella asked as she slumped further down the sofa that was on the decking, pulling the other fluffy blanket around her as everyone else danced around in front of the two of you.

"um next wednesday" you sighed, finally getting a date for you surgery after a month of waiting and being told it has to be pushed back for reasons unbeknownst to you.

"just can't wait to have it and be back into recovery!" you added as ella nodded knowing how hard it must be for her friend being out from doing the sport you loved so dearly.

"is your mum going with you or are you going by yourself?" ella said knowing both you and alessia and if it was up to alessia she would be in the operating room with you but ella also knew you and how stubborn you could be.

"oh no she's not- don't worry though i'm not gonna be by myself!" you nudged ella seeing the small look of worry wander onto her face. "do you really think less would let me go by myself ay?" you pointed, your eyebrows raised as the two of you both let out a small laugh.

"i was gonna say!"

"leah's offered to come with me and then i think i’ll go and stay with her until.." you stopped for a breath, "well until you lot get back i guess" ella nodded as you began to speak changing the topic this time and taking the spotlight off you and instead onto ella.

"are you excited for australia?" you asked as a bright grin came onto the younger girls face as she nodded quickly. "yeah, just don't know how i'm gonna make it through the long flight with that big dope!" ella sighed, looking towards alessia who was talking with mary her eyes wandering every few minutes towards you.

you hummed before laughing slightly at the thought of the pair of them being sat next to each other for that length of time knowing the situations that could occur.

"when you put it like that, i'm glad, i'm not gonna be on that flight!" you said receiving an elbow to the stomach from the midfielder. "ey watch it im already injured!" you glared at ella getting a roll of the eyes as a response.

"don't tell me you've got soft!"

"wait— so are you not coming over to australia then?" ella asked out of nowhere, as the small laugh had stopped. you shrugged, "i dunno- maybe, i haven't really thought about it to be honest"

you weren't lying you hadn't, part of you wanted to go over not only to experience life on the other side of the world but to also be there for her girlfriend and cheer her on but the other part didn't want to go and watch as your girlfriend lived her dream while you was sat on the sidelines wondering about what could have been.

before ella even had a chance to reply, alessia had made her way over and sat herself right on top of you.

"tooney, what have i told you about stealing my girlfriend!" the blonde glared at her bestfriend. ella rolling her eyes playfully.

"i weren't, we were just having a natter!" ella defended as alessia got herself comfy and situated her arm around your neck so that your head what resting on the strikers chest, hands laced within each other.

"about?" alessia mumbled as your fingers rubbed circles into the back of her hand. "australia and y/n's surgery" ella smiled taking a sip of her drink as you felt alessia tense at little.

"oh" alessia said, a slight hint of sadness in her tone. australia had been a little bit of a touchy subject in your household since you'd been injured.

one because you'd spent a few weeks before the team announcement coming to terms with the fact that you name was definitely not going to be on there but also the fact that the chance of you being able to go and just support the girls being very slim as you were due your surgery in the next week and then your rehab was starting.

for alessia seeing her name on the squad was a big achievement for her but she also felt her heart drop as she knew that the two of you would not being going to the world cup together like you'd planned.

the rest of the night came to a close, you noticed a change in alessia’s mood. but why? you weren’t quite sure on a answer just yet.

once the two of you had said goodbye to the girls held came, shutting the door and locking it behind the last person to leave. tiredness coming and hitting you like a brick wall as alessia had already retreated upstairs to start her nightly routine which she loved to stick to each night.

you on the other hand doing your routine of locking the doors, turning lights of as well as grabbing some ice to put on your knee as you slowly but surely used your crutches to get you up the stairs.

quickly getting changed into shorts and a t shirt, before joining alessia in the bathroom to brush your teeth.

since the chat about australia with ella there'd been a sad smile on the blondes face which had been difficult to get rid of. the same sad smile still on her face as she washed her face.

brushing your teeth you tried to decipher the blondes mood as she rubbed her faced with all of her different serums and moisturises as you sat on the toilet lid, looking at the blonde who retured the look through the large bathroom mirror which hung from the wall.

"are you okay?" you asked slotting your toothbrush back into the holder it always stayed in, alessia picking up another face cream as she nodded and hummed a response.

"you sure, just you've been off since ella mentioned australia" you trailed off, the blonde sighing and turning to you as if something is playing on her mind.

"it doesn't matter, its silly anyway" alessia shook her head her sentence almost coming out as a whisper, as you stood up wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your head on her shoulder.

"nothing you say is silly love" you whispered into her ear as she relaxed into your hold.

"i'm scared to be away from you for that long" the blonde admitted quietly as a frown now appeared on your face as you turned your girlfriend to face you.

alessia had every right to feel that way, this was the first time in two years that you would both be away from each other for longer than a week and even then it would only be when she went down to see her family in kent and you would stay in manchester to see your family. this was a whole different scale as you would be on the other side of the world to each other.

“oh love” you cooed as you pecked her lips, “i know it’s not the same but i’ll always be a just phone call away if you need me when your over there!” you smiled softly as alessia nodded slightly.

“i just wished you could be there too, not just watching but playing” alessia whispered as you sadly smiled at her you fingers rubbing small circles into her hip bones.

“me too love but unfortunately that’s not how the universe wanted it but just know that if it was possible i would be front row cheering you on” you told imitating your best russo chat you’d heard from the games a little giggle coming from alessia as you moved your hands to hold hers, the blonde looking into your eyes as you moved a little closer to kiss her lips.

the taste of her strawberry lip balm pressing to yours, her hands had moved to hold your neck, as the kiss was filled with nothing but love and affection for each other.

pulling away once breathing became a little more difficult for you both, “i love you” you smiled holding your head against alessia’s forehead.

“i love you too” alessia smiled also pecking your lips once more.

“now how about we get into bed and plan how we are going to spend our last week together!”

<- crushed (part one)

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lieutenant-rasczak · 1 year

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On the incredible danger of the quaint, English village....

Although I live in Texas, thanks to various streaming services I get to watch a great deal of British T.V. I have noticed that these shows (Midsomer Murders, Dalziel and Pascoe, Waking the Dead, Shakespeare and Hathaway, Vera, Rosemary & Thyme, Wycliffe, etc.) share a common theme.

And, after a certain amount of research I discovered that, believe it or not, the third leading cause of death in the UK seems to be "Moving to a quaint, country village".

While “Getting murdered in a quaint, English, village” killed slightly fewer UK Residents in 2021 than "Cancer" and "Heart Disease" it was distressingly close. Even worse it came in only slightly ahead of "Attending a weekend party at a stately country home", which is in itself a fairly lethal pastime. In fact “Attending a weekend party at a stately country home” WAS the second leading cause of death in Britain between 1919 and 1939, but began to decline after the war as the Labour Govt. raised taxes and the number of country homes dropped drastically; thus causing a steep decline in the number of weekend parties one could be murdered at.

In any case my research indicates that IF you are British, AND you are feeling down, depressed, and suicidal, there is no reason for you to run your car off a cliff, or take a trip to Switzerland. In fact, you need only do the following

1) move to a lovely, quiet, English village where nothing ever happens, but the murder rate is (adjusted for population) is far higher than that of South Chicago or East L.A.

You might think that such a village would be hard to find, but apparently England is simply teeming with them. Places with highly competitive flower shows or bleak, cliff filled coastlines seem to be particularly deadly.

2) Change your will, and make sure to mention this to the former beneficiary. (This is vitally important!) Also make sure to let them know where the new will is kept. The top drawer of your desk is probably the best place, no need for locking file cabinets or bank safety deposit boxes!

