#and there’s no one greeting people as they come in

[kachikirby]

IF YOU LIVE IN THE US, PLEASE READ THIS

Posting this from the bird app since I hope it can help people.

People have been contacting the White House directly to demand a recount, especially since there has been evidence that not every ballot has been counted and will be thrown away if it hasn't been cured.

The link to contact the White House is here!

The following screenshot comes from here!

If you need help writing something, check under the cut! I've provided a prewritten response from one of the replies!

"I am a concerned citizen, and I need you to hear me. I urge you to recount the ballots from this election and investigate election interference. Bomb threats have been called into multiple polling locations, causing some to close early. Domestic terrorists have burned ballot boxes. An unprecedented number of ballots have been rejected and require curing. There have been reports of polling officers allowing voter intimidation in and outside of polling places across the country and an estimated 20 million mail in ballots are unaccounted for. In addition, many people have reported that ballots were not counted for suspicious reasons such as signature invalidation which is information that vote counters do not have access to. These events have occurred in swing states such as Pennsylvania, Nevada, and Georgia, for instance."

Feel free to add and change what you want, this is just a base for you to work off of.

[fastandcarlos]

"Will You Be My Dad?" : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: where your daughter wants lewis to take on a new role in her life

“Come on, time for bed,” you smiled, scooping your daughter up off of the ground. 

Amelia let go of a groan as she stood to her feet, looking across at you with a pout. You’d already let her stay up much later than you usually did, treating her seeing as Lewis had come around to visit, knowing how much she loved spending time with him. Lewis couldn’t help but smile as she huffed, calling out to you, begging for a few more minutes with the two of you. 

It still felt like a dream for you sometimes as you glanced at Lewis, watching as he picked up some of Amelia’s toys and placed them back into her toy box. She was never too far away from him, practically glued to his side whenever he spent any time with you both. 

Ever since you and Lewis had started dating, Amelia had relished in it. She was only young when you started dating, she didn’t really know life without Lewis in it, all she knew was that although he loved you, he wasn’t the man that she called dad, despite being the one to raise her. 

As Amelia continued to groan, Lewis quickly stepped in. He scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom, throwing her down onto her bed as she giggled away to himself. 

No matter what the situation, whenever you were struggling Lewis was there to step in. He saw Amelia as his own, he treated her as if she was. She was a part of the deal when it came to dating you, but rather than be an inconvenience, she was the greatest addition which made dating you even sweeter. 

“Are you staying here tonight?” Amelia whispered across to Lewis. 

“I think so,” he smiled, looking back to you to check. “That means I’ll be right here when you wake up in the morning, maybe we could eat breakfast together.” 

Her smile turned up as you nodded in agreement with Lewis. “Will you cook for us? You always cook us the best breakfast Lewis.” 

“I can do that,” he assured her, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “Although I can’t promise that my cooking will be as good as mummy’s dinner was that she made tonight.” 

You slowly stepped towards the bed, perching down on the end of it. “Lewis can only stay if you promise to get some sleep, we can’t have a tired girl at the breakfast table tomorrow morning.” 

Amelia nodded as she sat herself up and cuddled into Lewis’ side. His arm immediately moved around her frame, pressing several kisses against the top of her head. Your smile was wide as you watched the two of them, wondering once again how you ever got so lucky with the two of them. 

“Maybe soon we can live so that we don’t have to have sleepovers,” Lewis spoke, taking you by surprise. “I’ve got a couple weeks off soon, and I was wondering about asking you and mummy what you thought about maybe coming to live in my house instead.” 

“In your house?” Your daughter, grinned, spinning out of his hold so that she was face to face with Lewis. “Would we stay in your house forever?” She quizzed, bouncing up and down as Lewis’ head nodded, his eyes glancing across at the surprise in your expression. 

It was a conversation that you’d never really had, and never expected to have so soon either, but Lewis’ mind was made up and he knew exactly what he wanted. 

He couldn’t imagine life without the two of you, he hated the feeling of returning home to an empty house. The feeling didn’t compare to the feeling he got when he walked through your front door, immediately showered with love and greeted by his two favourite people, filled with excitement. 

“You’d be able to come up with lots of plans and make your room exactly how you want it.” 

“With a big bed?” She grinned, “and loads of teddies in the room too?” 

Lewis nodded, wanting to give Amelia anything she wanted and more. He spoilt her rotten, one of the perks of not being her parent, even if it did leave him in trouble with you time after time. 

“Are you excited about us coming to live with you Lewis?” She asked him. 

“More so than you could ever imagine,” he whispered, reaching across and taking a hold of your hand. “You two have changed my life, I love being around the two of you, annoying your mummy and tickling you until you’re begging me to stop, that’s my favourite thing to do in the world.” 

Both of you wore wide smiles as Lewis spoke openly, letting you know exactly how big of a role you both had in his life. The sentiment didn’t quite mean as much to Amelia as it did you, your heart was full as he spoke, whilst she still daydreamed about the new, amazing bedroom she’d been promised. 

“If we live together, would we be a proper family? Like mum, dad, and me?” 

Neither you or Lewis knew what to say, looking at each other. Your heart raced, terrified as Lewis stared blankly across at you, not quite believing what he had heard from her either. 

“You do everything that a dad does,” Amelia spoke up, feeling the need to explain herself a little more. “You take care of me, and mummy. You take me to school, help me fix my toys when they break, give me cuddles when I’m having a nightmare.” 

“That’s because I love you sweetheart,” Lewis smiled across at her. 

“I know,” she smiled, “do you think...maybe...will you be my dad?” 

You were nervous for a moment, but luckily the corners of Lewis’ mouth soon turned up. He squeezed Amelia even tighter, scooping her up and sitting her in his lap, scattering a trail of kisses from the top of her head, down and all over her face. 

“I would love to be your dad, if that’s what you want,” he whispered. 

Her head nodded, pressing her palms together. “You’re the best daddy in the world,” she told him, already full of confidence that no one could do a better job than Lewis. 

“Sorry,” you whispered across to Lewis as you met his eyes, Amelia cuddling closer into his chest, “I had no idea she was going to ask you that, I’m sorry if you feel a little put on the spot.” 

“It’s alright, in fact, it’s better than alright,” Lewis quickly assured you, “it would be the biggest honour of my life, it makes us more of a family, doesn’t it?” 

You nodded in agreement as Lewis laid Amelia back down in bed again. “Did you mean what you said about moving in? You really want us to live with you? It’s not something you can just change your mind about.” 

“I’ve never been more confident about anything,” Lewis smiled, “I don’t want to have to sit around and wait to see you guys anymore, I want to see you every day.” 

You stretched across and pressed a kiss against Lewis’ cheek, “thank you for completing our family, I don’t know what we’d do without you.” 

“You’re an amazing mum, with or without me,” Lewis smiled. 

“And you’re an amazing dad too.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[willowsnook]

Done Waiting

Lando Norris x bsf!reader

She isn’t you

Hi, could I request a salami sandwich with tomato on wheat bread, please, and thank you. Request from @itsnotsophiasworld

—-------------------------------

MF: SOS, can anyone fly to Spain to check on Lando? From what I’ve gathered, he is staying in an Airbnb by himself and very much in his head. I’m caught up in some work stuff, or else I’d make the trip myself. 

Your heart sank reading Max's text to your friend group. Lando had been having a rough season and was constantly getting ripped apart in the media, no matter what he did. All you could do was make sure that he knew you were there for him and try to be around as much as possible, which was easy as you also lived in Monaco. But after the last race before summer break, none of you had heard from him. 

Looking at flights, you quickly replied to the group saying that you could go. One of the many perks of working remotely was that you could pick up your computer and go anywhere, so leaving to help Lando was a no-brainer. There was a flight leaving tonight, so you purchased that and started to pack. 

You wished the world could see him the way that you did. He was a caring, down-to-earth friend who would do anything for the people he loved. It was hard for anyone who knew him not to like him, and it was hard for you not to be in love with him. 

It hadn’t taken you long after meeting him to fall for his charm, but he had been dating someone else then, so you settled for friendship. That was three years ago, and you’d dated guys since, but the feelings still lingered. He could make you feel like you were the only girl in the world, so it was easy to get sucked in. 

Ultimately, you valued your friendship too much to ever act on it, even when you were both single. You’d been through too much together to risk losing him. You had a hunch that he felt the same way about you because of how overly affectionate he was with you compared to everyone else and that you were usually his first call. Still, his life was busy, and you understood that a girlfriend didn’t fit in that picture right now. 

Landing in Spain around 10, you grabbed your luggage before jumping in a cab to the address Max had sent you. The Airbnb was a cute little beach cottage right on the ocean, and you inhaled a deep breath of salty air and instantly felt better. 

The door to the house swung open, and you were greeted by what seemed to be a very irritated Lando. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Making sure you don’t do something crazy,” you replied, mirroring him with his arms. 

“I want to be alone.”

“I don’t care.” 

You stared at each other for a while, neither one giving in before he finally sighed and moved past you to grab your suitcase, grumbling to himself. The cottage had windows on the backside, allowing a constant view of the ocean, which you could appreciate. Lando put my luggage in the guest room before joining me as you looked at the water. 

“You didn’t have to come; I’m fine,” he muttered. You looked over at him with a sad smile, reaching your hand down to grab his. 

“I wanted to come.” He gave you a small smile, and you took in his exhausted state, noting just how bad it really was. 

“Why don’t we get some rest? Then you’ll be ready for a full day tomorrow,” you suggested, and he looked over at you. 

“I’m here to relax, y/n,” he said, and you smiled mischievously. 

“It will be relaxing, I promise.”

It was not relaxing. 

You dragged Lando out of bed at 7 a.m. to go on a run, and he was not happy with you, but you were just happy he came along. Jogging through the little town, you could tell that his mood was improving as he kept pace with you. 

Out of breath, you were hunched over as you two had climbed to the top of a dune. 

“Are you not relaxed?” Lando teased, and you gave him the finger. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” 

“Yeah, I need to log on when we get back to the place,” you wheezed, and he handed you his water bottle. “What are your plans for while I work?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, scroll through social media hate, maybe watch all my old races and critique everything I did; the possibilities are endless.” 

Shooting him a look, you sighed, “That would be funny if I didn’t know you’d already been doing that.” 

He looked down at his feet, and you moved over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso. His head found your shoulder, he breathed deeply, and you held on tighter. 

“You’re going to be okay Lan,” you said, looking up at him. 

“I know,” he said sadly. 

Lando spent the rest of the day in the water while you worked, slipping away to get groceries for the night. He hadn’t had time to hide all the takeout bags and boxes he had been surviving on, so you figured a homecooked meal would do him well. 

Having dealt with him being a picky eater for a while, you were finishing up your favorite spaghetti and meatballs recipe when he came back into the house. 

“Smells great,” he commented and you smiled. “Can we eat outside?”

“You read my mind,” you replied, plating the food. 

Eating on the back deck, you felt a sense of serenity as the sound of waves crashing filled your ears. 

“This place is amazing; how did you find it?” You asked, turning to Lando. 

“Honestly, I just opened the app and picked the first place I saw that looked secluded,” he admitted. “I just wanted to be away from everyone.” 

“We are here for you to lean on Lan,” you said softly. “I’m never going to leave you.” 

“I know that, but I just don’t want to disappoint you,” he confessed, and your heart sank. 

“Lando Norris,” you said, forcing him to look at you. “There is nothing you could ever do to disappoint me. I am so insanely proud of everything you’ve accomplished. Please come back to Monaco with me tomorrow.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” He whispered, holding out his arms. You climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and running your fingers through his hair. 

“You buy me so much shit so I have to be nice to you,” you joked and he giggled. He pulled his head back to look at you, and your breath hitched because of the lack of distance between the two of you. Shifting, you tried to move back but his grip on you tightened so you leaned down to bring your lips to his. As you were a millimeter away his phone started to ring and you rested your head briefly against his, groaning internally. 

Sliding off of him you handed him his phone as it was Max calling. Hearing him tell Max he was coming home the next day made you smile, and you gathered all the dishes to clean up. He joined you a little later, and neither of you brought up the almost kiss; you wrote it off as something that happened in the heat of the moment. 

—------------------------------

Zandvoort was a dream, and you were so glad you made the trip with your friends. The next race you were going to was Singapore and Lando had invited you, Max, and some others to hang out the week before in Portugal. 

Your friend group had rented a big house, and you were ready to soak in the sun and relax after taking the week off work. Pietra and you had flown in together and met up with everyone that night at dinner. 

“Hi, I’m Mary,” a girl you didn’t recognize said to you, holding out her hand. You smiled back warmly, introducing yourself. 

“Mary and I met at a shoot early this year,” Pietra explained, and you nodded. You chatted with her for a while over dinner, glad to have another girl on the trip. 

You were less happy the next day when you watched this girl throw herself at Lando every chance she got. Right now, you were watching as she asked Lando how to show her how to hit the ball off the tee at the golf course where you guys were. 

“Ya know I went golfing with her two weeks ago, and she had a perfect swing,” Pietra muttered and you grimaced, watching Lando wrap his arms around the girl to guide her swing. It seemed like she would find a way to touch him no matter where you went. Up against him at dinner, clinging to him in the pool, leaning on him while you were watching a movie. 

At this point your jealousy was flaring up and you were trying to keep your composure, especially because this girl had been nothing but nice to you. What made it worse was that Lando entertained it, accepting her advances right in front of you. Your mind replayed that almost kiss back in Spain and the way the two of you had gotten closer since that trip. It had seemed to you that something was changing in your relationship, but clearly not. The whole trip you felt like your heart was being ripped apart and you were starting to wonder if you needed to take a break from being around him until you could get over your crush. 

Two nights before you were supposed to leave the group ended up at a club downtown as a pre-celebration for what you predicted would be a Lando win in Singapore. Rounds and rounds of shots were taken and you were dancing with Pietra on the dance floor trying to have a good time. 

You briefly glanced back at the VIP section, and your stomach dropped. Mary was sitting on Lando’s lap, and you watched as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Water instantly filled your eyes, and Pietra looked concerned before following your gaze. She looked at you with such sadness that you decided then and there that you were done. 

Leaving the club you walked back to the Airbnb alone. You weren’t sure if it was your drunkenness or just the emotional exhaustion of the situation but you started to get angry. Time after time, you were there for him and this is what you got back. It would be different if he had made it clear from the start that he wasn’t interested but he didn’t do that. He slept in your bed back in Monaco on nights like these, he spoiled you constantly with gifts, and you knew that he had told other drivers on the grid to back off from you, laying a claim. 

God, you were so fucking over it. 

You gathered all your stuff and threw it in your suitcase, calling for a cab to take you to the airport. You made it down the stairs just as Max was coming in. His face fell as he saw your bag. 

"No y/n don’t go,” he pleaded, and you shook your head, already feeling tears start to fill your eyes. 

“I can’t fucking do this anymore Max,” you said, voice cracking. “I have to protect my heart.” 

“You know he loves you,” he said moving towards you to hold you. “Everyone knows that.” 

“If that’s true, why have I watched him with her this whole weekend? Why did I just watch him sit there when she stuck her tongue down his throat right in front of me,” you yelled and Max stayed silent. “Exactly. I need some space to figure out how things can move forward between us.” 

Max helped you carry your bag outside and the two of you stood silently waiting for the car. Just as it pulled up, Lando walked up to the house, alone. 

“Y/N!” He called out, not seeing your suitcase yet. “Where’d you run off too? I was looking for you.” 

You turned around and his eyes widened seeing your tear stained face, his gaze flickering down to your bag. 

“What’s going on?” He asked hoarsely and you just shook your head turning back to get into the car before you started to sob. 

“Let her go mate,” you heard Max tell him and you looked out the window to see him holding Lando back. The sight made you cry harder as the car finally drove off. 

Lando’s POV

Watching the car disappear down the street, Lando turned to Max, panic and confusion colliding in his mind.

“Why is she leaving, Max? What the hell happened?”

Max let out a sigh, his eyes searching Lando’s face with a mix of frustration and pity. “Mate, she’s in love with you. And honestly, you’re in love with her too, even if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

Lando froze, the weight of Max’s words hitting him harder than he expected. He thought of all the moments he spent with you—the late-night talks, the shared laughter, the comforting silence. He thought about how he’d let Mary get close, but each time she reached for him, a nagging feeling crept up inside him.

She isn’t you.

The thought was so painfully clear now. It didn’t matter how kind or fun Mary was—she wasn’t you. And suddenly, he realized why none of it felt right.

