#I am a careful person and I am always armed

[kateschi]

back in action

synopsis: being the wife of bakugou katsuki comes with multiple benefits, one of which is a front-row seat to his scrumptious back.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i know at least 2/3 of you have seen that figurine

you swear there’s no better sight in this world than katsuki bakugou’s back.

not the view from your honeymoon suite in santorini, not the sparkling ocean from your vacation in okinawa—hell, not even the perfect strawberry shortcake you baked last weekend.

no, none of that compares to the sheer beauty that is your husband’s ridiculously broad, wonderfully sculpted, unfairly muscular back.

the way his muscles shift under his skin when he moves? art.

the ripple of strength as he stretches? divine.

the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders after an intense workout? a masterpiece.

and, as if the gods of attractiveness hadn’t blessed him enough, the scars that mark his skin only add to his allure.

each one tells a story of battles fought and won, of heroism that the world praises but he humbly shrugs off. to you, those scars aren’t just symbols of strength—they’re proof of his resilience, his dedication, his heart.

so, yes. you are absolutely obsessed with your husband’s back, and no, you don’t care how shameless that makes you.

“katsuki,” you call from the couch, chin propped up on your hands as you shamelessly watch him rummage through the fridge.

he’s in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his shirt? nowhere to be found.

a completely intentional choice on his part, because he knows exactly how weak you are for him like this. “did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got the best back in the entire universe?”

he pauses, a carton of orange juice in one hand and an eyebrow raised in your direction. “you tell me that every damn day.”

“well, I mean it every damn day.”

he rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother hiding the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you’re such a weirdo.”

“damn right,” you shoot back, grinning when he snorts. “come here. let me look at it properly.”

“what, my back?” his expression is one part exasperation, two parts amusement as he shuts the fridge and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “the hell do you need to ‘look’ at it for?”

“because it’s a work of art, obviously,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “and I haven’t had my daily dose of admiring you yet.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face like you’re the most exhausting person on the planet, but he still walks over to you without another word. you can tell he’s secretly enjoying this, though.

“alright, idiot. knock yourself out.” he turns around, presenting you with the full, glorious view of his back.

your eyes immediately light up. “oh my god, it’s perfect.”

“it’s a back,” he deadpans.

“no, no, no. it’s the back,” you insist, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers along the curve of his shoulder blades.

he tenses slightly under your touch—his body always reacts before his mind can catch up—but quickly relaxes as you continue your impromptu “admiration session.”

“you’ve got no idea how unfair this is,” you mumble, running your hands down the defined lines of his lats. “how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like this?”

“you’re ridiculous.” he’s shaking his head, but you can hear the way his voice softens, the way the edges of his usual gruffness smooth out when he talks to you like this.

it’s a few days later, and you're lounging on the couch, flicking through your phone when you hear him coming from the hallway, the sound of his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

katuski’s been in the gym for a couple of hours, and you can already hear the deep exhale he lets out as he moves closer, his breath still heavy from the workout.

"guess who's back," you say, looking up just in time to see him walking into the living room, wearing only a towel around his waist, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.

he pauses for a moment when he sees your face—wide-eyed and full of admiration, already zeroing in on that perfect, chiseled back. his muscles tense as he moves, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"really?" he says, voice dripping with disbelief. "you still on about this?"

“can’t help it,” you say, setting your phone aside and leaning back against the cushions, fully prepared to watch him, unashamed. "I’m just amazed that someone like you exists in the world."

katuski rolls his eyes, but there's a soft chuckle that escapes him, betraying his indifference. "yeah, well, quit starin'."

"I can’t help it," you reply, your voice a playful purr as you look him up and down. "I mean, who else looks this good after a workout?"

he tilts his head to the side, his signature scowl starting to form, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“quit actin’ like I’m some kinda showpiece, alright?” he grumbles, though you can hear the lighthearted edge to his voice.

you laugh, clearly enjoying yourself too much. "sorry, can’t help it.”

later that week, you and katuski are out on patrol, both suited up in your respective hero uniforms.

it's business as usual—rescuing civilians, stopping some petty criminals, and making sure the city is safe.

the sun’s setting, painting the skyline in beautiful oranges and purples, but you're still laser-focused on one thing: his back.

it's a total accident—really, it is—but when you're standing next to him after you’ve just subdued a villain, you can't help but sneak a glance at the broad expanse of his back.

you feel that familiar pull to reach out, to trace the powerful lines of his shoulder blades again.

“don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and gruff as he catches the glint of mischief in your eyes.

you smile innocently, taking a step closer. "what? I was just going to—"

"not here. we’re in the damn public," katuski growls, his sharp gaze snapping to yours as his fingers tighten around his gauntlet. "you really think I’m gonna let you paw at me in front of everyone?"

you laugh, unbothered by his obvious annoyance. "I’m not pawing at you, I’m admiring you. there's a difference, katsuki."

his jaw tightens as he glares at you, his usual frown deepening. "that’s the same damn thing."

you can’t help but grin, even though he’s clearly not having it.

but, deep down, you know that katuski secretly loves it. sure, he’s tough and grumpy in front of the public, but you both know how soft he gets when you're alone, how he indulges you without hesitation.

so, you take one last daring step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush along the fabric of his uniform.

he’s about to bark at you to stop, but you just flash him a quick, mischievous grin, and that’s all it takes for him to roll his eyes, muttering under his breath, "unbelievable."

and katsuki was right in his reprimand cause you were breaking the headlines the very next day.

for all the wrong reasons.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[tfwbluu]

PAIRING — ni-ki + f!reader

WARNINGS — best friends to lovers, riki’s experienced, he’s sweet but still a tease by heart, some begging, fingering, oral (f. rec), pet names, squirting.

WORDCOUNT — 1.2K

NOTE — my riks pussy eater agenda never ends . . sorry for leaving this on a slight cliffhanger >< perhaps i can make a part two if any of you are interested, lmk your thoughts thru my inbox or what not <3

“Ki, would it be weird for a girl not to squirt?” you asked suddenly, catching Riki completely off guard. He choked on his drink, coughing uncontrollably at your unexpected question. “SORRY!” you exclaimed, hurriedly patting his back as he tried to recover.

“You could’ve given me some warning,” he said, wiping his mouth as you sat on the bed, lips pouting.

“Why’d you ask?” he questioned, his brow raised, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely surprised by your curiosity.

“I mean… you’ve had experience with girls, right? Have you made them cum or, I don’t know, squirt before?” you asked hesitantly, your pout deepening as your cheeks flushed. Riki fought back the urge to lean in and kiss you right then but managed to keep his composure.

“Well,” he started, leaning back casually on his hands, “I have sex to enjoy myself and to give pleasure. So yeah, sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. It depends on the person.”

You muttered under your breath, “Man, am I weird,” not realizing he heard you.

“Why would you be weird?” he asked, his gaze fixed on you, making you squeak as your face burned with embarrassment.

“N-nothing! It’s just a random thought,” you stammered, laughing nervously, but the way he looked at you told you he wasn’t buying it. Finally, you sighed in defeat.

“Okay, fine. All the times I’ve had sex with men, I’ve never cum… or squirted. Ever,” you admitted, your words spilling out before you could stop them. “And now, my friends keep talking about how amazing their sex lives are, and I feel like there’s something wrong with me because I’ve always had to fake it.”

Riki was silent for a moment before speaking bluntly. “That just means those men suck at pleasing women.”

Your eyes widened as he suddenly leaned closer, his hand gently holding your chin, tilting your face toward his. His dark eyes locked with yours.

“Want me to show you how it’s really done?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though the strain in his sweats betrayed how much he was holding back. The room grew quiet, the air charged with tension as you blinked at him, your heart racing. Finally, you managed to whisper, “P-please.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Without hesitation, Riki closed the distance between you, his lips crashing into yours as he pulled you into his arms.

He pushed you back onto the bed, his hands roaming over your body before slipping beneath your shirt. A small whimper escaped your lips as your fingers tangled in his hair, giving it a light tug. Riki smirked at your reaction, his lips trailing down your skin before settling near your bottom half. Pausing, he looked up at you, silently seeking permission. You couldn’t trust your voice, so you simply nodded. With one smooth motion, he slid your pants and panties off, exposing you to his gaze. His hands spread your legs gently as he adjusted his position.

“Don’t think about me too much tonight, princess. This is all about you, okay?” he murmured, his voice soft yet commanding as his hands caressed your thighs. “Can I?”

“Y-yes,” you breathed out, a strangled moan escaping as his fingers finally explored your wet folds. He began rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, coaxing more of your arousal to pool between your thighs.

“T-there’s lube in the drawer,” you whispered shakily.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me prep you a bit, yeah?” he replied sweetly, leaning over to grab the bottle. After squirting some onto his fingers, he returned to you, his touch warm and careful.

Gently fondling your folds, he slid one finger inside, stretching you just enough before adding a second. His pace was slow, deliberate, each motion igniting waves of pleasure as his fingers worked you open. You sighed in relief, soft moans tumbling from your lips as he fucked you with precision.

“Feels nice?” he teased, his thumb now stroking your clit in time with his fingers. A high-pitched moan slipped out as your back arched.

“R-Riki~!” you whined, throwing your head back as the pleasure built.

“Such a pretty pussy,�� he murmured, his voice filled with adoration and lust. “Gonna give it the love it deserves.”