3) Develop a keen interest in local land titles and/or genealogy. In fact you should probably announce that you are writing a book on the subject. (It is suggested that you do so in a crowded pub.) In any case make sure to spend plenty of time at the local public records office researching this while receiving vaguely threatening remarks from various upset neighbours. If you receive any threatening notes make sure to save them in an easily discovered drawer somewhere, but do NOT mention them to anybody, and certainly do not heed any warnings you are given about a need to “back off”. That last one is ESSENTIAL.

4) Stand against the most popular member in the election for Parish Council. Threatening to win the local flower show is also a good move.

5) Always leave the door or doors unlocked at night. (This includes your car.) Even if you have lived in London for decades, discard any habits you may have about locking up as soon as you move to the quaint, country, murder hole.

6) Never close any curtains or blinds, that way your future assailant always knows exactly where you are and what you are doing.

7) Either don't have a phone or keep it in an inaccessible or hard to find place.

8) Never, ever have any useful weapons nearby or if you do ensure you lose of drop them immediately on seeing your assailant.

Do this, and you’re guaranteed to be pushing up daisies by Christmas.

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hikarry · 5 months

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I imagine Crowley, in his long existence, has never ever even attempted to cook or bake something. After all, eating has always been an excuse to take Aziraphale out and hang out. And it's not even like he eats a lot. He clearly prefers drinking.

And yet, when they move to the South Downs, it's a bit different, innit? The South Downs is no London where in every corner there's a restaurant or a bakery and there's always a new spot to discover. If they want to eat out they have to drive for a while and it's not like they have a lot of options. All in all, it's just not very efficient. But Aziraphale likes food. And Crowley loves to watch him eat.

I have no doubt Crowley becomes the cook of the household, all for the love of the angel. And he also ends up liking it cause he likes to follow recipes and keeps his mind busy. Aziraphale's smile is just a bonus, really.

Alas, it takes a while for him to get good at it and the first time he tries can be described as one of the most frustrating ventures of his life.

At first he decides to wing it. Something simple, out of the stuff they have in the refrigerator and the pantry. How hard can it be? Humans have been doing it since de beginning of time! It turns out it can, indeed, be quite difficult. He burns everything, makes a mess of the kitchen. Somehow there's flour in the counter tops and he hasn't even touched the flour! Or was it sugar? Regardless, he didn't use sugar either!

He ends up caving in and pulling his phone, searching for EASY and BEGINNER FRIENDLY recipes. The angel doesn't need to know about it.

Welp, even following the recipe he ends up with his sleeves soaked with water, an egg on the floor, somehow the flour is back even tho he miracled it away 10 minutes ago and a burned hand, that he heals not before screaming bloody murder. Luckily Aziraphale wasn't at home.

Eventually, in between all his failed attempts, he starts running out of supplies and starts miracling them as he needs them.

After 3 hours, and 10 minutes before Aziraphale is due to arrive home, he is finally successful and extremely exhausted because of all the miracles.

When Aziraphale arrives, Crowley presents him with a somewhat fancy grilled cheese sandwich (yes. He started with proper meals and ended up in sandwiches).

"Oh dear, you made this?"

"Yup."

"I didn't know you could cook!"

"It's a sandwich, angel. Can't really be considered cooking."

They walk to the living room, when Crowley remembers you can see the kitchen from said living room, and it still looks like a war zone.

"It looks scrumptious, nonetheless!"

"Yeah, thanks." He snaps his fingers behind his back to tidy up the kitchen and close the window he had opened because of the smoke and the smell of burned food before they actually arrive in the living room. "Do you want some tea with that?"

"That would be lovely."

Okay, tea he could do in front of Aziraphale. Tea is easy. Just some warm water and leaves. He has done it a million times before for the angel. He can't fuck it up, right? After the most humiliating 3 hours of his life, he isn't so sure.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #anthony j crowley

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saintslewis · 6 months

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❝ 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!)

#saint writes #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #f1 x oc #f1 x black!reader #f1 fic #renaissance: the series

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actual-changeling · 6 months

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do you ever think 'hey, how can i make the south downs cottage sad?' and then just. vomit onto your keyboard? no? just me? that's okay, i wrote it so y'all don't have to.

i just had the mental image of crowley crying in an empty cottage while curled up on the floor okay. i was choking on it and it was write or die.

Crowley bought a cottage.

Well, he bought a lot of things in a near-manic online shopping experience that lasted two days and included—among many, many other items—a piano, five different tablets, a new couch, several bags of tiny plastic babies, a silver snake statue, and a cottage.

The cottage. His cottage. A quaint, yellow cottage in the South Downs.

If you were to ask him why, he would make a number of different sounds before settling on 'just wanted a change of scenery'.

Scenery. It is not a lie as such, but it barely scratches the surface of the truth.

London is empty without him. Familiar streets turned foreign, St. James's Park might as well be a cemetery of memories, and the bookshop—

Crowley doesn't like to think about the bookshop. No matter what he tells himself or how many good days he digs up from the back of his mind, the safety of what had been theirs disappeared with him.

(He refuses to set foot in it almost as vehemently as he refuses to say his name.)

Moving with supernatural powers is easy, yet he still decides to drive the Bentley all the way down, watching as London disappears. A part of him hopes the emptiness in his chest might stay behind as well, but his eyes burn with the same weight of uncried tears as before. There is no place on earth without the ghosts of what could have been haunting it.

So he moves into the cottage.

Crowley steps inside for the first time on a sunny Wednesday afternoon, warmth flooding the still-unfurnished rooms, and it would take a mere snap of his fingers to fill the void, to turn it into a home.

Maybe, he thought right before entering, maybe it will fix things.

When he sinks onto worn wooden floorboards and draws his knees up against his chest, he almost regrets not going with him. He had hoped, fuck, he had hoped, like the fool he is, that maybe building something for himself would expel the deeply rooted loneliness keeping him awake at night.

It doesn't. Nothing ever will.

(Unless he comes back, unless unless unless, and he needs to believe he will, he will lie down and never get up again.)

Crowley owns an empty cottage, and he sits in its hollow heart and cries.

#alex writes good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen

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qatarsprint2023 · 4 months

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heelooososo requesting a lando x reader when she is going on a road trip with him and gets car sick requesting this as I’m sitting in the car and I feel like dying😭😭 thanku!!!!!

Heyy! You should really try ginger to ease motion sickness. That always helps me. Anything with ginger in it, really. Tea, too. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Getting car sick — LN4

He planned a nice car trip, but you get motion sickness — Lando Norris x f!reader, comfort (honestly just Lando being an angel), no use of y/n word count: 930

The French Riviera really was as beautiful as everyone said. You'd gotten to experience that beauty first hand for the past few months since you moved down to Monaco with Lando. He'd moved there last year already while you were still back in London and tied down to your workplace, but after a lot of negotiations with your boss, you were finally able to work completely from home instead of having to come into the office every day.

Life was nice down here in the South of France. The sun was almost always out, it was always a nice temperature all year around and you were close to the sea. It was pretty much perfect, really, and your French was just getting better and better every day.

Last week Lando had the idea to just book you two a nice weekend getaway in a town down the coast about 30 minutes from Marseille. He didn't have a race this weekend and you two would be able to just relax as a couple after he'd been away a lot recently. To your dismay that also meant getting kicked out of bed at eight in the morning in order to hopefully avoid a bit of the traffic, tourists coming down from the north for their holidays would cause. You'd always loved the idea of road trips, but there was just one downside— you were prone to motion sickness and that was not a fun thing.

As the car sped along the motorway, winding its way through a beautiful mountain landscape, you sat in the passenger seat, your knuckles white as you clung to your seat. Your eyes were closed tightly, and your face a grimace of discomfort. Despite having taken preventative measures like focusing on a fixed point on the horizon and your breathing, you could feel the nauseating sensation of motion sickness creeping up on you like a predator about to overwhelm its prey.

