#if you’re unsure about what ask I’m talking about

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

45 ┆Oh. (0.5k words)

Honestly, you were confused as to why Wonyoung dragged you to the club room without any explanation. She even left you there, saying that she would be back to let you out.

Did you do something bad to deserve a time out from your previous club president?

You had so many questions to ask her when she returned.

On the other hand, Jungwon was nervous. What if you didn’t see him the same way? Him and Wonyoung had spoken about confessing to you when the two hung out, but he was unsure.

He couldn’t tell the boys either. They would tease him too much before offering him any help.

The ding from his phone gained his attention, making his over consuming thoughts disappear. It was from Wonyoung. Her message read the words, ‘coast is clear’, with a thumbs up and grinning emoji. 

Reality was now sinking in. Yang Jungwon was going to confess to the girl he liked. Something he had never experienced before. 

He rummaged in his pocket for the key to the club room and inserted it into the lock. 

“Jungwon?” You called, turning around to look at him. He was barely visible in your vision. The club room was dimmed due to the inactivity of the space. 

“Hey,” he greeted with a bashful smile. You examined his figure, taking note of how blonde his hair appeared and how his hands remained behind him.

“Oh, here.” He said while handing you a bouquet of daisies.

“I didn’t know what flowers you liked… I just went off of what you posted recently.” 

“What’s going on?” You asked, confused. It was a valid reaction. One, you were randomly brought to the club room you rarely visited ever since you began helping the yearbook club, and two, the boy who you thought liked another girl was currently handing you flowers.

What the hell was happening?

You looked at him with furrowed brows as his eyes stared into yours. He seemed hesitant and nervous. 

“Jungwon,” you began, about to ask him the same question from before.

“What’s—”

“I like you.” He interrupted, leaving you stunned.

“I truly do like you and get all flustered when we’re close to each other. It’s kind of bad, but I’m not ashamed of it. You’re genuinely an amazing person and I failed to realize it for the last three years. Instead, I shielded your true self with the one I made up in my head after we got off on the wrong foot.” Jungwon explained.

You paused as Jungwon watched you for any signs of emotion. However, worry washed over him in an instant. You stayed silent longer than Jungwon expected you to. What if you didn’t see him the same way and he had poured his heart out to you for nothing?

What if you were going to humiliate him after all of this?

“Sorry I—”

“What about Wonyoung? You don’t like her?” You asked, cutting him off while feeling all flustered and confused.

“What—No, of course not. Why would I?” His brows furrowed in confusion. What were you talking about?

“You two were always together and got pretty close to each other recently…”

“Would you believe it if I said she was helping me with my feelings this whole time? She found out because of the video I sent her of the arts night event… It was kind of embarrassing, but luckily it brought me here.”

“Oh.”

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NOTE — me and those Oh. endings LMAOO

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @ch4c0nnenh4 @ancnymcnzjy

GOOD GRACES TAGLIST — @anuisamazing @garrdenwon @dreamiestay @starfallia @mrchweeee @mymelodyfanatic @getoxo @jiamini @imnotyizhuo @heartheejake @wonlluvie @theothernads @yvjw @riribelle @winuvs @shotaddicted @hollxe1 @pinknjm @en-dream @elegancefr @wensurr @enhaz1 @r1kification @sunghxxnie @unhakki @hoonieluv @veilico @ddolleri @ahnneyong @stvrriki @domfikeluva @mensisim @tasnemluvs @httpenhoon @sch1z0prenic @kazemiya @rairaiblog @enhypenlovre @starry-eyed-bimbo @cupidhoons @miyawwn @siekksjs @wonfused @renjuneoo @wildtigerlili @nishiriks @letwiiparkjay

© JUYEOZ

[cowgirlvi]

mdni, sub bottom!ellie, inexperienced top fem!reader, strap-on usage, vaginal sex, sorta loss of virginity

wc; 948

i feel like the first time you have any sort of sexual experiences with your girlfriend— specifically fucking ellie with your strap— you’d say the most out of pocket things, and you could play it off as simply not knowing any better. but when her cheeks flush a deep shade of red, when she can’t help but moan louder on your cock, when her pussy grips onto your strap with a newfound desperation— you know what you’re doing to her. you may be a virgin, but you’re not stupid.

what’s really funny about this whole situation is that ellie genuinely believed that she was going to be in control, she believed that she was going to turn you into a stuttering mess. despite only having minimal experience herself, she was so cocky, saying things like, “don’t worry, babe. i’ll teach ya.”

and now you have ellie laying beneath you while she trembles and tries to quiet her moans by biting her lip. her back rests against your pink bedsheets and you’re holding her legs open wide— because she refused to do it herself, saying it was embarrassing and unnecessary.

”your pussy is swallowing me up, babe,” you groan, watching her cunt intently as her juices absolutely drench your strap. “fuuck, do you hear that, els? i think she’s, ahh, talking to me.”

”god, s-shut up— idiot, mmf!”

you piston your hips into her and you’re honestly proud of yourself for fucking ellie with such animalistic fervor, having never done this before. poor thing is trembling on your cock and her pussy is making obscenely loud squelching noises. if you were her, you’d feel embarrassed for having such a loud and needy pussy.

the smell of sex and ellie’s tangy cunt fills the air, and it smells so fucking good you feel like you could get high off it. ellie’s wanton moans are making your own pussy so much wetter against the harness of your strap, accompanied by the lewd noises of your cock fucking deep inside her little hole.

“you look so tight, baby. i wish i could feel your pussy for real.”

”y-you can’t say— uuuh—! can’t say t-things like that!”

”aw, why not?”

”b-because— ohh! it’s embarrassing,” she stammers, and her tongue feels heavy in her mouth. ellie wishes you’d shut up so she could just focus on taking your cock and keeping her noises quiet, but every time you speak it’s like her brain turns to mush and she moans like an easy whore.

”i’m just being honest here, els.” you pant at the strength in which you’re fucking her. “i wanna feel your pussy wrapped around me, pulsing for me— mmf— shaking when i hit your special spot. you’d feel so warm, i bet.”

”stop talking— fuckk!”

you know you’re hitting ellie’s cervix with every thrust, stirring up her guts, but you can’t stop— won’t stop until she’s ruined for anyone else.

gripping ellie’s hips, you tilt her pelvis up towards the ceiling, her ass hanging in the air. she immediately bites her teeth down into your pillow at the changed angle, drool running across her chin as she muffles her sobs. you stroke her protruding hipbones soothingly.

”do you like that, ellie?” you ask, rubbing the freckled skin of her pelvis. her cheeks flush and she ignores your question, focusing on the feeling of your cock filling every crevice of her creamy pussy. “come on, els. you have to tell me if you like it. i’m new at this, how else am i supposed to know?”

”i like it— ahh! i like it, i like it,” ellie babbles mindlessly, her nails scratching at your sheets.

”you’re taking me so well, sweetheart,” you coo and then bring your fingers to her little clit. 

ellie jumps against your strap like she’s been electrocuted, her hips twitching in earnest as if she’s unsure of which stimulation she wants to chase more; your fingers or your cock. she’s never been touched like this before, never had her body played quite so expertly— despite your lack of experience.

your strap is glistening with her wetness and it’s downright sinful.

”nngh! ohh— aghh, baby, baby, slow down—!” ellie’s lips are shiny with spit, bubbles of drool decorating her chin, and her eyes are watery and glazed with unshed tears of pleasure. her cute, little tits, all the way up to her neck, is flushed a deep raspberry red, along with the apples of her cheeks. she looks completely debauched. she looks like she belongs in a porno.

you toss your head back, laughing meanly and, instead, speed up the pace of your thrusts. “jesus, you’re just a mess, huh?”

ellie’s a live wire of sensation, every nerve-ending in her body singing for more, more, more. you take pity on her, rubbing her clit in fast, maddening circles as you continue stirring her up from the inside out. the dual stimulation is overwhelming her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“i’m— coming, unngh! coming, coming, ohh, fuck!” ellie wails, her words dissolving into a litany of broken, garbled moans and sobs.

then she throws her head back, her mouth open in a silent scream. her green eyes are cockdrunk and hazy, and a full-body shudder wracks her frame as she orgasms on your cock. the minimal fat of her breasts are jiggling as her body trembles.

you lean down, sinking your teeth into the soft skin of ellie’s neck and then sucking kisses onto it, marking her so she’ll remember how you treated her body when she wakes up tomorrow morning.

[lovelylittlegrim]

Paint it Black

Steddie (Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson)

pre-relationship - 1.4K words - no warnings

———————————————————————

“I like when you paint your nails.”

Eddie startles at the sudden sound of Steve’s voice, even with how softly he spoke. It’s been quiet for a while between them, a movie playing in the background that they’ve both seen before, the voices just muffled ambiance.

He looks up to find Steve staring at him. “What?”