With that, he leaned down, his lips finding your clit as his tongue replaced his thumb. His warm mouth suckled at the sensitive bud, his fingers never faltering in their steady rhythm.

A needy whimper escaped you at the added sensation, your hips stuttering against his face in an attempt to get more of him. The slow, deliberate pace felt maddening, your body trembling as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Riki simply chuckled against you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins as he focused on drawing every ounce of pleasure from you.

“That’s it, pretty. Let go for me,” Riki murmured, pulling his fingers from your pussy before leaning down to give soft, kitten-like licks to your folds. His tongue teased you mercilessly, his lips suctioning onto your clit for just a moment before pulling away again. He repeated this agonizing rhythm, slow and deliberate, until your impatience boiled over.

“Riki…” you whined, your voice shaky and breathless.

“Hmm?” he hummed, feigning innocence as his slow, gentle touches continued, driving you to the brink.

“P-please,” you pleaded, looking down at him with desperate, glossy eyes. “Need more… just go faster, harder—I don’t care, just please.”

A devilish smirk played on his lips. “As you wish, princess,” he whispered, his voice laced with dark amusement. Without hesitation, he slid his fingers back inside you, this time pumping them faster and deeper. He curled them expertly, finding that spot that had your back arching off the bed, all while his tongue worked your clit with unrelenting precision.

High-pitched whimpers spilled from your lips, mingling with the lewd, obscene sounds of his fingers and mouth as they worked in perfect harmony. The room was filled with the slick echoes of your arousal and his focused attention, and it didn’t take long for an unfamiliar knot to tighten in your stomach.

“W-wait, Riki—!” you gasped shakily, the strange sensation growing too intense. But your protest only spurred him on. His fingers curled deeper, his tongue swirling faster as your body trembled beneath him.

And then it hit. The knot unraveled, snapping violently as your release gushed from you, soaking his lips and chin. You cried out, your body spasming uncontrollably as the pleasure overwhelmed you. Riki drank it up greedily, savoring every drop before planting one last, tender kiss on your folds.

Rising above you, he kissed your trembling lips, his smirk softening as he wiped a strand of hair from your damp forehead. “Well, there you have it,” he said with a satisfied grin. “You’re not weird, princess. You just needed the right man to give you the right treatment.”

You blinked up at him, still delirious from your high. “Y-yeah… um,” you mumbled, your mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

He chuckled, brushing a thumb against your cheek. “Don’t worry, angel. If you want to return the favor, I’m all for it—but only if you’re ready. No pressure.”

“Let me help you too, please?” you whispered, your wide, pleading eyes meeting his.

Riki cursed under his breath, his resolve nearly crumbling. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he muttered before pulling off his shirt. He adjusted your position beneath him, the warmth of his skin pressing against yours.

“Just know I won’t be able to stop, princess,” he warned, his voice a low growl as his lips brushed against yours. “Hope you’re ready.”

PERM TAG LIST — @bussolares @rikiives @contyynishimura @aanniikkaa @lilmarsh-t

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 // 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

Series Synopsis: You were once a spoiled duchess-to-be, set to inherit a city on the brink of a war you knew nothing about — that is, until the war came to your doorstep and the aftermath of a brutal accident bound your fate to Seishiro Nagi’s forever.

Chapter Synopsis: Nagi comes bearing news. // Your father makes an announcement about the new family in Maradine.

Series Masterlist

Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Yukimiya x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 2.3k

Content Warnings: death, killing, ptsd, reader is not a good person, actually nobody really is??, they all make mistakes as is to be expected, war is mentioned and the build-up/aftermath is discussed heavily but the actual conflict not so much, non-linear narrative, like HEAVILY non-linear there are two timelines for each chapter (pre and post war), probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame sorry y’all, alternate universe (early 1900s-ish vibe but not in our world because f historical accuracy), original characters (probably…idrk yet but it’s me so)

A/N: hey guys…so here i am…with the prologue to a new story instead of an update to anything i already have out BYE I’M FLEEING FROM SHAME i’ve been wanting to do something a bit more serious for a while though so i’m excited to give this a try!! some more elaboration on the tags/summary: this is like vaguely historical-ish but not completely, and it’s kind of like two stories being told concurrently?? one being reader’s life as an adult post war and the other her life as a child/teen pre war. every time there’s a ‘break’ in the chapter that indicates a timeline switch!! hopefully it’s kinda obvious which is which especially as we go along…anyways hope you all enjoy

“Kenyu Yukimiya is dead,” Nagi said. Medals sparkled against his breast, the gold a harsh contrast to the dark wool of his coat, and his arms were folded behind his back, which he kept ramrod straight, so unlike the slouch you once associated with him. “They thought it would be best if I were the one to inform you.”

He waited for you to say something, looking much like a mannequin all the while, his pale hair lifeless, his driftwood eyes dull and blank. His careful mouth was pursed into a plain expression which might be considered a frown on another person, but not on him.  Never on him. After all, Nagi did not frown. Nagi did not smile. Nagi did nothing.

“It should’ve been you,” you said.

“Yes,” he said, as prompt and detached as always. “It should’ve.”

Barlezia was a sweeping country, and perhaps you were biased in saying so, but there were none in the world that could claim to be its equal. In the north there were towering mountains which scraped at icy skies, a heavy blue-grey fog settled over their peaks, and to the south there was a vast sea, warm and aquamarine, which led to Drieji in the east and Abraria in the west.

It was on this sea, the Canonora, that the shining city of Maradine was located. Far enough from the northern capital of the nation to have taken on its own character, its own wealth, Maradine was the jewel of Barlezia, a place full of men with horses and women with parasols. Built upon a slate cliff, with houses lining the roads winding down to the pebbly sand, it jutted so far out into the water that some people spent their entire lives on their boats, only venturing onto land for the rare storms that might otherwise drown them.

Near the top of the cliff, where the marble government buildings were sequestered away from the rest of the city, there was a villa. It was the largest of its kind, the walls a deep red terracotta trimmed with white, the floors all glazed porcelain, the many colors and shapes painted onto the tiles making up larger designs of flowers, animals, and other such wonders. The villa overlooked the ocean and a canopy of trees, and it was widely regarded in all of Maradine as the most beautiful in that most beautiful of places, the filigree on an already intricate crown, the diamond in a choker of gold.

This was the villa where you were born, and this was the villa where you would, you presumed, die. Some forefather of yours had constructed it in a time where such art had been celebrated, where Barlezia had ruled the world, and it remained as a remnant of that age, a stronghold against modernity, even though your country had long ago bowed in deference to the ideals and traditions of those in the west.

“Child! Get down from there!” 

The woman that took care of you in lieu of your parents, who were often busy — your father with his politics, your mother with her parties — was slender and frail and too old for keeping up with anyone with any measure of youth. Her hair was entirely grey, and her face was perpetually lined, with sun, with shade, with age and wisdom and worry. You knew her simply as Nanny, and as she was the only one who ever had the courage to chastise you, you found you disliked her very much.

“My tenth birthday is approaching, so you ought not to call me a child any longer,” you said, your legs swinging from your perch in the boughs of a fig tree, the collar of your neatly-pressed dress splotched dark with the juice of the fruit you held in your hands.

“If you continue to behave like this, I certainly will!” she said, her hands on her hips. “Shall I call the manservant?”

The manservant was willful and rough; you doubted he would have any qualms about dragging you to the ground with his bare hands, were he so inclined. Taking one last bite out of the fig, you threw it to the ground, where it burst at Nanny’s feet, and then you clambered out of the tree with as much grace as you could muster.

“You horrid creature,” she hissed at you when you smiled at her, your skirt wrinkled and torn at the hem, your fingers sticky and purple. “How am I to present you to your father and mother in this state?”

“How you always present me, I expect,” you said, batting your eyelashes at her, skipping lightly towards the door. “With more fuss than required.”

She grabbed you by the ear before you could get very far, yanking it sternly, earning a howl out of you. Stomping your foot, you glared at her and waited for her to let go, which she only did when she was assured you would not flee again.

“I will send along a message that you will be late to breakfast. To your room, missy, I won’t have it thought that the young duchess is some mannerless, ill-behaved ruffian,” she said, ushering you towards your quarters as if you were a sordid secret.

“Maybe you need to be better about watching me, and then my manners will improve,” you said, and because you were not doing anything untoward, only saying it, the most she could respond with was an exaggerated sigh.

She bathed you for the second time that morning, quicker than the first, and then she dressed you in something without pattern or finery. Certainly it must’ve pained her, for the ruined dress balled up and thrown into a wastebasket had been much prettier than this one, but there was nothing she could do about it, bar glaring at you as she yanked it over your head.

Nanny wasn’t always so foul-tempered; it was only when you tried her patience, as you did today, that she got to be in such a mood. Else she was a tolerable woman, if not a kind one, and generally softer with her motions. She had mentioned to you a long time ago that she had children of her own, two daughters and a son, the youngest of whom was closer to your mother’s age than your own. You supposed it meant she had some experience with child-rearing, hence why your parents had chosen her amongst the many applicants, and you sometimes wondered if she had treated her own progeny the way she treated you.

Once, you had asked her. She had told you, with a click of her tongue, that she was far stricter with them; however, as you could not fathom anything more chafing than her treatment of you, you found it hard to believe.