"Lando," you mumbled not even halfway into the two and a half hour journey, swallowing hard. "I think... I think I'm going to be sick."

Lando glanced over at you, concern etching lines into his forehead. He knew you were prone to getting car sick on long rides, but had hoped you wouldn't today.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, his voice soothing as he gently took your hand, keeping the other one on the steering wheel. "Just take slow, deep breaths. There's a gas station in a few kilometres. I'll pull over there and you can get some fresh air, okay?"

You took his advice, focusing on the rhythm of your breathing. Then he pulled the car off the road after a few more minutes and found an empty spot to park in before turning off the engine. He reached over and placed a comforting hand on your back, rubbing gently, then dug into your travel bag on the backseat, pulling out a bottle of water and a pack of ginger chews, known to help with nausea. He handed them to you with a sympathetic smile, and you gratefully accepted, taking small sips of water and nibbling on the chews.

You sat there in silence for a while, the only sound being the chirping of the cicadas outside and the rustling of the surrounding pine trees through the windows Lando had opened so you could get some fresh air.

As color gradually returned to your face you released a soft sigh of relief. A small, grateful smile spread across your face as you turned to your boyfriend who'd been watching you with worried eyes as his thumb rubbed gentle circles into your palm. "I think I'm okay now," you murmured, you voice much steadier than before when you'd felt like an elephant was sitting on your chest.

Lando returned your smile, relief washing over him. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before speaking up.

"Do you maybe wanna take a quick walk or should we get going again?" he asked softly, nodding towards the parking lot surrounded by trees. You shook your head no. You'd be fine.

He restarted the engine, taking extra care to drive at a slower pace this time. The car eased back onto the road, the journey resuming with a newfound calmness.

You continued to snack on the ginger chews, now realizing their effectiveness. Every now and then, you'd take small sips from the water bottle, keeping your nausea at bay. The combination of these remedies and the slower speed of the car seemed to help manage your motion sickness better.

You two continued your journey through the winding road for about another one and a half hours, the scenery outside the window calming and serene. The sun was still high in the sky, casting a warm glow on top of the mountains and the sparse trees and bushes adorning them. Tranquility enveloped the car, the only sounds being the soft tunes from the radio and Lando's gentle humming.

As you drove further, your discomfort became a distant memory. You found yourself almost relaxing, leaning back into your seat and actually kind of enjoying the scenic beauty unfolding before your eyes. This road trip, despite its minor setback, was turning out to be quite the nice trip Lando had planned.

Your boyfriend, noticing your relaxed demeanor, smiled to himself. Even with the earlier episode of sudden motion sickness, he was glad he'd planned this trip. The South of France was breathtaking, and being able to share this life with his wonderful girl was something he wouldn't trade for anything.

#f1 #f1 x reader #mclaren #lando norris x you #lando x reader #lando norris #motion sickness #comfort #qatarsprint2023

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foolishlovers · 3 months

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I saw your offer to give fic recommendations! Do you have any fluff favorites (especially south downs cottage related ones)?

hii yes i love to give fic recs 🥰

[you can request more fic recs here.]

here are some fluffy south downs good omens fics:

Routine by Burrahobbit (G, 700) In their South Downs cottage, Crowley and Aziraphale quickly fall into a routine, as they are wont to do. This particular morning, however, is different.

Taking Some Pictures or Something by his_infinitevariety (G, 2k) On a road trip to the South Downs Crowley gives Aziraphale his phone to take photos of the views. However, Aziraphale doesn't know how the phone works and spends all day accidentally posting to Crowley's Instagram story.

Parsley, Thyme, Sage, Daffodils by MostWeakHamlets (G, 3k) Aziraphale has a cooking show on the internet. It started out with three viewers, but now he's known as the happy grandfather that blew up overnight. Crowley occasionally makes cameos, has dedicated his garden to giving Aziraphale fresh herbs and vegetables, and struggles with living after the apocalypse. _ “Taste this, my dear,” Aziraphale said. He held a spoonful of jam to Crowley’s lips with his free hand cautiously under it, ready to catch any dripping. Crowley leaned forward to wrap his lips around the spoon. Most likely his shyness came from the small tender moments Aziraphale was not afraid of showing the world. It had been the topic of many long conversations after Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in St. James Park, causing Crowley to freeze and break out in a cold sweat. Being discreet had always been their top priority. For 6,000 years, someone would have surely seen them if they embraced in the middle of London. But now, Aziraphale had assured Crowley, things were different. They no longer needed to hide, but Aziraphale would go as slow as Crowley needed him to. It was almost funny how their roles had switched after the apocalypse.

a city wall and a trampoline by kafkian (T, 4k) In their cottage in the South Downs, when Crowley eventually succeeds in getting Aziraphale to use a laptop, it takes Aziraphale literal hours to get past the default Windows screensavers of picturesque locations because 'oh, look, isn't it lovely, Crowley!' - 5 times Crowley knows he’s in love with Aziraphale + 1 time he knows the reverse.

Love Like Fools by animeangelriku (T, 4k)

One minute, Aziraphale is cataloguing some of his first editions, and the next one, he’s leaning against the bookshelf with one hand because he feels like the breath he doesn’t necessarily need (but is nonetheless used to taking) has just been knocked out of him.

He does not need to hold back his feelings for Crowley anymore. He does not need to hide his feelings for Crowley anymore. They’re on their own side now. Show Me The Sugar by WaitingToBeBroken (T, 4k) When the new "couple" moves in the cottage down the road, it's apparent to everyone what their Arrangement is. Rachel, the owner of the pet shop they had just visited, is not so sure anymore. Who was supposed to be the sugar father again?

Show me where the Nightingale sings by Sabotaged_Words (G, 6k) After settling into their new home in the South Downs there are still things to process for Aziraphale and Crowley before they can start a new chapter of their life. But winter is turning into spring. There is magic abroad in the air. And finally, the nightingale is back. some other fluff favourites:

Eden Nails by AppleSeeds (T, 8k) After learning that his incredibly attractive mysterious new neighbour Crowley runs a nail salon, Aziraphale goes there for a manicure and is thrilled when Crowley offers to do it for him personally.

A sweet world by NohaIjiachi (G, 11k) “Good morning!” the man chirped, with a smile that could light up an entire room. “It is such a beautiful day, today, isn’t it?” Crowley managed to hold back the pained groan he could feel rising from the depths of his throat. Small talk and joyfulness. It was too early for this. Morning people were insufferable. “D’you make coffee?” he asked instead, or maybe grunted. The man hummed. “I certainly can,” he commented lightly, turning around and opening an aquamarine painted cupboard.

a picnic plan for you and me by Anonymous (G, 20k) “It’s angel food cake,” he said. He waited. When Aziraphale did nothing but nod politely: “It’s funny, see, ‘cause-” “No, no, I get it.” Aziraphale nodded again. “Very funny.” “Oh, shut up, it is-” “May I ask what brought this on?” Crowley paused. “Can’t a guy just want to try baking?” (Or, Crowley makes Aziraphale food after the world doesn't end. It has absolutely nothing to do with how much he wants to make Aziraphale smile.) [you can find more fic rec masterposts here.]

#hope you'll enjoy these 💜#good omens #good omens fic rec #good omens fic #good omens south downs #south downs #aziracrow #aziracrow fanfic #aziraphale x crowley #answered #foolish recs #go fic masterpost #foolishlovers

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myobsessionsspace · 3 months

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This is an assumption. But why do you think JK bought his property in Itaewon out of all places ? And now building a mansion there which means that will be his main house he decides to settle. I've seen all korean stars buying their homes to love with their family in more decent and high end areas like Gagnam, Hannam etc. No one really buys property in itaewon with an aim to settle there with family as it's like the party spot of SK. Itaewon is known for clubs, brothels, parties, drugs and prostitution, most only go there to party, have one night stands or do illegal activities. Someone visiting Itaewon often is eye brow raising enough so building a whole mansion there is sus af isn't it ?