“Your nails.” Steve holds up his own hand, wiggling his fingers like maybe Eddie will understand better if he sees what Steve’s talking about. “I like when you paint them.”

Eddie looks down at where he’s been steadfastly applying black nail polish to his right hand, it’s harder than doing his left but he’s had a lot of practice and he’s damn near perfect at it these days. The layer is even, glossy, not a smudge to be seen.

“Uh, thanks,” he says slowly, unsure what else there is to say. He peeks back at Steve through his bangs.

Steve hums and drops his hand back to the couch, he continues to watch Eddie even though Eddie’s finished.

“Do you want me to paint yours?” Eddie doesn’t know why he’s asking. He’s never seen Steve with painted nails before and… he can’t imagine it when he thinks about it. Steve in his crisp blue jeans and his clean polos, black on his nails. It would look so out of place. Like some dirty part of Eddie rubbed off on him. Tainted him.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Eddie blinks. “What?”

“You can paint them, it’s not like anyone else will see.” Steve slides off the couch, joining Eddie on the floor at the coffee table. He drops his hands on the stained wood and splays his fingers. “I’ll take it off before my shift Thursday.”

“You’re serious?”

“Why not?” Steve gives a single shoulder shrug, a smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. “It’s not the first time my nails have been painted.”

That makes Eddie pause. “It’s not?”

“Robin paints my toes whenever she sleeps over. They’re probably still purple actually, I haven’t bothered to take it off, not like anyone sees my feet.”

“Oh,” Eddie huffs at the mental image of Steve with his face coated in a face mask and lotion, his bangs pulled up in a little rubber band and Robin painting his toenails every color of the rainbow.

Actually, it’s kind of cute. He wants to see Steve like that.

“So,” Steve drums his fingers on the table. “You gonna paint them?”

“Yeah,” Eddie pulls lightly on one of Steve's hands, drawing it closer to himself. “Don’t move.”

Steve doesn’t. He sits quiet and still, watching Eddie work without complaint. When Eddie’s done he leans back to inspect all of the nails, wiping at an edge here and there to clean it up, uncaring that he’s staining his own thumbs. When he’s satisfied he leans back in and lightly blows at the paint.

Somewhere above him, Steve’s throat clicks, and Eddie glances up at him through his lashes curiously.

“You’re much better at it than Robin,” Steve says after a beat. “She gets it all over my skin, doesn’t even try to clean it up.”

Eddie laughs, air puffing right out of his lungs. “I’ve met Robin so I’m really not surprised.”

He picks up one of Steve’s hands, turns it left and right to make sure he sees the paint from every angle, and makes sure there are no rough patches or opaque spots he needs to go over. He doesn’t know why he cares so much about it looking good, Steve’s just going to take it off in less than twenty four hours.

He drags his thrums lightly over one of Steve’s knuckles and then lets go, his fingers curling in on themself. “All done.”

Steve holds his hands up, fingers spread to see Eddie’s work. “It looks great.”

And it does.

Eddie grins as he twists the polish closed tightly and stuffs it back into his bag. He watches with something close to fond amusement as Steve very carefully settles back against the couch, hands on his knees so he doesn’t touch anything until the paint is well and truly dry. Eddie settles next to him, his own hands already dry enough to not cause a problem but he mirrors Steve and they watch the rest of the movie, making snide little comments about the acting and the plot.

He doesn’t let himself think about the feeling of Steve’s warm hand in his or the feeling of Steve’s eyes watching him so intently.

It’s not good for his health.

—

It’s two days later before he finally sees Steve again, the movies in Eddie hand already grievously late. Robin will chew him out but he knows Steve will waive the late fees with a stern waggle of his finger like a disapproving parent and tell him to do better next time. He’s so dorky, Eddie doesn’t know how the guy was ever cool in highschool except… Well, he does, because even now Steve is annoyingly good looking, better looking in Eddie’s opinion. More rugged even though he’s still so put together, confident in different ways and funny.

The bell jangles loudly when Eddie enters family video.

Robin looks up, eyes narrowing instantly. “You're late, Munson.”

Eddie winces. “Please accept my most humble apology, I was otherwise inconvenienced on the eve of these returns.”

“You mean you forgot until Wayne told you this morning.”

“Yeah.”

She snorts and holds her hands out for the videos. When Eddie gives them to her she says, “I better not have to rewind them.”

Eddie thanks Wayne over and over in his head for having the forethought to do that before forcing Eddie into Robin's clutches. “They are.”

“They better be.”

Eddie takes his time browsing the stacks of tapes. He knows what’s here, he spends most of his time bothering Steve and Robin but Steve’s on break in the back and he wants the chance of seeing him before he leaves.

It’s another ten minutes of staring at Night of the Comet before the door to the back opens and Steve strolls out. He spots Eddie instantly and Eddie grabs the movie he’d been stalking with and heads for the counter.

“Hey,” Steve grins. “You finally returned your movies.”

He holds his hand out for the new tapes and Eddie goes still. His eyes wide as he takes in Steve’s hand.

“Your nails,” Eddie says, ignoring all semblance of a greeting. “They’re still painted.”

Steve glances down at his hands, laughs a little quiet and awkward. “Yeah, does it look weird on me?”

“No.” Eddie thought that it would. That Steve, perfectly put together Steve Harrrington, would look tarnished and sullied by Eddie with the black paint. That he would look tainted by all that Eddie is but… “I like it.”

“Oh,” Steve grins, drags Eddie movie choices closer to ring them up. “Me too, it’s kinda like having you around even when you’re not here.”

Eddie swallows hard. “Yeah.”

It’s just a little splash of black paint, but it makes Eddie want impossible things just to see it still there. He wants more of himself on Steve. His clothes, his rings, himself. He wants to cover Steve in the things that he loves, show everyone that this pretty and perfect boy is something that Eddie Munson treasures.

“Will you paint them again?” Steve asks without looking at him.

“I’ll paint them anytime you want,” Eddie says honestly. He hands over a few crumpled bills to pay as he remembers how easy the moment between them had been. How quiet and perfect. He would probably do anything for Steve Harrington and he’s not even embarrassed to admit that.

Steve’s smile is soft.

“Thanks,” he says and then holds the tapes out to Eddie. He glances over his shoulder at Robin who is doing her best to pretend she’s not watching them. Steve huffs and turns back to Eddie, lowers his voice and leans a little across the counter. “How about tonight?”

Eddie glances back down at Steve’s still perfect nails then up to Steve’s face, his dark eyes watching Eddie just as intently as they had two days ago. His nails don’t need to be touched up yet. “Yeah, I’m free.”

“Great,” Steve says, hand brushing Eddie’s as he hands over a receipt. “I'll see you later?”

“Yeah, yes, I’ll be there,” Eddie stumbles over the words.

When Eddie leaves his head is a mess of want and confusion and hope. So much hope.

[kitty6choi]

𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒕𝒉 (𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘)

𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: In an attempt to save your father's company you decide to marry one of his partners' sons and although at first you expected everything to be terribly bad you soon realized that maybe it wasn't like that.

𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Park Seonghwa x fem! reader

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: smut MDNI + little angust + mafia au + arranged marriage

A/N: If nothing gets in my way I'll have this ready by Friday and I really hope to finish this soon.

⋆｡˚୨𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍୧˚｡⋆

“Are you ready?” Seonghwa’s voice brought you back to reality and you looked at him in the mirror, he was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, he looked impeccable, as always, with his hair combed, his suit clean and his cologne floating in the air to where you were

“I’m almost done” you answered looking at the necklace in your hands

“Let me help you” before you could refuse Seonghwa’s steps shortened the distance between you and he asked you for the necklace, a little unsure you gave it to him and moved your hair to the side while you stared at the reflection of both of you in the mirror.

You tensed up when you felt the warmth of his fingers touch your skin a little while you noticed how his gaze was fixed on some point on your neck, you couldn’t remember how to breathe when he slowly lowered his hand running a path down your bare back. You closed your eyes trying to ignore the small flame inside you that he caused and when you dared to open your eyes it was only to see his eyes fixed on you through the glass.

“We should go” you said almost in a whisper

“Yes” was all he answered before leaving your side.

.

.

.

“So Park, are you going to confess tonight?” someone at the table asked “when are you going to stop being your father’s shadow?” You looked at Seonghwa waiting for his answer, but he was unconcerned and cold

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” the atmosphere at the table suddenly became tense and some glances were directed in his direction

“Don’t listen to him” someone said “he’s just drunk”

“I think we should go” Seonghwa stood up, but everyone started to protest and insist that he stay, but he just looked at you waiting for an answer from you. You knew you should have left, but a part of you still had hope that everything would get better and you would make a deal

“Let’s stay a little longer” you whispered “please” Seonghwa took a breath and without taking his eyes off you he nodded and sat back down in his place, but with his shoulders straight and his gaze sharp.

