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Cosimo Galluzzi
styofa doing anything
almost home
Peter Solarz
★
Xuebing Du
RMH
YOU ARE THE REASON
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Sade Olutola
ellievsbear
Not today Justin
Andulka
🪼
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Product Placement
d e v o n
seen from United States
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@rayesgenesis
breakfast at the heartbreak hotel ⊹₊ ⋆
mae. xviiii. black. she/her. #1 lacy stan. enjoyer of many many things. writer when i feel like it.
recent works:
➳ mine — joshua pearce x fem!reader
➳ jp headcanons — joshua pearce x black fem!reader
➳ the lighthouse in the storm — ben florian x fem!reader
my masterlist (requests r open)
top 5 horror movies
-having a job
-not having a job
-applying for jobs
-the job market
-the concept of working my whole life
do you still take requests for belly? x
ofc i’ll always write for my pookie princess 💕 only belly x fem!reader tho!!
i had this wonderful idea for a steve one shot that just disappeared into thin air if anyone finds it please bluetooth it back to me
so i’m taking requests yk how i love my brunettes 🤭
hiya love!! could you do a ben florian relationship headcanons with a gn!reader please??
BEN FLORIAN RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS
NOTES: hi!!! i'm more than happy too!!! i do apologise if these are slightly ooc cause ben doesnt hijack my daydreams as often as some other character do.... BUT!! i think they're all pretty accurate in my humble opinion.
READER PRONOUNS: none are used mainly cause you can read these with any gender in mind!!!
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS: none as far as i'm concerned?
WORDS: 658
MINE
pairing : joshua pearce x fem!reader. a/n : finally was capable of writing something for my mannn. please send me more asks! warnings: suggestive?
you’re curled up together in bed after a long and hectic day. it is past midnight, the lights inside are low, and the curtains give you a glimpse of the glow of the city beyond the window. you’re the most comfortable, laying lazily in your shorts and cropped shirt as joshua remains shirtless with boxers. limbs intertwined, his hand rests on your waist, thumb drawing small invisible circles.
as you enjoy this moment frozen in time, a thought appears in your mind, a thing you’d seen on social media earlier and wanted to share with him. you decide, reluctantly, to pull back from his embrace only a little so you can lay your arm on him. he softly groans from the lack of proximity and settles on caressing your arm as you lay it on him.
“see this,” you point to the tiny mole right above your inner elbow, “there’s this theory that little beauty marks like this one are where someone kissed you in a past life.”
without missing a beat, joshua presses a soft, featherlight kiss right on the beauty mark. then, his gaze drifts higher, to that one beauty mark on your shoulder, which he kisses as well. then another one on your neck, and another beneath your jaw.
each one gets its own pause, its own hush of breath. and his lips linger, like he’s making promises to the parts of you no one’s ever quite cherished like this.
“don’t love the idea of someone else ever having that kind of access,” he whispers, his lips still at work.
you roll your eyes as his lips trail down your body. “it’s just a theory.”
“then this one,” he murmurs, brushing his nose along the hollow beneath your collarbone, “is for all the years we didn’t get to spend together.” a kiss.
“and this one…” he traces the one near your hip, as he looks up in your eyes, voice lower now, “…for the day i knew i loved you.” he sinks down to give another kiss, slower this time. his eyes close for a second, as if he’s honoring every past-life touch and making it his own. unknowingly, a tired yet large smile appears on your face.
he rises and stops at your chest. “you better believe that in every lifetime, i’ll find them all.” he lifts up your crop top access his favorite beautify mark of yours, never breaking eye contact. located on your heart, it’s grown to be your favorite one too, with how often he so intentionally often kisses it. your hand always drifts there, absentmindedly, when you think about him.
your hand finds the back of his head and you whisper his name like a secret meant for only him. he exhales like he’s savouring the way you say it. his arms instinctively tighten around you, pulling you closer. there’s a flicker in his eye when he looks up, raw and vulnerable, something between devotion and need. it’s all hunger wrapped in affection, like he’s drunk on the fact that you’re his and he’s yours.
it’s then that he places his final kiss, soft and steady, right above your breast. like he’s not just kissing you but blessing you. marking the place where your heart lives with all the weight of his own.