Hey,

I understand tone can’t be accurately interpreted with written words, so I just want to make my tone clear first and foremost.

I’m speaking with no harshness, judgement or condescension.

DM me and we can delulu cutely together with no air of authority on the matter, cos we should know we don’t know shit, but can still want to coo and dream with others 🤗.

We’ve seen and been outraged by sasaengs and their stalking of members and called them out at times. We’ve literally seen Jungkook on live entering his apartment and being annoyed with sasaengs loitering outside of his building, he has even said in that same live that he knows people knows where he lives and posted online.

Put yourselves in their shoes, who wants millions knowing your full address and being able to turn up unannounced? Because they’re fans of your music, of your image? I’m gonna leave that there.

I will say in regards to Itaewon, I’m not Korean, I don’t have a Korean father, a Korean brother, a Korean bff who works at Hybe, nothing. I do have a friend who went on a program, studied there and lived there for years but that’s it. I don’t know anything about Itaewon apart from the Halloween tragedy and a K-Drama. So guess what I did, yup you guessed it, I GOGGLED💪

No one really buys property in itaewon with an aim to settle there with family as it's like the party spot of SK. Itaewon is known for clubs, brothels, parties, drugs and prostitution, most only go there to party, have one night stands or do illegal activities. Someone visiting Itaewon often is eye brow raising enough so building a whole mansion there is sus af isn't it ?

Incoming cheeky tone…I thought I said ‘genuine asks’? This right here sounds like laying down the groundwork to paint a certain picture of Jungkook?🤔🤨

Itaewon

You said: ‘I’ve seen all Korean stars buying their homes to live with their families in more decent high end areas like Gangnam, Hannam etc’.

I say: That’s a pretty bold, blanket statement 😬

Famous idol Rain and his actress wife and children have a home in Itaewon as do many other celebrities with their spouses, partners and families

Actor Song Joong-Ki and his British wife, who was pregnant at the time, moved to his Itaewon mansion along with her family from the UK. They welcomed a baby girl in 2023.

Chaebols like those belonging to the Samsung family also have homes in Itaewon

Doing my googles, Itaewon is known as ‘a multi-cultural commercial area located in Seoul, South Korea. It is one of the most popular neighborhoods in Seoul, known for its nightlife and trendy restaurants.’ ‘Seoul's International District’.

I know some other places that sound like the above.. London…New York…Paris…

I wonder where the prostitution, drugs and one night stands come into it for people who wanna buy or build houses in those cities?

Jungkook is currently a 26 year old multimillionaire, who is a member of one of the biggest groups in not just South Korea, but the world, so I guess he’ll have lots to do when he’s not working his ass off with his intense more than full time job. Settling somewhere with family…I’m sure he’ll take Bam into consideration in his plans, wherever it may be.

Something I did find cool when doing my googles 😁

‘Korean singer-songwriter JYP (Park Jin-young) and Yoo Se-yoon's hip hop duo UV released the song "Itaewon Freedom" in April 2011. The title alludes to (and the lyrics celebrate) a common Korean perception of Itaewon's "open atmosphere", in contrast with conventional Korean culture, which is more conservative.’

LGBTQIA+ ‘haven’ Itaewon

‘The 2020 South Korean Netflix television series Itaewon Class is set in Itaewon. The drama was praised for its diverse and inclusive cast and its realistic portrayal of subjects such as prejudice and discrimination against foreigners, ex-convicts and the LGBT people, as well as the portrayal of misbehaviors by chaebol corporations.’

Sounds like Itaewon is a cool, diverse, inclusive place, full of sites & attractions, shops and good food. If a 26+ year old man that’s been working and in the public eye since 13/14 wanted to build a home there, Itaewon sounds like a great place and a good investment.

I’d love to visit there, if I ever had the time AND money 🥲

Thanks for the ask, it caused me to learn something new!

💜

#Jungkook #Itaewon #Anonymous Asks #Jikook #the last tag just because…

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internationalremovals23 · 5 months

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Get A Quick And Accurate Quote For Your House Move with South London Removals

#House Removals London #home Removals South London #home moves South London #house pack & move services #London moving services #London removals

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 month

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I'll Show You Just How Sad I Am

a raymond smith x reader quick little blurb, just 1k words

there's mentions of smut in this so read at your own risk <33 who knows, maybe raymond will make a more regular occurrence on my blog over the next few weeks

here's my masterlist in case you want to check out my other works

"Should be the door to your left, honey."

Your voice is sweet in his ear, a pleasant distraction from the run-down building Mickey had sent him off to. It's smelly and dirty and even though he knows he should most likely feel pity, he's still just as disgusted. He'd be with you in a heartbeat if he could, safe and clean in the comfort of your home.

"Mickey should've sent a cleaning lady", he grunts as he knocks at the door, your chuckle almost making up for the very truthful, thinly veiled anger behind his words.

"Mickey wanted you because you're the best", you recite - you've told him often enough by now that it really is reciting. "And because he trusts you to keep this clean."

Which is easier said than done.

Twenty minutes later, the whole thing's anything but clean.

Sure, he'd very much accomplished bringing Laura home - but he'd also left a dead teenager in a puddle of blood about two stories down from where he should've been sitting.

"Left, left!", you call into the mic. Even though you're far from panicking, you're still much too loud, your voice flowing from his earpiece and stinging his brain.

"I'm trying, darling", he grunts back, breathless and panting as he pushes on, one foot in front of the other on the pavement of some random South London streets.

"I know, I know", you sigh. He isn't sure whether he's actually hearing you chew on your lip or imagining it, but he doesn't really have the capacity to think too much about it at the moment. "He's right in front of you. You've got him, Ray."

Yeah... The only problem is that what you must be seeing as a moving, flashing dot on a digital map, he's seeing as a bunch of teenagers trying to look intimidating. Probably feeling intimidating too. God, this is exactly why he didn't want the job. He isn't made for the fucking low-classed youth.

"You've seen enough?", that bastard of a boy spits at him. "Now I've got backup."

Raymond steadies his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath in.

"You couldn't back up a phone, you cunt", he rasps, his erratic heartbeat slowly starting to calm back down.

"Raymond", you scold. "That's a child."

"That's a bastard", he mutters, before he finally straightens and tries his best at a somewhat mannered bargain. He's really only here for the fucking phone. He needs those pictures, then he's gone. He doesn't want to leave more unnecessary corpses to take care of.

So he offers them money. Which is something that they should definitely take, just judging by how they look. Plus a visit to a very good psychiatrist. But they don't. It's the same fucking bastard who's taken the pictures in the first case and got him into this mess that refuses - and in such a really stupid way, too: "How 'bout you give us that bag and be gone anyway?" - god, even you let out a choked up laugh at that, your breath carrying through the mic and into Ray's earpiece.

He drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head. What a fucking bunch of idiots. Goddamn it. He can feel his blood boil, hot and hotter.

"It's bait", you mutter, your voice low. "Calm down, love. You've got a machine gun. Use it."

Yeah, fucking hell, it's bait, he knows that. It doesn't change the way he's feeling. But your voice in his ear at least brings him back down to reality.

"Right", he grunts, then he swipes his coat to the side, closes his hand around the grip of the gun and steadies his fingertips against the trigger. He pulls it out in one swift motion, points it at the sky and shoots. For a good three seconds longer than necessary.

"Just like that", you breathe, your grin dripping down onto your voice and melting into his ear like honey. You've really got to stop that, he actually loses his focus for half a moment there and in his line of work, next time that means sure death.