“Ha�� you never cease to amaze me” said the same man who at the beginning “it seems you are a dog with anyone” Seonghwa didn’t say anything and took the glass of wine from the table taking a sip ignoring the man “now it’s my turn” the man took out a couple of money and threw it in his face “pick this up, go on” the man whistled and snapped his fingers, everyone at the table was now watching the scene, but no one did anything to stop him “come on Park… do it”

Seonghwa remained calm and serene, but you took him by the arm so he would look at you, when your eyes met the only thing you could see was a darkness so deep in them that you could barely see your reflection. Fear began to take over your senses and the only thing you could think was that it was all your fault

“Let’s go” you begged.

The man started laughing loudly and you noticed how Seonghwa's body tensed, he turned to give you one last look before standing up.

“You two are made for each other” the man took a breath and stood in front of you blocking your way “Daddy's obedient bitch married the lapdog”

“I won't let you talk about my wife like that” Seonghwa said before breaking the glass in his hand and the liquid spilled over his hand staining his white shirt.

It all happened too fast…

.

.

.

“I'm sorry” you said for the thousandth time that night “it's my fault” you repeated passing the cloth over his cheek. Seonghwa simply remained silent letting you heal his wounds, but you didn't know that there was a deeper one, one that was inside his chest and that he didn't know if he could heal.

You stopped for a moment when he let out a moan and you looked at him worried.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t say it again” he took your hand, finally speaking after a long time. You looked at each other for a moment and you thought you saw something in his eyes, something he wasn’t saying but that was screaming for you to listen to him.

He squeezed your hand a little and brought his lips to your arm, his breath gave you chills and you stayed still without saying anything until his lips left a soft kiss on your skin, your breath leaving your lungs when he slowly got up and his breath began to trace a path of small kisses all over your forearm, slowly going up to your shoulder. His fingers traced small circles on your wrist that he hadn’t let go yet and you closed your eyes for fear of meeting his gaze.

“Seonghwa…”

“I can’t take it anymore…” he confessed, letting his words fall on your neck and spill over your entire body “I can’t keep pretending… I need you so much…”

[glowettee]

💌 glowettee hotline: issue #001: navigating cliquey vibes: finding your light in chilly uni halls

(some text blocked in favor of anon's privacy reasons <3)

welcome to the very first edition of glowettee hotline, where we fix your study slumps, productivity spirals, and it-girl dilemmas with a mix of soft discipline, coquette motivation, and glowettee philosophies.

i’ve been obsessed with the idea of creating a space where we can romanticize self-improvement, push ourselves academically, and embrace that girl energy, without the burnout. and after receiving 17 (!!) submissions already, i know we’re onto something magical. love you all <3 - mindy

hi darling, hope you're having a lovely, wonderful day!!

i'm so excited you reached out with your q today, because i literally know how challenging it can be to feel adrift in a sea of cliquey vibes at uni. it really sucks when you're surrounded by friendly faces in one circle but then find yourself in classes where almost everyone else seems distant, unwelcoming, or even downright snobby. i totally understand the weight of feeling unsupported especially during group work or oral presentations. so, let’s chat through some super detailed strategies to help you not only survive but thrive rn in these tricky social settings.

navigating cliquey vibes: finding your light in chilly uni halls

by mindy @glowettee (glowettee hotline, submit here for personal advice: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚appreciating your core circle & celebrating your uniqueness⋆. 𐙚 ˚

firstly, your core friend group is such a precious gem. remember, having a close-knit set of people who know and love you is more important than being universally liked. here’s how to make the most of your supportive tribe:

• before tough classes or presentations, lean on your close friends. even a quick pep talk or a smile exchanged across the room can boost your confidence. • use your circle as a sounding board for your ideas. they can help you rehearse presentations or give you tips on how to navigate group assignments. • celebrate your wins together. even if it’s after a brilliant group discussion or just overcoming a day that felt isolating, take some time to share those moments. • remind yourself daily that your worth is not determined by the acceptance of everyone around you. you are a unique, clever individual radiating positivity. never forget that.

2. ⋆. 𐙚 ˚turning group projects into a positive challenge⋆. 𐙚 ˚

group assignments can be super intimidating when you’re unsure whom you can rely on. but think about it as an opportunity to discover parts of yourself you might not have met otherwise. here are some practical steps for navigating group work:

• start by introducing yourself warmly. a simple "hi, i’m [your name]—i'm excited to work with you all" can set a friendly tone. • initiate a casual group chat or a quick get-to-know-you meet-up before diving into the work. suggest grabbing coffee or even meeting in a quiet corner of the campus to chat. • assign roles based on everyone's strengths. this not only clarifies who is doing what but also gives everyone a chance to feel valued. propose clearly defined tasks by asking, "what part do you really love doing?" or "which part feels natural to you?" • if some group members remain distant or rude, focus on collaborating with those who are engaged. sometimes, it’s okay if one or two people are enthusiastic. quality over quantity. • always have a backup plan for situations when group dynamics falter. perhaps create a personal outline for the project and set aside time to rework any loose ends. this helps you retain control over your part of the assignment, even if others aren’t as invested.

3. ⋆. 𐙚 ˚building personal resilience and managing class anxiety⋆. 𐙚 ˚

feeling out of place in classes where few familiar faces exist is completely normal, but there are some really neat ways to boost personal resilience. i like to think of these techniques as little self-care rituals that build your inner strength:

• start your morning or class prep with affirmations. say something like "i am enough" or "i belong here" as you look in the mirror. these affirmations can be surprisingly powerful. • cultivate a mindfulness practice. even just five minutes of deep breathing before class can help center your energy. use mindfulness apps or even a simple timer to guide you through a quick meditation. • keep a journal of small victories. jot down every little win, like speaking up in class or even smiling through a challenging presentation. these notes become a lovely reminder of how far you’ve come. • set up a pre-class ritual that calms your nerves. even if it’s listening to your favorite song, enjoying a cup of herbal tea, or just giving yourself a gentle pep talk, these rituals let you enter class with a positive mindset. • acknowledge that it’s okay to feel anxious. instead of trying to push the feeling away, wrap yourself in understanding and self-love. after all, every uni student feels the pressure sometimes.

4. ⋆. 𐙚 ˚creating meaningful connections beyond your immediate classes⋆. 𐙚 ˚

even if certain classes feel socially isolated, there are countless ways to build community on campus. sometimes, the most unexpected connections can blossom into the most sincere friendships. consider these avenues:

• join uni clubs, societies, or interest groups that resonate with your passion. it can be a creative club, a study group, or a casual meetup for a shared hobby, these environments tend to be super welcoming. • attend campus events, workshops, or talks. these can be fantastic settings for meeting people outside the rigid structure of classroom interactions. it's a chance to meet someone who shares your vibe and interests. • volunteer for student-led initiatives. taking part in projects or community service can show you a side of your peers that you wouldn't normally see in a lecture hall. • look into mentoring programs or campus counseling services. many unis offer support that not only helps with academic stress but also with social challenges. sometimes, sharing your struggles with someone who understands can be incredibly reassuring. • consider creating a little interest group of your own if you notice others who feel similarly isolated. even a small, informal study or discussion group can help you forge lasting bonds.

5. ⋆. 𐙚 ˚reframing challenges into growth experiences⋆. 𐙚 ˚

it’s natural to feel disheartened when you face exclusion or cold responses. but often, these challenges are little nudges guiding you to develop a thicker skin and a stronger sense of self. try out these reframing ideas:

• view each uncomfortable encounter as a step towards personal growth. every time you overcome social hurdles, you’re building resilience and learning more about yourself. • remember that some people’s unfriendliness is more about their own insecurities than any shortcomings on your part. their behavior says more about them than it does about you. • channel any negative energy you encounter into creative or academic pursuits. write down your thoughts, doodle your feelings, or even consider a blog post about your journey. creativity is a wonderful way to turn pain into something beautiful. • celebrate your uniqueness. the qualities that set you apart are what make you valuable. sometimes, it’s exactly those differences that will eventually attract the right people into your life. • let every difficult experience remind you of the person you are becoming. each challenge faced is a victory in building your inner power and empathy.