Although you were older now — nearly ten years of age, as you liked to remind everyone — you were still not considered enough of an adult to eat with your parents and the rest of adults at meals. Instead you would sit in your room and make faces if the food was not to your liking, discreetly glancing at Nanny out of the corner of your eye and throwing away what you couldn’t stand when you were sure she was not looking. The exception was meals which were meant to be occasions or announcements, wherein your presence was absolutely and unquestionably required.

Today was an announcement, not an occasion, or at least that was what Nanny told you. You did not know the nature of the announcement, only that she was more nervous than usual as the two of you walked to the breakfast room, where your parents would be waiting for you. Up until then, you had been convinced that she had only had two modes of being — fed-up and obedient — so the discovery of this third intrigued you far more than whatever news you might be given.

“Nanny,” your father said. “Y/N. Good morning.”

He did not comment on your tardiness, and neither did he have to; his disapproval was the silent type, which radiated into the air and shimmered like steam, cowing in its intangibility. Your mother offered you a half-smile, as trained and perfect as yours one day would be, and you smiled back at her, your entire focus going into ensuring it was not crooked.

“Good morning, father, mother,” you said, settling into the large chair at your mother’s right, your feet just barely brushing the floor when you were settled with your spine to the cushioned back. “I apologize for the delay.”

“It is inconsequential,” your father said, which was as much of a reprimand as you’d ever get out of him. “We have more important matters to discuss now that you are finally here.”

“There is to be a party,” your mother said. This was nothing out of the ordinary, for your mother, as the Duchess of Maradine, was invited to every party that could be reached from the villa in less than a day. What was strange was that both she and your father thought that you needed to be informed of this occurrence.

“I see,” you said.

“It’s that family from Aprissari,” your father said, sneering at the mention of Barlezia’s capital, the city nestled in the mountains to the north of the country, which may have been the center of your nation’s power but was nowhere near as prosperous as Maradine, never had been and never would be. “The Yukimiyas. The wife is an opera singer and the husband is far more involved in foreign affairs than he has any right to be.”

“And they are rich,” your mother said, patiently and coolly. “Richer than mere commoners. Rich enough to be considered members of the nobility, if we are not careful.”

“We must build proper relations. An alliance, so to speak, but also a reminder that they are no longer in Aprissari,” your father said. “It must be clear to them and to everyone that in Maradine, their money is meaningless if they do not have the approval of the L/N family.”

“Their son is only a little older than you,” your mother continued, perhaps noticing that you no longer held much interest in the conversation, which had diverted to topics of which you had little understanding and even less interest. “The party is being held in honor of his twelfth birthday, and you are to befriend him as best you can.”

“It won’t be difficult,” your father said, and the reluctance of his conviction was the first clue you had that the arrival of these Yukimiyas meant something more to your family than you could possibly know. “You are Y/N L/N; there’s not a child this side of the country that wouldn’t want to be your friend. But you must do it.”

If Nanny or the manservant or anyone else in the L/Ns’ employ told you something so harshly, you would’ve protested or found some way around it, but this was not anyone else. This was your father, Duke L/N himself, and so it was as much a royal command as it was a request from someone who loved you. Perhaps it was even more the former than it was the latter; based on the wideness of your father’s eyes and the lowering of your mother’s lashes, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was the case.

“Yes, father,” you said. “I shall do as you say.”

“Good,” he said. “Finish eating and then attend your lessons as usual. We shall leave once the sun sets.”

You ate at a record pace. Your parents were exchanging looks that said they wanted to speak to one another alone, and it was only your presence which was hindering them, so you endeavored to make yourself scarce as fast as you could without seeming rude. 

Excusing yourself quietly, your head bowed until you left the room, you followed Nanny towards your chambers, deep in thought, turning over the directive your parents had left you with. Befriending the son of the Yukimiyas. For you, who had never had a friend your own age, it was more difficult of a task than your parents must’ve anticipated, so with a tug on the end of Nanny’s apron, you halted in your tracks.

“You heard my father, right, Nanny?” you said. “I have to befriend that boy.”

“That you do,” Nanny said, and then there was a fourth aspect to her which you unlocked: sympathy, glimmering in her irises like a sunrise on the crest of a wave. 

“I don’t know how to do that,” you said. She patted you on the head, brusque and perfunctory, like she was dusting flour off of her hands, yet somehow affectionate, in her way.

“You’ll have to learn, missy,” she said. “Ties with the Yukimiyas may be invaluable in the years to come.”

“Whatever do you mean?” you said. She placed one hand against the wall, her thumb tracing an idle circle over it as she contemplated something or another.

“There are as many ideas of what’ll happen to the continent as there are fish in the Canonora Sea,” she said. “Whether by will or force, Barlezia shall, like every other nation, choose which they back. If they choose wrong, then Maradine will bear the brunt of the consequences. That is all.”

“But what do the Yukimiyas have to do with it?” you insisted.

“Nothing and everything, child! You will understand when you are older. Now hush and go to your lessons,” she said, breaking from her trance and pushing you into your room, where one or another of your tutors would, invariably, be waiting for you.

You wanted to rail at her, to tell her that you weren’t too young, that you deserved to know as well as she did what might yet happen to your own city. Before you could say anything more, however, she shut the door behind you, leaving you standing alone by the wastebasket, where a rusty stain the color of fig juice continued to spread down the sleeve of your crumpled dress.

[nagaytoe]

Tres Ictus

(Latin) [noun] Three strikes

Solivan Brugmansia X Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Requests: Open

TWs/Tags: Violence, drugging, abduction, established relationship, betrayal

Note: This was inspired by some of fantasias answers from her askbox!

(Next post will probably be some Crowe angst teehee)

Solivan Brugmansia was the picture-perfect boyfriend.

He was loving, protective, and reassuring, you could always bask in the warmth of him and his words.

“I love you, Pumpkin. More than words could ever describe.” He smiled down at you, his big, strong arms wrapped securely around your waist. You couldn’t help but smile back as he gazed at you so lovingly. “I love you too, Sol.”

The two of you laid on your bed, limbs entangled, and it seemed as though you couldn’t be pried away from one another by any force on this earthly plane. He radiated a comfortable warmth on many levels; physically, emotionally, and in his gaze as well. Whenever Sol looked at you, you suddenly felt like you were the only person in existence alongside him, like you were the most precious being he ever had the fortune of laying eyes upon. You loved cuddling sessions like these, sometimes they felt far more intimate than anything else, sex included.

Sol tilted his head downwards a little, pressing a kiss to your forehead and tightening his grip on you further. “I don’t think you understand how much you mean to me… I’d do anything to ensure your happiness, Pumpkin. If I could, I would spend all my days by your side, though in my mind you never leave anyways.” His smile was radiant and made him seem like the happiest person to have ever walked earth. You could feel the love he radiated, almost as if he was transferring his very heart from his chest to yours by the simple gesture of lying this close.

“I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, your smile that never fails to brighten up my day, your contagious laugh, your gorgeous eyes…You’re the most perfect person I ever met, no other living being can compare…”

Your heart swelled at your boyfriend's words. Just how did you get so lucky? You knew some people who would kill for a boyfriend like Sol. Someone compassionate, who never leaves your side no matter how hard times may get. Someone invested in you, who surprises you with little gifts all the time. Someone who does little day-to-day things for you, even though you are perfectly capable of doing them yourself. Someone whose words always affirm you. Someone who protects you from harm, no matter what. Someone who doesn’t just love your outer shell but everything underneath as well. Someone who knows you in a way like no one else knew you before. Someone who still views you as perfect, despite all your flaws, because you are the most perfect partner for them nevertheless. All these traits made up your lovely boyfriend, Solivan Brugmansia. There was no way he was actually this perfect, was there? Usually, there was always a catch to everything seemingly perfect, though perhaps you were lucky enough to get the jackpot.

“Sol…” , you whispered, your cheeks flushing red as you hid your face in his chest. No matter how many times he told you all these sweet nothings, you would never get used to it. Probably because it didn’t feel like nothings, it felt like he carved those words out from the depths of his heart, for your ears to hear only, “You are far too sweet to me… I am so very lucky to have you with me, I can’t even begin to put it into words.”

“There is no need for that, Pumpkin, I can feel how much you love me.” Sol bowed his head down once more and pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your hair, which conveyed everything words failed to. A warm feeling flooded your chest, and your heart felt as though it might break out of your chest, past your ribs, any moment now.

“Please do promise me this however,” you could feel Sol’s chest vibrate a little as he spoke, his grip tightening once more, as if afraid you might slip away any second were he not careful enough.

“Never leave me. Please, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if you ever left me.”

You glanced up at him, a sorrowful gleam in your eyes, being well aware of his fear of abandonment. Craning your head further up and pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, you assure him, “I won’t leave you, Sol. Not ever. How could I? I love you far too much.”

Sol was an amazing partner – most of the time.

He tended to lovebomb and was a bit overprotective, but that’s alright, he just cared a lot about you, right?