“this one’s definitely mine,” he whispers-smiles. “every version of me will fall in love with you right here.”
your hands cup his face and you bring his lips to yours. he kisses you back with purpose, the kind of kiss that makes you forget about any past life you might’ve had.
because right now, this one with him is all that matters.
ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʏᴇꜱ
ᴅᴀᴍꜱᴏɴ ɪᴅʀɪꜱ x ᴄᴏɴɢᴏʟᴇꜱᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
(ɪɴ ʜᴏɴᴏᴜʀ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴɢᴏʟᴇꜱᴇ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ)
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
The Melbourne sun spilled golden honey through the sheer curtains of her childhood bedroom, casting dancing shadows across the hardwood floors she'd once slid across in socks. Y/N stood before the antique mirror that had witnessed every milestone of her life—first day of school, year twelve formal, university graduation—and now this. She adjusted the delicate straps of her champagne satin dress, the fabric flowing like liquid silk against her curves, catching the afternoon light with every subtle movement. The dress was perfection itself: tailored to hug her waist before flowing into an elegant A-line that whispered sophistication without trying too hard.
Her fingers traced the gold hoops that caught the light against her warm brown skin, each piece chosen with the precision of someone who understood that elegance lived in the details. Her braids had been swept into a low chignon that morning, secured with tiny pearl pins that her grandmother had worn to her own wedding decades ago. A single rebellious curl had been left to kiss the side of her face, softening the structured beauty of the updo. She looked timeless—like a woman who carried centuries of grace in her walk and generations of laughter in her voice.
Today was supposed to be perfect. The family dinner she'd been orchestrating for months, every detail planned with the care of someone staging a small miracle. More than just a reunion, it was meant to be the day she formally introduced Damson to the constellation of people who had shaped her into the woman she'd become. After endless FaceTime calls where her sisters mercilessly roasted his posh British accent and her aunties demanded to know when this mysterious boyfriend was finally coming to meet them properly, this was supposed to be the moment—the bridge between her old world and her new one.
But two days before she left London, he'd delivered the news that had sent hairline cracks through her carefully constructed plans. "The film's gone into complete chaos, babe," he'd said, his voice carrying that particular weight of someone delivering disappointment they couldn't control. "They've called additional scenes, the director's pushing for reshoots. You know how it is—when they say jump, I have to ask how high. I'll try—God, you know I'll try—but I can't promise I'll make that flight."
She'd nodded with the practiced grace of someone who'd learned not to let her face betray the small earthquakes happening in her chest. He never missed important moments—had wrapped filming early to fly to Paris for her work presentation, convinced his agent to schedule around her birthday, turned down a lucrative commercial shoot because it conflicted with her graduation. That he might miss this felt like the universe playing a particularly cruel joke.
She'd flown in alone, carrying his kiss from Heathrow like a pressed flower—beautiful but fragile, a reminder of what almost was. The thirteen-hour flight had been filled with rehearsed explanations for his absence, each one feeling more hollow than the last. Still, she'd forced herself to push past the disappointment. This was about family. About coming home. About showing up with grace even when your heart felt like it was wearing a beautiful dress to an empty dance.
And so she showed up.
The transformation of her family's backyard was nothing short of magical. What had been a simple garden that morning now resembled something from the pages of a luxury lifestyle magazine. Fairy lights had been strung in intricate patterns between the jacaranda trees, creating a canopy of soft golden light that would make everyone look like they were glowing from within. Floral garlands of native Australian flowers mixed with vibrant African marigolds hung in graceful swoops, their fragrance mingling with the evening air.
The centerpiece was a long wooden table that seemed to stretch endlessly, draped in cream linen and adorned with arrangements of proteas, eucalyptus, and delicate baby's breath. Mismatched vintage chairs had been gathered from neighbors and family friends, each one telling its own story, creating an eclectic elegance that spoke of community and belonging. Crystal glasses caught the last rays of sunlight like tiny prisms, scattering rainbows across the white tablecloth.
The unmistakable aroma of her uncle's legendary grilled goat meat drifted from the outdoor kitchen he'd commandeered, the marinade of garlic, ginger, and fiery pili-pili creating a scent that could transport her instantly to childhood summers. Saka-saka simmered in cast iron pots, its rich earthiness promising the comfort of home, while the sweet fragrance of fresh bread from her aunt's kitchen competed with the smoky meat for attention.