6. ⋆. 𐙚 ˚personal rituals that keep you grounded⋆. 𐙚 ˚

i believe in creating a few personal rituals to help navigate the ups and downs of uni life. these little practices can serve as anchors on days when everything feels overwhelming:

• before class, take a quiet moment to enjoy a comforting cup of coffee or tea. let that be a moment just for you, a time to gather your thoughts and breathe. • keep a small token or journal with you. it could be a piece of jewelry, a lucky charm, or even a handwritten note that reminds you of your intrinsic worth. whenever you feel isolated, hold that token and feel the support it symbolizes. • make a mini “positivity checklist” for turbulent days: 1. take three deep breaths. 2. text or call a friend from your trusted circle. 3. quickly jot down one thing you’re proud of from the day. 4. give yourself a moment to reflect on a past success. • if ever the weight of anxiety feels too heavy, try a quick self-soothing exercise like stretching or taking a brisk walk between classes. little bursts of movement can reset your mind. • remind yourself that self-care isn’t selfish! it’s essential. investing time in nurturing your well-being pays off in your academic life and beyond.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆final thoughts & encouragement⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

i know how overwhelming it can feel rn when every class and group project seems to amplify your insecurities. but darling, every challenge is also a lesson in disguise. use these moments as opportunities to cultivate your strengths, build resilience, and discover new facets of yourself. your uni journey is uniquely yours, sprinkled with little moments of growth, learning, and even unexpected joy. sometimes, the journey might seem rocky, but every bump is teaching you how to rise a little higher each time.

remember, you are not alone. even in moments where you feel isolated, your inner strength and your supportive circle are there to hold you up. take these strategies at your own pace, experiment with what feels right for you and make adjustments as needed. your story is still unfolding, and every challenge you overcome adds another beautiful chapter.

sending you the biggest virtual hug and all the good vibes!! keep shining in your own unique way and know that these hurdles are just stepping stones to an even brighter future. i hope these detailed tips bring you some comfort and clarity, and if you ever need to chat or dive into more ideas, feel free to send more asks!! remember to take care of yourself and keep believing in your incredible journey!!

and that’s a wrap on glowettee hotline: issue #1. i am so obsessed with this already, and i can’t wait to dive into more of your guys' questions.

if today’s advice helped, let me know in the replies/reblogs: what’s one habit you’re changing after reading this? let’s romanticize self-discipline together. ✨

and if you have your own it-girl dilemmas—submit them here: https://bit.ly/glowetteehotline

(psst, i read every single one. 💌)

stay soft, stay productive, & stay glowing. 🌷 – glowettee

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[sylusonychinus]

I absolutely adore It’s Okay If You Forget Me. I was wondering if you could write a similar concept with Caleb where the reader isn’t the MC.

Loosing my head

Pairings: Caleb x Reader

warning: Angst Good luck readers

What did I say? What did I do? I can feel it in my chest—the weight of it all pressing down on me. My thoughts are tangled up in knots, every word we’ve said, every look exchanged, echoing in my mind. This isn't how it was supposed to be. It never was.

I watch you from across the room, your back to me. The silence between us is suffocating, a thick fog I can’t break through. There was a time when this room, this space, felt like our own world. When I could look into your eyes and feel the fire that burned between us—when nothing else mattered.

Just yesterday, you said, your smile a light in the dark. We were laughing, sharing quiet moments, everything so effortless. I remember how your hand brushed mine, and for a moment, everything felt... perfect.

I wasn’t always good at this. Relationships were never something I was taught to navigate. But with you, it felt different. You made me feel like I could be someone better. Like, maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t a lost cause. The way you cared for me—it was something I never thought I deserved. And I let myself fall for you. Completely.

But now? Now, all I feel is distance. And it’s killing me.

I close my eyes, trying to push the thoughts away, but they're relentless.

I remember that night. The first time I saw you after everything started changing. We were sitting at that café, the sun setting just right, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.

“I’m not sure about this anymore, Caleb.” Your voice was so small, so unsure, that it sent a chill straight through me. It was like the world had shifted beneath us, and neither of us had noticed until it was too late.

“What do you mean?” I’d asked, panic rising in my chest. I didn’t know what I was afraid of—the possibility of losing you or the reality of it all hitting me.

You didn’t answer right away, and when you finally did, it was with a softness that made my stomach drop. “I think... I think we’re not moving in the same direction anymore.”

Those words—they still echo. Not because of what you said, but because I couldn't hear it. I didn’t want to hear it.

“We can fix this,” I’d pleaded, desperate, my voice rising a little louder than I intended. “We just need to talk. We can work through it.”

But you shook your head, eyes filled with something I couldn’t touch anymore. “I don’t know, Caleb. I don’t know if I can anymore.”

Now, all I can feel is the aftermath. The way we’ve been spinning in circles, trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through our fingers. You take me so high, only for us to fall, again and again. And each time, it feels like we’re getting farther apart.

I take a shaky breath. Every day feels like we’re just falling. Falling from some kind of high that I can’t even remember anymore. What happened to the love we used to have? The kind of love that made everything else fade away. I want that back. I need that back.

But I don’t know how to stop this free-fall. How do we fix something that's been broken for so long, when every word we say seems to push us further into the dark?

You’re still standing there, distant, and the ache in my chest grows. I could reach for you, but what if it’s already too late? What if everything we’ve fought for is already gone? What if I lost you the moment I stopped listening, the moment I thought things would just magically fall into place?

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I don’t know if I’m apologizing to you or to myself. The words feel too small for everything we’ve gone through. But I don’t know what else to say.

You don’t answer, but I feel the weight of your silence settle over me like a heavy blanket. And I’m left standing here, in the cold, holding on to nothing but the memory of the way we used to be.

a/n: i tried to make it really angsty :33 also some of this may come from personal experience

[googlemooglemadi]

ੈ✩ 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚, 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒓 ˖°࿐

❛ 𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕠𝕟 𝕞𝕖 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥. ❜

One second, Viktor’s coffee was on the table. The next, it was a dark brown puddle on the floor, and Jayce was staring down at him with a look that could only be compared to a puppy who’s just been caught digging a hole in the garden.

“Shit, dude, I’m so sorry!” He exclaimed, and moments later, he scrambled to grab napkins from the dispenser on the counter. 

Viktor, frozen in his seat, was unable to formulate a response outside of gaping like a fish out of water. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before settling on a quiet, “Oh, it’s – it’s fine.” He shut his laptop and tucked it into his bag, standing up and reaching for his crutch.

Jayce was quick to wave him off, still looking almost comically guilty. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it. Look, I can pay you back for the coffee, or –”

“It’s alright.” Viktor assured with a shake of his head, picking up the sopping-wet napkins from his table and tossing them into the trash can. He leaned against his crutch, looking down at the man crouched on the floor. This was just his luck, wasn’t it? The same man who was causing every single one of his crises at the moment, putting him in a situation where he had no choice but to carry on a conversation with him.

Jayce looked like he wanted to insist, but Viktor’s stubborn glare left no room for argument. He huffed a little, clearly frustrated, and returned to scrubbing the floor clean. He stood and dropped the rest of the napkins into the trash bin, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward laugh.

“Sorry again,” Jayce said, offering a hand to Viktor. “I’m Jayce.”

“Really, it’s fine,” Viktor insisted. He was still rooted to the floor, unable to come up with anything to say. He was pretty sure this was his worst nightmare. He forced himself to nod dumbly as the man introduced himself, taking Jayce’s hand and shaking it weakly. “Viktor.”

The grin on Jayce’s face could best be described as dopey, and Viktor hated how much it made his heart race. “Cool. You’re in my physics class, right? I’m about to head that way if you, uh… want to join me.”

Viktor blinked a few times, more than a little caught off-guard. He usually walked to his classes alone, but his first instinct was to agree. Jayce was already slinging his backpack over his shoulder, preparing to leave, and Viktor mumbled a barely-audible “sure” before he could manage to talk himself out of it.

Jayce was, as he’d expected, nothing short of a chatterbox. His excited rambling seemed to stem from a fear of any sort of awkward silence, and surprisingly, Viktor found himself not minding it. He couldn’t tell if he was feeling so tense because he’d become comfortable in his solitude, or because the familiarity of his dreams lingered at the back of his mind.

It took a while until there was a lull in the (rather one-sided) conversation about Jayce’s homework, and Viktor finally worked up the courage to ask some questions. “So, what are you majoring in?”

“Mechanical engineering,” Jayce responded, casting a sidelong glance at the shorter man beside him. “You?”

“Chemical engineering.”

Jayce hummed in acknowledgement, running a hand through his hair. The silence between them lingered for a long moment before he spoke up again. “Did you grow up in Piltover?”

“Zaun.” Viktor responded curtly. Usually, the mention of Piltover’s dilapidated sister city alone was enough to make anyone from the upper-class region want to switch topics. Jayce didn’t seem to follow this trend, but it was clear that he was unsure of how to respond – Viktor wasn’t surprised.

“Oh. That’s… neat. Do you have any siblings?”

As frustrating as it was, Viktor didn’t mind the subject change. He’d rather not deal with the awkwardness that would come from discussing Piltover and Zaun’s deep divide. “None. Do you?”

“Nah,” Jayce answered, shaking his head. He kept stealing glances to the side, and though Viktor could tell he was attempting to be subtle, he was anything but. “It’s always just been me and my mom.”

Viktor couldn’t help it; he found himself curious as to what Jayce’s family dynamic was like. He wanted to ask questions, to find out why he had only grown up with his mother, but the last thing he wanted was to push the man away so soon. So he nodded instead, reaching up with his free hand to brush a lock of hair off of his forehead.