“I need to go,” Lando said suddenly. “I need to go to the airport.” 

He took off down to the main street hailing a cab but when he finally got there, you were gone. 

—--------------------------------------------

You skipped the Singapore GP. You didn’t even watch it on tv so you didn’t know why everyone was wondering why despite winning, Lando looked miserable standing on the podium. 

He had texted you a million times begging you to call him but you declined the call everytime. You were trying to move on. You’d started running again in the mornings, working out of coffee shops,  and hanging out with your girlfriends. Basically you were doing everything in your power to not think of him; and it worked until 10pm each night. Then you were miserable. 

It was two weeks after Singapore when you heard knocking at your door one evening. You weren’t expecting anyone so you were especially surprised to see Oscar standing on the other side of your door. Considering he didn’t live in Monaco, you didn’t really know what to say, just stared at him silently. 

“May I come in?” He asked politely and you nodded, stepping aside to let him through. “Nice apartment.”

“Thanks,” you replied following him into the living room. “What are you doing here?”

He settled down on your couch, motioning for you to join him and you sunk down on the other side. 

“I need you to tell me what happened when you and Lando were in Portugal,” he said slowly and you immediately looked away. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumbled, playing with your hands. 

“It does matter,” Oscar insisted. “It’s okay if you finally rejected him but I need to know how to fix him.”

Your head snapped up, “I didn’t reject him Oscar. He basically rejected me.” 

“There’s no way,” Oscar said, shocked and you told him everything that had happened from you flying to Spain for him to him making out with that girl at the club. 

“Trust me when I say that I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings, but I feel like this is a big misunderstanding,” Oscar said and you rolled your eyes. “He is so in love with you y/n. All he does is talk about you.”

“Then why did he never tell me!” You said, voice rising. “I’ve been there the whole time Oscar, and he has never said anything. I want to be with someone who isn’t afraid to love me.” 

Oscar’s heart broke at your words, knowing you were feeling this way. 

“I came here y/n, because he is a mess without you,” he said. “I’ve never seen him like this and it’s starting to affect his racing so I’m begging you to at least think about talking to him.” 

—-------------------------------------

You would have thought that Lando would stop texting after a while but he didn’t. Every morning he texted you “good morning” and gave you updates on his day even though you weren’t responding. His plan seemed to be to slowly chip away at you until you were ready to come back and unfortunately it was working. 

Brazil was the next race that your friend group was attending and you went back and forth on what you should do before finally deciding to book a flight. Max must have told Lando because you immediately were notified that your flight had been upgraded and your hotel had been booked. 

Because of a work event, you weren’t going to be able to get there until Saturday night and probably wouldn’t see Lando until qualifying or after the race. You joined Max and Pietra on the track, bright and early on Sunday morning and you were wondering how Lando would survive with it being this early in the morning. 

Oscar gave you a big hug when he saw you and you could tell he was incredibly relieved that you were there. Qualifying was 20 minutes away and you heading towards the Paddock club when you turned a corner and were immediately wrapped up in two arms. Inhaling his familiar scent, you relaxed into his touch. 

“I missed you so fucking much,” he said into your ear and you hummed in reply. You were still unsure about pretending like nothing ever happened. He pulled back to look at you and his excitement was contagious, pulling a small smile out of you. 

“We’ll talk later okay?” He asked and you nodded. “I have a lot of things I need to say to you.”

He kissed your forehead before running off and you tried to keep your cool. Qualifying was good for him and you were feeling good about the race but a little nervous about the weather conditions. 

Sitting with Max and Pietra in the paddock club the mood was very much anxious. Lando had been doing great until a red flag reset everything. He had fallen down because of pitting and you watched as he went off the track on that first turn, your heart sinking. The rest of the race was a blur and he finished in P6 which you knew would not go over well with him. 

After the race, you felt hesitant heading back to the McLaren hospitality area. You weren’t sure if he’d want to see you, especially in his disappointment. But as you lingered by the entrance, you caught sight of him. Lando was drenched, exhausted, and his usual radiant energy seemed dimmed. Still, he locked eyes with you, a faint smile managing to pull at the corner of his lips.

He walked over slowly, stopping right in front of you. “You waited for me?”

“Of course I did, Lando,” you replied softly, feeling the gravity of the moment settle in. “I always do.”

He nodded, then glanced around at the crowded area. “Can we go somewhere… quieter?”

You followed him through the paddock until you found yourselves outside in a secluded spot overlooking the track. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, Lando took a deep breath.

“I was an idiot,” he began, voice raw with honesty. “You don’t know how many times I replayed that trip to Portugal, thinking about what I could’ve done differently. I didn’t understand how much it would hurt you… I was blind to everything but my own mess.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he kept going, unable to hold back.

“You’ve been the best part of my life for years, and it took almost losing you to realize how much I’d taken you for granted. I’m sorry, y/n. I thought I was protecting you by not… admitting how I feel. I thought if I never said it out loud, maybe it’d hurt less. But I can’t pretend anymore. I love you.”

Hearing those words, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack, the anger and disappointment from before softening as you looked into his eyes.

“I’ve loved you for so long,” you whispered and he gave you a soft smile. 

“I know, I’m sorry I didn’t see it before.” 

When he kissed you, it was tender and full of all the unspoken words and missed opportunities between you. As you pulled away, you both smiled, feeling the weight of the past couple of weeks finally lift.

[strwberri-milk]

Hello! Can I request an angst Sylus x reader ff where the princess reader and Prince Sylus are in an arranged marriage and he really hates her also because of the rumors her fake friend made. The reader is cold on the outside but a very loving and sweet inside. During their 1 ½ year as a married couple, Sylus didn't acknowledged her as his wife but she does as her husband. One day, tables turned....Sorry for my English 😭

urgh i think you're wanting a fic from this which if i were to do this it would hoenstly end up being 5k</a long fic for which i aim 40k words for minimum and i mean this with all the kindness of my heart - i do not have the energy to do that for free so i hope youre okay w the typical hc style im doing!! also i changed some of it bc i dont see sylus making judgements of people based off what hes told

Sylus had long given up on the idea of doing things for himself wholly. He didn't have the ability to do things for just himself, selfishness the last thing on his mind with the status he owns. That's why he didn't object too much to being married - even if it was to someone he doesn't know.

Your first meeting was all business. He didn't mind at all but everybody in the room could feel the temperature drop by a few degrees. The two of you set out the terms of the marriage cleanly, coming to an agreement in very little time. To him it seemed that the two of you are on the same page, making things that much easier.

To respect your boundaries the two of you sleep in separate rooms. He's always busy, going off to meetings or sitting in his office reviewing the immense stacks of paperwork he has. Despite that, you try your best to find ways to include yourself in his schedule.

The servants always make room for you when you pass by, allowing you to go as you please while whispering about what might happen if they didn't. You pay it no mind, knowing that you've always been seen as intimidating. All it did was secure you a perfect match in Sylus, so you couldn't really mind. You learned quickly what his daily schedule looked like, finding the smallest gaps to insert yourself simply by delivering refreshments or news that other staff begged you not to do as it was below your station.

Sylus was a little surprised at first but he took it well, greeting you politely and thanking you whenever you came in. He understood it as you trying to keep appearances with your marriage, despite it being very clear to everybody involved everything was just for politics. He allows you your vice, sometimes even making small conversations with you. He didn't think you had any ulterior motive with how brief and impersonal the visits were.

He learned later that you began baking the pastries for him through the grapevine. You didn't tell him yourself, worried that he'd think you were trying to buy his affection while all you really wanted was just a way to be closer to him without intruding. He thanks you by buying a new set of clothes for you, a short, yet sweet note of him thanking you for thinking of him.

He doesn't seek you out still, not until he hears you've come down with a terrible illness that the physicians can't quite place. Thankfully it doesn't seem to be fatal, just incapacitating. By now the staff have begun to warm up around you, quietly speaking amongst themselves about how much you miss being able to see Sylus . You've admitted that you know Sylus doesn't see you as his spouse but you think of him as your dear husband, even if your relationship is slightly more than that of acquaintances.

He comes to visit you, sitting by your bed and just. Talking. He doesn't address the fact that you're sick - you've heard it too many times at this point - and just tells you about his day. Asks you about yours, what you want to do next week and if you'd be wanting to spend some time with him. The way your eyes light up makes him regret not reaching out to you sooner but he has a feeling he's got more than enough time to make it up to you.

[tsuutarr]

Hehe

Unleash Fox dilf! Jiu-jitsu please

Succubus anon💋💞

One foxy dilf coming up~

(Yandere! Fox hybrid (gumiho) doctor x reader)

In your quaint village, not much occurs. Days are peaceful, if not a little boring. But you can’t really complain, not when the people around you are so lovely.

Your village helps each other, resources are always shared, and people are always taken care of. Among all your villagers, one of them, Dr. Shin, is especially kind. Despite being a new addition to your village, he’s loved by all the villagers. He’s often busy, too, as the only doctor around.  The previous doctor had passed away after falling to her demise in the woods while looking for herbs. Your village was both saddened and worried about the previous doctor’s sudden death, unsure of how you all would survive without medical care. Contrary to your worries, however, Dr. Shin suddenly appeared one day and from that point onwards, he’s become a valuable member of your village. He’s extremely personable and kind, making sure to make time for you – it’s no wonder he’s so beloved and trustworthy.

“Hello, Dr. Shin,” you greet him during one of your appointments. His fox ears flicker, which makes him rather cute despite him being much older than you. He often reminds you of the injured fox you had helped a few years back, especially when his bronze-colored ears move around.

“Ah, hello,” he greets back, a smile on his face. He motions for you to take a seat on the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think,” you respond, sitting down. Your fingers tap idly against your knee as you sink into thought. “I don’t think I get nightmares anymore…” 

“Oh? Then that’s quite good, isn’t it?”

“I… yes, I suppose.” Nervously, your eyes flicker downwards. It’s true that your nightmares have subsided, but they’ve been replaced with rather… inappropriate dreams about your doctor. But it isn’t like you can tell him that, especially when your dreams are so… realistic – like they’ve actually happened.

When you look back up, you can’t help but gasp at how intense his gaze is. “What troubles you?” he inquires, making your cheeks heat up.

“I… uhm, well…”

“Yes?”

At his expectant looks, you squeak out, “I’ve been having dreams that aren’t nightmares, really. But they’re… very intense, for a lack of a better word.”

Dr. Shin looks intrigued, leaning forward slightly. “Would you care to elaborate?” You shake your head, giving him a weak smile. “Ah, it’s nothing, really…”

“My dear,” Dr. Shin says, kindly, “I’m quite worried about you. Please, tell me.”

It’s too embarrassing to tell him – you just can’t. But the way he looks at you, his eyes glowing faintly… you can’t help but say, “I’m having sexual dreams,” despite your will. Gasping, you clamp your mouth shut.

“Oh?” he smiles, teeth glinting underneath the light. “I see, that’s quite normal.” Leaning back in his chair, he lets out a small hum. “But I suppose that it’s much more frequent and intense in your case, hm?”

You feel like you’re going to combust from embarrassment.

“Let’s see if I can assist you.” Dr. Shin pulls out his notebook and pen, ready to take a few notes. “Who is often present in these dreams of yours?”

You gulp, looking at him with wide eyes. He looks back at you, eyes glinting, leading you to say, “You.” Your mouth clamps shut – why did you say that?!

Regardless of your inner plight, Dr. Shin looks pleased, his smile getting wider. “Very good.” He notes a few things in his notebook, before snapping it shut and putting it away. The room dims as his eyes glow brighter, his grin toothy. “Don’t fret, my dear. There is quite an easy cure to your plight.” He approaches with soft – almost ghostly –  steps, before reaching out and tilting your chin. Nine tails – didn’t he only have one? – flicker out behind him as a chill runs through your body. “All you must do is stay by my side.”

After all, as the source of all your nightmares and dreams, he’s the only one who can cure you, too.

[gguk-n]

Chapter 2- The Rules of Pretending

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Pretending to be a couple. Pretending to be in love for the watching eyes. It's all pretend right. Even having dinner with the parents; it's all pretend right? Why would they like me? Sadly, I'm the only one in love.

Y/N's best friend, Becky, was on the other side of the video call, "every time you say that, my heart skips a beat" Becky sighed. "You think so lowly of me" Y/N groaned. "I'm thinking, whether it is felony or murder. The suspense is killing me" Becky prodded. "Well, I might've agreed to a contract and an NDA" Y/N said building the suspense. "Don't tell me you sold yourself for a visa" Becky sighed. "No, I'm fake dating Lando Norris" Y/N explained. "Who is he? Some old fart?" she quizzed. "No, he's a formula one driver" Y/N whined. "You lost me there" Becky squinted her eyes. "Why would he date you?" she asked. "Who's best friend are you?" Y/N questioned. "Yours obviously but I have to cover all the bases." Becky laughed. "What do you get out of this?" she asked. "Visa renewal and money for my time" Y/N said. "So....You're a sugar baby" Becky nodded her head. "No..." Y/N trailed. "You are. If y'all bonk, charge more. That pussy expensive and smart" Becky pointed out. "This pussy is not. He's kind of hot" Y/N said. "Oh, this won't end well" Becky muttered which Y/N didn't catch.

Lando was kind enough to send Y/N the tickets to Silverstone and explain how they would leave the hotel together. The team had booked their rooms next to each other, so as to not draw too much suspicion.

Y/N was getting changed when she heard a knock on the door. She opened the door; "Hey" she smiled at Lando. "Hi" he smiled back a small blush on his face since she was stood in her towel. "You're in a towel" he pointed out. "We're getting married" she laughed showing her ring, "Not much to hide" she giggled. "I thought it was the room service" she explained. "You would've greeted room service like that" Lando asked shocked. "No, they leave the food at your door" Y/N said squinting her eyes. "We need to leave in 15" Lando said opening the door to leave. "But I'm still hungry" she whined. "I'll buy you something on the way" Lando suggested, closing the door.

Y/N was ready, 5 minutes before they were supposed to leave and the hotel forgot her food. "I think you should complain, I didn't get my food" Y/N said pointing her finger at the ceiling. "I'll do that" Lando laughed. They got something to eat while driving by and Y/N was sat there munching away while nodding along to the songs on the radio, Lando was stealing glances, smiling at the girl next to him.

He parked his car at the paddock. The media ready to snap pictures as he got out. Lando grabbed the extra sunglasses he had got out. As soon as Y/N stepped out of the car, the flashes went off. Lando slipped his shades on her and guided her to McLaren with his hand on her lower back. Y/N's heart was beating, at first she thought it was the bright flashes or the adrenaline but she realised that it was actually Lando's hand on her back. The entire team greeted her warmly when they spotted her.

News had spread like wild fire that Lando had brought a girl with him, another Thursday in their books, but some people were talking about how she had a ring. The McLaren garage was adding fuel to the fire stating Lando brought his fiance.

The media forgot about any race related questions they had and started asking him about the mystery girl he brought. "So, Lando, I've heard you brought your girlfriend?" the interviewer asked tentatively. "Ah, Y/N, my fiance, yes" Lando smirked. "Fiance?" she stammered. "Yes, we got engaged recently. I just couldn't hide my love for her anymore" Lando gloated. "Congratulations" the interviewer was shocked. The rest of media day involved a lot more questions related to Y/N who was spending her time with Lily in the garage. Oscar had come around to the whole fake dating thing and Lily was quite welcoming to say the least. "You're famous, around the paddock" Oscar said returning from the media pen. "Guessed so." Y/N laughed. "There's my gorgeous fiance" Lando shouted wrapping his arms around her. Y/N's eyes fell on the group of men behind him. "Action" Lando whispered pulling away.

"Guys this is Y/N" Lando introduced her, "Y/N my fellow drivers, who I spend most of my time away from you with" Lando laughed. "It's nice to meet you guys." she said. "Can't believe you get to spend all this time with him" she pouted lacing their fingers together. "No no, he's all yours" they laughed before pulling him away. "Okay explain" Carlos cornered Lando. "What?" Lando asked confused. "Where did you produce a girlfriend from?" Max questioned. "I didn't produce any girlfriend" Lando shrugged. "We've been dating for 4 years" Lando said. "While you were sleeping around. She must be a saint then" George chided. "I would've dropped your ass if I was our girlfriend" Alex said shaking his head. "Well, you aren't" Lando humphed. "She's an angel and...and I love her" Lando stated puffing his chest out. "Well, if you do, we don't mind. Just don't you think you're rushing with the proposal" Carlos reasoned. "No, I'm happy" Lando said trying to sell their lie. "If you say so" Max shrugged leading everyone away.

