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jitne bhi logon ne mujhe comfort kiya on my previous post main aap logon ki pappi lelungi, you guys are the best đżđ
and and, im also appreciating the friends that ive made here, who are truly an angels <3
@afortoru meri rp mummy, i love you sm. thank you for looking out for me, im really glad that i asked abbu to be your daughter the other day and you guys accepted it. im really really glad, thank you. youve always supported me and look after me like i was your literal daughter, thank you so much for that. ps. youre gonna be a great mother one day <3
@tojisloft my other mother. literal. im your baby fr. you were the first friend i made here and i feel thats the best decision ive ever made, you are my inspiration and will always inspire me everyday. you deserve all the love and happiness in the world, youve been like the constant big sister of mine. she listened to me rant about my feelings and sat there with me, thank you for listening to me rant and being always there, scooped me and i really really look forward to talk to you everyday. my inbox are filled with me yapping your dms, i love you sm.
@varun--this--side i met you as my brother and youre still my brother in rp. to the admin behind this acc, you have a very special place in my heart and you will always do. no one can replace you and genuinely, i cannot imagine you leaving me. ever. you mean alot to me and will always do. thank you for the times when you made me laugh so much that we cried together.
@hamzaalimazari mere abbu, i dont know what to say because you're genuinely the sweetest and kindest rp ive ever came across. you are always comforting people, ive seen the anon asks you get and the way you reply just heals something in me. thank you for becoming my rp father, i will always be grateful for you. (also to the admin behind this acc : you'll be a very great dad in the future <3)
@willowsgoldenhour she also comforted me when she saw the way i felt and told me she'll always be there for me. thank you bb. literally, youre a gem.
@yearnerray this girlie also comforted me on that post, thank you so much sweetheart. kind souls fr <3
@fellivra TERI TOH MAIN PAPPI LUNGI WOH BHI ZOR KI. aaplogon ko agar mere rp ka boyfriend/close friend dikhe toh samjh lena woh iska hi rp hai cause she is ughhh. im out of words for you, i met you through rp, pehle pehle itni baat nahi hoti thi but when it did, we clicked really fast. hamari plotting and stuff, oh i miss those old days and we are gonna do more fun and plotting. thank you for being my friend in here, muah <3
@tere-ni-kararan ISKI BHI PAPPI LUNGI, behen tum itni sweet kaise ho? the way you guys include me in stuff, i genuinely feel so happy when you guys do that. thank you for being my friend here <3
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Well definitely not with thunder in the chest or violins playing somewhere in the distance.
Ours began quietly.
So quietly that the world would have missed it entirely if I hadnât held onto every second of it for the rest of my life.
I was sixteen then.
A girl with thick glasses that constantly slipped down my nose , hair tied back so tightly it gave me headaches and ink stains on my fingers from writing too much. My notebooks were overflowing with equations , theories , unfinished poems and thoughts nobody cared enough to read.
Invisible.
That is the word I always come back to.
Invisible in classrooms , hallways , in photographs where everyone else seemed brighter somehow.
And then there was you...Ayrton Senna.
Even before the world learned your name , people already spoke about you differently. Like you carried something untamed inside you. You walked through school like you belonged somewhere larger than the corridors that held us. The kind of boy girls stared at openly while boys tried desperately to become. And somehow , for reasons I still cannot understand why you noticed me.
I remember the exact day.
I was standing near my locker , flipping through my chemistry notes before class , when your shadow fell over the pages.
â Hey ! â
Just one word.
I looked up so quickly my glasses nearly slipped off.
You leaned against the locker beside mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.
â Youâre always scribbling â you said nodding toward my notebook. â Whatâs in there ? â
I clutched it against my chest immediately.
â Itâs... just notes. â You grinned then
God that grin
â Then let me see. Maybe youâll teach me something. You know , just in case racing cars doesnât work out. â
I laughed despite myself.
That was the first time.
And after that , somehow , there was always another time.
Another conversation
Another excuse for you to stand beside me.
You started sitting near me during lunch. Borrowing pens you never returned. Asking questions you already knew the answers to just to watch me explain them.
And slowly , I stopped being invisible.
At least to you
We fell in love in fragments.
Between homework assignments and race weekends. Between late-night phone calls and unfinished study sessions. Between your restless hands and my overthinking mind.
You used to sneak into my room at night sometimes , climbing through the window with your racing helmet tucked beneath your arm like a rebellious teenager from some ridiculous romance film.
You would lay beside me and talk for hours about driving. About the roar of engines , speed and the strange peace you felt when the entire world blurred around you.
â It feels like flying â you once whispered.
I brushed damp hair from your forehead and laughed softly.
â Youâre insane â
Your eyes sparkled in the dark.
â Probably â and I loved you for it.