Soft jazz hummed from carefully hidden speakers, the music floating like silk ribbons through conversations conducted in a beautiful mixture of English, French, and Lingala. Children darted between the adults' legs in their Sunday best, adding bursts of laughter to the sophisticated ambiance their parents had created.
Y/N moved through this paradise like she was born to it, and perhaps she was. Every step was measured grace as she balanced her wine glass—a crisp Sauvignon Blanc that caught the light like liquid crystal—with the practiced ease of someone who'd learned to navigate social spaces with diplomacy and charm. Her smile was radiant as she distributed hugs that lingered just long enough to be meaningful, cheek kisses that carried the warmth of genuine affection, and compliments delivered in the exact tone needed to make each recipient feel seen and valued.
"Tante Marie, you look absolutely stunning," she murmured to her great-aunt, meaning every word as she admired the older woman's emerald headwrap. "Uncle Paul, I've been dreaming about your cooking for months," she laughed, squeezing her uncle's flour-dusted hands.
Each interaction was a small masterpiece of connection, Y/N moving through her extended family like a conductor guiding an orchestra, ensuring everyone felt included in the symphony of the evening.
"Before we sit down to eat," her older brother Marcus called out, his voice cutting through the gentle chatter as he tapped his wine glass with a silver spoon, the crystal chime commanding attention with elegant authority. The conversations slowly quieted, faces turning toward him with the expectant looks of people who sensed something special was about to unfold.
Y/N felt her heart skip, thinking perhaps he was about to make a speech about family, about her homecoming, about the beautiful gathering they'd all helped create.
Marcus grinned, his eyes finding hers across the garden with a mischievous glint she recognized from their childhood. "We have a little surprise guest tonight. Someone who convinced an entire film production to rearrange their shooting schedule because he couldn't bear to miss this dinner with the love of his life."
The wine glass in Y/N's hand began to tremble, the golden liquid creating tiny ripples that caught the fairy lights. Time seemed to crystallize around her, each second stretching like warm honey. Her heart hammered against her ribs with such force she was certain everyone could hear it over the sudden hush that had fallen over the garden.
"No way," she whispered, the words barely audible even to herself.
And then—like something from a dream she'd been too afraid to have—Damson appeared.
He emerged from the house as if he'd been conjured from her deepest wishes, and the sight of him nearly brought her to her knees. He was dressed in an ivory linen suit that had clearly been tailored by someone who understood that clothing should worship the body wearing it. The jacket hung perfectly across his shoulders, the fabric crisp enough to catch the light but soft enough to suggest touchability. His shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the hollow of his throat, that small triangle of skin that she'd kissed goodbye at Heathrow and thought she wouldn't see again for weeks.
No tie graced his neck—he'd never been one for unnecessary formality—and his dark hair was styled in that effortlessly tousled way that suggested he'd run his fingers through it moments before stepping outside. The fairy lights caught the angles of his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, those dimples that deepened as he took in her stunned expression.
The crowd parted before him like he was royalty, or perhaps like he was exactly where he belonged, conversations stopping mid-sentence as people registered the magnitude of what was happening. He walked with purpose, his eyes never leaving hers, drinking in her shock, her joy, her complete inability to process that he was real and here and walking toward her like the answer to prayers she hadn't dared voice.
"You said—" she breathed, her voice catching in her throat as he stopped just close enough that she could smell his cologne—that warm, woody scent that had become synonymous with safety and home, the same one that lingered on his costumes when he came home from set. "You said you couldn't come—the reshoots, the director—"
"I lied," he said gently, and his voice carried that particular tone he used when he was about to reveal something that would change everything. His smile was slow and devastating, the kind that had first made her forget her own name in a London coffee shop two years ago. "But only for the best reason imaginable. And I had help."
She whipped around, her champagne dress catching the light as it flowed around her legs, to see her siblings, her mum, her cousins, even her stern uncle Paul—all grinning like Cheshire cats who'd been harboring the most delicious secret. Their faces were alight with barely contained excitement, phones already emerging from pockets and purses to capture what was about to unfold.
"You've talked about this place so much," Damson continued, his hands finding hers with the familiarity of two years spent learning the geography of each other's hearts. His fingers were warm and slightly trembling—the only sign that beneath his composed exterior, he was just as affected as she was. "About these people who shaped you, who made you the woman I fell impossibly in love with. I had to see it for myself. Had to meet them properly, the way you deserved. And I couldn't wait any longer to do this the right way."