Lando walked in, "What was that?" Y/N whispered. Lando took her to his driver's room. "They are shocked since I have a fiance with my womaniser ways" Lando explained. "Money. That's how" she laughed. Lando laughed along. "You'll meet my childhood friend Max Fewtrell too soon" Lando said grabbing water. "Can't wait" she chirped. "Also, why didn't you let them in on our secret?" she asked. "Other teams wouldn't let their drivers sign NDAs from another team Too much legal hassle Zak said" Lando replied nonchalantly.

Max was also so confused when Lando introduced his fiance who he had been dating for 4 years. Max thought back to all the times and he wasn't sure when he had the time to date anyone when they spent most of the time together either with work or just because but he shrugged it off since Lando said he was happy.

Even though Lando finished second that weekend, everyone's eyes were on him. The media recorded their interaction after he got out of the car and zoomed in when they hugged each other. "We're gonna have to sell it" Lando stated. She nodded and Lando pecked her lips. Later, "Sorry about that" Lando apologised to Y/N. "Hey, if we're gonna tell people we're getting married soon, a peck is nothing" she replied.

The next event they needed to be seen at was a McLaren sponsor's event, the people they were doing this whole charade for. Ever since Y/N had popped up in Lando's life, at least in the media's eyes; every news article about Lando was how he's going to get married soon or how smart his fiance was since she was in a Master's programme at University. People at her University, professor's included wanted to know about Lando when they news spread. This was doing wonders for Lando's image.

Lando called a couple days before the event, "Hey, Y/N. The dress code for the event is formal. Do you have anything? Or do you want to go shopping?" Lando spoke into the phone. "Are you paying?" she joked. "Obviously" Lando replied rolling his eyes but Y/N couldn't see. "I'll pick you up in an hour. This could count as our public date according to the contract" Lando stated waiting for the reply. "Okay" she replied and cut the call to dress up.

Lando showed up almost on time while Y/N rushed to get her stuff and exit her flat. The two of them sat in the car in silence, only breaking it to make small talk.

The shop they stopped at had almost extravagant clothes which made Y/N feel out of place. Lando walked around pointing at a few dresses for the sales rep to take away, "You should choose a few you like too and try them on. We'll buy the one we both can agree on" Lando told her. She quietly scanned the racks, trying not to look at the price tag too closely.

After a couple of dresses, Y/N stepped out in a satin deep green dress with a slit for her left leg to poke out. the dress was held by spaghetti straps. "What do you think? I think I love this" Y/N stated admiring herself in the wall length mirror. Lando's eyes were wide, if this was a cartoon they would be the shape of hearts. He couldn't look away, "You look" the words were stuck in his throat. "Hmm...whether you like it or not, I want this" she smiled brightly looking at him with her puppy eyes. Lando felt like he would melt into a puddle. He just nodded wordlessly and than paid for the dress.

For the event, they showed up together. All the sponsors happy to see Lando and Y/N who was basically an accessory on Lando's arm. "You're gonna have to give your best performance" Lando whispered in her ear. "Don't worry, I was in theatre" she smirked pecking his cheek as they entered the venue. Soon being dragged away by Zak. After all the formalities of meeting with the various sponsors and the soft glances and whispers the two shared to keep up the charade; they were now stood away from the crowd. "Lando, do you get tiny burgers at all these events?" she asked, her eyes glued to the tray of sliders on the waiter's hand. "Not all" he replied before looking where her eyes were wandering off to, "Do you want them?" he asked. "Yes please" she replied eagerly. She picked up a few and pushed one into her mouth, "tiny burgers" she stated with a big grin on her lips while looking at Lando as her cheeks puffed up while she tried to chew it discreetly. "Bring me more" she mumbled with her mouth full. Lando burst out laughing, "Do you love them so much?" he asked. "Yeah, they are tiny burgers" she stated with another mouth full of the slider. "By the way, I'm graduating next month, so you'll have to come since my whole university wants to meet you" she said gulping the slider down. "okay" Lando nodded. "My parents will be around, but you can slip away after the ceremony. You don't need to join the dinner or anything" she explained. Lando just nodded along, pulling her closer by her waist as the waiter with a tray full of champagne almost knocked into her. "Careful, sweetheart" he said while Y/N was flushed against his chest. She felt her heart beating in her chest, loud and clear, Lando's breath hot on her lips. The proximity wasn't helping her. He looked down and when their eyes met, she hiccuped pushing herself away. "Thanks" she mumbled clearly feeling hot.

On the day of the graduation, Lando met up with Y/N's parents who for a reason unknown to her too, introduced him as her fiance as if by reflex. Her dad was skeptical at first but Lando quickly grew on him. "Congratulations, darling" Lando said hugging Y/N and handing the bouquet he got. She took the flowers and put them away. "Mum and Dad, this is Lando, my fiance" she said as her eyes widened. "It's nice to meet you Mr and Mrs Y/L/N" Lando said, turning around to smirk at Y/N. "I didn't know you were dating someone" her mother asked shocked. "Ah yes, we've been together for a while, haha" she tried to laugh it off while her dad stared at him. At the ceremony, Lando was surrounded by everyone wanting to take pictures with him. He was the one cheering the loudest when Y/N was called on stage.

"So, I booked this place for the celebration dinner" Lando told Y/N's parents. Y/N looked at him shocked, "It wouldn't look nice if your fiance ditched you on your graduation day" he whispered pulling her along. The dinner finished without any hitch except for the fact that Y/N thought she would faint with how fast her heart was beating. Lando was no better, he couldn't stop thinking about her when he reached home.

After the graduation, they were seen on dates across the globe enjoying themselves and mandatory race appearances; giving them the opportunity to grow closer. Y/N and Lando were both falling for each other but too scared to tell anyone or each other in the fear of losing what they have.

After returning from another one of their weekend getaways, Y/N sat down next to Becky. "Becky, I'm fucked" she whined. Becky looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue; "I think I'm in love" she pouted. "Saw that coming from a mile away" Becky smirked. "What?" Y/N asked shocked. "Haven't you read romance novels with the fake dating trope, both the main leads are fake dating and they fall in love. At least in the novel you know they'll end up together, I have no clue about real life" she said patting her friend's back. "I'm sorry but with Lando's past, I don't see you in his future" Becky reasoned. "Don't say that" Y/N cried. "I'm being realistic. It's better to move on" she said. "But he's different and those news articles, they are exaggerated. He isn't a complete fuck boy in real life." Y/N reasoned. "Hey I know nothing but his fancy world has no place for people like us" she told her best friend. "Weren't you happy that you would be done with the relationship when your PHD programme started. Weren't you happy it got delayed so that you could focus on your career?" Becky cocked her head. "Yeah I was" Y/N slumped. "But he's different and I'm not sure how I'll let him go" Y/N sighed as tears formed in her eyes.

Back at Lando's place, things weren't any different. Max was gaming on Lando's PC when Lando caught his attention, "I think I'm in love with Y/N" Lando stated. "You better be, since you guys are engaged" Max chided pulling his headphones off. "But like I did a thing" Lando began. "Please don't tell me you cheated on her now" Max begged. "What? NO. WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?" Lando shouted. "Mate I'm talking from experience that when people say that they mean they did something bad. I'm not saying you did it though" Max tried to calm him down. "Actually" Lando sighed, "We aren't actually dating" Lando said. "What?" It was Max's turn to shout. "yeah, we started dating because of my PR image but I think I love her now" Lando groaned. "Tell her" Max said as if it was the easiest thing. "What?" Lando looked at him. "Tell her and if she likes you too, the two of you can actually get married" Max said as if stating the obvious. "I don't think she likes me like that" Lando mumbled.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654 @plotpal @charlesgirl16 @inarabee @a-beaverhausen @hwalllllllelujah

[isaadore]

OFF THE GRID LEWIS HAMILTON

pairing lewis hamilton x streamer!reader

SUMMARY as a successful twitch streamer, you’ve built up a following of dedicated fans. among them are carlos sainz and fernando alonso, whom you’ve known forever. but after an invitation to the paddock, things get interesting when you meet lewis hamilton, someone you’ve had a secret crush on for years. word count 0.7k words

warnings fluff, mentions of age gap

note requested!

MAIN MASTERLIST LH44 MASTERLIST

STREAMING ON TWITCH had been an unexpected career path, but it worked. Between gaming, chatting, and hosting surprise appearances from Carlos Sainz and Fernando Alonso, your channel has grown into something special. They’d become good friends, and you’d gotten used to their teasing and the easy bond you shared on camera. Still, you hadn’t mentioned the one secret crush lingering in the background: Lewis Hamilton.

It wasn’t the most realistic crush, maybe, but there was something about him. His confidence and undeniable skill drew you in. Not to mention, he was much older than you. You were sure he didn’t even know you existed.

Then one day, you were mid-stream with Carlos when he casually dropped the invitation that changed everything.

"Why don't you come to the race in Spain?" he asked with a grin, reading through the chat that was going wild over the idea. "I’ll get you a pass. You could see what it's really like instead of just watching on TV."

The chat cheered him on, throwing in all-caps encouragement, so with a laugh, you agreed. But as the race weekend crept closer, the nerves hit. Going into the paddock felt surreal; it wasn’t just about Carlos and Fernando; it was also about Lewis. There was a chance, however small, you might actually meet him.

The paddock buzzed with energy and attention. As you walked in, cameras flashed, and you felt the weight of curious eyes on you, but Carlos's warm welcome helped you relax. He showed you around, introducing you to drivers and team members until, eventually, you found yourself standing outside the Mercedes garage.

And there he was: Lewis Hamilton. He turned, noticing Carlos and then you, his gaze soft and curious. You took a breath and forced yourself to stay calm.

"Hey, Carlos," he greeted, and then his eyes shifted to you, that famous smile flickering to life. “And this must be your friend?”

Carlos introduced you, but you could barely focus, watching as Lewis’s expression turned to something closer to intrigue. You found yourself talking, laughing, and answering his questions as the minutes blurred by. It felt... easy. Unforced. There was a depth to him that surprised you, and you were startled by how comfortable you felt like you hadn’t just met the guy.

After the race, you ended up exchanging numbers, something you’d hardly dared imagine at the start of the weekend. Yet Lewis had insisted, his tone casual but his expression unmistakably genuine.

Over the next few weeks, you exchanged messages, keeping it light at first. He asked about your streaming, watched a few clips, and soon enough, he was showing up in the chat from time to time, keeping his profile low but always watching. When he finally asked if you’d want to meet up for coffee during a break in his schedule, it took all your self-control to play it cool.

At the café, conversation flowed easily again, and by the end, you found yourself wondering if he felt it too. You were aware of the age gap, and no doubt others would be too. But if it bothered Lewis, he didn’t show it.

“I know there’s some extra attention that might come with this,” he admitted over coffee, glancing up from his cup. “But for what it’s worth… I’d like to keep seeing you.”

You paused, the weight of his words settling in. “Are you sure? You know people will probably have something to say about it.”

“I’m not concerned with what people think,” he said simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “If you’re not, that is.”

Once your relationship went public, the inevitable comments rolled in. Age gap, rumours, endless speculation; the internet did its thing, but over time, people grew used to seeing you around. Carlos and Fernando both stood by you, treating it as nothing more than the natural next step, while your fans cheered you on, and even a few critics gradually quieted down.

Though life moved forward, now with race weekends as a regular fixture, the best moments were the quiet ones; streaming from a hotel room after the race, laughing at Lewis’s occasional surprise appearances, and sharing conversations with him that no one else got to see.

In the end, you knew it was real because it was just the two of you talking about everything and nothing, just as you always had.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ LH44 MASTERLIST

[helen-with-an-a]

would you consider a part 2 to be the best?

maybe everyone realises reader making an effort and she starts to get closer at team bonding nights etc. then gets angry and thinks everyone will go back to hating her but happy ending

Hiiii - so I hope you enjoy this - I might make another part, I might not - I'm not quite sure

Be The Best part 3

AWFC x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Description: R joins the team on a trip to the cinema

Word Count: 4.4k

Deciding what to wear – it seemed like such a simple task, yet it was the one thing consuming your thoughts. It was more than just picking an outfit; it felt like the key to unlocking your entire evening. If you could just figure out what to wear, then maybe everything else would follow. The outfit could set the tone, give you confidence, and make you feel ready to face whatever was coming your way. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself, over and over, as if the right choice of clothes could somehow solve all your other problems too. The pressure to get it right was overwhelming, as if choosing the perfect outfit would magically make everything else fall into place.

But it wasn’t even a special occasion – it was just the cinema. A casual, relaxed outing, nothing crazy, nothing formal. Just the cinema. You were going to watch a movie, sit in the dark for a couple of hours, and maybe grab a snack or two. No big deal. It wasn’t like you were going to a fancy dinner or an important meeting. Just the cinema.

And yet, it wasn’t just the cinema. It was the cinema with your friends, work colleagues, people you have definitely bullied at times. You knew you had to strike a delicate balance – casual, but not too casual; relaxed, but still put together. It wasn’t simply about the clothes. It was about perception, about how the others would see you and what they would think. Every choice seemed to carry a weight that extended far beyond fabric and fashion. Would they notice if you were too dressed up, standing out like you were trying too hard? Or would they judge you if you were too laid-back, as if you didn’t care at all?

For most people, it was just a routine outing, something they had done countless times. But for you, it was uncharted territory, an experience you’d only heard about or seen in movies themselves. The idea of sitting in a dark theatre, surrounded by others, watching a story unfold on a massive screen – this was completely new. You didn’t know the unspoken rules, the social cues that everyone else seemed to take for granted. How were you supposed to act? What was the right amount of enthusiasm or restraint?

And what about conversation? That was another minefield altogether. You knew the basic rule: no talking during the film. That part seemed straightforward enough. But what about before the film started, when everyone was finding their seats, shuffling in with popcorn and drinks? Was there a right way to initiate small talk in those brief moments of dimmed lights and hushed voices? Should you comment on the previews, ask about their day, or maybe even crack a light joke to ease any tension? Or would it be better to keep it simple, just a casual greeting before settling into the silence? The uncertainty gnawed at you, making it difficult to predict how you should approach those moments.

And then there was the aftermath, the part that seemed the most daunting of all. What would you talk about after the film ended? How do people usually transition from the intensity of the movie back to regular conversation? Should you start with your thoughts on the film, maybe offer an opinion or ask for theirs? But what if your opinions didn’t match? What if you missed a key detail, or your interpretation was off? Would you come across as clueless or out of touch? You didn’t want to be the one who misread the mood, who either overanalysed every scene or brushed off the film too casually.

What if they didn’t want to talk to you? That fear was the heaviest of all, lurking in the back of your mind and casting a shadow over everything else. Leah had promised that you were welcome to attend the team bonding event, insisting that it would be a good opportunity to relax and connect away from the pressures of the football field. But did they really want you there? Was her invitation genuinely extended on behalf of the entire team, or was it just a polite gesture, something she felt obligated to offer? The thought gnawed at you, making you second-guess every detail of the evening.

You had been so mean to them for so long – too long, really. Screaming had been your only form of communication, your voice always raised, always harsh, leaving no room for warmth or understanding. It was as if yelling was the only way you knew how to convey your thoughts, your frustrations, your demands.

Images of Kyra’s terrified eyes flashed across your mind, haunting you in those quiet moments when the noise of the day had finally died down. You remembered the way she would flinch whenever you called her name, her eyes wide and fearful, as if bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught. It wasn’t just once or twice – no, those moments were all too frequent, etched into the fabric of your daily routine. You could almost hear the echo of your own voice, sharp and cutting, as you berated her for the smallest mistakes, things that now seemed so insignificant in hindsight.

You had changed four times already, each outfit a different attempt to strike the right balance, to somehow capture the perfect blend of casual yet polished, approachable yet confident. Each time you thought you’d found the right look, doubt crept in, nagging at the edges of your mind until you found yourself back at the mirror, scrutinising every detail. First, it was joggers and T-shirt – too casual, you decided, too close to something you’d wear lounging around the house, not quite right for an evening where you wanted to make a better impression. Then came the one dress you owned – simple, comfortable, but suddenly it felt too much, as if you were trying too hard, the exact opposite of what you wanted.

You tried again, opting for a more relaxed outfit, a sweater and a pair of tailored pants, thinking this might strike the right chord. But as you stood there, looking at yourself, the reflection staring back seemed off, like you were wearing someone else’s clothes. You looked like you were going into a business meeting. It didn’t feel like you, or at least not the version of yourself you wanted to present tonight. So you changed again, this time into something more middle-ground, some baggy jeans and a top. But even then, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t quite right.