As they approached the front doors of the building, Viktor shifted his crutch to reach out for the heavy glass door. Jayce beat him to it, though, pulling the door handle and propping it open with his foot. “I’ve got it.”

Viktor nodded gratefully, murmuring a quiet “thanks” to Jayce as he stepped into the hallway. He was thankful to see no trace of pity – something he’d grown contemptuously familiar with throughout his life – in Jayce’s gaze.

The door slammed shut behind them, cutting through the sudden silence that had fallen. They reached the lecture hall, and Viktor was fully prepared for their short conversation to end with a goodbye; if he was honest with himself, he wouldn’t be shocked if they never spoke again. However, when he headed for his usual spot in the back row, Jayce trailed behind him and dropped his things in the space next to him.

Viktor cast a sidelong glance at him with a raised eyebrow as he sat down, but he looked away before Jayce could catch his confused expression. He didn’t mind having Jayce next to him, of course, but he couldn’t deny the fact that all he needed at the moment was some space to think. 

His mind was foggy with déjà vu. The feeling of Jayce’s body next to his, combined with the infuriatingly familiar sound of his pen scratching against the paper of his notebook, created a tight sensation in his chest that he’d only ever experienced when waking up from his dreams about the lab.

Selfishly, though, Viktor almost wished his nighttimes weren’t plagued by Jayce or their shared lab anymore. Yes, part of him wanted to get to the bottom of why he felt like he’d lived lifetimes with Jayce while only knowing him for a total of… what, twenty minutes now? The other part of him, though, longed to get to know Jayce as if they were complete strangers.

He huffed as he opened up his laptop, propping his chin in the palm of his hand. If this was what physics was going to be like from now on, he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive it.

guys this is not a drill! the gays are finally interacting!!

on another note i am a big fat liar. i said this would be up by this weekend, but... i was really busy yesterday 😞

i haven't said anything like this yet because i didn't want to sound desperate but i actually am desperate (/j) so please don't be afraid to leave comments!! i love reading them!

credits to @cafekitsune for the dividers!

---

@frog-fans-unite

[itsnesss]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 | axel kovacevik × fem!reader

summary | during the sekai taikai, you share a tense yet electrifying moment with axel. however, after the tournament, axel returns a month later with a colder, more ruthless demeanor. under his sensei’s influence, he embraces a darker path, pushing you away with harsh words.

warnings | angst, emotional turmoil, rivalry, implied violence, manipulation, character change, unresolved tension, and brief romantic moment

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | I'm obsessed!

it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The noise of the tournament echoes in the air, the sounds of blows and shouts filling the space as fighters from all over the world clash in the arena. The Sekai Taikai is at its peak, and although it has yet to reach its conclusion, you already feel the weight of everything it has meant. The hours of training, the expectations of your dojo, the pressure. Everything seems to be reaching a climax, as if everything you've done so far has led you to this moment.

But something else is happening, something that has nothing to do with the competition. Axel Kovacevic, the boy from Iron Dragons, lingers in your thoughts more than you'd like to admit. Every time your eyes meet his, something inside you ignites—an uncomfortable yet electrifying sensation. It’s not just the fact that he's fighting around you; it’s the way he watches you, the way he challenges you, the way he makes you question everything you thought you knew.

After your match, you head toward the nearby beach, seeking a moment of respite amid the chaos. The sky is clear, the sun beginning to set, painting everything in shades of orange and gold. It’s the kind of moment that invites reflection, a chance to disconnect. And when you arrive, you realize you’re not alone.

Axel is there, staring at the horizon, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, as if trying to distance himself from the world for a moment. Something about his posture draws you in, as if he, too, is searching for something. At that moment, you realize that despite the crowd surrounding you both, an invisible gap exists between you—something that compels you to step closer.

Without a word, you walk toward him. The sound of your footsteps against the sand seems amplified in the quiet. He notices you before you can speak and turns slightly to look at you. There’s no surprise on his face, just a slight curve of his lips, as if he was expecting you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low yet clear, carrying a calmness that feels out of place in the midst of the tournament.

“I needed a break,” you reply, not looking away from his eyes. You sense there’s more behind his question, something you don’t entirely understand, but you’re unsure what to say. You don’t know if you should talk about what happened in the arena, about the match that left your heart racing, about the way his gaze follows you as if he's waiting for something from you.

Axel takes a step closer, his presence near you electrifying, almost unsettling. It’s as if everything around you has faded, leaving only the two of you suspended in this moment.

“You haven’t really answered my question,” he says, moving even closer, and something in his tone makes you feel like he’s challenging you, like he’s waiting for you to finally say something that matters.

The breeze caresses your skin, and you wonder if this is the right moment—if the words you’ve been holding back should finally be spoken.

“Maybe I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about you,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “About everything that happened in the tournament… about what you made me feel.”

Axel watches you in silence for a long moment, as if weighing your words. Then, with unexpected swiftness, he takes your hand. The touch is firm but gentle, and you’re surprised by how easily you let yourself follow. He leads you to a quiet corner of the beach, away from the crowd and the tournament’s noise, where the waves continue their eternal rhythm.

And then, as sudden as it is intense, his lips find yours. The kiss is like an explosion—brief but fierce. It’s not a soft kiss; it’s unexpected, as if he couldn’t wait any longer, as if everything that has happened until now has led to this very moment. For a second, you freeze, unsure whether to push him away or stay and let yourself feel what’s happening.

But something in the way he presses against you, in the urgency of his touch, makes you respond. You let yourself be carried away by the sensation of his lips on yours, by the way his body moves closer, almost as if he wants to erase the distance between you. The kiss lasts only seconds, but those seconds fill the air with an electric tension that leaves you breathless when he finally pulls away.

The silence between you is heavy, as if both of you are trying to process what just happened. Axel says nothing, but his gaze tells you everything you need to know. The confusion, the urgency, the spark in his eyes from before is now a much stronger, more intense fire.

“Why…?” you start to ask, but you don’t know how to continue. The words get stuck in your throat.

Axel doesn’t respond immediately. He looks out at the sea, and when he finally meets your gaze again, his eyes are no longer so sure. There’s something different in them, something that mirrors your own confusion.

“I don’t know,” he says, his voice a low whisper, as if trying to understand it himself. “It just happened.”

Somehow, you understand. What just happened is confusing, unplanned, with no clear explanation. But you feel it. You know it. There’s something in the air—an undeniable attraction between the two of you, something beyond the tournament, beyond the competition.

There are no more words between you, but none are needed. The kiss spoke for both of you, and whatever this is, you both feel it.

After a few minutes, the silence becomes comfortable. Axel takes a step back, putting some distance between you, and even though it’s small, it feels vast.

“What do we do now?” you ask, knowing that nothing will be the same after this, but unsure how to move forward.

Axel looks at you, a barely perceptible smile forming on his lips. “We keep going. The tournament isn’t over yet.”

The sound of the waves grows stronger at that moment, along with the echo of returning to the dojo, to the tournament, to what lies ahead. Whatever has happened between you, there’s still much left to understand, but you know that whatever comes next will be inevitable.

The tournament is abruptly canceled, chaos takes over, and Kwon’s death shakes everything. Everything comes to a halt.

In the end, the tournament resumes a month later, in All Valley. Axel and his dojo arrive, ready to continue what had been interrupted. But something in his gaze has changed. There’s an air of arrogance, a distance that wasn’t there before, something you can’t quite understand but that leaves a heavy feeling in your chest.

During one of the training sessions, Axel’s sensei approaches him, his voice grave as he observes his movements.

“They should fear you,” he says. “And if they don’t…”

Axel hesitates for a moment, tension evident in his body. Then, the sensei delivers a cold order:

“Make them.”

When Axel steps away, his demeanor has shifted. He’s no longer the boy you saw on the beach, nor the one who kissed you on impulse. Now, he has become someone else—someone determined to prove his strength in a much more ruthless way.

When you see him after a long training session with his dojo, you watch him, sensing that something inside him has broken—as if the intensity of his internal struggle has led him to lose himself. Yet, you can’t help but approach.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask, though you know there won’t be an easy answer.

“You don’t know me,” he says, his tone sharper than ever. “So stop looking for answers where there are none.”

And with those words, he turns and walks away, leaving behind an air thick with frustration. You stand there, watching his figure disappear, feeling as though the puzzle you’ve been trying to piece together still doesn’t fit.

Maybe you’ll never fully understand what happened between you and Axel on that beach. But one thing is certain—whatever happens between you two, it won’t be easy to forget.

[tayswife]

— braid my hair, kiss my lips

☆ glinda upland x elphaba thropp

☆ summary: glinda gets frustrated with her hair. elphaba ends up braiding it for her. or, glinda spirals over not being able to braid her hair and gay witches end up kissing.