Her breath caught in her throat, sharp and sudden, as understanding dawned like sunrise after the longest night.
The entire backyard seemed to hold its breath, the jazz music fading to a whisper, even the children sensing that something momentous was about to happen. The fairy lights above them twinkled like earthbound stars, and somewhere in the distance, she could hear her aunt's sharp intake of breath as Damson reached into his inner jacket pocket with deliberate care.
When he dropped to one knee on the soft grass, the collective gasp that rushed through the crowd sounded like wind through trees, natural and inevitable and full of wonder.
"Y/N," he began, his voice steady despite the emotion she could see swimming in his dark eyes, hands trembling just enough to remind her that beneath all his on-screen confidence, he was just a man in love, terrified of getting the most important performance of his life wrong. "I've been rehearsing this speech for months, you know. Practicing it in my trailer between takes, mumbling it in the shower, driving my dialect coach absolutely mad because I kept switching accents mid-sentence."
A watery laugh escaped her lips, and she could see his shoulders relax slightly at the sound, his dimples deepening with relief that she was still with him, still listening.
"But standing here now, looking at you in this light, surrounded by all these people who love you so fiercely... every word I planned has just evaporated." He shook his head, that self-deprecating smile she'd fallen in love with playing across his features. "So I'm just going to tell you the truth, as messy and unscripted as it is."
He took a shaky breath, his thumbs stroking across her knuckles like he was anchoring himself to her.
"I've loved you from the very first moment you told me I didn't know how to pronounce 'makayabu' properly, when you laughed so hard at my butchered attempt that you snorted wine through your nose and then turned the most beautiful shade of embarrassed I'd ever seen." His voice grew warmer with the memory, more confident as he settled into the rhythm of their story. "You were wearing that yellow dress with the tiny flowers, and you had this little piece of cassava stuck to your lip, and I thought—this is it. This is the woman who's going to ruin me for everyone else."
A sob-laugh bubbled up from her chest despite the tears that were already blurring her vision, the memory as clear as if it had happened yesterday instead of in that tiny Congolese restaurant in Peckham where they'd had their third date, where she'd been so nervous about him trying her favorite childhood dish.
"You did ruin me, you know," he continued, his voice dropping to something more intimate, meant just for her even though she could feel twenty-three pairs of eyes watching them with rapt attention. "Completely and utterly ruined me for anyone who isn't you. Do you know what it's like, being on set and having someone mention family dinners, or hearing Congolese music in a café, or seeing braids like yours on a stranger, and feeling my whole chest ache because none of it is connected to you?"
Y/N's free hand pressed against her heart, feeling it hammer against her ribs like it was trying to reach him.
"I've watched you make every space better just by being in it," he said, pulling out a small velvet box with hands that were steadier now, as if speaking these truths was giving him strength. "That first time you came to set—remember? You brought lunch for the entire crew because you said anyone working sixteen-hour days deserved proper food. The director still asks about your jollof rice."
She nodded, remembering how nervous she'd been, wanting to make a good impression on the people who spent more time with him than she did.
"I've seen you love—loudly when people need to hear it, like when you got on the phone with my mum for three hours talking her through her divorce even though you'd only met her twice. Gently when they need to feel safe, the way you held my hands when I was having that panic attack about the nude scene and told me my boundaries were valid. With fire when they need defending—God, the way you tore into that journalist who made the comment about my background."
His voice cracked slightly on the last words, and she saw him swallow hard, overwhelmed by his own memories of her love.
"And with kindness that never, ever asks for anything in return. You love like it's an honor instead of an obligation, like it's a gift you get to give instead of something people have to earn. And I'd be the biggest fool alive—a complete and utter waste of space—not to want that forever."
Y/N's hands flew to her mouth as her wine glass tumbled forgotten to the grass, the golden liquid seeping into the earth like an offering to whatever gods had conspired to bring them to this moment. Her eyes stung with tears that felt like liquid starlight, her whole body trembling with the weight of hearing herself reflected back through his love.
"You are my peace in the chaos of this industry, my fire when the world feels cold and artificial," he said, his voice growing stronger and more certain with each word, as if speaking these truths was giving him power. "You're my elegance when I feel like a fraud in fancy clothes, and my beautiful madness when everything gets too serious. You're the reality I get to come home to when I spend all day pretending to be someone else."