As you stood there in front of the mirror, surrounded by discarded outfits strewn across the bed, you wondered if maybe the clothes weren’t the real issue. Maybe it was the fact that no matter what you wore, you couldn’t escape the history you carried with you, the reputation you had built, and the uncertainty of whether any outfit could really make a difference in how you were perceived.

Your phone buzzed on the desk, the familiar vibration cutting through the thick fog of your thoughts. The sound startled you, pulling you out of the endless loop of doubt and second-guessing that had been consuming your mind for what felt like hours. You glanced over and saw the screen light up with your alarm, its insistent tone a stark reminder that time had finally run out. There was no more room for deliberation, no more opportunity to agonise over every detail.

It took you longer than expected to get to the cinema, your nerves slowing you down at every turn. The streets seemed unfamiliar, the route winding through a part of town that you rarely ventured into. As you navigated through the maze of side roads and intersections, you couldn't help but notice how different this area felt from your usual haunts. It was quieter, more residential, with an air of nostalgia that hung in the evening breeze. The buildings here had a certain charm, with their old-fashioned storefronts and quaint cafés, each one exuding a sense of history that made you feel like you had stepped back in time.

When you finally arrived at the cinema, it wasn’t what you had expected. You had envisioned something sleek and modern, a polished building with neon lights and a buzzing crowd. Instead, you found yourself standing in front of a place that felt like a hidden gem, tucked away from the busier parts of the city. The cinema was smaller, more intimate, and as you approached, you were struck by its unexpected charm. The exterior was unassuming, with a classic marquee that displayed the film titles in black letters against a white backdrop, the lights around it softly glowing in the dimming light.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and inviting, a far cry from the sterile, impersonal theatre you had walked past as a kid. It was cute – more retro than you had anticipated, with an ambiance that immediately put you at ease. The plush blue seats lined the aisles, each one a deep, rich shade that contrasted beautifully with the cream-colored walls. The seats looked like they had been carefully maintained, their upholstery soft and welcoming, as if they had been chosen for comfort rather than just practicality. The walls, with their creamy tones, added to the sense of warmth, their subtle detailing suggesting a bygone era when cinemas were more than just places to watch a film – they were places to experience something special.

"Hey, I'm glad you could make it," Kim said softly when she saw you arrive, her voice warm and welcoming. There was something genuine in her tone, a sincerity that caught you slightly off guard. It was as if she truly meant it, as if your presence was something she had been hoping for rather than just politely acknowledging. Her smile was gentle, her eyes reflecting a kindness that made you pause for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

You had been so wrapped up in your own anxieties, so convinced that your arrival would be met with indifference – or worse, thinly veiled discomfort – that her friendly greeting threw you off balance. For a split second, you hesitated, searching for the right words, something casual and appropriate to say in return. But nothing came out. Instead, you grimaced awkwardly back at her, your lips twisting into a half-hearted smile that you knew looked forced.

It was as though your body had betrayed you, refusing to cooperate in this moment of unexpected kindness. You could feel the tension in your shoulders, the way your jaw tightened as you struggled to mirror the warmth in Kim’s voice with an expression that didn’t come naturally to you. Inside, you were cringing at your own inability to respond with the same ease, the same natural friendliness that Kim seemed to embody so effortlessly.

Your grimace felt clumsy, a stark contrast to her welcoming demeanour. It was as if all the insecurities you had been trying to suppress suddenly bubbled up to the surface, making it impossible to relax and just be in the moment. You worried that Kim could see through your awkwardness, that she might pick up on the discomfort you were trying so hard to mask. Would she interpret it as reluctance? As a sign that you didn't really want to be there? The thought made your stomach twist, amplifying the awkwardness of the situation.

But Kim, ever gracious, didn’t let it faze her. She continued to smile, her eyes softening with understanding, as if she sensed your unease but chose not to dwell on it. Her kindness was unwavering, a quiet reassurance that perhaps, despite your own self-doubt, you were more welcome than you realised. “I think you’re the last one to arrive.”

“Sorry, it took longer than I thought to get here,” you said, your voice tinged with an apologetic edge as you finally caught up with Kim. You tried to sound casual, but the nerves were evident in the way you fumbled with your words. Your gaze flickered around the room, searching for something to latch onto to avoid the awkwardness of the moment.

“No worries,” Kim replied with a reassuring smile, her tone light and understanding. “Was there much traffic?”

“Uh, no,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. You cleared your throat, trying to steady your nerves. “I mean, there wasn’t much traffic. I just – I've, I’ve just not been here before, so …” You trailed off, the words sputtering out like a car sputtering to a halt. The sentence hung in the air, unfinished and awkward.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and discomfort. It wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the location that threw you off; it was the whole social aspect of the evening that felt out of place.

“Hey, you came!” Leah shouted from across the lobby, her voice ringing out with a burst of enthusiasm that cut through the low murmur of conversation. The suddenness of her greeting was a relief, taking the spotlight off Kim and saving her from having to respond to your earlier, awkward attempt at small talk. Leah’s energy seemed to fill the space, her bright smile and warm manner making it clear that she was genuinely pleased to see you.

“Hi,” you whispered back, the word barely escaping your lips as you struggled to match her enthusiasm with your own shaky confidence. You felt a pang of awkwardness, compounded by the realisation that you were still adjusting to the surroundings

Leah, unfazed by your quiet response, continued with her upbeat tone. “Do you want to grab some snacks before you go in?”

Snacks? The word hit you like a revelation. You had always thought of the cinema as a place where people just sat in darkened rooms and watched movies, perhaps grabbing a quick drink from a vending machine if they were really desperate. But the idea of having snacks felt almost revolutionary. The concept of indulging in something edible during a film was so foreign to you that you blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard.

You looked around, taking in the lobby’s setup with new eyes. It was bustling with people moving toward a counter where a variety of snacks were displayed. The counter was an array of tempting options: large tubs of buttery popcorn and colourful sweets. The whole scene seemed like an elaborate concession to comfort, something you had never considered part of the cinema experience before.

Alessia, who had joined Leah in welcoming you, turned to you with a warm smile. “What’s your go-to?” she asked, her tone inviting and friendly. Her curiosity seemed genuine, and it made you feel a bit more at ease.

You hesitated, glancing at the array of snacks before you, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your uncertainty evident. The variety of choices seemed almost overwhelming, and you weren’t sure where to start.

Alessia laughed lightly, a sound that was both comforting and disarming. “Ah, a ‘see how you feel’ kind of person,” she said, nodding knowingly as if she understood your approach. Her laughter and casual attitude made it clear that she wasn’t judging you, but rather finding your indecision endearing.

“Um, no,” you replied, feeling a bit embarrassed as you tried to explain. “I’ve not been to the cinema before.” The admission felt awkward, and you braced yourself for whatever reaction might follow.

Alessia stared at you, her eyes widening in shock. “What do you mean?” she asked, disbelief evident in her voice. “Surely you went growing up? I know we don’t have much time now, but still.”

You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of your admission feeling heavier under Alessia’s surprised gaze. “Uh, no. My, uh, my dad said it was a waste of time,” you said, your voice trailing off. The memory of your father’s dismissive attitude made you feel vulnerable, as if you were exposing a part of your past that was uncomfortable to revisit.

Alessia’s surprise was palpable, her mouth forming a small “O” as she processed what you had just revealed. Her eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the information. It was as if the notion of someone never having been to the cinema before was a concept so foreign that it took her a moment to fully grasp it. Her reaction was a blend of shock and genuine curiosity, making you feel even more self-conscious.

You could feel your face flush with embarrassment as you watched her reaction unfold. The realisation that you had just divulged a personal detail about your upbringing – a detail that seemed to have left such an impact on Alessia – made you mentally kick yourself. Why couldn’t you have just gone along with her question, given a generic answer, and avoided this awkward revelation altogether?

As Alessia’s initial shock gave way to a more empathetic expression, you mentally berated yourself for not just playing along. She could almost hear the internal dialogue in your head: “Why did I have to be so honest? Why couldn’t I just say I like popcorn or candy and leave it at that?” You bit your lip, hard, gasping slightly at the familiar pain.

But as you watched Alessia’s expression soften into one of understanding, you also noticed the subtle shift in her stance. She seemed genuinely concerned and determined to make sure you felt comfortable. Her initial shock had transformed into a compassionate response, as if she was now more committed than ever to ensuring that your first cinema experience was enjoyable and welcoming.

“Well, usually I go for some popcorn,” Alessia said with a casual shrug, her tone easy and conversational. “But I decided on Pick ‘n’ Mix today.” She paused, as if considering the options and her own choice. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief and excitement, reflecting a genuine enthusiasm for the variety of treats on offer. “If you get some popcorn, we could share?” she suggested, her offer smooth and natural, as though it were the most effortless thing in the world.

“Y-you want to share?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The shock in your tone was palpable, your words tinged with disbelief. The notion that Alessia, someone who had been so kind and welcoming, would offer to share something as simple as popcorn with you felt almost surreal. The gesture seemed magnified by your own insecurities and the weight of your past interactions with her

.

You stood there, momentarily taken aback, struggling to reconcile Alessia’s warmth with the harshness you remembered from your own behaviour. It was as if her kindness had momentarily suspended reality, making you question whether you deserved such a generous offer. You had been so accustomed to keeping others at a distance, to reacting defensively or with hostility, that the idea of someone reaching out to you with genuine friendliness felt foreign and unexpected.

“Of course, come on, let’s get some popcorn,” Alessia said, her smile broadening into a welcoming expression that seemed to dispel any lingering awkwardness. Her enthusiasm was infectious, a burst of positive energy that made you feel more at ease despite your earlier reservations.

Without missing a beat, she reached out and gently grabbed your elbow, her touch both firm and reassuring.

The film wasn’t necessarily your choice, but as it played out on the screen, you found yourself increasingly engrossed. You never really had time for films – growing up, your father had made you watch old matches and now, as an adult, you did the same. There was something about the action, the romance, the unexpected twist at the end that drew you in and kept you close.

Sitting wedged in between Alessia and Leah wasn’t too bad either. In fact, it turned out to be one of the more pleasant surprises of the evening. Alessia, seated to your right, had a laugh that was genuinely infectious. Each time something amusing or surprising happened on the screen, her laughter would bubble up – a warm, genuine sound that was impossible not to be affected by. It was the kind of laugh that seemed to fill the room with a sense of shared joy, creating a subtle but tangible bond between you and the rest of the audience. Her enthusiasm was both comforting and uplifting, making the film experience feel even more enjoyable.

Leah, on your left, contributed to the cozy atmosphere with her own unique presence. She kept up a quiet commentary throughout the film, her murmurs barely audible but filled with insightful observations and humorous remarks. Her comments were like little nuggets of insight, offering a fresh perspective on the film's twists and turns. You had expected that her talking might become distracting or irritating, but instead, it had the opposite effect. Leah’s commentary felt like a private conversation that added another layer to your viewing experience, one that was both engaging and endearing.

Rather than finding Leah's remarks bothersome, you found yourself appreciating them. Her thoughtful, almost reverent musings about the film’s plot and characters added depth to your own viewing experience. It was as though she was sharing a part of her own enthusiasm and understanding with you, making the film feel more interactive and immersive. Each comment was delivered with a subtlety that ensured it didn't disrupt your enjoyment, but rather complemented it, adding an extra dimension to your engagement with the story.

The combination of Alessia’s lively, infectious laughter and Leah’s quiet, reflective commentary created a perfect balance that made sitting between them a surprisingly enjoyable experience. It turned out to be a blend of energy and insight that enhanced the film’s appeal, making the whole experience feel more communal and enjoyable.

“Oh, my god. That was so good!” Stina cheered as you all left the theater, her excitement practically radiating from her. Her blonde ponytail whipped from side to side with each enthusiastic hop down the steps, creating a lively and contagious energy that seemed to spread through the group. Stina’s reaction was a burst of pure, unfiltered enthusiasm, her voice ringing with genuine excitement about the film you had just seen.

Conversations about favourite scenes and surprising plot twists began to bubble up, each person eager to share their thoughts and opinions on the film. It was as if Stina’s initial reaction had unlocked a wave of shared enthusiasm that everyone was eager to join in on.

“Yeah, that twist at the end was incredible!” Steph chimed in, her voice laced with amazement. “I didn’t see that coming at all.” The sentiment was echoed by several others, their faces animated with excitement as they recounted their favourite moments. The film had clearly struck a chord with the group, and the sense of collective satisfaction was palpable. Had this been what you were missing out on every time you declined an invite?

Before you could get too far into your head, Kim came up behind you, her shoulder gently nudging yours in a friendly, almost reassuring manner. The touch was light but deliberate, a small gesture that drew you back from your swirling thoughts and into the present moment. Her presence was warm and grounding, a reminder that you were part of a group, and her approachable demeanor made it easier to transition from the excitement of the film to the next part of the evening.

“So, what did you think?” Kim asked, her voice filled with genuine interest. There was a subtle anticipation in her tone, an expectation that your opinion would contribute to the collective conversation.

“I liked the film. It was very good,” you responded, your voice steady but still tinged with the residual excitement from the movie. You were still processing the film’s impact and the lively discussion that had followed, and Kim’s question provided a moment to articulate your enjoyment. It felt good to share your positive reaction, to be part of the enthusiastic response that had characterised the group’s reactions.

Kim’s eyes brightened at your response, and she smiled with a hint of mischief. “Good enough to come to dinner with us?” she asked, her tone light and inviting.

You froze for a moment, a sudden wave of uncertainty washing over you. Did Kim really want you to join them for dinner? The question seemed to echo in your mind, stirring up a flurry of anxious thoughts. The idea of continuing the evening with the group was both inviting and intimidating, and you couldn’t help but question whether you truly belonged in this social setting.

A twinge of apprehension gnawed at you as you considered the possibility of making a mistake. What if you inadvertently did something wrong or said something out of turn? The fear of misstepping or failing to live up to the group’s expectations loomed large. You imagined potential scenarios where your actions might not align with the group’s dynamics, leading to awkwardness or discomfort.

And what if you got angry with them again? What if you ruined the night? What if you did something wrong and they kicked you off the team? A tight knot of anxiety bubbled up in your chest, making it difficult to fully embrace the invitation. The prospect of making a good impression and avoiding past mistakes felt like a significant challenge. Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that Kim’s invitation was a gesture of goodwill, a sign that your presence was valued and welcomed.

“Umm, yeah, yeah, I think so,” you said, your voice gaining confidence as you spoke. “If that’s ok with you?” The question was as much about seeking reassurance as it was about confirming your participation. It was a polite gesture, ensuring that your presence was welcome and that you weren’t imposing on the group’s plans.

Kim’s smile widened, and she gave you a reassuring nod. “Absolutely, it’s totally okay,” she said warmly. “We’d love to have you join us. It’s just a casual dinner, nothing too formal. We’re all going to this great place nearby – should be a lot of fun!”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Real shit, how to write kissing🙂🙂🙂💙 please please please (from a sweet and gentle one to a messy wet one)

Writing Notes: 20 Types of Kissing

AIR KISS

More of a greeting than a romantic gesture.

Can be exchanged totally platonically between friends and family members.

Two people purse their lips as if they're going to kiss, then brush past the other's cheek without actually touching.

In some cultures, a single air kiss is appropriate, while others go for two or three.

BUTTERFLY KISS

Cheek-to-cheek and flutter your eyelashes against the other person's eyes or face so that they feel like they're being kissed by a butterfly's wings.

These sweet "kisses" are usually exchanged between a parent and young child, but they can also be shared with a partner.

CHEEK KISS

Kissing someone on the cheek can be a platonic greeting gesture; common for friends and family members to exchange these types of kisses in some cultures.

Can also be a hint that you like someone if you're not ready for a lip-to-lip kiss.

Usually planting your lips firmly on the person's cheek and lingering for a moment there can add additional romantic meaning to a cheek kiss.

HAND KISS

When combined with a bow, this is often seen as a sign of respect for diplomats or members of royalty.

But kissing someone's hand while holding it can also just be a tender, loving gesture if there's an existing relationship between the two people.

NOSE KISS

Can be lip-to-nose or nose-to-nose.

Most commonly it's a sweet, familial greeting (similar to the butterfly kiss), where two people will rub their noses together.

TOP-OF-THE-HEAD KISS

Usually comes from a parent or grandparent.

Can provide a sense of safety, comfort, and familiarity for people.