☆ a/n: when i’m talking about them getting reading for fencing training class im talking about that one clip in what is this feeling but i have no idea if that’s actually fencing or not helpppp…

glinda sat at her vanity, across the room from elphaba who was sitting on her bed with a book opened in her lap. she was waiting on her recently new friend, glinda, to finish getting reading so they could head off to fencing training class. arriving together to class had been something that they had began doing without even discussing it. they seemed to be constantly together lately.

glinda groaned, loud enough for anyone outside of their dorm room to hear, and she threw her face into her hands. elphaba looked up at her frustrated friend and closed her book. even though they were friends now, elphaba was still skeptical of glinda. she wasn’t entirely sure what the girl’s intentions were quiet yet. she didn’t hate her, she was just unsure.

elphaba stood up off of her bed and slowly walked over to her. when glinda heard the delicate clink of her heels against the wood floor, she looked up and carefully watched elphaba through her vanity mirror.

she still looks very angry but her face seemed to soften when she saw elphaba.

“you okay?” elphaba asks.

glinda sighs, and looks down. elphaba’s expecting the blonde to start yelling about whatever problem she is currently facing, but instead, her voice is quiet and defeated, “no. my stupid hair won’t braid. i don’t know what’s wrong with it today.”

elphaba closed the large distance that was between them and stood right behind glinda. glinda’s hair was unkept and messy. elphaba thought she looked most beautiful like this. it was the glory of being roommates and seeing a side of each other that nobody else gets to see.

“would you like me to braid it for you?” elphie says it quietly as if she’s still talking to the old glinda that would cringe at her offer.

instead, glinda’s eyes widened. a soft smile appears on her pink lips. she nods, “you’d do that for me?”

“of course.” glinda’s played dress up with elphaba now that they’re friends; attempting to find her a new style, but elphie hasn’t yet been the one to help out glinda. people typically don’t go to her for fashion, and makeup, and beauty. however, to their disbelief, elphie really is great at braiding hair.

glinda gave her a smile and nod of consent and hands her friend a bright pink hairbrush. elphaba brushed through the golden locks, being extra careful to not hurt her when she brushed through the knots that glinda created from her multiple attempts at braids.

“you’re really gentle,” glinda says, “i like you brushing my hair.”

elphaba blushed. and she didn’t know why she blushed at glinda’s words either, but she did, and now she needed to compliment the blonde witch back. “well your hair is very soft so that helps a lot.”

“thank you,” glinda says softly. and that’s all either of them say, but both girls sit there thinking about the exchange and how intimate this moment feels.

elphaba eventually puts down the brush when glinda’s hair is perfectly untangled. she picks up one section of her hair and, for a moment, all she can think about is how this is the first time that her hands have been on glinda’s hair and she tries to ignore the flutter feeling in her chest.

she then separates that section into three more and starts crossing them over each other. having elphaba’s hands thread through her hair makes glinda so sleepy but her heart beating a mile a second keeps her awake.

eventually, she gets to her ends and ties it off with a tiny clear elastic that glinda handed her. it’s when she’s about to go to the second section of her hair that glinda hands her a string of baby pink ribbon. of course glinda wasn’t going to not have any accessories in her hair. that would be very un-glinda like.

elphie smiles at her through her vanity mirror and glinda smiles back. “how could i forget,” elphaba says, and then ties a perfect bow at the end to hide the elastic.

she then does the exact same thing on the other side of glinda’s head; three strands, cross them, elastic, and then the pink ribbon. frankly, she wishes she wasn’t finished. she wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she enjoyed spending time like this with glinda. unbeknown to her, glinda felt the exact same feelings. unfortunately though, they had to get to class and glinda didn’t have any more hair to braid.

“for once it’s you giving me the makeover,” glinda teases and turns around in her stool to face her friend. they’re now very very close and elphaba thinks she should probably take a step back but her brain and feet seem to be unconnected right now.

“i actually didn’t mind it,” she says, and they both giggle. she wanted to say that she actually very much enjoyed it but she couldn’t blow her cover. “you look nice in braids,” she then adds and immediately regrets it right as it falls off her tongue.

“yeah?” glinda challenges with a teasing glimmer in her eyes, but tones it down once she sees elphaba’s slightly frightened face that she’s trying so hard to suppress after giving out that compliment. “thank you. i like the way you do them.”

elphaba smiles, waiting for the silence that’ll be full of tension. yet, it doesn’t happen. glinda continues on talking. “everyone expects me to be perfect. but i’m not. i can’t even braid my own hair.”

“we all have flaws,” elphaba chimes in, though thinks to herself how she has many more than others. and how glinda is completely perfect besides the fact that she struggled to braid her hair this morning.

glinda sighs and then turns back around to stare at herself in the mirror. “i gave you so much trouble when you first got here—”

“glinda…”

“no, elphie, i did and im not even perfect. i acted like i was. like i was better than you.”

“you’ve changed,” elphaba counteracts. shes still skeptical about glinda, however, her acts at the ozdust make her believe that the pink witch might truly be different than their first encounters.

“but it’s not fair,” she says louder, almost like she’s fighting with herself, “you have to deal with it! everyday! but really, i’m the imperfect one yet i’m the one everyone follows.”

elphaba then sighs. she walks away, and glinda thinks she might’ve upset elphaba and struck a nerve. but then she sees the witch pull up a chair beside her and then she’s grabbing glinda’s hand and holding them so tightly yet so gentle.

“it’s not your fault, glinda. i’ve been dealing with it since the moment i was born and i’ve mostly learned how to deal.”

“but it’s not fair,” glinda says very quietly and then looks down at her lap; at their green and pale hands intertwined. glinda thinks, they clash so nicely with each other.

“it’s not,” elphaba agrees. she doesn’t know where she’d found this current confidence deep inside her but she puts her fingers under glinda’s chin and tilts her head up so they’re face to face again. “but it’s the way it is.”

this sudden gesture from elphie sparks something in glinda. her big brown eyes are open wider than usual, and right as elphaba speaks the last syllable, glinda’s leaning forward and deeply kissing her.

elphaba’s entire body freezes and she doesn’t kiss back because, frankly, she doesn’t entirely process what’s happening at first. she actually isn’t sure it truly is happening.

glinda quickly pulls back and she’s quick to start moving her lips to speak rather than to kiss, “oh my— i’m so so sorry. i don’t know what—” glinda goes to stand up, or at least attempts to, but elphie grabs her wrists and brings her back down to her stool. at this point, glinda doesn’t even bother to finish what she was saying.

elphaba had never kissed anyone once before, but everything feels so easy with glinda. and that’s the most surprising of it all, she thinks. she leans in before glinda can say anything else and starts kissing her for real this time.

she’s impossibly close to her that she can strongly smell the sweet notes of fresh flowers and vanilla that always radiating off of glinda. the blonde witch then places her hand on elphaba’s thigh as to steady herself, or maybe to even work elphie up.

elphaba’s green lips are so incredibly soft but she really didn’t expect any less of her. despite what everyone else thinks, glinda is with her all the time and can argue that elphaba isn’t a disgusting monster but rather a beautiful girl that isn’t any different besides the green color on her flesh.

they finally pull away and stare at each other, both with puffy lips. some of glinda’s pink lipstick had rubbed off onto elphaba’s lips. pink goes well with green, she quickly thinks back to the morning after the ozdust. it so does. she doesn’t even want to tell elphaba because she looks so pretty and she doesn’t want her to wipe it off.

just then, while glinda’s reminiscing, does elphie remember the reason she has braided her hair in the first place, the reason they even ended up in this position. they had to get to class. elphaba’s never late to class but by the looks of the clock, it started five minutes ago.

“glinda,” elphaba says, as if they didn’t just practically eat each others faces off.

the blonde hums a yes, oblivious to where they should be right now.

“we were supposed to be to class five minutes ago.” glinda smirks at her, clearly not as worried. frankly, this wasn’t her favorite class and kissing elphaba seems way more important than fencing training.

“can’t we skip?” glinda asks, knowing what the answer was going to be and so she put her best puppy dog face on and continued, “i wanna keep kissing you.”

“glinda, i can’t afford to miss class. you can’t either!”

“you’ve never missed a class in your life. i think i can get us out of it.”

glinda stares at her with big pleading eyes. elphaba stares back as if though she’s internally fighting with herself. she’s a perfect student yet then again, what would missing one fencing class do?

“alright fine,” she says, and the other girl squeals in excitement, “but we aren’t making this a frequent thing.”

“can we make the kissing a frequent thing?” glinda asks, biting down on her bottom lip as if she were trying to stimulate the feeling of elphaba lips.

“i think we can make that work,” elphaba says, and once again, pulls glinda back in for more. it certainly wasn’t going to be the only time glinda’s charm made her absent for class.