I loved every reckless impossible piece of you.
Years later , I stood beside you at the altar in a white dress with trembling hands while you looked at me as if I had hung the stars myself.
You kissed me with the same intensity you carried onto the track. Like loving me and racing were both matters of life and death.
And for a whileâŠwe were so happy.
But loving you was never simple.
I learned very early that racing was not merely something you did.
It was something you were.
The track owned parts of you I could never reach. The cars called to you in ways I never could. Yes, there were nights I hated it. Hated the tracks , the roaring engines , the way speed always seemed to pull you farther from me.
But I could never bring myself to ask you to choose between one of us. Not when speed was stitched into your very soul , not when loving it was as natural to you as breathing itself. To ask you to abandon it would have been like asking you to abandon who you were.
So I never did.
Even during the lonely mornings.
Even during the sleepless nights when the bed beside me stayed cold.
Even when I sat alone at breakfast staring at the empty chair across from me, listening to a house that felt too large whenever you werenât inside it.
It was all worth it.
Every second was worth it because it was you.
I remember the night we talked about children.
You came home exhausted after a race , clothes damp with sweat , curls sticking messily to your forehead. Yet the moment you saw me waiting awake for youb, your entire face softened.
I curled beside you in bed and traced circles against your chest.
â One day...I want a little you running around this house. â
You laughed quietly and kissed the top of my head.
â A little me ? God help us all~ â but beneath the teasing , there was something else in your eyes.
Hope.
You wanted it too.
Maybe that is why fate felt especially cruel afterwards.
I begged you that morning. I still hear my own voice sometimes.
â Donât go today. Please...just stay with me ! â
You cupped my face gently , pressed your forehead against mine and whispered the words that destroyed me forever.
â Iâll be back before you know it. â...
But you never came back.
Speed took you from me.
The same thing I accepted , supported and respected. The very thing I loved you enough not to fight against became the thing that buried you.
At your funeral , the whole world cried...but I remember feeling strangely numb. As though grief had hollowed me out so completely there was nothing left inside me capable of breaking.
I stood beside your flowers and whispered the only truth I knew...â I accepted your love for speed , loved you enough to let you belong to itâŠand it still stole you from me â
...and waited for an answer that never came.
From then on , time stopped for me.
Everything after your death felt unreal.
Ten years passed like ghosts drifting through empty rooms.
Every morning I still woke expecting to hear the bathroom door creak open. Expected to see you emerge wrapped lazily in a robe , water droplets clinging to your skin , smiling that sleepy smile only I ever got to see. Sometimes I could almost hear your laugh echoing through the hallway.
But silence always returned.
Then one evening , I saw a boy on television.
Young and fearless with fire burning in his eyes.
Lewis Hamilton
He reminded me of you so much it hurt to breathe.
The same hunger...the same look in his eyes that said the world could break before he ever would.
When I finally met him , I gave him something I had guarded like a sacred relic for years.
A piece of you...your helmet.
My hands trembled while holding it.
â Carry him with you... â
â He wouldâve been so proud of you â
And somehow , that boy became family.
He started calling me mama. Stayed with me during the hardest days and sat beside me in silence when memories became too heavy to carry alone.
Then...the sickness arrived
Quietly at first , little exhaustion and pain.
Until one day the doctors finally said the word aloud.
Cancer
I remember staring at them while they spoke but all I could think was...soon I would see you again
Four years passed after that.
Hospitals
Needles
Sleepless nights
Four years of slowly disappearing inside the home we once filled with laughter.
But Lewis never left.
He held my hand through every terrible moment , every sleepless night , every fear I could no longer hide.
And when the pain became unbearable , I began writing.
Everything
Every memory
Every laugh
Every fight
Every kiss
From the moment a boy leaned against my locker and asked about my notebook..âŠto this very breath.
A note sat on top of the journal.
" Bury me where my heart and soul have always belonged , Lewis. Don't cry thinking I'm gone...smile because I'll finally be with him again. Watching over you , forever as you grow. "
The words blurred.
Lewis closed the journal , his hands trembling , tears staining the pages you had filled with your love , your grief and your hope. He pressed the sticky note against his chest , whispering into the quiet room.
" I promise...I'll keep both of you with me. Always. "
The first time you saw him , nothing outwardly changed and yet something inside you shifted so quietly that you didnât even recognize it as a beginning.
The room remained exactly as it was â crowded , controlled , filled with men who spoke in careful tones and carried influence in the way they stood , the way they paused before speaking , the way silence itself bent around them. Your fatherâs voice blended into that atmosphere seamlessly , confident and practiced as if every word he spoke had already been measured for impact. You stood beside him , composed and presentable , silent in the way you had always been taught to be seen , acknowledged but never truly heard.