Crowe awkwardly excused himself, uncharacteristically for him, before walking back into the building of Olympeius University. Your gaze flicked up to Sol, who wrapped his arm around your waist a little too tightly the second Crowe approached the two of you in the school garden. The two of you had been standing in the garden under the shade of a tree and studying the flowers present, when Crowe had interrupted your fleeting moment of peace. You didn’t mind, having not talked to him for quite some time, though Sol felt different about this predicament. If looks could kill, your dear friend would probably already be six feet under with the way Sol was glaring daggers into his back. Nudging his side, he quickly averted his attention back to you, gaze immediately softening. “Is everything alright?”

Sol hesitated before answering, glancing back into the direction of the doors that led back into the building and were just falling shut again. “Why would it not be, Pumpkin?”

You studied his face for any sign of anger, but you could hardly read any emotions off of the stone-cold mask he put on whenever he was asked such question. “You were staring at Crowe like he had the plague.”

Your boyfriend’s gaze immediately darkened, and he muttered something under his breath which you failed to catch as he averted his gaze once more. “He is the plague…”

“I didn’t quite catch that-”

“Don’t worry about it, Pumpkin.”

You couldn’t help but frown at his words and decided not to back down for once; you needed to find out what his problem with Crowe was, “Sol, why do you dislike Crowe this much? I’ve noticed before but never thought much of it, but I would like to know, especially since he is one of my closest friends.”

Sol sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment while gathering his thoughts.

“I just… I can’t shake the feeling that he likes you more than a friend should…”, His voice was dripping in venom as he admitted his feelings through gritted teeth.

Taken aback slightly, you had to take a moment to process your boyfriend's words.

“Are you implying that Crowe has a crush on me?” Sol nodded in response, the action almost seeming a bit too forceful as he averted his gaze.

“So what if he does, Sol?” His gaze snapped back to you the moment those words left your mouth, shock and anger brewing in his piercing red gaze.

“I’m with you, Sol. For a reason as well, might I add. If Crowe truly has a crush on me like you think, then I feel sorry for him; I really do, because I only love one guy, and that is not him. It’s you.” His stare softened in an instant.

“I’m sorry, Pumpkin, I just can’t help it… I love you way too much, and the thought of someone else stealing you from me feels like a dagger to my heart. I’m worried that you might find someone more worthy of your time…”

You shook your head at his words, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I can’t think of anyone who could ever be more worthy of my time than you, Sol. There’s no need for you to worry, alright?” Wrapping your arms around his form, you pulled him into a hug. He quickly returned the gesture, burying his face in your neck and muttering that he loves you, asking you to never abandon him. He was really overbearing at times, but there was no reason to further worry about it, was there?

Perhaps Sol wasn't that good of a boyfriend after all.

He was obsessive, jealous and possessive, so much so that sometimes it scared you.

“What the fuck was that about, Sol?”

You were enraged. Just about half an hour ago, Sol and you had been about to head back to his apartment after date night, the initial plan being that you’d sleep over at his place. You had dropped off your things at his place before going out since you didn’t want to have to carry them with you while going out.

In light of Sol having to use the restroom, you had waited outside of the building, wanting to get some fresh air and stargaze a bit. You had leaned against the cold brick wall of the building, looking up at the sky, which had been blanketed in pitch-black with specks of white scattered all over in seemingly random patterns. As you had studied the constellations in the sky, a middle-aged man had come up to you, asking for directions, and naturally, you helped him out. Unfortunately for both the man and you however, Sol had mistaken the scene for the stranger making a move on you. The moment Sol had stepped outside, he strutted up to the two of you, slithering his arm around your waist and forcefully pulling you closer to him as he snapped at the man about what his deal was.

You didn’t bother to hang up your jacket and take off your boots as Sol closed the apartment door. Unbeknownst to you, he locked the door and pocketed the key.

“That man was clearly trying to hit on you, did you not see his smug smirk?”

You walked towards his bedroom where your backpack was located, snapping back at him, “He asked me for directions!”

“Don’t you know how often that is used as an excuse to ask someone for their number?”

You scoffed, unable to believe how he was acting right now, “You’re overthinking this.”

“I am simply worried! That guy could’ve started molesting you, just like those guys back at the arcade a few months ago!”

As you were re-entering the hallway, you stilled in your movements to look at him in disbelief, your backpack slung over your shoulder. “Not every person out there is a criminal.”

“How do you know whether or not they are? One can never be too sure, you are simply way too trusting!” Sol argued and he wasn’t completely wrong. You were a trusting person, sometimes a bit too much for your own good, however, he was being unreasonable right in this moment.

“I’m not too trusting, you’re just too overbearing!”

“Overbearing?”, he repeated far too calmly, “How am I too overbearing if I end up being the one to get you out of trouble every time? It’s not that I am complaining, I would never not help you, but I would prefer if you stopped getting into those types of situations in the first place.”

The two of you barely ever argued. Sol was the perfect partner, at least he used to be. Just what was going on lately? The other day he grew irritated because you wanted to spend some time with your friends, something you hadn’t done in a long time, a while before that he punched a guy in the face for hitting on you.

This was your third strike, you can't keep on letting him get away with this type of stuff, he had to learn to accept your boundaries.

“Sol, I believe it might be better if we take a little break, at least until you learn to respect my boundaries.” It hurt to say it, but you couldn’t keep doing this, it was taking a toll on your mental health by now; Always worrying about whether your boyfriend might snap if you talk to the wrong person, then again, everyone who wasn’t Hyugo or him was the wrong person.

He stared at you in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape but no sound coming out until a few beats later, “What?”

“I can’t do this, it’s just… too much. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to have to keep stressing about who I can talk to and who I can’t talk to without you getting mad.”

“Pumpkin, Darling, I’m not mad when you talk to others,” Sol was clearly stressed out, almost a bit panicked, dread reflected in his eyes as they were locked on your every movement. “I just care about your well-being, is that so wrong?”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose with one hand, resting the other upon your hip. “There’s a difference between caring about someone and being controlling.”

“I’m not controlling, [__]. If I were controlling, I wouldn’t allow you to talk to anyone, go through your phone, tell you what to wear, but do I do any of those things? No, I don’t and why is that?” He stepped a bit closer with every instance he listed, looking at you expectantly, before answering his own question, “Because I am not controlling.”

“Sol, please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

He swallowed, his left eye twitching ever so slightly, as he took a deep breath. “You’re really going to break up with me over that?”

“I’m not breaking up with you, I said I need a break, some distance, not that I want to end things between us.”

“If you need distance, then I can sleep on the couch. You need a break? Take a warm bath, I’ll get it ready for you, but you won’t be breaking up with me, Pumpkin.”

You could feel yourself growing more and more agitated, why did he fail to understand the problem?

“You don’t get to decide over that.” Walking towards the door, which he was still standing in front of, you were about to make your way outside.

“A relationship consists of two people, I get as much of a say in this as you do.”

You stared at him, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from lashing out at him.

“If you learn to respect my boundaries then I have no problem in continuing things as they were, but right now I simply can’t.”

Sol turned to face you, placing his right hand on the front door, effectively blocking it.

“I can work on myself, I can start memorizing all your boundaries right now, you don’t need to break up with me for that.”

You sighed deeply, closing your eyes as you did before meeting Sol’s stare again. “Please get away from the door, I want to get home while the street lanterns are still on.”

“Just stay here for the night, it’s far too dangerous to walk around outside all on your own anyways. I’ll sleep on the couch if that’s what you prefer.”

That’s it, you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Sol, if you don’t let me leave right now, this will turn into an actual breakup.”

He froze for a moment, eyes wide as they scanned your agitated expression. Sighing, he finally stepped away from the door, walking off into another room. You reached for the doorknob, however much to your dismay, it wouldn’t budge.

“Did you lock the door?” You called out to Sol, while still trying to open the door. In your desperation, you failed to notice Sol walking up behind you, a small pill in his hand. “This isn’t funny, Sol. Open the doo-”

You were cut off by his fingers entering your mouth, causing you to gag a little. Reaching up to grab his wrist, you tried to pry away his arm, but he was far stronger than you. Panic spread throughout your body as Sol wrapped his arm around you from behind, a gesture which was once a source of comfort was now reason for terror. His right hand was still in your mouth, the other securing you in place and grabbing your jaw. Sol dropped something small on your tongue, quickly shutting your jaw with his left hand as soon as his fingers left your mouth and squeezing your nose. He wrapped his now unoccupied right hand around your shoulder as he shut off any oxygen source with his left. You struggled against him, refusing to swallow whatever he just put in your mouth.

“Please stop struggling and swallow it, [__].” His voice was ice cold, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as you swallowed reluctantly.

His grip loosened a little, becoming less bruising as you greedily inhaled as much air as your lungs let you, before coughing violently.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Something to help you calm down.” He was still eerily calm. Then again, no, he wasn’t really. He only put on a calm facade; you could feel anger boiling up deep down inside of him and gushing out of every pore.

Sol led you towards the bedroom, but not without you putting up a fight. However, no matter how much you thrashed in his grasp, it was no use, he overpowered you in every way. A trait of his which you once found attractive was now the thing you dreaded most about him.

It didn’t take long for the drug to enter your system, as you could feel yourself growing dizzy and your vision fogging up.

Your boyfriend sat you down on the bed, and you could barely fight back anymore. Your limbs were growing weaker by the minute, your vision slowly fading to black.

Sol gently pushed you down and brushed your hair out of your face, the gesture way too loving, considering the situation. You muttered words incoherent to his ears as he gazed upon your nearly unconscious figure.