He paused, looking directly into her eyes with an intensity that made her feel like the only person in the world.
"I used to think home was a place—Manchester, London, wherever I was filming. But you've taught me that home is a person. You're my home, Y/N, no matter what continent we're standing on, what language we're speaking, what timezone we're in. You're the constant in a life that changes locations every few months."
The box opened with a soft click that seemed to echo in the crystalline silence, revealing a ring that stole what little breath she had left. Vintage gold caught the fairy lights, the metal warm and rich like honey, holding a center stone that seemed to capture every ray of light and throw it back in brilliant fragments. Smaller diamonds formed a delicate halo around it, and she could see tiny engravings along the band—constellations, she realized, the same ones they'd mapped out on his roof terrace during their first 'I love you.'
"This was my grandmother's center stone," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "She always said it should go to someone who understood that love isn't just a feeling—it's a choice you make every single day. Someone who chooses kindness, chooses patience, chooses to build something beautiful even when it's hard."
Y/N was fully crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks unchecked as she stared at the ring that represented not just their future, but his past, his family accepting her as one of their own.
"The setting is new though—I had it made by that jeweler in Hatton Garden, the one whose grandmother came from Kinshasa. I told him about you, about us, and he said the halo represents how love multiplies—how it doesn't just stay between two people but spreads out to touch everyone around them. Like tonight. Like this."
He gestured to their families surrounding them, all of whom were crying now too, caught up in the raw beauty of witnessing this moment.
"Y/N Ngalula," he said, his voice breaking on her name like it was a prayer, "you are the love story I want to tell with my whole life. You're the adventure I want to wake up to and the peace I want to fall asleep beside. You're my today, my tomorrow, and every single day after that."
He lifted the ring toward her, his hands steady now, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Will you marry me? Will you let me love you in front of everyone for the rest of our lives? Will you choose me, the way I choose you, every single day from now until there are no more days left?"
His voice cracked completely on the last word, tears flowing freely down his cheeks now, all pretense abandoned in favor of raw, honest vulnerability.
For a moment that felt like a lifetime, there was silence so complete it seemed sacred. Even the evening breeze held its breath, the fairy lights above them swaying gently in the stillness.
Then—
Y/N dropped to her knees without thinking, her carefully styled dress pooling around her like silk water, her hands reaching for him before her mind could catch up to her heart. She tackled him with such enthusiasm that they both nearly tumbled backward onto the soft grass, her laughter mixing with tears that felt like liquid joy.
"Yes," she whispered against his neck, her voice breaking with the weight of every emotion she'd ever felt for this man who'd just rewritten her entire future in the most beautiful way possible. "Yes, yes, yes. The answer was always yes, you beautiful fool. It was always going to be yes."
The backyard exploded.
The sound was like nothing she'd ever heard—pure joy given voice by twenty-three people who loved her enough to conspire in the most perfect surprise of her life. Aunties shrieked in harmonies that would have made gospel choirs weep, cousins clutched each other as they jumped up and down, Uncle Paul was definitely crying into his apron while trying to pretend he was just checking on the meat.
Champagne corks popped like celebratory gunfire, someone had clearly brought out the good bottles that had been hidden away for special occasions. Her best friend from primary school was already ugly-crying behind her iPhone camera, live-streaming to mutual friends across three continents. Her mother had collapsed into her chair, fanning herself with a napkin while tears of joy streamed down her cheeks unchecked.
Congolese music suddenly blasted from the speakers as someone—probably her uncle Jean—had commandeered the playlist, and within seconds her extended family was breaking into the kind of celebratory dancing that made the earth itself seem to pulse with rhythm. A spontaneous sebene erupted near the food tables, relatives who hadn't danced together in years falling into the familiar steps like no time had passed at all.
But in the eye of this beautiful storm, Y/N and Damson remained kneeling in each other's arms, existing in their own pocket of wonder. With reverent care, he slipped the ring onto her finger—it fit perfectly, because of course it did, because he'd somehow convinced her sister to steal one of her rings months ago to get the sizing exactly right.