And yet , despite the weight of that room , despite the expectations pressing invisibly against your shoulders , your attention drifted. Just gently like a thread slipping loose.
And it found him...Hamza Ali Mazari
The man whose presence did not need introduction , because it announced itself long before he ever spoke. There was something about the way people stood around him , not too close , not too relaxed and that made it clear he was not just another man in the room. He was the man the room adjusted itself around. Power sat on him like it belonged there , not displayed but inherent.
But you didnât focus on that.
You didnât focus on the weight of his name or the stories attached to him or the quiet fear that lingered in the edges of the room whenever someone addressed him.
You focused on something small.
Something almost insignificant.
Something that should not have mattered and yet it did.
Your eyes lingered on the way his hair was tied back into a low man bun , loose in a way that felt unintentional and yet impossibly deliberate at the same time. A few strands had slipped free , brushing against his temples , softening the harsh lines of his face just enough to make him look less like a legend carved out of violence and more like a man who existed in flesh and breath.
It unsettled you because it made him look human. And somehow , that felt more dangerous than anything else you had heard about him.
You didnât realize how long you had been looking.
Didnât realize how still you had become.
Didnât realize that your gaze , quiet as it was , had weight.
Until he looked back unwaveringly as if he had felt it.
As if he had been aware of you long before you had allowed yourself to be aware of him.
Your breath faltered , not enough for anyone else to notice but enough for you to feel it , sharp and sudden in your chest. Heat rose slowly beneath your skinv , a soft betrayal you could not control and you looked away almost immediately , as if distance alone could undo what had already happened.
But it couldnât.
Because moments like that didnât disappear.
They lingered.
And so did he.
â Kuch laga hai kya mere chehre pr ? â
His voice didnât startle you because it was loud.
It startled you because it was....close
Too close.
You turned , slower than you intended and found him standing beside you as though he had always belonged there , as though the space around you had simply shifted to accommodate him without your permission. Up close , everything about him felt more definedâ the sharpness of his jaw , the steadiness of his gaze , the quiet intensity that didnât need to raise its voice to be felt.
There was something deeply unsettling about being seen by him.
â Nhi bas⊠â your voice came out softer than you meant it to , almost dissolving before it could fully form.
â Bas ? â he repeated , the single word carrying just enough curiosity to make your lack of an answer feel exposed.
Your fingers curled slightly at your side , an unconscious attempt to anchor yourself , to hold onto something when your thoughts refused to arrange themselves properly. His gaze dipped briefly , catching the movement , noticing the nervous tension you couldnât hide and then it returned to your face with the same steady focus.
â âŠdar lag raha hai ? â he asked , and there was something different in the way he said it this time. Not softer exactly , but quieter , as if the question wasnât meant for the room but only for you.
You shook your head almost instantly.
It was a reflex.
A denial that came too quickly to be entirely honest.
And of course he knew.
Something almost like amusement touched the corner of his mouth , not enough to become a smile or soften him but enough to suggest that he understood more than you wanted him to.
â accha hai â and then he stepped away with lingering.
As if he had taken what he needed from that moment and had no reason to stay any longer.
But you did.
Because even after he left , something of him remained in the air. In your chest , in the quite , unfamiliar awareness that refused to settle back into what it had been before.
And you didnât realize that this this small fleeting exchange was the beginning of something that would unfold far too quickly for you to understand.
Decisions were made without you. Conversations happened behind closed doors , wrapped in logic and strategy , framed as necessity.
And you ? You were moved accordingly.
The nikkah didnât feel like a moment. It felt like a transition you werenât given time to process. Words were spoken , witnessed , accepted and suddenly your name was no longer yours alone. It was tied to his , anchored to a life that carried weight you had never been prepared for.
You sat through it all with the same quiet composure you had always carried , responding when required , remaining still when not.
But from inside everything felt distant.
As if you were watching yourself from somewhere slightly removed , understanding what was happening but not quite feeling it yet.
His house welcomed you in the same way he had. Without and hostility and just acceptance. People moved around you with respect but not familiarity. Their voices lowered instinctively , their gazes were always careful , their presence measured. It was not a place that encouraged softness, not a place that allowed unnecessary emotion to linger in the open.
And yet you were there...softness placed directly in the middle of something that had no space for it.
You expected distance and you received it. Just not in the way that created fear. It was in the way that created confusion. He did not claim you or demanded anything from you.
Days passed in a quiet rhythm where his presence was constant but his proximity remained controlled. He spoke when it was necessary , his voice always even , always measured , asking simple questions that carried more attention than they should have.
â Khana khaya ? â
â Kuch chahiye ho toh bata dena. â
â Sab theek hai ? â
There was no impatience in him.
No irritation nor force.