This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be your boyfriend, could it be? Was everything he told you, everything he showed you nothing but lies? Did he really manage to trick you like this, trick you into believing he was a good person, a loving partner?

He laid down next to you, pulling you into his arms and entangling his limbs with yours. You wished you could pry yourself free from his grasp, run as far away from him as humanly possible but alas, such luxury will not be granted to you.

“Don’t worry, Pumpkin, I’ll take care of you. Rest well…”

Sol bent his head down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, like he did everytime when the two of you cuddled or before you went to sleep. It made you sick to your stomach, it hurt you and tugged at your heart, ripping it out of your chest. All these loving gestures, you didn’t want them, you wanted to be at home, you wanted your old Sol back, just like how he was at the beginning of your relationship. You briefly wished you wouldn’t have gotten with him, hadn’t told him you loved him, hadn’t met him in the first place.

Perhaps you were just as much at fault as he was, you should have noticed the warning signs earlier, for in hindsight they were so very obvious, or maybe you shouldn’t have pushed him like that. This was his third strike and he wouldn't let you leave him, especially not after you promised not to.

After all, it’s what you agreed upon the moment you told him you loved him, didn’t you?

[tinkerbellknockoff]

chemistry // jinx x fem!reader

chemistry // college!jinx x fem!reader

you've never been the greatest at sciences- you were aware of that. being placed into general chemistry to fulfill a lab requirement for college forced you to face your fears: writing lab reports and talking to pretty teacher assistants.

- college au

warnings: cursing

-- a/n: gonna be slightly projecting when talking about how bad reader is at chemistry lol

you thought the cliche chemistry professor that made absolutely no sense was only for the movies. but sitting here on a stool, watching the professor measure and start mixing chemicals that you couldn't even catch the name of made you flabbergasted and honestly- a little bit annoyed.

at your university, you were required to take one semester of a laboratory class. that's only about what- four months? you thought that was going to be a breeze- just get it out of the way, and you'll never have to touch a science class again! hopefully.

it had been about two-ish weeks of your general chemistry class, and by whatever is holy... you were miserable. unfortunately for you, your lab partner seemed to be on the same wavelength as you: massively confused. which, in a way, could be comforting because hey- you're not alone! on the other hand... your grades are screwed. and, unfortunately, you actually cared about your gpa.

the second half of your misery came from the fact you loathed asking for help. throughout high school, it was a breeze being able to figure out solutions to all of your problems, but now... you basically had to find every single resource that could help you. and, unfortunately, none of them did. you've never felt more lost in your life, which is how you have led to your position now.

slipping your backpack over your right shoulder, you then lightly draped your lab coat over your arm as you walked up to your chemistry professor. you decided it was finally time for you to ask for help- and by god, did it take some encouragement. there were still a few stragglers in the room- there being the professor, you, a couple of your peers, and the gorgeous blue-haired teacher assistant.

her name was jinx. she was recommended by another chemistry professor- professor silco, if you remember his name right- which gave her the job opportunity to ta a few general chemistry classes. honestly, she had helped you out a couple of times- she was a saint.

on the other hand, she terrified the living hell out of you. jinx, in the simple two weeks that you have spent in this general chemistry lab (two times per week, so maybe four times in the lab total) showed how... chaotic she was. in the first class, she was idly lounging around in random spots of the classroom, sitting on tables with littered chemical substances, and playing with one of the bottles in her hands. you remember, in that class, she seemed bored since it was simply laboratory rules and basics- but ever since the class started doing experiments? she seemed like the happiest girl in the world.

the professor made pretty basic explanations to questions he was asked- he was a little sassy, though. he'd say your name repeatedly, chastising you, then go, "haha! i am joking. wasn't that funny?"

... no. it was never funny.

then jinx. she would quickly prance to you the second you had your hand raised, entering your personal space as she would begin rapidly explaining, and would sometimes even begin doing the experiment for you. you loved it when that happened. honestly, even throughout that chaotic nature, she would explain things decently well. she talked a lot, but she was still able to deliver her understanding pretty well. you admired her for that.

even though she was incredibly helpful, in all honesty- you hated when she would be the one to come after you raised your hand.

she was too pretty. you couldn't focus.

"well, toots," is how she would always begin the explanation for you. you couldn't quite catch if she called literally anyone else that, but it was almost humorous how she always started off with those two words. you almost felt special. then, it would be how she'd lightly grab your hips to move you out of her way so she'd be able to access the experiment better- and even with you on the side, her side would still be brushing yours.

when she spoke, she never spoke to both you and your lab partner. her pink eyes seemed to stare you down. you were too scared to break the eye contact, and the more you reciprocated the staring the more entertained she seemed to be, her violet eyes swirling. you couldn't take it.

that happened every. single. time.

and every single time you felt like you were going to burst.

so, talking to the professor, you hoped to god he would just offer his office hours.

"hello, professor," you spoke, eventually standing in front of his desk, and he turned to look at you. he gave a smile (a little bit chaotic, you thought this profession was great for him), and he said your name in greeting.

"how can i help you?"

"i was hoping there would be some sort of office hours i could go to..." you spoke, swallowing your pride, "i was looking for some help with the lab reports and saw that your office hours were for request only."

he hummed in acknowledgment, giving you an understanding look, "okay. have you checked the tutoring center?"

you nodded, "yeah. all of the open tutoring sessions for gen chem are all when i have other classes."

"that sucks a ton, toots."

her voice came out of what seemed like nowhere. the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, but you kept your seemingly relaxed demeanor as you turned your head into her direction, her eyes automatically locking onto yours. she already had a chaotic grin on her face, her pink eyes swirling with entertainment, "i could help ya out."

the professor seemed to not care for jinx's bubbly behavior, "could you, jinx? your times would possibly be more flexible than mine."

.... fuck.

jinx eagerly nodded, "don't worry about it. would be an honor to give a pretty girl some help!"

was that appropriate to say?

the professor didn't have a care in the world as he thanked jinx, and then waved you two off, telling them to go schedule times to be able to meet, and giving the reassurance that he would be able to for extra support if you needed it.

you walked out of the lab, jinx seeming hot on your tail. she loosely grabbed her bag along the way, it hanging off her shoulder in a similar fashion to yours. eventually, in the hallway, you turned to face her properly. all you had to do was schedule some times, leave, eventually actually do the meetings, then bam! you're done! don't have to be threatened by a pretty girl no longer!

"so, toots. wanna talk about times over dinner?" jinx winked at you.

you had to take a sharp inhale after that. oh my gosh? was this professional? was this allowed? you don't think she cared. at all, actually.

"cat got your tongue?" jinx looked amused at your silence, her violet eyes staring at your expression, looking like a deer in headlights. "you're very expressive."

you cleared your throat, deciding to ignore that comment. takes one to know one. eventually, you found your words, "... fine. right now?"

you got it! look, you can talk to her. nice and easy!

her entertained expression and grin never left her face as she nodded her head, her bright blue hair bouncing in the movement. "i mean, when else could i possibly catch ya?"

"i dunno, email exists." you retort, you don't see her the reason for her to insist on going out to dinner to make plans.

"boring!" jinx continued grinning at you. doesn't her face ever start to hurt, "we can just go to the dining hall! c'mon, toots, don't be a snoozefest."

and to that, you finally caved in. her excitement seemed to elevate even more than it originally was as she started to basically bounce off the walls (not really, you're being dramatic), grabbing your hand. you were practically yanked, having to hold the lab coat in your arm tighter to make sure it didn't get dropped on the way. she energetically spoke to you the entire way, effortlessly guiding you, not caring if you were stumbling at any moment. you were surprised her relatively small statue had this much muscle. she was acting like she took 5 shots of expresso and did a line of coke.

hopefully, she didn't actually do that.

she kept rambling your head off as you both waited in line for your food. your dining hall offered an assortment of shops, which led you to get pasta, and right now you were waiting in line for the burger shop next to jinx. she eventually let your hand go, but you noticed over time that she always was touching you in some fashion. right now, her bicep was brushing against yours, her head tilted in your direction as she rambled on about some sort of engineering project she had taken up. you learned through her talking that she was a biochemical engineering major. so, basically, she was super smart. you're a psychology major, which caused her to erupt in a small fit of laughter when you told her,

"so what are you doing in chemistry, toots?! why not take like... i dunno, meteorology!"

that elicited a pout from you, scoffing, causing jinx to look at you with amusement in her eyes as she laughed harder, "you're so funny, toots! i couldn't get enough of you."

she was proving her statement.

you and jinx ate dinner together, and after some coaxing of the conversation, you got her to agree to a few study sessions over the next couple of months. every other sunday you two would meet up at the library, and have about a two-hour session covering the content from the prior two weeks. that sounded fair enough. you didn't know if two hours was necessary, but jinx insisted, believing that was the "sure way to shove everything into your noggin". you were humored by her wording of it.

even after you both had long finished your food, she insisted on sitting with you for a little bit longer, claiming that she was having the time of her life getting to know you. her behavior made you so flushed- but you tried your damned hardest to refrain from it showing. you tried desperately to act nonchalant, which jinx continuously called your bluff on, leading you to be super defensive, to which she would continue to tease you more.