The metal was warm against her skin, the weight of it both surprising and completely natural, as if her hand had been waiting her entire life for this specific piece of jewelry. When she held it up to catch the light, it threw tiny rainbows across their faces, each facet catching the fairy lights like captured stars.
He kissed her hand first, his lips soft against her knuckles, then her wrist where her pulse was beating like a hummingbird's wings, then finally her mouth in a kiss that tasted like promises and champagne and the beginning of forever.
Around them, the celebration continued to build—more family emerging from the house with bottles of wine that had been mysteriously chilled and ready, neighbors peering over fences to investigate the commotion (some probably wondering if that was actually the Damson from that Netflix series they'd been binge-watching), children running in circles while singing songs they were making up on the spot about Y/N and the famous actor getting married.
Later, much later, when the initial chaos had settled into a warm buzz of conversation and the music had shifted to something slower and more romantic, Y/N found herself swaying in Damson's arms to Lokua Kanza's honeyed voice drifting from the speakers. The fairy lights above them created a canopy of stars, and she could feel the weight of her family's love surrounding them like the most beautiful cocoon.
Her cousin Amélie appeared at her elbow with a grin that could have powered the entire garden's lighting. "You really thought you were just showing up to a family dinner, didn't you?" she whispered conspiratorially, her eyes dancing with mischief.
Y/N just smiled, her head finding its perfect place on Damson's shoulder, her engagement ring catching the light as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Around them, her family continued to celebrate—her uncle telling increasingly embellished stories about the "secret mission" to coordinate Damson's surprise, her aunties already debating wedding venues and demanding to know if they'd be having a traditional ceremony, her mother showing off photos of the ring to anyone with functioning eyesight.
This wasn't just a dinner party, she realized as she watched the people she loved most in the world toast to her happiness with glasses raised toward the stars. This wasn't even just a proposal, though it had been the most perfect one she could have ever imagined—one that would probably end up in tabloids by morning, but she couldn't bring herself to care.
This was home—beautifully, completely, perfectly redefined as anywhere this man was willing to build a life with her.
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
yourinstagram
liked by damsonirdis, sharicexo, nellarose and 3,076,867 others
still can’t feel my legs. still can’t believe this is real. he flew across the world to ask me to be his forever in the city that raised me… surrounded by the people who shaped me.
this is what love looks like. this is what home feels like.
i said yes. 🤍💍@damsonidris 🇳🇬🇨🇩
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@mamanngalula My heart is so full. You chose well, my daughter. ❤️ Welcome officially to the family, Damson. |@yourusername Thank you, Mama! Couldn’t have done it without your blessings. Love you always ❤️
@drealjordan Bro really said romantic movie and meant it 😭 love this for y’all!! Congrats fam! |@damsonidris Had to make it cinematic, you know me! 😂 Thanks, bro! |@yourusername You’re the best hype man!
@itschantelle.nk I KNEW something was up when your sister asked if your nails were done 😭😭😭 |@yourusername Lol, y’all see everything before I do!
@damsonidris Had to cross continents for the Queen 💍🔥 forever looks good on you. |@yourusername And you made every mile worth it. Love you forever 🖤
@unclebillyofficial The bride price just went up! 🐐🔥🔥 |@damsonidris Haha, better start saving now!
|@yourusername Don’t let him run off just yet, Uncle!
@sharicexo A TEAR slid down my cheek at slide 3. Not kidding. |@yourusername Same here, we were all a mess!
@therootsgal: This is literally top-tier African love ✨ congrats queen |@yourusername Thank you so much! Feeling blessed.
@nellarose The way this proposal just united the diaspora 😭 Nigeria x Congo? ICONIC. 🇨🇩🇳🇬 |@damsonidris Truly a global love story 🌍💙 |@yourusername Couldn’t have said it better!
@rayrayfilms Nah I knew I was capturing history that night. Goosebumps. Every shot. |@damsonidris The real MVP behind the lens! | @yourusername RayRay, you outdid yourself.
@thehoneymoonplug Say less. We got destinations lined up for y’all 👀✨ |@damsonidris Ready when you are! |@yourusername Honeymoon vibes loading...
damsonidris
liked by yourusername, michealbjordan, sharicexo, nellarose and 13,076,867 others
Flew across the world to surprise the love of my life… She walked in thinking it was just dinner. She walked out my fiancée.