And somehow that made it harder to understand him. Because a man like him was not supposed to be careful. He was not supposed to look at you like you were something that could break.
But he did.
And you noticed more than you intended to.
You noticed the quiet habits he never spoke about. The way he stood in front of the mirror at night , fingers working through his hair before tying it back again , the motion so practiced it seemed unconscious. You noticed how when he was alone , he loosened it , letting it fall in a way that made him look...less guarded. And every time your gaze found him.
Lingering and learning.
Drawn to something so small and yet so telling.
Until one night , he noticed.
Again.
â Pasand hai ? â
The question settled into the silence of the room before you could prepare for it , before you could look away and pretend you hadnât been watching.
You stilled.
Your breath catching softly as you turned to face him , only to find him already watching you , already aware and certain.
â Nahi main bas.... â the words felt weaker this time , less convincing , even to yourself.
â Abhi tak jhoot bolna nahi seekha na ? â he said stepping closer , his voice low but steady , carrying a quiet certainty that made denial feel pointless. Each step he took seemed slower than the last , as if he was giving you time to move away.
You didnât.
â ....har dafa dekhti ho â he murmured , stopping close enough that you could feel the warmth of him without him touching you.
Your heartbeat echoed loudly in your ears.
â Kyun ? â
The question lingered heavy and unavoidable , but this time you didnât run from it.
â Achha lagta hai... â you admitted , your voice soft but steady enough to carry the truth of it.
And something in the air shifted.
Subtle but undeniable.
He didnât respond immediately. As if he was letting the weight of your words settle somewhere deeper than the surface.
Then slowly his hand lifted , reaching behind his head. Pulling the tie loose with a deliberate ease that made the moment feel intentional. His hair fell naturally , softly , the strands framing his face in a way that changed him , not enough to erase what he was but enough to reveal something beneath it.
Something unguarded and real.
Your breath caught , not because it was unexpected but because it felt like you were being allowed to see something you werenât supposed to.
â Yeh kya jaadu kr diya hai tumne mujhpr... â he murmured , almost to himself , the words slipping out as if he hadnât meant to say them aloud.
But you heard them.
And something inside you responded.
Before you could understand it , he stepped closer , closing the distance you hadnât dared to. His hand lifted , fingers gentle as they tilted your chin upward , guiding , asking you to meet his gaze.
â Darti ho mujhse ? â he asked again
This time you answered without hesitation.
â Nahi â
Something shifted in him then.
His thumb brushed against your cheek , slow and careful as if he was testing the reality of you , making sure you wouldnât disappear if he touched you.
You didnât move or tried pulling away
â Pagal â he whispered , but the words carried something softer than judgment. Something that felt dangerously close to disbelief. When he leaned in , the space between you disappeared slowly , almost reluctantly as if neither of you wanted to rush something that had taken so long to reach this point.
His lips met yours gently with a quiet , deliberate intention that made the moment feel significant. You didnât respond immediately but when his hand moved to cradle the back of your head , holding you there with a steadiness that felt safe rather than confining.
You softened without realizing.
Your hands moved without thinking. Fingers lifting and slipping into his hair. You felt it. The softness...the warmth. The way it shifted beneath your touch , strands sliding between your fingers as if they were meant to be held.
Your grip wasn't tight.
It was curious and exploring.
As if you were trying to understand something you had only ever watched from a distance...and that changed everything.
His breath faltered.
Not enough to pull away but enough for you to feel it.
His hand moved firmer now , cradling the back of your head , holding you closer , anchoring. The kiss deepened slowly , not in intensity but in understanding. His movements remained measured and unhurried , as if he was learning you piece by piece , memorizing the way you responded , the way you breathed , the way you stayed. And when he finally pulled away , his forehead resting against yours , your breaths mingling in the small space between you
Everything felt quieter.
Closer....and a lot different.
â tum ajeeb ho â he murmured , his voice softer than it had ever been.
A faint smile touched your lips , barely there but real.
â mujhe aapke baal pasand hai....issiliye ? â
This time he laughed softly. The sound low and rare like something that didnât belong to the world outside this room.
â Sirf baal? â he asked , his voice dipping again , quieter now , more personal.
You looked at him...really looked at him , without lowering your gaze.
â âŠaap bhi â and in that moment something inside him gave way.
Not broken or lost.
But opened
Because for the first time he was not being looked at with fear , expectation or obligation. He was being looked at with something gentle enough to reach places nothing else ever had. And as he pulled you closer again , this time without restraint , his lips finding yours with a certainty that carried no hesitation anymore. He realized that whatever this was...was far more dangerous than anything he had ever faced.
Because this time he didnât want to win...
He wanted to stay.
Author's note : AND THAT WAS IT !!! Hope the lovely anon who requested this and anyone who just randomly stumbled here actually liked it.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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