[ladysomething]

✄ for wygig please 💞

✄ DVD BONUS: pick a fic and I’ll describe or write a deleted scene!

actually!!! I now have a DOCUMENT with deleted scenes lmaooo.

one of them is absolutely huge, and it was originally supposed to be in the chapter where Max is in Milton Keynes. he runs into a pregnant omega in a restaurant and helps her get back on her feet. it's a really lovely scene, but was ultimately cut bc it added absolutely nothing to the story, HOWEVER I have it set aside because I'm going to repurpose it as a one shot eventually!

but here are parts that I cut from the most recent chapter.

when I originally this part, the necklace gifting and courting discussion was in like 5 chapters time, and I ultimately cut the below because ... well, there was less time between them getting together and the courting talk, so it no longer made sense.

“Do you think we fight too much?” Charles asks, reaching up to touch the pendant that’s now resting between his pecs. 

“We never fight,” Max says dismissively. 

Charles laughs. “Max, we disagree about everything. Our miscommunication is ridiculous at this point. Every time I think we have it under control, there’s just another thing we have to figure out.” 

Max drops his hands. Charles turns back around, feeling warm and happy despite the conversation he’s brought up. 

“I don’t think it’s a problem,” Max says eventually. “Because I—because we work through them, right?” 

Charles gives him a small smile, finger caressing where the two circles interlock. “Right,” he agrees softly. 

“I love you,” Max murmurs. “More than—more than anything. But there are always going to be things we disagree on. And I’m not keeping secrets purposefully.” 

“You have a couple times,” Charles says. “About what the other alphas in the paddock were saying. About what you were going to do about them.” 

Max purses his lips. “I’m working on it,” he says eventually. “I’ve never had a—a person before. A partner. Someone who would want to know, or who I could trust with it.” 

Charles softens, and reaches out to take Max’s hand in his own. “Me either,” he admits. “But I want this to work, Max. So much.” 

“I do, too,” Max says, squeezing his hand back. “It’s only been a few weeks since we—since the yacht. We’ll figure this out together.” 

this next scene was also part of the chapter, and was literally included until about an hour before I posted the chapter. actually, fun fact, that scene also changed WILDLY at the last minute - all that talk about deciding to properly court and get married and return the claim was added on the day of posting lmaooo. the below is how the scene originally ended (basically max gave the gift, Charles got mad, max tried to take the gifts away, Charles got mad about that too, and then Charles told Max that courting means nothing to him and that he doesn't want to do it, and then they left it at that, and then when Charles went to kiss Max the below conversation happened).

probably I'll end up repurposing that final line from Charles, because it's good and worth saying.

“Just—before we do,” he says, a little nervously. “To be clear, this time. What do you think we are?” 

“You’re my—” He breaks off, unsure what to say. Boyfriend sounds stupid. Partner, maybe. Mate? Except, technically, Charles is his mate, but Max isn’t Charles’. Eventually, he settles on, “You’re my Max. You’re mine.” 

A slow smile creeps up Max’s face. “I am yours,” he swears. “And you’re mine?” 

“I am,” Charles says, a smile blooming wide on his own lips. “Entirely, completely, in every way you can think of.”  

[cakerybakery]

Adam cornered Lucifer. Pressing him against a wall without touching him. “You’re desperate, I’m finally desperate enough, let’s fuck.”

“Desperate?” Lucifer asked, his brow knit in confusion. “I’m not desperate.”

“Oh please,” Adam rolled his eyes. “Walking around here with that slutty little waist. Those ass hugging pants. That tight little bow tie, showing off your kissable neck. How you angle your head to look up at me, with those pretty big eyes. You know you want this.”

Lucifer was really confused now. “Slutty waist? Angling my head? Adam. You’re tall! I’m not being desperate, I’m just looking up! But, you sure sound like you’ve been thinking about this for a while now.”

Maybe he had been. Maybe he was wondering what Lilith saw in the guy. Why did she fall in love with a guy like Lucifer and not him?

Figuring it had to be all looks maybe she liked them small? Adam knew he did. If he thought about it, Lilith was a little too tall for his liking. Maybe she liked blondes? Adam couldn’t say he didn’t understand the appeal, Lilith, Lucifer, and Eve all had the loveliest shades of golden hair. Maybe she liked how markable Lucifer’s skin looked. Like every gentle kiss would mar him and leave proof on Lucifer’s skin that he was taken.

Had she liked that funny face he gets when he’s pissed? Had she liked the sound of Lucifer’s voice as he sang? Or talked. Or when he was struggling to keep his temper in check? Had she wondered from the beginning how it would sound during sex? Like he wondered now.

Did she envision him with their children? Did she know that Lucifer would dote on their daughter? Even to the point of Charlie being annoyed by all the attention.

Did Lilith know what a turn on it would be to see Lucifer trying to connect, even if he didn’t always succeed, and doing his best, even if he fumbled it most of the time, to be a good father?

Adam never asked what she wanted out of going to heaven. He just wanted one over on Lucifer. Now he just wants to be overtop of Lucifer, or maybe under him. Adam hadn’t decided which would be hotter. But who said it had to be all or nothing? They could take turns.

“Perhaps you’re the desperate one here.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” Adam leaned in close and he heard Lucifer’s breath catch in his throat. Lucifer seemed to waver. Unsure if he wanted to flee or stay.

Their faces nearly touching, Adam could feel the heat coming off the heart of hell himself. The angel tied to hell and chained to the roots of evil that carved out the pit eons ago. His skin, hot enough to burn away sin, if one was unaccustomed to the holy spirit turned hellfire.

Lucifer’s burned claws found Adam’s chest, twisting themselves into Adam’s shirt, and they struggled to decide if they were pushing Adam away or pulling him close.

“And perhaps,” Adam whisper huskily, “you like that I’m so desperate for you.”

The fingers dug in a little tighter, the fabric tearing a bit. Lucifer’s breath was a little faster, a little more wild, like an animal being hunted and cornered.

Panicked.

Desperate.

“Say no.” Adam itched to seize Lucifer by that slutty waist. “All you have to do is say no.”

Lucifer‘a voice said nothing until Adam’s lips claimed Lucifer’s mouth and then all it could do was moan.

[sandeewithtwoe]

Apparently the last ask I got was a scam! Sorry for the confusion. If you reblogged my ask, I’d suggest to undo it! Thank you

[exopelagic]

talking to him more very much achieved. we just talked for like 4 hours in the kitchen holy shit I need to sleep

[rafesweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.

[dandelionsresilience]

Just in case Trump wins:

right after Trump was elected in 2016, suicidality skyrocketed. If you’re considering suicide in the wake of the election this year, at least wait until after it’s absolutely certain that he’s won - after every vote has been counted, every state certified, and maybe even after he’s been sworn in (IF he wins), just to make sure he doesn’t go to prison instead. Watch the results come in live here, but don’t obsess or let them sway your vote. (To be clear, I don’t want a single person to commit suicide over the election results, no matter what. But I know from experience that “don’t do it” is thoroughly unhelpful, so instead I’m saying at least wait.)

if you’re considering suicide because you fear worsening material conditions, you might think a hotline can’t help with that. and it’s true that they can’t change legislation or promise you’ll be safe. but it’s worth double checking whether what you’re actually hurting from is in fact unfixable. right now, just getting through the emotions can help you regain a more objective view of the situation, and then you can work on surviving it. plus, when something bad happens, we tend to vastly overestimate how bad it will seem in the future, no matter how bad it actually is.

In my experience, it might take a few tries before you find a hotline that picks up, either because they’re so busy, or they’re closed at that time, or they simply don’t serve your location or demographic, so under the thingy I’ve listed more than just the same handful that tend to show up on other websites. Even if you’re not actively suicidal, you can talk to them about your hard feelings, ask for material resources, or just vent to a compassionate listener.

FIND HELP

HopeLine - call/text: 877-235-4525

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline - call/text: 988 | chat

Crisis Text Line - text HOME to 741741 | chat

help getting out of the military

for underrepresented adults:

Thrive Lifeline - text THRIVE to 313-662-8209

for pre-teens, teens, and young adults:

Your Life Your Voice - call: 800-488-3000 | text VOICE to 20121 | email

for teens (limited hours):

Teen Line - call: 800-852-8336 | text TEEN to 839863 | email

for trans and questioning people:

Trans Lifeline - call: 1-877-565-8860

for people with substance dependency:

Never Use Alone Overdose Prevention Hotline - call: 877-696-1996

for BIPOC (“with an LGBTQ+ Black Femme Lens”):

BlackLine - call: 1-800-604-5841

for college students of colour:

The Steve Fund Crisis Text Line - text STEVE to 741741

for LGBTQ+ young people:

The Trevor Project - call: 1-866-488-7386 | text START to 678678 | chat

for homeless or runaway youth:

National Runaway Safeline - call/text: 1-800-786-2929 | (has chat and email, but I think the link includes tracking)

for Muslim youth (limited hours):

Naseeha Youth Hotline - call: 1-866-627-3342

Amala Hopeline - call: 1-855-952-6252

for Jewish queer youth (warmline, may take up to 24 hours to reply):

JQY Warmline - call/text: 551-579-4673

for veterans:

Veterans Crisis Line - call: 988, option 1 | text: 838255 | chat

for veterans and their families:

Lifeline for Vets - call: 888-777-4443

for pregnant people:

Crisis Pregnancy Hotline - call: 888-628-3353 | text: 714-448-8323

for parents unsure of their ability to care for a newborn:

National Safe Haven Alliance - call: 888-510-2229 | text SAFEHAVEN to 313131

International Council for Helplines Member Organisations

Warmlines - for emotional support, if you just need to talk; a lower level of support than crisis hotlines

NAMI Helpline directory

Key warmline directory (unclear if 317-550-0060 might also be a warmline, I haven’t tried it)

Wildflower Alliance Peer Support Line (limited hours) - call: 888-407-4515

[wriokitty]

“What’s got you so grumpy?”