The entire bunch of teenage boys flees - as expected - and in less than a minute, Raymond has the phone pressed into his palm.

"God, sometimes I really hate that I'm not there", you sigh, something in the background ruffling, probably as you shift into a more comfortable position on your chair. "Kinda wish I could've seen you."

"Run after a little cunt like that? You didn't miss anything, darling", he says, turning his head left and right before he strides back towards the car, his steps long and purposeful.

"Turn the corner here", you mutter, your voice taking on that specific tone that tells him there's a lazy grin licking at your lips. He can just imagine how you're looking (especially now that he has the time and freedom of mind for it) - one foot propped up on those bar stools that you'd bought for the kitchen, your equipment organised on the table top in front of you, his shirt hanging from your shoulders and pooling in your lap, your head tilted back and your eyes half-closed as you talk to him.

"I don't mean the little idiot", you go on, undeterred even as he narrowly avoids a trash can. Fuck, you really distract him too much. "I'm talking about you. God, you sounded so hot I wanted to jump at you. Actually scratch that, I still do."

He lets out a chuckle as he spots the car, his steps slowing. He should hurry up, he knows that. But he's got you in his ear, talking in that sweet voice of yours about just how much he affects you. He can't pass up on that.

"You're a little fuckin' minx, darling", he mutters with a grin, throwing a glance over his shoulder to check if there's any possibility he could be overheard. He doesn't necessarily feel like making your conversation public, even as you hum into the microphone.

"Yeah, but yours", you mumble. It sounds like you're almost proud of that. "Here's an idea, love: Get back home before I finish my shower and I'll show you just how sad I am that I couldn't watch you."

#x reader #raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #the gentlemen #the gentlemen x reader #the gentlemen netflix #raymond smith the gentlemen

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milknhonies · 4 months

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Sir Sherlock Holmes & The Indian Princess

शर्लक बाबू और भारतीय राजकुमारी

Chapter 1 || Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: In England, Sherlock Holmes receives an alarm letter from his dear friend Doctor John Watson. In Delhi, You don't mind being a teacher, but with new building plans, you reflect on your circumstances and opportunities.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x Desi!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Slow burn, generational trauma, colonisation, implied murder, death of a parent, classism & caste.

Word Count: 6k

Author Notes:

★ Everything written in bold is being said in Hindustani

★The Reader character goes by the last name Newalkar and is the daughter of Damodar Rao Newalkar → the adopted son of Rani Laxmibai. I must advise this story is pure fiction but based in the occupation of the British Raj that invaded and Colonised India.

★I am a White European/Australian woman, I apologise for any cultural or historical inaccuracies. I am receiving help from online sources and desi Tumblr mutual @livesinfantasyland and I heavily encourage other Indian/South Asian/Desi readers to share their thoughts, constructive criticism and help as I write this story.

Inspiring Song: "Paint it Black" by Ciara

11:35pm Thursday 26th June 1890, 221B Baker Street, Marylebone, Westminster, London, England.

This story begins and ends with the sound of rain.

Tink!

The roof had begun a leak. And when this leak came to play it had a habit of landing directly on the head of a disgruntled and lonely fellow. The greatest detective in London who could not find a friend. Granted I must inform you, Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact have some friends, but by misfortunes, none were presently in the country.

Tink!

He angrily sighed. Another drop of rain hit his head.

He launched from his arm chair and grumbling moved an empty teapot to sit on the cushion he previously sat. The drops thus made a small tinkling as they landed inside the empty pot.

Plonk!

He rubbed his eyes and checked the time on the mantle piece clock. He had lost weeks of his life. Hours squeezed down to into unknown days or months, he could not tell. It did not help how he consistently drew the curtains closed to design total darkness other than the fireplace and his candles to light up his home.

A light shiver ran up his spine. The weather was dangerously cold today. His fingertips upon inspection grew from pale white to a dark pink.

Plonk!

He wandered if perhaps it was time to have a holiday in sunny Spain.

A knock on his door broke his imagined vacation like a hammer to glass.

His pesky landlady Mrs Hudson intruded on his stuffy dust filled space. She grumbled nonsense about the filth of her apartment she’s rented out to the famous Detective before handing him a thick envelope.

Plonk!

And the moment he could see and recognised the handwriting he snatched the Letter from her wrinkly fingers and banished her with a bellowing shout. The woman fluttered out and muttered her further disgusts of his treatment.

Plonk!

But Sherlock did not care for her opinion or rather anyone’s for that matter, Sherlock only cares about the stamp he tore opened the parchment he eagerly unfolded.

John Watson. Doctor, soldier and dear friend. He was Sherlock’s greatest companion to note. He had never felt such brotherly love until he met the very man seeking a roommate here in baker street.

Doctor and detective used to comb London for clues to solve crimes and very noticeably took an interest at the sports of pleasure. The luxurious brothels of London welcomed him and his friend with open arms and spread legs. Doctor Watson was the easy victim of sex while Sherlock was one to enjoy his opium pipe and watch his friend succumb to the mouths of half-pound harlots.

And among these adventures of interesting women did the doctor find himself in a savage tussle with another jealous male patron...

Sherlock recalled the evening with mirth. His dear friend, brother in arms had been pummelled to a pulp and drunk as a daisy. So when Sherlock escorted him to a hospital, the imbecile had declared that he was doctor of the ward and did not need any stitches. It is a grand thing perhaps Doctor Watson could not fathom the memory of yelling too proudly that his medicine could be only found in the elixir of a woman’s warm cunny.

His nurse, a dirty bird at heart had giggled at this...that nurses name was Mary Mortenson. And she became the very enamoured Mrs Mary Watson.

Sherlock was not fond of his friend becoming so besotted with his bride. He tolerated the woman’s presences at best. Unspokenly, the detective saw competition to gain the doctors attention and it was becoming far too obvious that Mrs Watson would win. Every. Single. Time.

After a month of young love the married pair had decided their honey-moon should be experienced back in John’s birth land...Delhi, a city in India. Mary was to meet the senior Mr and Mrs Watson. Coincidently, the English rose was not averse to the foreign lands…she so happened to have been born in Agra. Happy and married, they boarded and sailed across the sea.

Sherlock had high hopes their ship would run scarce of supplies so they might return quickly. He missed his dear friend and even his annoying wife.

The letter in between if thumbs and fingers were the first words from them he had gotten in nearly three months. The letter read as followed...

“Dear Sherlock,

Mary and I have come to my home I grew up in as a boy. I was blessed with my parents merry welcome. However, unfortunate circumstances have designed two coffins. For merely a week into our visit my beloved parents have passed. I have yet to decide whether to bury them in the English tradition or burn them in the Hindi ritual. My predicted return back to Baker Street may appear futile and non-existent. Please. Come visit us as soon as it is convenient.

13, 25, 27, 16, 1, 18, 5, 14, 20, 19, 27, 8, 23, 5, 27, 2, 5, 5, 14, 27, 13, 21, 18, 4, 5, 18, 5, 4.

Your sincere faithful friend, Doctor John H. Watson.”

Plonk!

Sherlock’s eyes raced over the page, and cupped his mouth staring at the plethora of numbers. They were not any numbers. John was a simple man, he wasn’t the smartest being but Sherlock appreciated his humble attitudes, he liked the doctor admitting he wasn’t a world genius, just a man who knew his medicines.

So when an enigmatic set of numbers was written at random Sherlock thought of the most simplistic cypher.

For every number was a letter. 1 being A and 26 being Z, leaving 27 to be a space between a word.

His brows lifted. The message was clear and alarming.

Plonk!

“My Parents Have Been Murdered.”

He determined his dear doctor had written this cryptic message under the desire of secrecy. His eyes lit up. It meant John needed Sherlock’s help. A case. Something was amiss. John did not know the killers name. If he did, he would’ve written it or not bothered to write asking Sherlock to visit at all.