She said yes. And I still can’t stop smiling. 💍❤️ 🇳🇬🇨🇩
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@michaelbjordan Broooo 😭 big congrats my G!! That’s love right there 🔥💪🏾 |@damsonidris: Appreciate you, Mike! You know I had to do it right.
@yourusername You set me uppppp 😭😭 and I’d say yes a million times over. I love you, Mr. Idris 🤍 |@damsonidris: Love you more, my queen.
@johnboyega Man did the rom-com thing and had me tearing up like I didn’t see the video five times 😭 congrats fam |@damsonidris: Haha, glad you approved! Maybe next one’s a rom-com with you starring?
@mamanngalula We are honored to have you in our family. May your union be full of grace and joy ❤️ |@damsonidris: Honored beyond words, Mama. Thank you for the warmest welcome.
@winnieharlow The proposal aesthetics are insane. Magazine-worthy. Congratulations you two! |@damsonidris: She deserved nothing less. Thanks, Winnie!
@stormzy Whole proposal came with a soundtrack and a skyline. Elite behavior 👏🏾 |@damsonidris: Gotta set the bar high! Thanks, Stormzy.
@itschantelle.nk I cried when she FaceTimed me after 😭 y’all really did THAT |@damsonidris: The moment was everything. Glad you were there in spirit!
@ngalulajr If you hurt her… I know where you live, mate 👀 |@damsonidris: Don’t worry, bro. I’m here for her, always.
@therootsgal This. This is how you show up for a black woman 🫶🏾 |@damsonidris: That’s the only way I know how.
@rihanna (liked)
@netflix This better be in the next rom-com, sir. |@damsonidris: Say no more. I’m pitching it next week.
ngalulajr
liked by yourusername, damsonidris, sharicexo, itschantelle.nk and 1,076,867 others
So yeah, my sister’s off the market now. Don’t ask me how I feel about it. (Okay, I’m lowkey happy for them. But also, if you hurt her… I will find you. 👀)
Damson, you’ve officially joined the family squad. Don’t mess this up.
Welcome to the chaos, brother.
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@damsonidris Haha, challenge accepted, bro. I got you and her 100%. |@ngalulajr: Good. Because I’m watching. 👀
@yourusername Thank you for always having my back. Love you forever. |@ngalulajr: Always, sis. Always.
@itschantelle.nk The real MVP brother vibes 🥹 |@ngalulajr: Someone’s gotta keep them in check!
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ
@queenofklonnie22,@plan3tch1ld
i ADORE THIS SM
JOSHUA PEARCE HCS
a/n : damson idris been on my mind since that met gala && the f1 movie gave me ideas 😛 also some of these might b super random. sorry for that
· one thing about joshua? he’s always checking on you to see if you’ve eaten. he’s really lowkey & sly about it just a lil “what you eat today?” and if he doesn’t like the answer he’s taking u out to eat immediately “that’s it? nah, we fixing that. get your shoes on.”
· on the other hand, he knows how to cook three things but does them extremely well. like pasta, salmon, omelettes. that’s it. that’s his range
· when he’s away? he’s the most lovesick guy ever.
· his mind basically bounces between missing you and focusing on his races
· after any and every win of his he’ll send you a pic of him with a text saying “not the same without you.” and you know he means it
· when you’re proud of him, it’s another type of high that he gets & that he can’t get enough of
· 100% uses voice notes instead of texting when he’s tired. maybe he had a long training day or he just woke up, but the voice is always raspy & sometimes he won’t even use full words just humming
· also the type to send u the most random short voice messages, just to hear u back. cause he’s annoying like that.
· he’ll be freestyling over some random beat like “my girl fine, she got brains, she got face, now she mad at me cuz i left the toothpaste” JUST RANDOMM
· if both of your schedules allow it, he’ll plan surprise trips or drop bys to see u. he’ll send some cryptic shit like “might want to check ur door tonight…”
· he absolutely loves the look on your face when he shows up
· when you’re able to be together for however long, it’s amazing
· you make the most out of simple things: cooking together (badly, cuz he keeps distracting u!!), folding laundry and dancing around the apartment to whatever’s playing.
· every emotions feels heightened because you know time is limited. still, you never rush it.
· he’s really good at taking candid pictures of u (that’s what he thinks) cause when he looks back on them alone, he feels like you’re still together
· will always carry something of yours on him. lipgloss, little bracelet, hair tie. no one knows why, not even him, he just knows he likes it.