Sukuna dodges your finger. It fails to meet its destination of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, earning a frown from you before you huff and try again.

He looks up from his phone with an irritated glance when your fingertip digs into his face.

“What are you talking about?” He grunts.

He knows exactly what you’re talking about. Normal Sukuna is irritable enough—grumpy Sukuna is about as bad tempered as a hornet who’s had its nest kicked. (Which is to say: he’s pretty fucking unfriendly at the moment.)

“You’re sulking,” you point out—and that statement earns a sharp glare from him as you seat yourself on his lap. (Still, he makes room easily for you, leaning back on the couch and putting his phone down to the side so his hands can rest on your hips. Grumpy Sukuna is never grumpy enough to push your body away—if anything, it’s the one way to get him less agitated).

“I’m not fucking sulking,” he says. It’s almost petulant, but you have enough grace to spare his dignity and not point it out. “I don’t sulk.”

“Are you sure?” You raise a disbelieving brow—he clicks his teeth at the way you choose to question him, but it softens considerably when your lips peck his jaw delicately. “You look pretty sulky to me.”

“Get your eyes checked.”

“Can’t. Then I might see you for all your ugliness. We wouldn’t want to throw years down the drain once I come to my senses do we?”

It’s his turn to raise a brow, sarcastically snorting as you give him a cheeky wink. “If you wanna try ‘n be a smart ass, at least be realistic about it. Saw you checking me out just this morning through the mirror.”

“Maybe you need your eyes checked,” you huff, “I was not checking you out.”

“Pretty sure you were,” he smirks, lips pulling into a haughty grin. Getting under your skin with his smugness is about the only way to cheer him up, it seems, because he looks rather pleased when he adds, “it’s okay. Don’t blame ya for bein’ possessed by my impressive physique.”

“Too bad your personality isn’t as dazzling,” you quip back easily.

It’s meant to be lighthearted, of course—but it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Quite wrong, in fact, because as soon as the words escape you, he tenses before locking his jaw.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Something you don’t think you’ve ever seen in Sukuna’s face—doubt. It’s a little odd, in all realness. Sukuna is not a doubtful person. He’s confident, and he’s confident enough that it’s almost to a fault. He’s cocky and smug and sometimes a little too self-assured for it to be considered good for his health.

It’s a bit unsettling to see his face almost fall at something you say, especially when you just say it for the sake of light banter.

“Yeah?” He chuckles dryly. It sounds dangerously self-deprecating—enough that it makes you frown. “Good thing I have my abs to keep you glued to my side then, huh?”

“Well, it’s not just your abs,” you hum, one hand smoothing over his shirt to feel the ridges of his muscles through the shirt. “Your boobs are pretty great, too.”

To prove your point, you give his left pectoral a gentle squeeze. He scowls before shoving your hand away as blush creeps along the back of his neck.

“You fucking freak,” he mutters.

Something is bothering him. You know you can’t directly ask it out of him, otherwise he’ll deny it left and right, but something is bothering him. Sukuna is not good with words or emotions. In fact, he’s pretty awful at anything that has to do with anyone’s feelings. (He’s better about yours more than other’s, but he’s pretty far from good.)

You don’t mind. There’s something oddly charming about witnessing the way he navigates softening up for you—it’s like watching a baby take their first steps. Wobbly. Slow. Unsure. Pretty badly executed, but endearingly rewarding all at the same.

Except, this time, it’s not your emotions he’s navigating. For some reason, yours are easy than his own. Navigating yours means he doesn’t have to try. He knows you better than he knows himself. Knows when your feelings are hurt by the twitch of your brows alone. Knows you’re sad by the dimness in your eyes. Knows you’re pretending joy when your laugh is quieter than usual. Knows you’re faking it when your smile is a much more tight lipped and a less bright version.

But his own feelings are complicated. A lot more than he cares to try and understand them for. In true Sukuna fashion, he always aims to ignore his problems until they seemingly disappear.

But you’re too difficult to let that slide. He brushes things under the rug, and you pull the rug from under his feet and make him fall face first into his problems.

“Hey,” you nudge him, cupping his face with your hand gently, “what’s gotten into you? It’s weird when you’re not pissing me off a couple of times every hour.”

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” He challenges, like your words seem to tick him off more, “what are you sittin’ here for if I’m always pissing you off?”

Oh, you think. So that’s what it is.

You smile, humming before you gently tilt his face up. Something vulnerable is attached to that frown of his. Like he’s waiting for your answer because he needs something to hold onto. Some metaphorical lifeline where your feelings are attached to his own, just to keep you chained together. Where you’re always somewhere that he also is. Where he doesn’t have to care about his emotions because what you feel is what he feels, too, and as long as you’re okay, so is he.

But you care. You seem to care a pretty great deal because you lean in and brush your nose against his as you kiss his lips softly.

“Who cares if you piss me off?” You snort, “I piss you off better. I’m pretty good at it.”

“You are,” he agrees instantly.

You give him a fleeting huff against his mouth as you mumble, “you don’t have to agree so fast.”

It pulls a small laugh from him, making his arms snake around your waist and tug your body closer. Chest to chest, heartbeat thumping in two, synchronized rhythms.

“What happens when I’m all old and expiring and my abs are gone?” He raises a brow. You hum, stroking a thumb along his cheek as you smile and admire him.

“We’ll still be pissing each other off, I bet.”

“That’s supposed to be good?” He repeats, this time much more unsure. Anyone else could hardly catch the air of hesitance in his words, but you catch it instantly.

“Why not?” You shrug, “it always worked for us, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “that’s until it doesn’t.” He spits the words out, not meeting your eyes. It’s like they taste acrid is mouth and he can’t bring himself swallow them down.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you lean in and just press a line of kisses from his chin to the corner of his lips, purposely dodging his mouth and littering small, delicate pecks along his cheek. And then his forehead. And then the bridge of his nose.

Never his lips, though. And he gets increasingly frustrated by it.

“What are you waiting for?” He grumbles, eyeing you with a look that screams: quit fucking around.

You fight back an amused smile. “Does it piss you off?”

“Course it does. Kiss me properly or back off my face—”

“Cause you love me right?” You ask cheekily. He pauses, thinking on it for a moment before slumping wearily.

“And if I do?”

“You piss me off too. Because I love you too,” you whisper, forehead against his as your hands cradle his cheeks. Because you do.

When he texts late, and makes your blood boil, it’s only because you love him. When he’s brutally honest and doesn’t say what you want to hear, you’re only mad because you care what he thinks so much. When he’s stubborn and refuses to meet you halfway, you’re only angry because there’s no one else you’d rather cross the bridge with than him.

He pisses you off. You care enough to be pissed because it’s him. And when you piss him off too, he cares enough to deal with it because it’s you.

It’s a funny, twisted little way to love and be loved, but it works. For some odd reason, it does. It’s a seamless, smooth, crackless road.

You don’t ever fix something that’s not broken.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he sighs, resigning himself to your weird, roundabout explanation. You laugh, pinching his cheek as you grin brightly.

“That’s because you’re a bit dim.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “okay. Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. I love you.”

He pauses. Swallows for a moment before his arms tighten their grip on your hips just a smidge before burying his face into your neck and mumbling, “me too. Love you so much, it pisses me off.”

“I like to get under your skin like that,” you stroke his hair, beaming as you add, “guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

His lips stretch into a small grin before a low, rumbling chuckle breathes itself against your skin. “Guess so.”

————————

a/n: insecure modern! au sukuna who doesn’t admit it and refuses to acknowledge that he’s aware he’s difficult to love and can’t understand why you love him but he also doesn’t want to question it for fear of scaring you away is very near and dear to me and i’ll be talking about it from my grave still. you’ll just hear my ghostly voice spooking you through the night talking about how he’s a softie deep down under all the layers. like an ogre okay? ogres have LAYERS.