He couldn’t have run faster to his rooms to start backing as soon as possible.

Plonk!

Sherlock Holmes had know idea what he was going to find in a land he had only heard stories from Watson’s childhood. He was eager to see his friend, to help him and to finally have an adventure.

01:35pm Friday 11th July 1890, Anglo Arabic Secondary School, Desh Bandhu Gupta Rd, Ajmeri Gate, Delhi.

You dragged the piece of white chalk across a black board and sketched a simple phrase in the English language. You smiled to the young faces that filled the room, sitting in long benches and desks. Their eyes wide and curious, eager to learn.

You waved your hands, “Now, clean your chalk slates students, you are going to learn how to spell good afternoon in English.”

They wipe them down with their small damp clothes and tucked them away in the groove at the top of their slanted desk. You waited patiently until they all sat with their hands resting flat on the wooden desks, mouths shut, eyes seeking knowledge.

You underlined each letter of the first word, “Gee, ouw, ouw, dee, this spells ‘Good’ and now ‘Afternoon’ is Aya, eff, tee, Ee, Ara, eynnn, ouw, ouw, eynn.”

The young boys sounded it out with you. Their sweet pubescent voices unionised. You smiled. They were so advanced at such a young age, most of the boys had come from average and wealthy families that could afford them to come to such a fine school. Many were Muslim, others Hindu, it was a good sign of peace. The youth coming together despite their differences. And on odd days you would teach the white children, boys and girls of British and French families who wanted their children to learn Hindi, Arabic and Urdu.

You didn’t mind teaching white children, some of the boys could be very disrespectful but you gathered it was behaviour picked up from their arrogant fathers. It wasn’t the young boys who had pillaged these lands, it was their fathers and grandfathers.

“The gee,” you circled the G, “Remember in English is also pronounced like Guh and,” you tapped the double o’s, “Ouw ouw in english together when two is said ‘oooowa’. Followed by dee being said as Dah. So, let’s say it together?”

You dragged a white line under the word and sounded it out with your students.

“Guh-oooow-dah.”

You smiled.

You repeated, “Good.”

“Now let’s look at the word ‘afternoon’,” you announced.

You cleaned the board and looked back at your students. One of the little boys who sat in the front was rubbing his eyes. You smiled softly. He was only six years old. His older brother, a young man now would most likely be the one to collect his brother from school and carry him sleeping back home. You looked at the bell tower just outside the window. It was nearly time for your students to go home and you to return back to your lodgings.

“Aye and eff is said as AAaff, then tee is a quick Tuh! And what is Ee and Arrra sound together children?”

“Errr,” they all purred.

You sounded out half of the word with them, “Aafftuherrr.”

You rubbed your chalk dust covered fingers together and further explained as you pointed to each important letter, “eynnn makes a Na, sound. And we just practiced double ouw, so sound it out.”

Like a symphony of speech, you all said together, “Guh-oooow-dah Aafftuherrr, Na-ooow-na. Good Afternoon.”

The deep bowing clang of the bells outside rang through the yard and open window shutters. The children looked eager to leave. Their hands were readily holding their slates, ready to put them inside the empty wooden box in the corner of the classroom where they kept all their slates and dusters and the bucket for where they kept their chalk.

“Good afternoon students,” You bided.

“Good afternoon Teacher Madam,” They called back.

“You may go back home now. Practise your English alphabet song.”

The boys were fast as rabbits, leaping from their desks and fleeing the classroom out the hall and down the stairs. But some at least saluted you as they left. It was a habit they’d picked up from the white boys who saluted their male teachers. You smiled to yourself as you waved them out. Each left with beaming smiles and playful chatter among themselves.

As you went about sweeping the floor after wiping the chalk from the board, you wondered if you should go to the temple and pray for your students successful education or if you should consider washing your clothing today. It had been very dry today, any moment and you knew the wet season and humid rain would arrive to flood the streets clean of dust and fill the forests with life of green goodness.

As you put away the English education books on the small shelves by the door, a familiar face came rushing in, flushed and excited

If it wasn’t her jingling anklet and bangle that announced her To your classroom, it was her shrill cry of your name that did.

“Y/N! Quick!” Miss Anjuli Paraiyars exclaimed, “You need to come with me.”

Her dark ink hair was peaking out from her sun patterned veil. The wispy curls stuck to her sweaty forehead and framed her dazzling walnut eyes. They were flooded with mischief that matched her biting lip. Her brows wriggled lightly.

Placing the last book onto the shelf you turned to acknowledge your dear friend.

“Anjuli,” you happily sighed, “Whatever is the matter?”

She waved her hands about, hoping to quicken you along and out the door, “It is the Watson son, Doctor Watson, he wants to speak with you with important news.”

Your eyes widened. ‘What on earth does that poor soul wish to say to me? After the death of the good Mr and Mrs Watson, I would assume he was still in mourning, why would he call upon me?’

Following your friend outside into the scorching sun, you lifted your saree over your head. She had her family Ox and cart waiting outside the school gates.

“What important news Anjuli?” You said a little standoffishly.

“He’s offering you a job,” She said giddily. She climbed up into the cart and leant down offering her hand to you. Once in the cart side by side she sighed, “That’s all he would tell me,” She grabbed the reigns and cane and tapped the Ox to start moving out onto the dirt road, “But we all know how very generous he can be like his dear parents.”

Anjuli was right. The late Victoria and Hamish Watson’s were angelic to the local community. Victoria had been the very soul to teach your late mother English and she was the one to encourage you to attain education enough to become one of the very few first female Indian teachers. She was a well known philanthropist, often aiding the sick and homeless and funding the Indian hospitals. Hamish was a local accountant, financial advisor and lawyer. He was known to be good to the children particularly. He would often hand out sweets as he walked down the street with his briefcase bag. He often aided the locals find new homes when the British planned to evict them and replace white families in their place. The English couple had lived in the country for many decades, long before you were even born. They spoke fluently enough and mimicked the culture so well that you could’ve believed they were born here themselves.

You sat back and nodded, “May their souls attain moksha.”

02:45pm Friday 11th July 1890, Willingdon Crescent, Central Ridge Forest, Delhi, India.

The sun baked down on the streets of Dehli. The Ox cart rolled along, it’s tail flicking the flies circling it’s flank every so often.

You pinches your saree scarf and covered your face before a bug could fly into your mouth.

Anjuli had to hold the reigns and cane, she leant closer to you and giggled as she nodded to the khaki covered soldiers. Walking by in many small groups.

Anjuli had a terrible habit, she fell in love too easily. For some ungodly reason Anjuli admired the foreigners that had come so long ago and invaded your beautiful country. Maybe she liked how different they looked. The flaxen hair and ice blue gazes in the faces of pale freaks were so opposite to the raven manes and hairy russet warmth of Indian men. It was erotic for her. You just didn't understand how she could so easily find infatuation with the people you considered an enemy, and so should she.

“Oh look at them,” she giggled girlishly.

You rolled your eyes, “I’m looking.” There was a timid strain in your voice. You had no real interest to entertain Anjuli’s fascination.

When Anjuli noticed how you in fact we’re not looking but rather looking ahead on the road path she playfully smacked your arm.

“Look!” She sucked her teeth and teasingly scolded, “Do you not know delight at the sight of men?” She reached forward and abruptly touched the front of your blouse, squeezing around for the softness of your breasts, “Are you sure you’re a full grown woman?” she smiled wickedly and prodded her finger in between your legs covered by your top petticoat.

You squeaked loudly and batted her hand. She howled with laughter and kept giggling even as you scowled at her beneath your veil.