· random as shit but he drives too damn fast, acting like the world is a racing track and fully ignores u side eyeing him the whole time.
· random again but he will kiss any part of your body accessible to him. shoulder, forehead, pinky, belly, thigh and the list goes on
· he’s got a HUGE staring problem when it comes to u. doesn’t even care to hide it. he’ll just admire u & never stop, even when u tell him to.
· he’s also a funny mf. annoying but funny.
· he’s the type to roast you and laugh first at his own joke. we’re talking belly laugh, like doubled over and almost slapping his damn knee.
· he’s still learning to laugh at himself tho and not take everything too seriously when it comes to his life or his career (a.k.a where his ego took a lot of space).
· that’s why he’s grateful for you, cause you’re one of the few people that keeps him in check & appreciates the cocky driver and the man behind it.
heyyy…how yall doing…
breaking news — gf!nini on valentines hc
nini is the type of girl to go all out for you on valentine’s day
she takes it so seriously
she greets you with a kiss in the morning, there’s notes waiting for you in your locker with clues as to what you can expect for the day
she usually has a song or two that she wrote about you and kept to herself, just so she could play it for you on this day
she will be so excited about it too nd she really hopes you’ll like them
she will have an activity planned like movie night or having a table ready at slices
she’s so adorable
she’s a simple girl really anything you give her as long as it’s meaningful will do
buy her flowers and she’ll be so happy
my toxic trait is is creating drafts with nothing but a cool title and a vague summary and leaving it there to collect dust for the foreseeable future. only to rediscover it weeks later and delete it without doing anything with it
THIS IS LITERALLY ME. i have the aesthetic of my fic planned out but no plot whatsoever. just vibes.
hyperfixation please stay with me long enough to complete the project. hyperfixation do not fade. hyperfixation finish what you started for the love of god
You know what would have made Evie's attitude in D2--mainly but D3 as well-- make a bit more sense? Give her the storyline that she was jealous that MAL got a Prince and she didn't.
Think about it, Evie's been raised her whole life to marry a Prince and live in a caste. Yet when they get to Auradon who does the Crown Prince fall for? Mal. Maleficent's daughter, who spent her days on the Isle being wild and not even looking at boys. While Evie was listening to her mother lecture her on what a Prince wants., and making herself/letting her mother make her beautiful on the hope/expectation that one day she would get the Prince.
Getting Ben to love her may have been Evie's chance to make her mother proud of her. But when she gets that chance to make it happen and finally get her and her mothers dream, it's Mal who gets the Prince while Evie ends up with a common son of a dawf who has no titles.
I'm not saying that Evie doesn't deserve better than doug, but for the sake of canon view point. That's who writers put her with a common guy whose not royal or even noble. The excat opposite of what she was rasied to have. While she has to watch Mal get everything she planed to.
Going off Evie's canon actions after D1, would you really think that she cares about Mal? Would you think she even likes Mal? She knows how difficult being a Princess/High Ranked Lady can be, yet she offers Mal no help or advice, almost like she wants her to fail at it. Like some part of her wants to be able to swoop in and date Ben herself.
For the fact that it is insisted that Mal is Evie's 'sister and best friend' or that Evie is Mal's 'one true friend.' you do not see that. You see Evie lecturing Mal, not listening to/steamrolling over Mal and making Mal feel guilty.
I'm just saying that the 'jealousy over the fact Mal got the Prince' storyline would have made, Evie's actions towards Mal make more sense.
What I mean: Ben is an entirely wasted and underrepresented character in the Descendants series, and his behavior in D3 was so completely contradictory to who he was in the first two movies. From day one Ben was a driven and dedicated character who was fully willing to shoulder the backlash from his family and peers if it meant doing the right thing for the Isle kids. Ignoring that it was OOC for Mal to want to close the barrier in the first place after the lessons she learned in D2, Ben should NEVER have just quietly gone along with it. He was stripped of his voice and his power and made into nothing more than a prop for Mal’s poorly-written journey like so many other characters and it saddens me how much potential the series had that was squandered by lazy writing and a general disregard for the actual story.
What I say: Mitchell Hope… Cute. Pretty boy.
Havana Rose Liu as Isabel Bottoms (2023) dir. Emma Seligman
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