"c'mon, toots!" jinx giggled. she was sitting across from you at a table, her elbow resting on top and her hand holding her head as she kept her other hand on the table, tapping her nails rhythmically, "tell me more about ya."

you were reclined back, slightly hunched in the seat as you hummed thoughtfully. your arms were crossed in front of you, which jinx found humorous. she could tell you were still a little bit shy.

"what do you want to know?" you humored jinx.

"anything. anything at all, as long as it's about you," jinx winked in your direction, her eyes never once leaving your direction, "... any... boyfriend?"

that question startled you. your eyes met hers once more. she was lightly chewing on the bottom of her lip, her eyes basically devouring you as she waited for your answer in anticipation. jinx's breath basically hitched in her throat with excitement as you shook your head,

"no. broke up with my girlfriend before college."

jinx clearly seemed giddy after your statement, only a blind man wouldn't be able to tell. you examined her behavior after, blinking, your thoughts finally catching up to you.

holy shit. you basically felt yourself erupt into flames, could she like me?

"aww, damn, toots!" jinx said, but the sympathy rolling off her tongue was feigned, "that sucks. any reason why?"

you shrugged, sitting up and fixing your posture, folding your elbows onto the table and leaning forward. "wasn't a good fit. you live and you learn, i guess. what can you do?"

jinx understood, her thoughts racing with pure excitement. jinx realized she had a chance- and she wasn't the one to let chances slip up.

so, for the next couple of months, she used the tutoring sessions as an excuse to get to know you. she would claim every half hour that you two had to take a break, and then ask you questions about your day, your week, and everything that could come to mind. you warmed up to her behavior, which made her feel so elated- you began to reciprocate all of her talking. she loved talking to you.

so, when your last session came, jinx was bummed. jinx stared at you longingly, which you didn't seem to notice as you flipped through the data you had gathered during your most recent lab, scanning between it and the lab report, making sure that you didn't miss anything important. you, with the help of jinx, were doing stellar in chemistry. you couldn't have thanked jinx more.

you brought your bag up onto your lap to grab a few folders, slipping the papers inside, packing up. jinx continued to stare at you longingly, her pink eyes unusually soft as she stared you down. eventually, you glanced up, meeting her eyes. she quickly changed her expression, looking more neutral.

"jinx, i really thank you enough," you spoke up, her heart soaring at the praise. but that elation dropped as she saw you stand up, causing her to quickly follow behind, moving to walk beside you as you two began to leave the library.

"it was really nothing, toots. what was i meant to do, let a pretty girl like you fail?"

those words sounded like something she said at the very beginning of all this. that caused a laugh to slip out of your lips as you bumped your shoulder gently with hers. she pushed the door open for the two of you, the cold winter air hitting the two of you in a gust.

walking a little further away from the door, you two stopped and stared at each other for a moment. jinx for once felt the words catch in her throat as her eyes met yours. you looked so cute, your nose slightly turning red from the winter air hitting your face.

you noticed her gaze. her pupils were blown as she was dead silent, something very uncharacteristic for jinx, causing you to examine her eyes with yours. when she noticed this, she met your gaze, both of you seeming to devour each other with your eyes, before you cleared your throat.

"so, this is it, huh?" you sheepishly giggle, holding onto the straps of your side satchel. your words, as corny as it is to say, almost broke jinx's heart on the spot then. it was just tutoring- why did she feel like it was the end of the world?

"... i hope it's not." jinx spoke, her voice abnormally quiet. your eyebrows rose at her unusual demeanor, your head tilting and causing your hair to flow to the side. jinx's eyes looked over every single one of your movements, absolutely infatuated with the way you moved- the way you were you.

no one had ever been any more perfect in her eyes.

"how do you mean?"

jinx cleared her throat, "would it be bad if i did something right now? that... you may or you may not like?"

your eyebrows furrowed at the question. what the hell did that mean? but, as your lips parted, you weren't given the option to question her as she grabbed the sides of your face with her clammy and cold hands, smashing her lightly chapped lips against your soft ones.

the kiss was startling for you, your eyes open wide in shock, being able to see the way that jinx so harshly had her eyes closed, her hands keeping you right against her. as if you would slip through her fingers. so, after finding your bearings, you finally closed your eyes, relaxing as you began to reciprocate the kiss.

jinx felt like she was on cloud nine, holding you as tightly as possible against her. your lips tasted like heaven to her, her being able to taste the chapstick that she saw you always use, one that she always watched glaze over your lips. she was doing what she fantasized about doing for so fucking long.

and to her excitement, you were kissing her back.

after a few moments, she parted the kiss panting. both of your eyes fluttered open as you both lightly panted, small puffs of white smoke leaving your mouths. you locked eyes with hers, both of your pupils blown wide. you were both impossibly close to each other, allowing you to hear jinx's faint whisper,

"i like you," her eyes scanned over your face, "a lot."

a laugh left your mouth. she loved hearing your laugh- but in this context, it almost made her petrified until she saw the bright smile that was on your lips.

"i like you, too."

[artyandink]

farm baby .ᐟ.ᐟ

↳ SYNOPSIS: you needed some help over at your farm after WES sprained his arm, and it was the first time you actually noticed that CLARK was a tank— like, how does one person do their farm chores that easily? you were stuck here looking like a wet, muddy squirrel while PANDORA and CLARK looked like they came fresh out of a pantene commercial. someone stop you before you start throwing hands, or mud, just to bring them down to your level.

↳ PAIRING(S): wes x betty, clark x bonnie (friendly) (clark | bonnie)

↳ WARNINGS: nothing, just farmboy and farmgirl being cute

↳ RADIO STATION:

↳ night shift by jon pardi

↳ am I wrong by nico & vinz

↳ sunshine by onerepublic

wanna meet everyone again .ᐣ.ᐟ click here

Since your dad had injured his arm in a farming accident, Mr and Mrs Kent had ‘lent’ Clark over as a help for you and your mom while he recovered— and Clark wasn’t salty about it at all, you were his best friend and hung out with him, Pete and Chloe every day, so of course he’d help. Besides, even though you and the Kents had neighbouring farms, there was more help than rivalry, so it was a healthy thing, where if one was in need, the other would come to the rescue.

It was when you’d actually seen Clark working was when you realised that yeah, he was freakishly strong, walking around the farm, lifting hay bales and fixing tractors without breaking a sweat, while you looked like a huffy, sweaty mess, hair plastering to your forehead. Not a great look.

He was an absolute sweetheart as well, a ‘darling’, as your mom called it, as he was all boyish, sunny smiles and farm boy demeanour, helping you out with the farm until even the next day’s work was done the day before. Was this guy a machine or something? You didn’t care, it at least allowed Lex, Pete and Chloe to swing by for an evening of relaxation or homework help, which was nice.

“Hey, Bonnie?” Clark called, popping out from nowhere, carrying a hay bale, and again having not a single drop of sweat from working in the Smallville heat— honestly, dude was made of titanium. Here you were, looking like a sticky squirrel in flannel.

“Where d’you want this?” He asked, nodding to the bale with that shine in his eyes that was always there, the one which told you that he was probably the kindest person you’d meet. Then again, that was a given, with how he’d relentlessly worked day and night with your dad out of commission.

Honestly, any more of him not becoming a wet rat while working and you’d probably throw a hissy fit. “Over there.” You pointed to the very messy stack of hay bales as you groomed PANDORA. You, in comparison to Clark’s pristine state, looked like a squirrel in mud. Great.

Clark did the thing boys annoyingly did all the time, where he’d effortlessly lift the bale and place it on top of the rest of the stack without so much as a flicker of his expression to acknowledge the weight, grunting under breath, “There you go.”

Clark chuckled when he saw you, your face and hair drenched in sweat as you petted poor ol’ PANDORA, your horse looking slightly amused herself despite her being downcast. “Lookin’ hot.” He teased, grinning and crossing his arms, making no secret of his amusement at your current frazzled expression.

“Ha ha, real funny.” You rolled your eyes playfully, petting PANDORA’S coat as you sat by her. “Now, stop bein’ a male model and c’mere, sit.” You patted the hay beside you, a smile stuck on your face— well, you couldn’t help it when Clark Kent was with you.

Clark chuckled at your response, shaking his head and rolling his eyes in good nature at your joke, before obeying your order and walking over and sitting down beside you, his smile still on his face as he bumped his shoulder with yours, teasing a little more. “Stop bein’ a girl model then,” He answered back, chuckling lowly as he tilted his head at you, bumping his shoulder with yours again, before his eyes slid over to look at you, his expression turning a little more… affectionate.

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder, sighing and using your other hand to pat PANDORA, linking your arm with his. “She’s lonely.” You mumbled, “Dad ain’t here.” PANDORA was a little under the weather, considering how Wes wasn’t doing his rounds on the farm and coming to see her especially, so you were spending more time after school working in the stables and the fields, which was where Clark came in after Martha spotted you slaving away with the hay bales.

“Just don’t lift any tractors,” — was what Johnathan said to him.

Clark chuckled softly when you leaned into him, a small smile appearing on his face as he linked his arm with yours when you slotted it with his, his free hand gently squeezing your own in comfort, fingers intertwining with yours. It was so very natural for the both of you, like a rite of passage after knowing each other for no short than since you were children.

“Yeah, I bet,” He answered softly, his smile saddening slightly as he realised you were going through a tough time with your dad being injured, and gently rested his head onto yours, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. “You been holding up okay?” He asked quietly, concern in his eyes.