You turned your head away from her and scoffed, “I am not as easily swayed by British soldiers. They look so sickly as pale as they are,” your nose wrinkled, “How could I righteously take a husband in front of beloved Lakshmi and her Vishnu when they look like they tempt Yama too take them at any moment?”

Your friend rolled her eyes, “Oh nonsense,” she tapped your hand and waved her fingers into a crowd of soldiers, “See there that one, his hair the colour of wheat, he is a handsome man. He would make a fine husband.”

And as the cart rolled passed, you couldn’t help gag at the smell of the same man Anjuli proclaimed would make a fine husband.

‘A fine swine perhaps. Many sow in heat could come trotting to him from miles with such a putrid scent.’

Your head wobbled and your flat palm waved at her, “A husbands good qualities are not to stand on his appearance alone. One day he will grow old, fat, bald and ugly.”

A long dragging sigh came out from the woman beside you. She managed to move both reigns into one hand and playfully tugged your saree away from your face

“You’re no fun, come on,” she jerked her chin out to the same street as the ox was about to pass another group, “Tell me you don’t find any of them a little attractive?”

You stared at the oncoming group and now sucked your teeth. You crudely stated, “They’d be far more attractive if they left. Went back to their lands, leave our villages and the people of Bharat in peace.”

Anjuli stared blankly at you. Before she could pinch and prod you again you relented and noticed one of the men in the crowd so different from the others.

He was tall, his hair a dark chestnut that matched the shade of his suit. His face was bare and clean in comparison to the soldiers who all adorned moustaches and muttonchop beards on their faces. He was carrying a rather large brief case and walking stick.

“Fine...that one,” you nodded, “In the brown English clothes.”

“The one wearing a suit?” Anjuli snickered, “He’s not a soldier though?”

You giggled,“And it is for such a reason I find he is most handsome among them.”

You both gazed at him as the ox fully passed by. Anjuli smiled at you.

“He is rather tall. Strong. What do you think he does?” She asked, “Maybe he is a farmer, or a bricklayer?”

You shook your head. ‘No. He couldn’t be.’

“He dresses too finely. It is not their Christian Sunday Sabbath today. He probably is a rich businessman, with a wife and children.”

You looked back to the path as the dusty road became thicker in trees and travel further away from the street. You thought about that strangers wife, what she might look like, probably some English rose with a house full of servants at her command, surrounded by maids and wet nurses for her children. She would live in a grand house and hold soiree’s, welcoming guests from all around to celebrate life. She would have a massive library and a place of worship. It was the life you should’ve had, the life you were owed and denied merely by the changing events of history and the extinguish of your father’s birthright.

Your soft smile faded; you felt a twinge of repulsion mixed with a hint of anger. You’d think after all these years you would’ve chosen to forget this, ignore this, let go and accept your circumstances in this life.... You didn’t live with your father anymore who would remind you practically daily why not to trust the English or any white man, as if you didn’t witness their subjecting abuse and consistent disrespect.

Your eyes fluttered shut, you reached to your side and touched Anjuli’s wrist. She was your truest friend despite her differences and low status. Anjuli came from a Shudra family, and you? You were the daughter, the descendant of Brahims and Kshatriyas...now lowered to the Shudra caste class…You never knew the lavish life of the Jhansi palace, nor tasted the rich foods served on golden plates and surrounded by pretty creatures of the palace menagerie. You would never know the joys of running through the gardens with other children in the royal family.

Everyone was gone, everything was gone. All that was left was your father who scarcely remembered that life but shared all he remembered so his memories would live on through you and bring you hope that one day it would be yours. It was a cruel false hope…

Eighteen years ago, you had been born inside of a nice house in Indore to the daughter of a prestige painter Vasudeoraobhau Bhatavdekar. As far as you knew, your father loved your mother very much for the incredibly brief time that they were married. A rare jewel in beauty is how he described her often. A marriage of love and choice. Your father said she was softly spoken and obedient, but it was her unconditional love for him and his dreams that held his heart in appreciation.

It was by unfortunate command that she would fall ill to childbed fevers after you were born. After you…a girl...not a son. You were nothing in the eyes of the British raj and had no chance of being installed as an heir for any restoration…you were the last hope and failed before your first breath. And that was something you’d never forget.

For a small time, you were raised in that home and then it was decided by your father that you would learn English. His tutors were not available, so he cut your hair short and shipped you off to Delhi with your young uncle Save to the Anglo Arabic Secondary School…It did not take the teachers and headmaster long to discover you were a girl. Before you were to receive the beating of a lifetime it was Mr Hamish Watson who so happened to be accounting the school costs to save you. He took you to his wife who taught you English and then set you to live with his maid servants, Anjuli’s mother.

Your friend spoke after some time of silence, “Oh, I’m meant to tell you- My cousin Vijay sent word this morning, he’s seeking a wife. My mother wants me to ask if you’d like to meet him, a prospective match.”

Your lips curled into a sneer, “Isn’t he the one that use to tie our braids together in a knot during Diwali and chase us around the street making animal noises?”

You recalled a young teenage boy about five years your senior with a tooth gap and ruffled hair. He was so annoying, calling you names and bullying you by calling you fat and ugly. He was spoilt and rude. He mocked you when you told him you were a princess. He said you were a princess of pimple pox and nothing more. Oh how you remembered the way your blood boiled.

“We were children, he was playing, only a boy,” she smiled, “He’s a man now, studying to be a barrister in Bombay but he will be visiting in a few weeks to help us move.”

Ah yes, the dilemma you needed to find a solution too soon. It was a month ago that a letter had been nailed to the house door, it was an eviction commandment made by the British military and government. The Paraiyars family and you had to leave the home in Raisina hill, why? Because the British do what they like…building concrete monstrosities over beautiful land and demolishing the history of your people like it was worthless dust. Rumours spread about a grand governors palace was to be built there, but they couldn’t burn the village to ash with people living inside...well....at least not on their "morally good Christian conscious."

“Vijay I believe owns a cottage near the seaside. You could be his bride and live with him instead of moving back to Indore to your father.”

Moving back was not possible...not after his most recent letter.

“Father has…felt it improper for me to move back to Indore. He believes that my existence would cause me more harm than good under his jailers’ eyes…His pension he shares I give mostly to your mother for board. I have saved my wages, I am considering…moving to a boarding workhouse in Jhansi or Agra, but tell your mother I would like to greet Vijay when he arrives…”

You smirked looking down at your fingernails, “Lakshmi forbid I run out of money and need to resort to the ‘charity’ of Christians or to prostitution.”

Anjuli made a face, shaking her head and brushed her shoulder into yours, “You wrinkle your nose at every man, white, black or bronze,” she smiled cheekily, “I doubt you’d make a good prostitute.”

“Anjuli!” You shrieked.

Both you and her erupted into a large happy shrill of giggles enough to gain head turns from passing public. You and her playfully poked your elbows into each other. Anjuli was right, there was no chance that you could make a suitable prostitute…you hadn’t had sex and didn’t know how to please a man, most men you barely liked. They could be selfish. Anjuli on the other hand, she was a frisky thing. She had kissed a hundred men and given her ‘precious flower’ to a boy back when she was thirteen. She had no shame. Anjuli had shared her sordid tales of lust to you many times. You knew her boyfriends that snuck her out at night and returned her by morning. You promised never to tell her mother or father who surely would’ve disowned her if they knew how promiscuous she was. It was best if they believed she made money with her parents in the markets selling dyed clothes and wooden jewellery boxes.

03:04pm Friday 11th July 1890, 5 Bistdari Road, Central Ridge Forest, Delhi, India.

Arriving to the Watson Bungalow was simple enough, the ox cart rolled and bumped over the rock and sandy grooves of the path. Anjuli pulled the reigns of her beast and helped you both down. She tied her ox to the outside gate posts, the precious creature lowered its head and munched on dry grass that still was hinted in green. The ox would be glad as soon the wet season would hit and all the food delight lush and green would return.