Can signal the same sense of security when coming from a partner, especially when combined with a hug from behind.

FOREHEAD KISS

A kiss placed on someone's forehead.

An affectionate and nurturing gesture, and they tend to signal more sweetness and care than sexual attraction.

Can be given between romantic partners but are also commonly given to children from parents or older family members.

ANGEL KISS

One person gently kisses the other person's eyelid.

This type of kiss can have many meanings, but it's often a romantic gesture because it's such an uncommon form of kiss.

It can be especially sweet to kiss someone's eyelids when they've been crying.

NECK KISS

Since the neck is a vulnerable part of the body, exposing it is generally a sign of flirtation or comfort, according to body language expert Blanca Cobb, M.S.

Going in for a few neck kisses in the middle of a makeout session can be erotic.

EARLOBE KISS

Like the neck kiss, can be extremely vulnerable and erotic.

Since the earlobes contain a lot of nerve endings, this can be a sensitive and stimulating area and is often considered an erogenous zone.

PECK

A simple, light touch of the lips.

The lips might be closed and slightly puckered or pursed, or they might be looser.

This is generally what people aim for with their first kiss because it's intimate without being overly sensual.

SINGLE LIP KISS

A little more sensual than a peck since the mouth is slightly open.

This is a good intro to a French kiss, where one partner kisses the other's bottom lip while the other kisses the top lip.

FRENCH KISS

Also known as a makeout, tongue kiss, or a deep kiss.

One or both partners use their tongues to stimulate each other’s mouths for mutual sexual pleasure. It includes a mix of open-mouth kissing and tongue.

Can be more stimulating than kisses without the tongue since the lips, tongue, and other parts of the mouth are powerful erogenous zones that contribute to sexual arousal.

Generally, people try to control the amount of tongue used here, but "some people prefer wet, open-mouthed kisses,” Stray Conger says. It's all about trial and error.

The term French kiss originated in America and Britain in the early 1900s, when it was believed that French culture was more open to adventurous sexual practices.

SHOULDER KISS

Especially when done from behind, can be an invitation for a makeout.

It can be a sultry and intimate kiss, although alternatively it can also be sprinkled in during a cuddling session depending on your cuddling position.

BITE KISS

Take the phrase "bite" very lightly here—consider it more of a nibble to start.

If you want to make your French kiss a bit more interesting, consider gently biting your partner's lip or lightly tugging it with your teeth.

Just try not to break skin, unless they're into that.

BODY KISS

A way to make your makeout session more intimate/erotic, or a form of foreplay.

"You can kiss various body parts like earlobes, sides of necks, insides of wrists, and other hot spots, where blood flow is close to the surface of the skin," Brown-James says. "This would include places like the butt crease, inner wrist, nape of the neck, inner arm and armpit, and even the popliteal (back of the knee)."

NIPPLE KISS

Nipple play can be extremely pleasurably for some people, and some women can even orgasm from it.

That's because this type of touch activates the same nerve cortex as the clitoris.

Along with massaging, tracing, and pinching the breasts, kissing the nipples can bring pleasure for some.

GENITAL KISS

This is not the same as oral sex, but it's a good segue into it.

Kissing your partner through their underwear or directly on the skin of their genitals can leave them wanting more.

SPIDERMAN KISS

Based on the famous Spiderman movie scene, where Tobey Maguire (Spiderman) kisses Kirsten Dunst (Mary Jane Watson) while hanging upside.

This can be done with one person lying down, and the other person standing above them. When you kiss, your chins will be touching each other's noses.

LIZARD KISS

When partners kiss by touching tongues only, sans lips.

Is certainly unique, and it's definitely not for everyone.

It can be incorporated into makeout sessions, interspersed between French kissing, usually as a way to add more erotic charge.

French Kissing

How to perform a basic French kiss:

Choose a comfortable setting. Since French kissing usually takes a little longer than a standard peck on the lips, you’ll want to be in a place where both you and your kissing partner feel comfortable and relaxed. A bedroom or private area is a great place to start a make-out session. Set the mood by lighting a few candles or playing romantic music.

Face your partner. Face your partner so that your eyes are on the same level, and make eye contact to show you feel connected to them. If it’s your first-time French kissing and you want to send a few signals that you’re in the mood, try briefly glancing at your partner’s lips and then back up to their eyes. If they return the flirty glance, smile, or start to lean in, they may be interested, too.

Lean in and tilt your head. Once you know that your partner is interested, lean in to press your lips to your partner’s, tilting your head, so your noses don’t bump together. You may both accidentally tilt in the same direction at first; if this happens, simply redirect your head so that you’re tilting in opposite directions.

Begin with your lips. While it may be tempting to start with a French kiss, building up to a deeper kiss can be incredibly sensual for both parties. Begin with a few closed-mouth, tongueless kisses. Press your lips to your partner’s, alternating between light brushes of your lips and more powerful kisses, then closed- and open-mouthed kisses. While you can leave your hands at your sides, adding a gentle caress can be enjoyable for the other party. With your partner’s consent, gently place your hands on their waist, back, or face as you kiss.

Initiate a French kiss. After a few tongueless kisses, begin lightly brushing your tongue along your partner’s lips. This move is a non-verbal way of asking permission to take the kiss further—if your partner extends their tongue in response, they are ready to begin French kissing. However, if your partner doesn’t extend their tongue, they may not be comfortable just yet, and you should continue with your tongueless kisses. If you receive the green light to deepen the kiss, part your lips and gently use your tongue to stimulate your partner’s lips and tongue. Run your tongue along their lips or slide your tongue along theirs. Take it slowly and gently, allowing the intensity to build as you match your partner’s energy and movements. If your partner likes hugging during kisses, use your hands to hold them close.

Finish. French kissing can be an enjoyable activity all on its own, without it progressing to anything further. If you and your partner don’t want to move on to more intimate activities, simply French kiss until you both feel satisfied. However, French kissing can also be a powerful part of foreplay. If you and your partner want to transition to sexual intercourse, you can move your hands to begin stimulating your partner’s body (especially the glutes, chest, or genitals).

French Kissing Techniques

Use your hands. While French kissing, use your hands to hold your partner and make them feel desired. Caress their lower back, upper back, chest, or neck with varying pressure levels to stimulate these erogenous zones. If you know your partner is comfortable, you can also caress their glutes (or breasts, if your partner has them). It’s important when using your hands that you pay attention to your partner’s comfort levels—especially if you’re on an early date or in a new relationship. Ask permission or check in with your partner before touching sensitive parts of their body.

Vary the pressure. Using the same kissing technique throughout a single French kissing session can leave you or your partner feeling uninspired or bored. To keep things fresh and exciting, try to vary the pressure of your French kisses—for instance, alternate between tracing your tongue along your partner’s lips and pressing hard against your partner while exploring more of their mouth with your tongue. By varying the pressure of your kisses, you’ll demonstrate different intensities of your desire—kiss them purposefully, and you’ll send powerful signals of desire; kiss them lightly and leave them wanting more.

Introduce your teeth. If you and your partner are comfortable, introducing gentle nibbling into French kissing can be a great way to increase the intensity. Take your partner’s upper or lower lip in your mouth and press lightly with your teeth. The difference in sensation—from the softness of your lips and tongue to the hard surface of your teeth—can draw even more pleasurable attention to the kiss.

Swirl your tongues. For a higher-contact French kiss, use the tip of your tongue and swirl it in circles around your partner’s tongue. Since the tip of the tongue contains many nerve endings, this motion can be incredibly stimulating.

Use suction. To raise the intensity, use your lips to create a gentle suction during the kiss. Take your partner’s bottom lip, upper lip, or tongue in your mouth and suck lightly. Suction can increase blood flow to the area and elevate pleasure, but be gentle—sucking or tugging too hard can cause unwanted pain.

Move away from their lips. French kissing doesn’t have to center the mouth—taking brief breaks from your partner’s mouth can increase their desire and stimulate other erogenous zones. During the French kiss, let your mouth wander away from your partner’s lips, kissing down their jawline, along their cheeks, or against their ear for added pleasure.

French Kissing Tips

Make sure your breath is fresh. Bad breath can serve as a distraction when French kissing. Avoid pungent foods like onions and garlic before you kiss, which contain sulfuric chemicals that cause halitosis. Brush your teeth or use a breath mint for extra freshness.

Take care of your lips. French kissing feels best on smooth, healthy lips. Take care of your lips by drinking water to stay hydrated and using chapstick, which will keep your lip skin fresh and healthy.

Take your time. French kissing is a slow-sensual activity that shouldn’t be rushed. While kissing, slow down and take your time to enjoy the moment before rushing on to other sexual activities.

Have fun together. If you take yourself too seriously when trying to French kiss, you may start feeling stressed, anxious, or insecure. Instead, relax and remember that French kissing is all about pleasure and intimacy—have fun with your partner and be willing to laugh if something doesn’t work out.

ON CONSENT. You don’t have to stick with, “May I please kiss you?” — though that can absolutely work.

Just be sure you’ve got a clear answer before you lean in for the kiss.

Respect comes hand-in-hand with consent. They might say, “No,” “I’d rather not,” or “Maybe another time.” Whatever their answer, accept it gracefully instead of asking for an explanation or trying to convince them to change their mind.

In a relationship? You might feel perfectly fine with your partner surprising you with kisses. Just let them know they’re A-OK to kiss you at any time.

MORE TIPS & TECHNIQUES. Focus on your partner ⚜ Make eye contact before making physical contact to ramp up the anticipation ⚜ Draw out the anticipation ⚜ Pay attention to your partner's reactions. You'll know whether or not your partner is into what you're doing and then you can make adjustments ⚜ Embrace awkwardness. Instead of getting flustered and pulling yourself and your partner out of the moment, try to keep it lighthearted. Laugh gently at yourself, and then try again. ⚜ Don't forget to breathe ⚜ Close your eyes. If you accidentally open your eyes to see your partner staring at you, it can be a little off-putting, unless you both prefer intense eye contact. ⚜ Feedback is crucial.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: On Kissing ⚜ On The Physiology of Love

Hope this helps! :) You can go through the cited sources, especially the tips and techniques for further elaboration.

[yuesya]

“Is that her?”

Aoi pauses at the whispered question, glancing down towards the three younger girls who are helping her hang up laundry. The three younger girls who are no longer focused on hanging up laundry, rather –Naho, Sumi, and Kiyo are currently peering curiously towards the other end of the garden, where Shinobu-sama is standing with the newest guest to the Butterfly Estate.

Snow-white hair, and deep blue eyes. The coloration is unusual and eye-catching, and it only takes an instant for Aoi to realize that this is the girl from the rumors. It has to be her –the one who’d saved the Flame Pillar by killing Upper Moon Three, and the one whom Oyakata-sama had mobilized so many people to search for over the better part of the past month.

“It has to be, right? Didn’t Nagakura-san say that the girl who saved the Flame Pillar would be staying at the Butterfly Estate for a while?” Naho peeks over the edge of the freshly-washed bed sheet. “Look at the way that Shinobu-sama is talking to her! It seems like she’s someone important, doesn’t it?”

Naho’s observation is very astute. Even though the white-haired girl only looks to be around Aoi’s age, Shinobi-sama does not speak to her as if she were a junior demon slayer. Rather… there’s a certain level of respect, and… wariness…?

The suddenly girl turns around. Blue eyes look towards them, precise and unflinching, causing all three of the younger girls to let out startled squeaks of surprise simultaneously. Aoi squeaks a little bit, too, embarrassed at having been caught staring red-handed by their new guest.

Shinobu-sama glances towards them, smiles, then says something to the white-haired girl. Then, she leads the other girl over to them.

“I see that you’ve already noticed our new guest,” Shinobu-sama says. “This is Gojo Shiki –our newest recruit to the Demon Slayer Corps, recruited by Oyakata-sama himself after her timely assistance to Rengoku-san.”

The girls pull themselves together, and offer their greetings in a cheerful chorus together. Aoi, too, echoes a polite greeting, and introductions are exchanged.

“Hello.” Gojo-san bows slightly, courteously. The movement is refined and elegant, and Aoi finds herself staring a bit at the other girl. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Gojo-san will be staying with us in the Butterfly Estate for a while,” Shinobu-sama informs them. “She… hasn’t trained with a cultivator before, and there are certain gaps in her knowledge that Oyakata-sama would like me to fill in for her. We also need to send a missive to the Swordsmith Village; she’ll also need a nichirin blade.”

Aoi blinks.

… How in the world had Gojo-san killed a demon, then?! And Upper Moon Three, no less?

“Is there something special about a ‘nichirin blade?’” Gojo-san asks.

Aoi stares at the girl, then turns incredulously to Shinobu-sama.

“… Yes,” Shinobu-sama says. “They’re special blades forged with crimson iron sand and scarlet ore, from the Sunlight Mountain. Decapitating a demon with such a blade will kill them, instead of allowing them to regenerate from their injuries.”

Gojo-san’s expression does not change. But for some reason, Aoi gets the impression that the other girl isn’t very impressed.

Shinobu-sama seems to realize it too, because she lets out a small huff. “Although… from what I understand, the weapon that you used to kill Upper Moon Three wasn’t a nichirin weapon, was it?”

“No.” Gojo-san tilts her head slightly. Then, proceeds to reach inside the sleeve of the kimono she’s wearing, and pulls out a… knife? “I used this.”

… Isn’t that just a normal knife? The kind that’s used in regular households and the like?!

Aoi looks at the knife, then looks at Gojo-san, and swiftly comes to a decisive conclusion:

She’s utterly terrifying.

[akamitrani]

— Backstage Pass —

David Howard Thornton x Fem!Reader (Pt.1?)

Warnings: Mild suggestive, flirting (and the massive amount of tension that comes with it), release of the tension, slow burn.

Summary: You manage to get backstage access to a Terrifier panel where David is present, you end up striking a conversation with him and one thing leads to another.

[A/N: Hi guys, this is my first ever published fanfic – Be kind ☠️ – Sorry if anything lol. Btw, I hope y'all like to read fr cuz this fanfic surely is for readers]

[ · · · ]

The low hum of the convention floor buzzed around you, but for the moment, it felt as though the world had quieted down. You stood backstage, just outside the makeshift white room where David was preparing for a panel at the horror convention. Your excitement of meeting the actor behind Art the Clown was palpable, it was the man himself – the warm, approachable, and genuine David

You had spent the better part of the day anxiously navigating your way through autograph lines, fan meet-and-greets and photo ops, but now, standing backstage, you had a rare chance to speak with him outside the chaos. You never expected an encounter like this but here you were, a quiet moment with the very man who had terrified and fascinated you all at once

David’s head peeked from behind the curtains, his bright blue eyes meeting yours – “Hey! You’re the one who was talking about makeup techniques earlier, right?” – his voice had a casual charm, free of any of the sinister vibes Art was known for

You nodded, a bit stunned that he’d even remembered you from earlier in the day – “I'm Y/N by the way... And yeah, I’m just starting to get into prosthetics, but I love how the horror community brings so many elements together”

He smiled, a grin that reached his eyes and softened the sharpness of his features – “Y/N. And oh I totally get that. There’s something about horror that feels like a puzzle, you know? Acting, makeup, lighting… everything needs to come together for the whole thing to work”

It felt like a small moment of mutual understanding, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to his enthusiasm. Here was David, the man behind the terrifying clown, speaking with such openness.

“So...” – David said after a beat, his tone playful – “what’s your favorite kind of horror?”

“It’s a toss-up but I’d say psychological horror, something that messes with your mind, makes you question what’s real” – You said

He nodded thoughtfully, his expression turning serious for a moment – “Yeah, that kind of horror is powerful. But I have to admit, sometimes I miss just making people jump... It’s a bit of a guilty pleasure for me”

You laughed loud, the sound echoing through the quiet backstage space – “I bet! It’s a great feeling though, knowing you can make people react like that”

David’s eyes lit up, a mischievous glint appearing – “Well... I think we’ve got some time for a little more talking, but it’s not going to be quieter once the panel starts, I'll eventually get busy... You’re sticking around, right?”

You hesitated, the pull of curiosity and excitement making you eager to continue the conversation – “Of course! After the panel, would you like to talk more? What about... Grabbing a drink?”