“Yeah, m’fine, I see Dad whenever I come home, but ‘DORA?” You nodded to the raven-coated horse as you stroked her mane, with her nickering in response and nuzzling your hand— Clark liked to think of you as an animal whisperer, or at least PANDORA as a human whisperer, cause sometimes there was the feeling like you knew what she was saying. Those big eyes were definitely sad. “She’s not as happy, I can feel it.”

Clark smiled a little when you spoke, his expression turning a little softer as he, too, regarded PANDORA, watching as you so sweetly brushed its mane. You’d always been an incredibly caring person, and right now, he couldn’t help but think of how adorable you were with animals.

He turned his head a little, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head, smiling softly. “Yeah, she’s missing your old man, huh?” He murmured quietly, his words tinged with comfort in an attempt to cheer you up a little.

“She’s the real daddy’s girl around here.” You laughed a bit, squeezing his hand— just an unconscious action, really. “I’d be surprised if she wasn’t. Upset, y’know.” Your free hand kept on petting her head, watching PANDORA blink slowly at him, probably reading him— no, actually, she was.

Clark chuckled at your words, amused as he looked over at your expression and laughed when you laughed, his smile slightly lopsided when you squeezed his hand, fingers squeezing back in response to your action, his heart fluttering a little at the sight of you.

“Yeah, doesn’t shock me one bit, honestly.” He replied softly, smiling at the sight of you fussing over your horse, before his eyes slid back to you again. That expression of concern returned, his expression growing a little sadder as he thought about how stressed you were probably feeling.

You noticed the silence and looked up to Clark, head tilting as your big eyes went puppy-like in confusion— sparkles, furrowed eyebrows. “Hey, sweet boy.” You poked his cheek gently. “Where’d the smile go?”

Clark smiled a little at your actions, chuckling softly when your eyes looked like sparkling puppy dog eyes, tilting his head a little as you poked his cheek. “M’fine, m’fine.” He mumbled out automatically, his words slightly mumbled under breath, his cheeks flushing a little as you called him ‘sweet boy’.

A teasing nickname you’d started when he was 14, which, even though he’d tried to shake, had stuck with him, a red blush on his cheeks as he smiled at you, before it fell again and he sighed. “Just worried, that’s all.”

“Worried about what?” Your arm that had linked with his patted his forearm, leaning your chin on his shoulder. “Talk to me, unless you’ll be stubborn.” There was no one more stubborn than a Kent.

Clark chuckled at your words and the slight accusation (which was very true, but he’d be stubborn and won’t admit to it, even though his cheeks burned a little at being called out), leaning his head to rest on yours, closing his eyes and sighing heavily, before he opened them again.

“Just worried about you, y’know.” He mumbled softly. “You seem down cause of your dad being injured, and I…” he trailed off, his cheeks growing pink, his eyes flickering over your face, “I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

“I guess it’s natural, I always thought Dad was, like, invincible.” You grinned slightly at the thought, at the memories of never seeing your dad sick, of when he’d lift you on his shoulder or throw a rugby ball to Logan like he did in his championship days, “But s’okay, I’ve got my other favourite invincible person with me.” You ruffled his hair. “It’s like you’re made of steel.”

Man of Steel.

Clark gave a small laugh, an affectionate smile taking over his face as you spoke, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink at your words, grinning when you ruffled his unruly locks. “Pfft, m’made of steel, am I?” He teased, his tone lighthearted as a chuckle escaped his mouth. It was a comment that had been said many times in his direction.

“Only for you, then.” He responded, grinning a little wider, his eyes dancing affectionately as they flicked up and down your face— how did you do it? Clark was yet to uncover how you always managed to make his worries melt away with one little smile and a joke from you.

“That makes me feel special, thank you.” You giggled, nudging him, both of you basking in the evening sun, casting shadows and that wonderful dewy-looking glow— mind you, you had an amazing view of it from your farm.

Clark smiled, chuckling when you nudged him, his eyes returning to your form as you basked in the setting sun. He just… smiled, taking in the sight of you and the golden glow of a beautiful evening, the sun bathing you both in this beautiful warm glow that made you look, I don’t know, Lex level expensive. He didn’t take his eyes from you, simply taking in your expression, the small laugh that escaped your lips, the beautiful view of the sunset lighting up your face…

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He breathed out quietly.

The statement came from his mouth so suddenly, and he suddenly felt a lump in it upon saying it— it was the type’a thing he’d say to Lana, not you, not that you weren’t gorgeous, but he just couldn’t fathom where it came from. But you just… you looked to him, eyebrows raised with a small grin, still stroking PANDORA as she nickered beside you, almost like a small tease to his slip up. “You’re gorgeous too, Kent.” You said back with a soft chuckle, gently touching your temple to his, not sceptical, reassuring. After all, you were the town’s southern belle.

His heart was fluttering as he felt you gently knock your head against his affectionately, his eyes flickered from your eyes back to you, a soft expression that he couldn’t control from appearing on his face. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He mumbled out quietly, his expression still soft as he smiled, his arm squeezing yours gently as he continued looking at you, lip caught between his teeth. “Not as gorgeous as you, though.”

“That’s a high bar, yeah.” Then you let the silence linger a bit, hang in the air like a hovering blanket of sorts, trying to find the words— what? It’s not like only the Kents were stubborn. “Thank you, by the way. For the farm.” You smiled genuinely. “I’d be run ragged if it wasn’t for you.” You opened my arms for a hug, and like come-frickin’-on, how could he refuse that grin on your face?

“C’mere.” He chuckled, beckoning you over, and he felt at home, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight against his chest, burying his face into your neck, his eyes closed as he inhaled your scent. “Hey. ‘S not a problem.” He murmured. “We’re both farm babies, it’s a rite’a passage.”

Your head popped up from his shoulder with a slightly confused giggle, head tilted, nose bumping against his. “Did you just call us farm babies?”

He raised his eyebrows in challenge, corner of his lip quirking. “Objections?”

“None.” And there you went again, burying your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in the earthy scent which made Clark him, feeling him shift you so you were sitting on his thighs, hand holding your dusty cheek like he was protecting you, cheek resting on your head. It always felt like that, really, like Clark was protecting something or the other.

You didn’t mind; it was part of him.

𝒇𝒊𝒏 ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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[lezforsapphicwrites]

𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷?

pairing: elphaba thropp x glinda upland word count: 808 warnings: none summary: glinda sees her wife again after so long being apart but elphaba feels she doesn't deserve her love. (inspired by "would you fall in love with me again" from epic the musical)

Elphaba had changed in a way that she wouldn't want, Glinda thought.

The one she had known at Shiz was not the same as the Elphaba that was standing before her. Her eyes bore the horrors of the cruelty and harshness of their world. Shoulders slumped as the weight of her own expectations pulled her down to a void of neverending disappointments and losses.

And yet, she was still Elphie. Her Elphie.

The girl who cared about animals more than anyone would ever do. Who braved the mocking eyes of their peers as she moved to her own beat in the Ozdust Ballroom. Who fought against the true wicked of Oz, something she hadn't muster to do.

"You look different. You're eyes look tired." She tried to make it sound like teasing but her emotions betrayed her. Glinda took a deep breath. "Your frame is lighter. Your smile torn."

Elphaba looked away. Somehow that hurt more than the long period they had spent away from each other.

"Is it really you, my love?" Glinda reached out her hand, gently resting them on the girl's shoulder.

She thanked the heavens that Elphaba didn't flinch away from her touch. She didn't think she would survive that. Glinda needed her warmth, to wrap her arms around her and never let go. But Elphie needed space and she would give anything to her.

"I am not the woman you fell in love with. Not the girl you once adored," Elphaba muttered. "I am not your kind and gentle wife, and I am not the love you knew before."

Glinda felt her arms weakening at the loss of wamrth when Elphaba moved across the room. The light from the large, circular window had made the woman's tears sparkle as they fell. Needles pricked her heart at the sight of them. Elphie was hurting herself because of her, she thought. Fearing that her wife was burning her cheeks with her own tears.

Before she could rush to wipe them away, Elphaba spoke, "Would you fall in love with me again if you knew all I've done?"

Yes, she wanted to say. But Elphaba continued, "The things I cannot change. Would you love me all the same? I know that you've been waiting for love."

Nothing was ever going to be more true than the love she had for her. Not even the Wizard could find a spell to change that. In this room, where Elphaba was closer than she had ever been, she wasted no more time and walked to where the woman stood.

Glinda gently lifted her face and smiled. "Don't cause yourself pain over me," She said, wiping the tears away before they could burn her even more. "And don't cry. It blurs my view of your eyes."

For every night she longed for her Elphie to be beside her, to tangle her arms around her frame and feel her warmth, and for every time a fire ingnited in her chest when an Ozian would make a hurtful remark about her wife, she thought as she pressed her lips against Elphaba's. Every second of it engraved in her mind to look back on for years to come.

They pulled away, gasping for air that they didn't need when they were in each others arms. Elphaba was holding on to her, keeping her as close as their bodies would allow, and that was enough.

Glinda tucked a piece of hair behind the woman's ear. "I will fall in love with you, over and over again. I don't care how, where, or when. No matter how long it's been, you're mine." She confessed, blinking away the tears that blurred her vision. She needed to see the face of her love clearly.