You and Anjuli stepped inside and removed your sandals, Anjuli then led you through the house. It had been some time since you had been here. Anjuli’s mother was dismissed as Mrs Victoria Watson’s maid when the new Watson bride had arrived.

Doctor Watson, their son was a short ferrety man. His face was covered in a long mutton mustache like a snake of hair slithering along his face. He was a grown man from the teenager you had met many years ago. His parents had sent him to Europe to school, as far as you were aware he had join the army and fought in some notorious war battles like The of Battle of Abu Klea.

As you entered the bureau office, you found him hunched over some paperwork, his brows scrunched. His eyes lifted up and brightened his face on seeing you both.

“Oh Miss Paraiyars, Anjuli dear,” he said clapping his hands and opening a drawer in his desk, “Thank you so much dear for bringing darling Miss Newalkar here. Here,” he handed Anjuli a small bag and slipped four rupees into her hand, “and take these sweets back to your Mataji, Mrs Paraiyars.”

Anjuli put her hands together and smiled, wobbling her head before leaving you alone to return outside back to her ox cart.

You had your hands pressed together peacefully while the doctor hobbled over to you from around the desk. He was smiling brightly and nodded his head to you, offering you a chair in front of the desk.

“Y/N thankyou for coming on such short notice. I requested your presence in person to offer you a job position.”

Your smile fell, you sheepishly explained to the man, “I am currently employed at the Anglo school Doctor, Babu.”

The doctor nodded, “Yes…Anjuli tells me you are still teaching the children English and Hindi?”

“Yes Doctor Babu,” you confirmed.

“How much are you paid per month?” he asked quickly, touching his lips lightly in thought.

“Twenty five rupees,” you said softly, you didn’t dare try to sound prideful.

The doctor smiled and pulled out a piece paper contract, he then stated, “I will pay you a hundred per month.”

Your eyes widened, and then narrowed. It was too spectacular to be true, it sounded Impossible. Your fathers pension was only a hundred and fifty rupees a year, for the doctor to give you a hundred per month was unfathomable wealth. What on earth was he wanting from you!?

“What is the position,” you swallowed breathlessly, “Doctor Babu?”

“Housekeeper and…a carer,” he sighed, “I need you to live here, and watch over one of my friends. He is from England and I am afraid he might not understand the customs here.”

He leant against the desk cocking his head and looking down at his feet awkwardly. “Please,” he begged, “he is different to other men. He is particular and perhaps rather spoilt. I need you to make sure he doesn’t get lost, harmed or too upset. It is pressing that I should return to my wife in Agra. I would have hired Mrs Paraiyars, in fact I did offer this role to her, but I have been informed she will be moving and her English is not as it once was…and my English friend is rather…particular and impatient with broken speech...”

He wrote a signature across the bottom of the document and held it out for you to read. It was real…your mouth watered. You could save more than your regular wage and easily move back to Indore without burdening your father or mother’s family.

“If you accept my offer, you may live here as a free lodging, you recall where the servant quarters are I am sure? You will also receive a handsome budget for food. And-” he paused looking up and pocketing the cheque, he gasped, “Sherlock! Dear god man! Did you walk here from the train station?!”

You turned around in the chair and took in the sight of a familiar looking soul.

He was the gentleman from the road. The supposed businessman with his briefcase. He was taller standing here with you then when you sat above in the ox cart. He was standing in the doorway to the office. He stepped inside and lowered his walking stick and briefcase.

“My friend,” the handsome stranger gleefully called, “My dear John Watson, I came the moment I read your message. One of the khaki coated lads pointed me here.”

Up close now you could observe his features on a better judgement. Sherlock Holmes was well known in the British gazette for his distinct physical appearance. With his broad angular frame, sharp hard features, and mighty frame, he exuded a striking and intimidating aura that commanded respect. He reminded you of warriors you imagined before bed in story's of battles your father described at Jhansi Fort.

His face was marked by a strong, sharp pointed nose and intense, deep-set sapphire eyes. His hair was kept combed and short below his ears short and slicked back, revealing his angular eyebrows, and his pink lips that were tightly pursed. He wore a grand brown suit coat with a crisp white shirt, and woolen sweater vest beneath it. And at the base of his throat was a dark burgundy tie. Something about the time reminded you of blood. A cut throat. You felt cold.

His eyes smoothly shifted to you and your presence, his lips parted softly, he glanced back at John, “A patient of yours Doctor?”

The moustached man bristled and shook his head, he stuttered and leant his hand out to you. you carefully chose to take it and rise from the chair as he introduced you.

“Oh- I- Sherlock…um, Sherlock Holmes, I would like you to meet Miss Y/N Newalkar.”

“Miss Newalkar,” the doctor waved his hand over the figure of the giant stock of a man, “This is the very gentleman I was informing you about. This is my friend Detective Sherlock Holmes.”

You pressed your hands together and nodded in greeting. One of Sherlock’s brows raised and his lips hardened in a straight line.

Doctor Watson explained back to the detective, “I was in the middle of discussing whether this dear lady would like to accept a role of housekeeping during your stay here.”

“Whatever for?” Sherlock snickered, “Is your lady wife not up to par with her duties?” he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on his leather shoes while his eyes scanned all the way down to your bare feet. It was a crude look of judgement. The westerner seemed to forget not everyone shared the same styles and habits here. You tried not to roll your eyes at him as he scanned your arms and the parts of your belly that the saree did not cover. Those dark blue orbs crawled up and settled over your faux sweetened smiling face.

“Some…plans have come up unexpectedly. Mary is back in Agra, staying safe with her family,” John stated, his fingers rubbed together, “I need to be with her. And the hospitals are in desire of my services as a surgeon. I ask that you will look around, see if you can find anything here…” he leant in closer and whispered to the man, “I will visit every couple of days, to check up on you and see if there is truth to be founded in my suspicions.”

'Suspicions?'

“John…” the detective pat his friends shoulder, “I am happy to see you. I promise I will do my very best.”

“Thankyou,” said the doctor.

Sherlock jerked his chin to your direction, “How much does the dear girl here know?”

“Well, I…not much,” the doctor blushed and looked back to you, “Miss Newalkar, your thoughts on the job position role?”

You swallowed and nodded slowly, “I accept the conditions, thankyou for your most gracious offering, Doctor Babu.”

The doctor smiled and carefully touched your back, leading you to the exist of his office as he happily stated.

“Splendid! Please, this is the contract. Sign it and return with your belongings later on a few hours while I converse with my friend and guest.”

You looked back at the mysterious Sherlock Holmes and back to the contract. You wobbled your head in goodbye and went on your way. The way you could feel his eyes over your body walking away made you shiver. He was a intimidateding looking man. You left the home and slipped your sandals on.

You thought about how you would now be the housekeeper of a prestigious British family in the community. A wave of relief to your stability washed over you. You didn’t need to crawl to your father and your mother’s family. You started smiling ear to ear. All you needed to do was take care of a house and baby-sit an Englishman who was vulnerable to these new lands.

“Did you see him go in?” Anjuli smirked from the ox cart, waving you over, “The British man you fancied?”

You jerked your chin up proudly exclaiming, “I met him.”

Your friend gasped with a wide smile, “What is he like?”

“I don’t really know,” you shrugged before waving the contract in front of your friends face, “but I am going to be his housekeeper, I need to inform the school of my resignation.”

Anjuli looked at the contract, she couldn't read english but made a light sad sound and sucked her teeth before sighing, “Oh, those children will miss you dearly.”

And that you could both agree. You grabbed the ox reigns and tapped its flank with the cane rolling back to the school again quickly to collect your last wage.

Helplines:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

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