David raised an eyebrow, the playful smile tugging at his lips again – “Perfect, was just thinking the same thing. And I could definitely use a quiet moment away from the crowd... There's a nice café nearby, just behind the building”

You felt a jolt of anticipation. This was no longer just a fan encounter. The conversation had shifted from polite exchanges to something more personal, a subtle invitation hanging in the air

“Perfect!” – You replied, feeling your nerves melt away – “See you there then”

“I'll be there as soon as the panel is finished" – He replied

[ · · · ]

sorry but I don't have the patience

to write a 'in between' lol

You entered the café David mentioned about earlier, the ambiance was calm as expected. Dave was already there tucked in a corner booth, his eyes eventually meet yours and he sweetly waves at you. Walking in his direction you sat down, wasting no time to start chatting. David had his hands wrapped around his coffee mug, leaning slightly forward, completely engrossed in the story you were telling him

“And that’s when I realized..." – you laughed, glancing down in embarrassment – “I’d been talking to the director with fake blood still smeared all across my cheek!”

David chuckled – “You’d fit right in on a horror set with a story like that” – he said, tilting his head with that trademark playful smile – “Sounds like you were born for the genre”

You felt a warmth rise in your cheeks, not just from the flattery but from the way he looked at you — as if you two were the only people in the room. For someone who could be so chillingly silent in his role as Art, David had an openness and kindness that made you feel immediately at ease

Both of you shared another laugh, you noticed his fingers drumming gently against the ceramic cup, a little habit he seemed unaware of. The small, endearing detail felt so far removed from the menacing persona he played on screen. In that moment, you wondered how many people really got to see him this way, relaxed and unguarded

“So” – David said, breaking the silence – “I have to ask... why horror? Why would you willingly choose a field that involves blood, guts, and a thousand ways to terrify an audience?”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering an answer – “I think it’s the honesty of it... Horror doesn’t hide from what people fear. It embraces it. And creating that… It’s almost like a dance between knowing what scares people and making them feel safe enough to face it. It’s–”

“Powerful” David finished for you, a look of understanding in his eyes – “Yeah. I think I know what you mean” – he paused – “That’s exactly what draws me to it. There’s something about the way people’s walls come down when they’re scared. You can see who they really are”

Your eyes met with his, a silence settled between you and him, charged with something unspoken. You felt a flutter of nervous excitement, this was David Howard Thornton, a master of horror, sharing his personal thoughts with you as if you were an old friend

“Hey-” – David’s voice softened, breaking the tension – “I just realized how late it’s getting. But honestly…” – He glanced down, almost shyly, before looking back up with a small grin – “I don't want this conversation to end just yet”

You hadn't realized how much time had passed, you feel your heart skip – “Me neither...”

He hesitated, then gave a casual shrug – “I have a bottle of wine back at my hotel...” – he said with a hint of playful mischief – “If you’re up for it, we could keep talking there... No pressure though — I promise I’m far less terrifying off the set”

You both laughed, but you felt a thrill run through your body. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect, but the invitation in his eyes, the warmth in his smile, left little room for doubt

“Well...” – you said, mirroring his grin – “as long as you leave the clown mask behind”

David let out a low, warm chuckle and reached out, his hand brushing against yours just briefly – “Deal.”

[ · · · ]

at the hotel

The elevator doors slid open, then shut with a soft thud – the hum of the machine filled the otherwise quiet space between you both. David stood closer, his presence palpable as the two of you ascended to the upper floors. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, the subtle hint of his musky cologne, the faint rustle of his clothes as he shifted slightly

The tension from the café was still there – unspoken, but thick. You could both feel it in the air, like an electric charge that had been building ever since the moment you'd first exchanged words. But now, in this small quiet space, it was almost impossible to ignore

David caught your eye, a soft smirk playing at the corner of his mouth – “I’m glad you agreed to come. It’s nice to get away from the madness for a bit you know”

You nodded but you could feel your heart rate picking up, the proximity between you and him making your thoughts scatter – “Yeah, it’s… really nice” – your voice sounded quieter than usual, and you couldn’t help but notice how close he is standing, how his shoulder brushed against yours every so often

The elevator dinged, signaling the arrival at David’s floor, you both stepped out. David led the way to his room, his long strides confident, though there was a subtle energy about him – something different than the actor you’d seen on stage. The man before them now seemed grounded, a little more vulnerable, but still just as captivating

As you two reached the door, David turned to you with a quiet smile – “Make yourself at home” – he said, pushing the door open and holding it for you to enter. The room was cozy, warmly lit

You stepped in, the scent of fresh linen and something faintly musky lingering in the air, his cologne you thought. You took a moment to glance around but David was already moving toward the small bar area by the window, pouring two glasses of wine

“Care for something?” – he asked, glancing over his shoulder with a playful glint in his eyes

“Sure, why not?” – You replied, voice a little breathless. It was hard to focus on anything other than the man before you, the way he moved, how effortlessly he carried himself. It was a strange mix of charm and allure, the kind of presence that seemed to draw people in without effort

David handed you the glass, his fingers brushing for just a second longer than necessary. His touch lingered, and you both looked up at the same time, locking eyes. There was something in his gaze – soft yet intense.

“Cheers” – he murmured lifting his own glass, clinking your drinks together

The conversation flowed easily at first, light and casual, but the air felt heavier now. David shifted slightly, moving a little closer as he leaned against the back of a chair, eyes never leaving yours. It wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was the opposite.

You set your drink down on the table, feeling a quiet tension building – “You know... I never thought I’d end up in a hotel room with someone like you”

David raised an eyebrow – “Someone like me?”

You laughed softly, a little nervous – “Yeah, someone so… different from Art”

David’s smile deepened, and he moved a fraction closer – “I think I’m a little more like Art than you realize” – he teased, there was a softness in his voice and a hint of something else, something that wasn’t just playful

“I don’t know…” – your voice faltering for a moment – “M-maybe you’re right”

David didn’t say anything for a moment, but his gaze darkened just slightly, his focus never wavering. He stepped a little closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the best way

“You know Y/N” he said quietly, almost a whisper – “I’m glad you stayed”

[···]

The silence between you both thickened, hanging in the air. David's gaze softened, his lips parting slightly as though he was considering something. Drawn to the warmth of his presence, you got closer. David didn't move away. Instead, he stood perfectly still, giving you space to decide what to do next. A quiet hunger in the way he looked at you.

“I dont want to rush this” – David said softly, voice low and deliberate – “But, I can't pretend I'm not completely drawn to you”

You reached up, fingers brushing against his arm, the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. David inhaled sharply, his body tensing just a bit at the contact.

“Are you sure?” – he whispered, his hand reached out, fingers barely grazing the edge of your wrist. You nodded, voice barely above a breath – “Yeah, I'm sure.”

David's hand gently cupped the side of your face, thumb grazing the curve of your jaw – savoring every second. David's face was so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first. His hands slid down, pulling you closer. He grabs your waist hard and you accidentally let out a small moan... That's when he finally kisses you, letting out a low whimper himself. The kiss gets deeper, sucking and biting. You respond instinctively, fingers threading through his gray hair, drawing him in as the kiss became more urgent, more desperate.

You break the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, foreheads resting against each other and trying to collect yourselves. This had been building all night, ready to break.

“You're incredible” – David murmured, his voice thick with desire

You met his gaze – “I can say the same about you”

“I've wanted this all night” – He confessed

David's hands slid down your back, guiding you firmly towards him, towards his thighs. Now straddling him, your fingers tightened in his hair as his hands moved, exploring the curves of your waist, savoring every detail about it. His hands slid down your dress, up your thighs and finally resting on the hem of your panties... His eyes pledged for yours, for assurance – You nodded

“You're not going to regret this” he whispered

[pinkyqil]

LOVING YOU FROM A DISTANCE [Ingrid engen x mapi lèon x reader]

Masterlist

Summary: You love her, but she's in love with someone else that isn't you and all you can do is love and wacht her from a distance but would you really accept it?.

A/n: this is one out of fives parts of my Ingrid x mapi x reader serie. Updates every Monday, if you have any suggestions/questions that you'll like to see in the serie let me know and as always feedbacks are appreciated and hope you guys enjoyed this one 🫶🏿

Contains: emotionally dependent reader, cunning mapi, angst, a lil bit of yander vibes from r, toxicity.

You recently joined the team a few months ago, Ingrid was apart of your teammates who had hosted a welcome to the team party for you and the other girls.

The moments your eyes meet hers you could feel the butterfly in your stomach. Understand what people meant by love at first sight.

But that any thoughts you were having where crushed. the moments your eyes landed on a brunette woman arms filled with tattoos greeting Ingrid with a kiss on her lips while staring at you.

She couldn't be dating anyone could she?. You thought .but then again, you know nothing about this tall goddess that was standing a few feet's away from you.

Deciding to get out of mapi's view and interact with your new teammates even though you only wanted to speak to Ingrid.

That night, you took it upon yourself to find her socials and followed her along with a few other teammates.

The next day at training, you made sure to be up bright and early for the new training session while hoping you could be able to talk to Ingrid.

Your plan consists of partnering up with esmee from what you gather. She was really close to Ingrid and the rest and could eventually help you get closer to Ingrid.

Every day, you would come in early and would plant in piece of flowers.where you know she'll sit at or slip in chocolate bars into her locker or love note.

But every day it looks like your efforts goes to waste because she'll either trash anything you gave her. Or it would've been mapi who had put it into the dumpster before Ingrid could notice them.

She was starting to annoy you really bad. But today happened to be your lucky day.

It was during a training session and you where placed on Ingrid's while mapi was on the opposing team.

Everyone was having fun and showing out their best skills when all of a sudden you stole the ball from mapi and was about to score, which earned a lot of ou's around your teammates until she had tackled you down hitting your ankles real bad.

Yelling and falling down while holding down your left, Ingrid was the first one to reach asking if you were alright.

"Come on she's alright I didn't even hit her legs that hard". The spenaird said but instead she got a cold glare coming from her girlfriend.

"Ai mapi, I don't think we need any of our teammates injured, so let's keep it down with the aggression". Patri voice yelled out.

Ingrid helped you up along with the medic, you where hopping on your left leg has they tried moving you inside the building.

"I'm very sorry for what mapi did she's normally not like this". She said sat down right next to you

"It not your fault we're all adults and if she wanted to apologize she would've". You told her

"I probably won't be able to play for a while the pains killing my ankle". You told her.

"That kinda of sucks if you need a ride home, please let us know, pretty sure it the least we can do."She told you and you took on that offer.

You knew that it only pissed off mapi way more when she saw Ingrid helping you make way to their designated parking spot. Ingrid sat in the back with you so that you wouldn't feel any lonely.

You didn't know if it was too much when you had laid your head on her shoulders and close your eyes but before you did. The look mapi gave you just made you feel 10 times better already.

[thebestsetter]

Michael Kaiser HATES parties.

He usually avoids them. He doesn't go to the parties his team hosts after they win an important game nor to the press parties. He feels like throwing up at the very mention of the word.

He hates everything in it. He hates the smell of alcohol that linges in the air, hates the lights that seem almost blinding, hates how sweaty the air feels.

But what he absolutely LOATHES are the people who frequent parties. He despises them.

He doesn't get what's wrong with them, honestly. They get drunk and all that crap, claim they're "having fun" when they can't even walk a straight line without tumbling. Kaiser hates alcohol. He hates people who idealize it, treating it as a savior when it ruined his life since he was only a kid with no name or fortune who got beaten daily by a drunk father. Therefore, he hates places where alcohol is treated as something good. He hates parties.

They're stupid. They're stupid, and yet people still go. It makes him feel like rolling his eyes and cussing them out at how dumb and blind they are.

But what makes him really hate the "party animals" is their twisted concept of love.

Love is not, by any means, an ideal that's easy to grasp. He, himself, didn't now what it was until 3 months ago. But he knows their idea of love couldn't be further from the truth.

They go around on parties, kissing strangers and dancing with shadows trying to fill the void that is where their heart should be. They lay down with people and kiss faceless silhouettes and claim that it's in the name of "love". He couldn't feel more repulsed by them. Because he knows that is NOT love.

He knows that because he, once, thought love came like that, too. He thought love meant just kissing and holding hands, finding someone pretty and settling down with them. He thought marriage was just a title, and love just a meaningless concept mothers tell their children before they go to bed.

His mind only changed when he met the embodiment of love itself: you.

You introduced him to what love really feels like. Love is not a myth. It'a not a legend. It's a reality. And he feels it every day, every hour and every second he spends with you.

He always thought he was unworthy of loving and being loved, but you showed him he can have this feeling in his life. That love is not something you deserve: it's something you just recieve. You don't need anything back: you just need him. And he's not complaining, even though he'll never understand.

Now, he knows love is really blind. Not saying you're ugly, God no. You're the prettiest person he's ever met. But he knows love is blind because he doesn't need to see you to love you.

All these people in parties need to see the person to fall for them. Their love is conditional, it's based on the ambient around them.

The music, the lights, the alcohol. It all makes people idealize what they see. They're influenced by the clothes, by the atmosphere. That's not love. That's reverie. Illusion. A trick their drunk brains pull.

When the party is over, their "love" dies. When they see the other without a skilled makeup or beautiful clothes, they stop loving the person they met. That is not love.

Love comes in the form of you.

Love is there when you go to his games. Love is there when you hold him close to your chest, caressing his hair after yet another episode of remembering his harsh childhood. Love is present when you wake up right beside one another, both laughing at each other's ridiculous bed hair. Love is there when you kiss the side of his eye, right at his tattooed eyeshadow. Or when you trace his arm tattoo.

Love is there whenever you are.

Because you are love for him. And when he sees you in your pajamas, almost sleeping and yet staying awake just to see him come back home after training and greet him, he knows for sure.

He doesn't need parties. He doesn't need lights, or alcohol.

His love for you is sober. It's unconditional. Endless.

And when you hug him, and he hears your sweet voice saying "Welcome home, my love. I missed you", he swears he feels like crying.

He never thought he'd be lucky enough, but he did it.

He found true love.

He found you. And he couldn't ask for anything more.

You are love, after all. What else could he possibly want?

~ Based on the poem "Se se morre de amor" by Gonçalves Dias!!!

Masterlist

[bkgsbratt]

Sweet Like Candy

Warnings: cursing, light smut, probably mischaracterization (If I’m missing any warnings please tell me!🫶)

Background: Bakugo hated sweet things, he thought they were a gateway to give people diabetes. So it wasn’t weird for his class to see him not even eat more than half a slice of his own birthday cake. It’s not like he hated sugar, he just didn’t like the gross aftertaste in his mouth, the way his hands get all sticky depending on what he’s eating (fuckin neat freak), the aching in his stomach that could come if he ate too much, what idiot would put themselves through that much torture just for 5 seconds of deliciousness? You. You would. So when Class 1-A decided to visit a sweet shop to celebrate a big rescue, best believe he grumbled about the suggestion until he arrived and saw- you.

After their latest mission, Class 1-A decided to celebrate, and someone suggested a sweets shop. Bakugo’s reaction was immediate and definitely wasn’t sweet.

“A damn candy store?” he grumbled, arms crossed, glaring at everyone like they’d betrayed him. “We just kicked ass, and you wanna celebrate with a sugar high?”

“Oh, come on, Bakugo!” Mina insisted, practically dragging him along despite his protests. “It’ll be fun! This place has everything—chocolates, pastries, even dark chocolate. You might like something!”

With a scowl, he stepped into The Sugar Nest. Pastel pinks and blues covered the walls, fairy lights twinkling around the room. The warm scent of baked goods filled the air, and Bakugo looked like he’d just entered his worst nightmare.

And then he noticed you. You were behind the counter, handing a cupcake to a kid who immediately took a big bite, grinning as frosting smudged his nose. When you looked up at the group, you greeted everyone with a bright smile. Class 1-A stampeded toward the displays, but Bakugo kept his distance, arms crossed, shooting death glares at the cakes and cookies.

You noticed his sour expression and couldn’t help but tease. “Not a fan of sweets?”

Bakugo scoffed. “Hell no. I don’t eat sugar-coated crap,” he muttered, practically daring you to argue.

You didn’t back down. Instead, you leaned on the counter, smirking. “Maybe you’ve just never had the right kind.” You reached into the display and picked out a small square of dark chocolate with sea salt. “Here. Dark chocolate—no sticky fingers, no sugar overload. Just the good stuff.”

He looked at you like you’d just handed him a grenade. But he took the chocolate, biting into it like he wanted to hate it. Only he didn’t. The bitterness and salt were perfectly balanced, with no sugary aftertaste.

“It’s… fine,” he muttered, chewing slowly.

“See?” you teased. “Not all sweets are just sugar bombs.”