"Don't tell me you're not the same person. You're always my wife and I've been waiting for you." Glinda cried, clutching the hem of Elphaba's dress tightly. Don't leave me, she thought. As long as you're here, I'll be fine.

For some reason, it felt like they were saying goodbye. Not like the one they shared at the tower of the Wizard's castle. This one felt final, like she was never seeing her again.

Glinda shook her head. No, it wasn't. They were going to make things right and tell the people the truth. Perhaps then, everyone would know that Elphaba wasn't the wicked one and they could be in each other's arms for all eternity. No more fleeing and hiding.

But even if Elphie were to flee once more, she would join her. Damn the consequences. Yes, she would not repeat the same mistake she had done in the Emerald City.

As she pulled Elphaba closer, she forgot about the farm girl that was trapped beneath them nor did she notice the bucket of water hidden at the edge of the room.

a/n: first post! this is pretty short cuz i worked on it too quickly. working on another one atm!

more of my works here: masterlist

[yesimwriting]

Happy new year! I wish you all a blessed 2025 ❤️

Now personally I don’t care the new years kiss tradition is about kissing your significant other, every single friend I love is getting love back from me when I’m drunk.

Bestie reader should absolutely give Louis the biggest platonic SMOOCH because he deserves it. He’d walk around with lipstick on his forehead or something, take a pic, save it for later to make fun of the level of readers intoxication.

a/n happy new year!! i'm totally the same about nye kisses and drinking, i get a little sappy and suddenly everyone in my life needs to know how much i mean to them lol i love this concept and it's perfect for the first fic of 2025!

also as a side note, going out/drinking with a vampire seems so perfect, ultimate scary dog privileges bc let some creepy man try anything and suddenly louis has a little late night snack <3 it sounds so freeing

----

The music's heavy pulse has aligned itself with your own, the base of it reverberating through your chest so thoroughly it might as well take the place of your heart. You can't bring yourself to dislike the feeling.

"O-kay." Your enthusiasm breaks the word into two. You let yourself lean into the feeling, into the fullness of your joy. "I think the regular vodka's stronger than the jello shots, because it's vodka not vodka-jello."

Louis presses his lips together in an attempt to keep from grinning too broadly. "That makes sense."

Your eyes narrow as you give yourself a moment to absorb the response. "It does," the words are much more contemplative than they need to be, "I'm so smart."

This time, Louis lets himself react. He laughs at the deliberateness pressed into your syllables. You're too out of it to think to mind his reaction. "You're drunk."

You straighten slightly as if that'll be enough to prove him wrong. "I'm happy."

Louis extends an arm, placing a hand on your shoulder in an instinctual attempt at keeping you steady. You're not exactly implying instability, but he's been spent enough time around you like this to know it's better to be safe than sorry.

"You're drunk."

You tilt your head at the correction, blinking at him curiously. "For some people, that's the same thing."

"Yeah?" The word is much too amused.

You nod enthusiastically, shifting your weight from foot to foot in a way that leaves Louis squeezing your arm a little tighter. "Yeah." You pause, eyebrows drawing together pensively as you struggle to grasp your next thought in its entirety. "I love you. I want you to be as happy as I am."

"Okay." He lets out a partial laugh. You're a good, terribly affectionate drunk. "I'm very happy. I promise."

His assurance doesn't seem to ease you. Instead of moving onto a separate topic of conversation or attempting to escape him in order to track down another shot, you frown. You step back slightly before lifting your arm. "Here."

You're holding your wrist out in front of him so innocently Louis can almost make himself forget what you're offering. "That--that's really nice of you, but I'm okay."

You frown, staring up at him with wide, sad eyes. Louis sighs, his fingers gently bending around your forearm. He pulls your hand down towards your side before stepping closer to you. In an abundance of precaution, he angles his head towards your ear. "I had that boy that grabbed your arm earlier, remember?"

"My blood is perfectly good--blood." Great, he's stumbled onto this argument again. You're not looking to be hurt, but for whatever reason, you're convinced that Louis's refusal to consume your blood to any extent is limiting your friendship. "Seriously, a doctor has never struggled to find my veins."

The defense is slurred and devoid of serious logic. Still, such a consistent mentioning of something he's always trying to ignore...always trying to forget makes it difficult to focus on anything else. The blood moving beneath your skin is warm against his palms, and it--the scent of it...

It is possible to stop. Some know how to resist, how to take just enough to feel something without bringing a life to its end. Lestat had possessed that kind of control, had used it when creating Claudia.

The thought leaves him more somber than he's prepared to be. Even if he could sense that kind of strength in himself, he--he couldn't use you in that way. Introducing you to his world at all was a cruel enough act on its own, he doesn't need to taint you further.

Louis squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling before pulling away slightly. He lifts your arm slowly, his thumb brushing against your wrist's pulse point. You watch him silently as he brings your inner forearm to his mouth. He presses his lips against your skin. "It's not you."

You're quiet for a second, something oddly sober briefly flickering behind your gaze. "I know," you relent slowly, "On some level, I know."

You look at him, then, with a careful awareness that often leaves him feeling like you're the one capable of looking into his mind. "But it better not be because you think your existence is some terrible burden you're inflicting onto me."

It's a warning he's used to hearing. His lips part, but before he can think of a response, the crowd around you shifts. A variety of voices blend together as they start to count, "...Ten...nine...."

"New years!" You beam, reaching for Louis's hand as you turn towards the others.

The countdown continues, the numbers oddly in sync for a bar so full of drink individuals. The clock hits midnight, the crowd erupts into cheers.

You grin, straightening fully as you lean towards him. Before Louis can think to ask about what you're doing, you press your lips against his cheek. He can feel the residue of your lipgloss against his skin, but he can't bring himself to mind it. This isn't the first time you've gotten a little affectionate while drunk, but normally there's some warning. "What was that for?"

You shrug innocently, "New Years kiss."

You let go of him fully, halfheartedly pushing his arm off your shoulder as you start moving away from him. "Where are you going?"

"I want another shot." The response is absentmindedly thrown over your shoulder, like Louis should have had the foresight to follow you.

A part of him is glad that your back is to him. This way, he can grin openly without encouraging your behavior. "Slow down--you're in heels."

You turn at that, flashing your middle finger before continuing forward. Oh, you're not going to get the hear end of this tomorrow.

[eddis-not-eeddis]

It’s spring, and I look exceptionally cute in all my springy dresses and for WHAT?

[trobeds]

i know the hunger games isnt about romance i know it isnt a love story but. theres just something so beautiful in the way peeta is the personification of what it means to heal and he /is/ the dandelion and the bread and the hope that things can be better even if they wont be fixed. even if the nightmares dont stop he will still hold her. wake her up and tell her shes alive. shes safe. and when its over and done and theres no more saving or protecting or trying their absolute hardest to die if it means keeping the other alive, the horrors dont stop. but katniss will still find that comfort in peetas arms.

[kuromi-hoemie]

being like 5’2” - 5’4” is so attractive to me like omg ur head fits right under my chin and right in my tits ♡⁠ let me hold you. i love being a tall girl

[gay-fordeath]

.

[kindnessoverperfection]

There are two paths before me.

One is overgrown, full of thorns and bristles and broken branches. The other is sunny and clear.

Surely, the first will lead to nothing but risk, danger, and pain, while the second will be a blissful, joyful walk.

But there's nothing for me on that clear path. No food, no life, no person out there besides myself. I know that the overgrown path can grant me all those things and more, if only it weren't such a wretched way to go.

So I spend some time on the clear path, walking forward until I can't take the loneliness and discontent anymore, and I turn back. But when I arrive where I started, the first path is still overgrown, worse still than before. Frustrated and feeling helpless, I start down the clear path again. When I decide to take care of myself and survive instead of starving to death on the barren trail, I turn back again. And again, the other is overgrown and terrifying.

I go back and forth, until I fall to my knees, crying and begging for someone, anyone, to help me. To remove the thorns and bristles and branches.

And then I realize, this entire time, I've been running from the pain. I've been waiting for the trail to clear up on its own, to grant me safe and easy passage.

It wasn't my fault I was never taught wilderness survival - I don't know how to make it through such an area, bandage the scrapes and wear functional gear and step over the branches. But I can learn, even if I'll experience some hurt along the way.

[forgotten-daydreamer]

sometimes i tell myself i'm fine, then i realise i've been thinking incessantly about watching winnie the pooh while cuddling in my parents' bed like i used to do when i was six, and i realise that maybe i'm not fine.

[vraska-theunseen]

sometimes i misgender myself for a joke like i was talking to my friend the other day and i was like "i'm going to adopt your mom so i can become your grandma" and she was like "but you can't be?" and i know that when my friends do that it's in confusion or good faith based on what they know about me but like. why are you correcting me about Myself. i am fully aware that i am non-binary and i don't need you to correct ME on that when i make a joke about myself. like i've told you what you can call me and now im calling myself something because i am me. it's not as if im not aware of what im saying. just strikes me whenever it happens as incredibly absurd lol

[drvwing]

you think you’ll be over a situation but then you remember something else and be like !! ouch !! that actually really did hurt and effect me deeply !! but that is okay because it shows that i am alive !! and with that comes the good and the bad, and bad times are just times that are bad