From that day on, Bakugo told himself he was only at the shop to “keep the idiots in check.” But every time Class 1-A ended up at The Sugar Nest, he somehow found himself in front of the counter, accepting whatever dark chocolate creation you’d saved for him. Then, one day, he came in alone. You noticed him walking in, arms crossed, pretending it was a coincidence.

“Back again, huh?” you greeted him, a small grin on your face.

He shrugged, attempting his usual scowl. “Nothing better to do,” he muttered.

You handed him a dark chocolate truffle dusted with smoky sea salt. He took a bite, his eyes narrowing slightly as he savored the intense, smoky flavor.

“So, do you really hate sweets, or do you just hate everything on principle?” you teased, resting your elbows on the counter.

“Most sweets suck,” he replied immediately, then shrugged. “Not all of ‘em.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Guess that’s as close to a compliment as I’ll get.”

He rolled his eyes, but you saw a flicker of a smile, which felt like a victory.

In the weeks that followed, Bakugo kept showing up, sometimes with his classmates, sometimes on his own. Each time, he’d lean on the counter, muttering about whatever new treat you handed him. You fell into a routine, chatting about anything and everything, and he started bringing things for you, too—a rare spice he thought you’d like, an herb he’d grown, even a small cactus he’d claimed was “just in the way.” He’d hand them over with a gruff “figure you’d know what to do with this,” and each time, your face lit up, and he seemed secretly pleased.

One afternoon, he stayed after the shop had closed, leaning on the counter as you finished cleaning up.

“What?” you asked, noticing his intense gaze.

He shrugged. “Didn’t know you’d be workin’ this late.”

“Well, I own the place. Sometimes, I’m here all night,” you replied, glancing at him. “Why? You sticking around for something?”

He paused, his usual glare softening. “Maybe,” he muttered, looking away, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

Gathering your courage, you handed him a last treat—a dark chocolate infused with chili. As he bit into it, his eyes widened, the smoky heat mingling with the bitter chocolate. “Damn,” he muttered. “Didn’t think I’d like this.”

“Oh?” you teased, stepping closer. “So you don’t hate all sweets after all?”

He looked at you, his cheeks tinged with pink. His hand brushed against yours almost unconsciously. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “you’re the only sweet thing I’ll ever want to taste,” his voice dropping as his gaze fixed on you.

Your heart skipped as he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was unexpectedly soft, his rough exterior melting as his hand found your waist. You could taste the chili chocolate on his lips, and you smiled, feeling his grip tighten.

When he pulled back, he smirked, his eyes glinting. “Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, though the way he lingered, his hand still holding yours, told you everything you needed to know.

You smiled, whispering, “Guess you don’t hate all sweets after all.”

[inkonparchment]

Class of '95

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

The tie rests in his pocket, feeling his throat constrict enough by the memories from a lifetime ago as Leon stands in his old high-school gymnasium. His breathing exercises carry him through the evening until his breath knocks out of him when he sees you again.

warnings/tags: older Leon. allusions to alcoholism. fluff. high school sweethearts.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i dont know if anyone has seen '10 Years' but this heavily inspired from that especially the song 'Never Had'. that and 'From Eden by Hozier'. also i know thats infinite darkness Leon in the banner but i had more death island Leon in mind. anyways, happy reading! this may be lame but its all i have to offer

Leon is glad he decided to forgo the tie, a last-minute decision he made sitting in the shadows of his car, staring blankly at his reflection in the rear-view mirror. The silence had been too loud without the car in ignition, occupied by a sudden itch to grip the steering wheel and drive off, daunted too much by the expanse of his old high-school. He feels like a fraud returning, no longer finding any specks of the person who used to wander down the halls, sit in the classes and occupy the benches in the cafeteria, his carefree demeanour carrying him through the days. 

He could hear the muted drawl of music bleeding from the doors, the balloons and décor scattered across the entrance with a banner reading ‘Welcome Back Class of ‘95’ in greeting. God, that made him feel old, the constant ache in his back a constant reminder of the toll the years had taken on him. 

The walk in isn’t so terrible, wiping the sweat from his hand as he comes across the registration desk, a kindly looking face asking for his name. He nearly laughs at the ‘hello my name is’ sticker, the marker squeaking as he scribbles on his name and pastes it on his jacket right above his heart. 

Leon feels his fingers twitch when someone shouts his name in disbelief, turning around to blink in the face of two men who were previously occupied with their own conversation. He recognizes them in an instant, his teammates from the football team. Youthful faces drowned by wrinkles, grey sprinklings in their hair and torsos full of muscle now replaced with a softening belly; but their smiles are still the same. He walks over to them, gripping their hands firmly in handshakes, disbelief on their faces when they register that it is Leon. 

Where have you been, man? We thought you were dead! Wow, it’s been so long. 

It’s all the same set of questions and remarks he gets when he tours the gymnasium floor. Yes, he can’t believe it’s been so long. No, he’s just been busy with work so no time for a missus or kids. Ah, what about work? He doesn’t want to bore anyone with the boring mumbo jumbo. Yeah, he’s disappointed the police thing didn’t work out but what can you do? 

His words soon start to feel rehearsed, like an actor on scene waiting for his cue, a smile plastered on his face to dazzle the audience. Leon does a fine job of it, relaxing when he realizes that it’s easy with these people who are more eager to talk about their wives, husbands and kids. He feels envy grow within him as his eyes get stuck on their greying features, the softness of their added age and the glittering bands of their rings. 

It feels disorienting almost seeing his classmates living the life he had pictured for himself long ago, a life he didn’t realize he wanted so much now. Maybe there was something about coming stunningly close to death as of late, not that it wasn’t usual for him. Perhaps the one too many knocks against his head had finally straightened out his disarrayed thoughts into linearity.  

The praises that are aimed his way are quickly dismissed by Leon, shrugging all the ‘you look really fit’s and ‘your hair is in great condition, between the kids and job I don’t have the time to dye it’ like bullets clattering to the ground, puncturing him in the aftermath. He has nothing to show for his life save for the scar marks and the unhealed bullet wounds littering his body. Their voices would not carry a tone of wistfulness if they truly knew his reality. 

Leon needs a breather. And like a dog to a bone, he retreats to the bar in the corner. 

It’s mostly empty, smiling politely at the couple that walks away with their beverages. He leans against the bar, grateful for the coolness underneath his palm as he orders his drink. Whiskey on the rocks with a twist. 

Leon struggled with the concept of autonomy for the majority of his 20s and 30s, anger rippling through his system with his teeth grit whenever he would be dispatched at a moment's notice. Every reverberation of his trusty Matilda was doused in casual rage of the irony of his helplessness in deciding his fate as he ensured the normalcy of those back home. Mission success after success that Leon paid for with his freedom, his aching body and greying years, mourning the naive version of himself that saw the world with a gleaming lense. 

He accepted his fate soon enough, made peace with the life he knew he was too much of a coward to leave, courtesy of his survivor's guilt or hero complex, he doesn't know. He really doesn't want to find out. Perhaps it’s the shift in his reality, a peek into a life outside where he isn’t vital to the national or global security. It tugs at the strings of his heart when he realises there’s serenity here. This thought does little to alleviate the deep ache within his chest as he watches his old classmates. 

This is difficult for the reasons Leon never prepared himself for, bitterness flooding him as he mulls over the possibility of the life he could have had. Would he be like everyone else here? Would smiling come easy, a wedding ring on his finger and pictures of his kids ready on his phone, proudly brandishing it out on a moment’s notice? What does he have to show for himself apart from the scars and wounds that litter his body? 

The bartender slides Leon’s drink in front of him, parting with a polite smile. He stares at the amber liquid, ice floating on its surface and the itch in the back of his head that he had tried hard to bury returned. Leon grabs the glass, swirling it for good measure and brings it up to his lips. The whiskey barely grazes his lips when a familiar sounding laugh freezes him in place. His pulse flutters, a statue in poise, back turned to the crowd when the sweet noise filters through again to his ear. 

And suddenly Leon feels himself thrown back to the year 1995 on his own personal time machine, bubbling up memories that he had long forgotten, evoking emotions he thought he didn’t know how to feel anymore. The laugh is light and airy, so gentle and delicate, encompassing his entire being, intoxicating him once again like it did when he heard it for the first time during chemistry class. 

He remembers the softness of your skin when you two had accidentally bumped hands reaching for the popcorn, blushing bright in the darkened theatre before he gathered the courage to hold your hand firmly, never letting go again. 

Leon swears he can taste the butter on your lips when you had bravely kissed him on the doorstep of your home, a grin permanently latching onto his face. His ears ring with the sound of your cheers from the stands, louder than anyone, wildly waving your homemade posters for his games, always present come rain or hail.   

Leon is almost afraid to turn, not wanting to disturb the way his mind has painted you in beautiful strokes, conjuring up a picture so vivid that he feels he can touch if he reaches out. But curiosity gets the better of him, lowering the untouched drink down with a thunk and slowly turning around. Leon forgets how to breathe for a moment. Is it in, in? Out in? No, it’s in and out. He tries to catch up to missed breaths, eyes hung onto you. 

You look just as beautiful as the day he last remembers seeing you. It overwhelms him. Time clearly passed you by but not in the same way it had him; brutish, barbaric and aggressively tossing him on the hard concrete. No, time had been gentle with you, tenderly caressing you in its palm, nuzzling you softly as it swept you with it. 

Your smile is still the same Leon fell in love with, proud at having being the receiving end of it quite often, adoring the way you still throw your head back a little when you laugh. There is an air of elegance about you, evidence of the years that you had culminated, experiences under your belt that had transformed you into the person that was standing just a little distance away from him.    

Leon watches you intently as your eyes flicker over to where he’s standing, words fumbling from your lips as you jerk your head back up and do a double take. Your eyes blink furiously, widening in surprise as though you never expected to see him in a million years. You stumble off an excuse to the people you were talking to, eyes not daring to stray away from him. 

His drink is long forgotten, hands both nestled in his pockets, heart thrumming in his chest as he waits for you to make your way to him. There’s a certain peculiarity in how you do; a strange mix of shyness and disbelief. Your steps are light and airy, features softening as Leon grows more vivid in your line of sight. There’s something familiar in the way you walk to him, something akin to how he watched you descend the stairs of your house as he had waited at the bottom, staring at you in awe with a corsage gripped tight in his hands. Even in the picture your mom had snapped, Leon was still looking at you.  

Warmth floods him when you come to a stop in front of him, glee on both his and Leon’s face, hidden beneath timidness. He takes the first leap.  

“Hey,” Leon smiles. 

You laugh and it is oh so sweet, stronger than a shot of espresso. “Hi.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.  

What do you say anyways to the most important person in your youth who you thought would be a constant? The breakup had been difficult but inevitable with the two very different paths you and Leon had picked out for yourselves. It was terribly heart aching with fingers gripping each other’s tightly, silent tears running down your face as you tried to inscribe every forehead kiss from Leon to memory with the sun setting in the far-off distance. Come morning he would be long gone, both of you deciding that it would be unbearable to start a new day without the sun shining on them both.  

What do you say after all these years have passed shaping you into different versions of the same person you once knew so long ago?  

“It’s really good to see you Leon.” Well you could say that for starters. 

A small puff of air leaves Leon’s throat, glancing down at the floor momentarily before looking back into your eager eyes. His heart clenches as he notices they still glow. “It’s good to see you too.” An understatement truly, it’s magical to see you again. He thought he never would again, his mind drifting to you in his moments of darkness, clinging on to the memories as they would rejuvenate him. His sentiment is a lot more loaded than yours, he realises, his guardian angel now materialised in front of his eyes.  

You flit about, mess with your hair, pull it behind your ears, trying to look at him whole with little glances. “I uh...I thought you didn’t attend these things.”  

“I didn’t know there were these things to attend,” He shrugged. Its true, it’s quite hard to reach him when none of his old contact numbers or emails work. Leon’s a hard man to reach. It was a surprise to him when Hunnigan had all but slammed the plane ticket and the print out of his old high-school reunion on his desk. He didn’t even bother asking how she got the information, feeling scrutinised under her hard gaze and her You need a break too, Leon. He’ll buy her favourite bottle of wine first thing back.  

“Well you know it is hard to reach you.” You tilt your head to the side, teasing glinting in your eyes. “No phone number, no address, no email either. Its almost like you vanished off the face of the earth.” 

Leon feels the tips of his ears grow hot, suddenly feeling a bit ashamed. You continue on with a casual shrug of your shoulders, “Every text or email I sent you bounced back so I just thought you didn’t want to catch up.”  

That turns him into a statue. What? “You tried to contact me?”  

A streak of blush colours your cheeks. “I mean not that frequently. Just like a couple of years back I guess? I don’t know I just did it on a whim. The text didn’t go through and neither did the email so...you know I thought you didn’t want to be contacted.” 

He didn’t know what to do with the information that you thought of him while he thought of you. He never imagined that you would actually try to reach out to him, why would you? Leon assumed you’d be well settled in your life now; husband, kids, the white picket fence. Isn’t that what the two of you would fantasise about, sharing whispered giggles huddled under the sheets?  

But there’s curiosity gnawing at his bones. He’s noticed the empty ring finger on your left hand about how you’ve spent ten minutes chatting with him here and no man has slipped his hand against your waist. You’re here, talking to him, in no rush to meet anyone else. Leon feels his fingers twitch, he would never let you out of his sight. 

He blinks, an easy smile settling on his lips, gazing at you softly at your confession. “I thought about you a lot too.” He wants to thread his fingers through your hair, tucking away the strands. “I’m sorry I went so far away.”  

You shudder, pursing your lips and looking away. You see to be shrugging your shoulders again. Cute. “It’s fine. Life gets in the way sometimes. I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

The music doesn’t bother Leon anymore. He likes it, foot tapping with the beat, letting the soft tune wash over him. The silence is nice albeit heavy, he imagines there’s a barrage of questions on the tip of your tongue. A gentle giggle pulls his attention to you, “What?” 

“Nothing. Its just,” You shake your head, “I don’t know if I should be concerned or not over how little the gymnasium has changed since we went here.”  

“Oh,” His eyes sweep the entire place, amused at your remark. “You’re right. I don’t imagine they’ve been very enthusiastic about interior decoration .”  

“They really have not,” You marvel. You seem to get lost in your thoughts, pulling your back straighter. “You think they changed the bleachers outside in the field?”  

Leon locks eyes with you, unrelenting stare as he grapples with the meaning behind your words. He spent a lot of time with you on them; shyly running to you after practice, talking with you there for hours, glancing at you cheering him on during games, the summer day you two had spent there laughing and kissing before Leon had scratched the two of yours initial on its surface, sweetly outlining it with a heart. It’s not cheesy sweetheart if you’re blushing into my neck this hard.  

Leon quirks his eyebrow, matching your smile. “Let’s find out.”  

The night is cool with clear skies and a soft breeze blowing through. Leon feels ridiculous, not in the stupid sense but in the makes-him-feel-young sense. Your hand is wrapped in his instinctively, your soft palm resting against his with a practiced ease as he tugs you along with him towards the football field. The music thrums away into the background until there’s only the sound of your shared footsteps and your soft laughs echoing in the air. He can’t help but glance at you time and again, marvelling at the soft wrinkles dusting the corner of your eyes.  

He doesn’t like it when he has to let your hand go, standing between the stands as the two of you  unspokenly begin the search for the same heart shaped mark left years ago in the dim light. 

“So uh,” You say standing a little above from him in the bleachers, attention focused on the seats as you try to sound casual, “Did you come alone?”  

“Yeah,” He’s quick to reply. “My pet goldfish gets really motion sick on planes.” He pretends to search for a while. “You?”  

You hum in reply. “I don’t think ex-husbands are too big on attending their ex-wife’s high-school reunion.”  

Leon turns towards you to see you staring at him already, fiddling with your ring-less finger. “Dead?” 

“Divorced.” 

“When?” 

“Few years ago.”  

“Why?” 

“He got his secretary pregnant.”  

Leon blinks, scoffing and surprised at the spark of anger that ignites in him. “What an absolute piece of shit.”  

You laugh. “Yeah.”  

The two of you go back to searching, a lightness on your shoulders now. He relaxes too, the stiffness disappearing from his back. “I thought a lot about you. Thought you’d have your white picket fence house by now. It’s...why I never reached out to you.”  

You bite your lip, smiling at the memory. “It’s okay Leon, really. The white picket fence seems like a lifetime ago now. Seems a bit silly honestly.”  

“It’s not what you want?”  

“I don’t know. A lot’s changed since we last spoke. I’ve learnt it’s better to let things happen as they are.”  

“Not taking chances anymore?”  

You look up at him, a sweet smile as you share a knowing look. “No, I’m taking them as they present themselves.”  

Leon’s stomach does that flipping motion again, sweat collecting on the back of his neck. He mentally notes to buy Hunnigan the snack she likes so much too. They resume their search, beckoning the other to their spot as they find something funny or worthy to see. It’s fun, his worries melting away as he laughs away the night with you. But that heart is nowhere to be found, tired of squinting.  

“Ugh, this low lighting isn’t really helping,” You sigh, trailing back to where he’s stood.  

“Maybe some extra help then.” He pats the front of his jacket, digging into his inner pocket and then brandishing out his flip phone nonchalantly. You stare at it for a second, watch him as he flips it open and then burst into laughter.  

“What?” He asks in disbelief, watching you wheeze with amusement. 

“Wow,” You manage to choke out, “Well no wonder its so hard to reach you. Does your phone even have an email app?”  

“It works fine for me,” He grumbles, hoping you can’t see how scarlet he is under the night sky.  

“No, no,” You grin at him, pinching his cheeks. “It’s cute.”  

Leon almost jumps at your fingers connecting with his cheek, inadvertently leaning into your touch. You still, realisation hitting you of what you’re doing. But you don’t stop. Your fingers splay out, hesitantly cupping the side of his face. Leon watches you carefully, trying his best to control his breathing. You shudder as the bottom of your hand grazes against his stubble, thumb slowly caressing against his skin. Leon shuts his eyes under your soft touch, a sigh leaving his lips. 

He holds your wrist, keeping your hand against his cheek, bringing you close to him by your waist. His eyes don’t stray from yours, keeping you in place. Your eyes glaze over, a sheen in them as they collect water.  

“Hi.” You whisper.  

“Hey, sweetheart.” He whispers back. 

“You look old,” You laugh, the sound mixing with a sob. 

“So do you.” He hums back, fondly brushing your hair back from your face.  

You bury your face in his chest, breathing him in. “Where were you? I waited for you for so long.”  

He pulls back to see you properly, tilting  your face up by a hand under your chin. He leans in, lips brushing over yours. You push yourself up on your toes, lips connecting with his. You feel so impossibly warm against him, lips slotting against his seamlessly. He breathes you in, tastes you deeply, gripping you against his body like he never plans on letting you go. You gasp against his lips as he steals your breath and noises.  

He pulls away just an inch, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, not daring to loosen his hold on you. “Not going anywhere now, sweetheart.” 

[r3starttt]

LADY OF MERCY

PAIRING: priest! abby x reader

CW: angst. religious guilt. internalized homophobia. suggestive(?

SUMMARY: you look for comfort in a sin Abby's there for you to forget.

AN: been in my drafts since september, wasn't meant to be published, was supposed to be a horny small scenario, turned out sad

DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE MP PALESTINE LINKS | DAILY CLICK

TAGLIST | PERM: @twopeoplee @Kaimythically @greysontheidiot @levilvrr @sapphic-ovaries @girlkisser168 @bilsvlt @tlouloser @marsworlddd @1-800-fantasy @ellieswifee232 @prwttiestbunny @thesevi0lentdelights @lvlymicha @stickycherritart @rob1nbuckl3ys @abbys-muscles @dinakisser @lott6i @imagoddess1 | ABBY: @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @aouiaa @grey-jedi12 @bruhhtsukjf @wastdstime @softlikesilk-chiffon @0court

The cathedral is hushed, a stark contrast to your first entrance. The world outside seems to have stilled, no birds or crickets dare disturb the sacred silence. Through the slender windows, perched high upon the cathedral’s walls, a faint, bluish light trickles down, casting ethereal shadows. It no longer glows with the warm orange, as it was when you last sought solace here, when your heart was heavy with unspeakable pain, when you had come in desperate search of solace—of something, anything, to cling to as your spirit threatened to break.

In this profound quiet, the only sound is the echo of Abby's sermons, her words filled with a fervent passion that stirs the souls of the faithful. Her voice is a beacon of light in this holy place, its very cadence soothing the hearts of those who gather in worship.

The congregation hangs on her every word, finding peace in the presence of this aura, a palpable warmth that wraps around with each graceful move, her every step a ritual, her voice harsh yet soothing, a balm for troubled souls.

She offers sanctuary—not just from the world, but from the weight of one’s own vows, from the burden of unspoken confessions. In her presence, the sacred space heightens every emotion, intensifies every thought, until the very air seems charged with divine energy. And you, like so many before you, had approached her in the confessional booth, trembling with the weight of your sins, searching not only for spiritual guidance but for a release from the turmoil within.

Abby had made a promise then—a vow to help you navigate the storm inside your heart. In her eyes, you saw a reflection of your own struggles, and in that moment, you knew she understood your pain.

With each stolen glance and fleeting touch, her teachings became more than spiritual lessons; they became the thread that bound your soul to hers. Days turned into weeks, and your secret meetings became more frequent, your connection deepening with every whispered word.

It was not sin that drove you to her, but a desperate need to purge the temptations that plagued your mind. She assured you that within every confession, there was salvation, within every sin, a path to redemption—and she would be there to guide you through each one, no matter the cost.

You sit in your designated pew, the one you had longed to touch when you first entered this sacred space months ago. Everyone knows that if you are not to be found, you must be here, in this place that has come to feel like your own.

You wait patiently, your eyes finding hers, watching her every move, though this time, no tears mar your face. As the voices of the congregation rise in unison, you join in, your voice mingling with theirs, but your heart is focused solely on her. They offer thanks to God, to the church, to whatever they hold dear—but you, you thank her alone.

Abby had once assured you that, in time, you would feel God’s presence, but try as you might, you could not. This was your final confession to her, the one you came here today to address.

But today’s prayers feel distant, blurred. Even her words, usually so grounding, only serve to deepen your unrest.

As the congregation disperses, people greet you warmly, recognizing the change in you. To them, you have become a living testament to Abby’s grace—a girl once lost in sin, unworthy of a second glance, now pure and forgiven, reborn in the light and drawn back from the brink by the guiding hand of Abigail Anderson herself.

Only when the cathedral is shrouded in silence, its sacred halls emptied of all but the faint whisper of past prayers, does Abby beckon you closer with a subtle gesture—an invitation to wander within the sanctified walls. Your footsteps, firm against the cold stone floor, echo in the vastness, a sound that belongs only to you and her in this solemn space.

"You seem troubled," Abby’s voice, soft yet tinged with the weight of concern, breaks the silence. It is less a question and more a gentle prod, urging you to unveil the turmoil within your soul.

"It’s you," you confess, the words heavy on your tongue. "I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t picture God." But Abby does not look at you, not yet. Her fingers move delicately over the pages of her Bible, each touch reverent and deliberate, drawing your eyes to follow her every motion.

"Did you pray?" Her gaze lifts abruptly, and your eyes instinctively meet hers, the connection sharp and undeniable. You shake your head, a hesitant motion that speaks of your internal struggle. "I couldn’t, but I tried," you admit, your voice laced with quiet desperation. She hums in acknowledgment, a sound both understanding and contemplative.

"May I know what—or who—has you so troubled?" she inquires, her tone inviting you to unburden your heart. It is then that you notice her braid, meticulously crafted as it was the first time you saw it. There is something about her hair that brings you solace, a symbol of her unwavering presence, each strand perfectly aligned, a reflection of the order she brings to the chaos within you.

Your feet move almost on their own, following Abby as she descends from the altar, her steps deliberate and purposeful, leading you to the nearest pew. With a graceful motion, she gestures to the very center of the seat, her hand inviting you to rest there. The Bible, now nestled in her lap, carries the weight of ancient wisdom, and her presence beside you feels like a fortress against the turmoil within.

“It’s still you,” you confess, the words escaping before you can stop them, heavy with unspoken fears.

Gently, Abby releases her grasp on the sacred book, placing it beside you with reverence. “Before we continue our meeting tonight,” she begins, her voice a soft murmur that seems to resonate with the very walls of the cathedral, “may I help you pray?”

Her question lingers in the air, a holy offering. You pause, taking in the serenity that surrounds you, the dim light casting long shadows that dance with a life of their own. With a slight nod, you give your consent, though your heart still flutters with uncertainty.

“Did you meditate?” she asks, her words catching you off guard as you prepare yourself for prayer. Her question is unexpected, but Abby reads the confusion in your eyes before you can voice it.

“Think of this as a guided meditation,” she continues, her tone gentle but firm, like a shepherd guiding a lost lamb. “You do not need to see God. The more you strain to find Him, the further you will feel from His embrace.”

“I will,” you murmur, the words a fragile promise as you settle into the position you’ve practiced day and night, seeking to still your mind and open your heart to whatever presence may hear your plea—be it God, if He truly exists.

“Sit upright,” she instructs, her voice carrying the calm authority that has always been your anchor. “Keep your back straight—just like that.” Her gaze meets yours, a blend of gentleness and unwavering resolve that soothes your trembling spirit. “Rest your hands in your lap or on the pew before you. Clasp them together if it brings you comfort, or let them rest open on your thighs.” As she speaks, her hands move with an elegant grace, demonstrating each position as if guiding you through a sacred ritual. You mimic her motions, albeit with a touch of hesitation, each movement drawing you deeper into the solemnity of the moment.

“It’s entirely your choice,” she reassures you, her tone as calming as a whisper of wind through the leaves, “but I suggest closing your eyes and simply breathing.” The suggestion, though simple, carries a weight that only her presence could lend it. Her fingers brush your forehead, a touch as light as a prayer, and you feel a warmth spread through you as your eyes close, yielding to her gentle guidance.

“To pray,” she begins, her voice a soft invocation, “start by addressing God with the reverence He deserves. Whether you say ‘Dear God,’ ‘Lord,’ or another name that resonates with you, is entirely personal.” Though your eyes are closed, you can still feel her presence, a warm light in the darkness of your doubt, and it brings a faint smile to your lips, a gesture she does not miss.

“Speak aloud only when in the presence of the congregation,” she advises, her words flowing like a sacred hymn. “It fosters unity and shared worship.” You fidget with the fabric of your clothing, your fingers tracing a quiet rhythm on your knees. “But for now,” she adds, sensing your inner turmoil, “a whisper will suffice.”

“Begin by offering thanks for the blessings in your life,” she suggests, her tone gentle but firm. The suggestion makes you bristle slightly; you have come here seeking solace from an absence of gratitude, not to recount it. But Abby, with her deep insight, seems to anticipate your resistance. “Perhaps, in your case, you could express gratitude for the opportunity of renewal, for the chance at a new beginning.”

“If there are wrongs you wish to confess, or forgiveness you seek, do so sincerely,” she continues, her voice soft and encouraging. Though you feel a reluctance to confess—doubting the power of such an act—her presence fills you with a sense of hope, a bridge between your skepticism and the glimmer of faith you yearn to grasp. “Reflect on the areas of your life where you seek divine guidance,” she advises.

Silently, your internal prayer begins to form, an unspoken plea for peace amidst the chaos of doubt. It feels as though Abby’s presence alone is guiding you, her words not merely instructions, but a lifeline to something greater.

“Consider your personal concerns, requests for guidance, or prayers for others,” she says, her tone both firm and compassionate. “Be specific and honest in your petition.” You ponder the notion of purity in prayer, questioning whether your thoughts are pure enough to be heard by the divine.

“Some people prefer to make the sign of the cross at this point. Are you familiar with it?” she inquires gently. You shake your head, a wave of fogginess sweeping over your mind. The faint scent of pine from her presence mingles with the soft cadence of her voice, enveloping you in a cocoon of tranquility. “Look at me,” Abby instructs, her gaze a beacon of comfort amidst the sacred space.

Surrounded by the symbols of faith, Abby leans closer. Her fingers hover over your forehead, and you instinctively open your eyes to find her nearer than you expected. “This gesture symbolizes God the Father and is the first step of the sign,” she explains as her hand traces a delicate path down the center of your body, her fingers barely grazing your lips and chin before resting above your heart. “This represents God the Son, signifying the connection between the divine and humanity.”

Her touch, feather-light, continues to your left shoulder, resting there with gentle insistence. “This symbolizes the Holy Spirit, extending divine guidance from within.”

“And now, your right shoulder,” she instructs, her movements precise and fluid as she completes the sign of the cross. Her smile, a blend of tenderness and pride, illuminates her face, drawing your attention to the constellation of freckles on her cheeks. “This completes the cross, symbolizing the fullness of the Trinity and the direction of divine grace.”

With a soft, graceful motion, she guides your hand back to your side. “Conclude your prayer with an affirmation of faith, a reaffirmation of trust in the divine will. Many say ‘Amen,’ or ‘May it be Your will.’” Her demeanor remains as poised and comforting as ever, embodying both grace and strength as she leads you through spiritual communion once again.

The stained glass windows of the cathedral bathe the stillness in hues of quiet reverence, casting shadows that dance across the cold stone floor. The air feels heavy, thick with unspoken words and sacred promises, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as Abby shifts beside you. The wood beneath her creaks, a sound that reverberates through the silence, grounding you in this present moment, though your mind spirals elsewhere—toward a fear no prayer could ever soothe.

Your lips falter, struggling to utter the word 'Amen,' as your eyes open, desperate for an anchor to reality. The question you’ve carried for too long gnaws at your soul, compelling you to turn, your neck aching as your gaze finds her. "Abby?" you whisper, the word barely more than a breath, uncertain whether you should dare voice the thought that rises like a forbidden prayer.

Her eyes meet yours, calm but curious. “Yes?”

You hesitate, but the weight of your heart presses the words out. “If you weren’t a priest…” You swallow hard, feeling the gravity of the inquiry take hold. “Would you have fallen in love with me?”

For a moment, the world stills, the cathedral’s ancient silence deepening as if the very stones are waiting for her reply. Abby’s face tightens, a fleeting shadow flickering across her expression. Her fingers twitch in her lap, the only sign of the turmoil beneath the surface. She inhales slowly, her voice calm but fragile when she finally speaks. "God suffices me," she answers, each word tinged with a rawness that betrays her composed exterior.

Her eyes, however, tell a different story—a flicker of vulnerability, a glimpse into a world of feelings she cannot confess. The answer lands heavily on your chest, and though you anticipated it, the ache it leaves behind is undeniable. You exhale shakily, your fingers fidgeting in your lap as your thoughts unravel, pulling you deeper into the void of unspoken desires.

“Have you never longed to love, or be loved?” The question slips out before you can stop it, laced with the pain and confusion that has haunted you since the day you met her.

Abby’s posture stiffens, her gaze turning inward as if searching for a truth she cannot find. Her fingers trace the edges of her Bible, restless and seeking solace in its familiar weight. But no sermon can ease the tension between you. The silence that follows is thick, filled with everything that remains unsaid.

You rest your head in her lap, an act of surrender and silent plea, your heart laid bare before her. Abby’s hand, tentative but deliberate, finds its way to your hair, her fingers threading through it in a gesture that feels as intimate as it is forbidden. "We cannot," she whispers, her voice trembling, laced with the weight of emotions she dares not speak aloud. "This is... beyond us."

Yet even as she speaks, her touch lingers—her thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek. Her gaze meets yours, and in that fleeting exchange, there is a silent acknowledgment, a love neither of you can voice but both feel deeply. Kneeling before her, you feel both comforted and cursed by her nearness, the warmth of her hand a bittersweet reminder of everything you can never have.

Her hand cradles your face, her thumb tracing soft circles over your skin, her eyes heavy with the burden of her vows. There is a quiet sorrow in every movement—a resignation that cuts deeper than any spoken words. "We are bound to something greater," she whispers, her voice wavering, as though she is trying to convince herself as much as you.

But the tremor in her voice, the way her fingers graze the curve of your lips, tells you more than words ever could. The silence between you feels sacred, as though the cathedral itself is listening, waiting for your next confession.

The plea falls from your lips, fragile and desperate. “Absolve me of my sins,” you whisper, seeking not forgiveness, but her—only her.

Abby exhales slowly, her touch still tender but now laden with sorrow. “You seek absolution,” she murmurs, her voice thick with compassion and an unspoken ache. You lift your head, your eyes searching hers, though you already know the answer she cannot give. Her gaze softens, weighed down by her sacred vows and the love she feels but can never express.

Her fingers trace the lines of your lips, intimate and agonizing. "I cannot," she whispers, the strain in her voice unmistakable. “I cannot absolve what was never meant to be sin.”

Yet her touch lingers, heavy with a love that transcends words—untouchable, private, and entirely yours. “Only seek the strength to bear it.”