There Is No Substitute For A Loving And Supportive Relationship.

the world is so so mean to sleepy girls. What do u mean i have to get out of my bed

Sevika when she’s having a bad day.

⋮ ⌗ ┆BUT IT'S WARMER IN YOUR ARMS ּ ֶָ֢.

Happy ones tonight 'Cause it's warm ('cause it's warm) In your arms

The door shuts softly behind her.

No slamming. No grumbling. Just the soft click of tiredness. You hear the sound of her boots being kicked off, the low groan as she shrugs off her coat, and then her footsteps—heavy, slow—moving toward you like gravity is tugging at her bones.

You’re curled up on the couch with an old book of recipes that once belonged to your mom in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. It’s warm, gentle, quiet.

Until she drops onto you like a boulder. All strength and sighs and the kind of exhaustion only Sevika knows how to carry.

You set the book aside without a word. Your tea too. Her head finds its way to your chest, resting right in the middle like it belongs there—because it does. You feel her breathing, steadying against you.

Your fingers slip into her hair, slow and gentle, nails scraping softly against her scalp. She melts under your touch, that hardened tension she carries everywhere uncoiling piece by piece.

Nothing needs to be said. You know she’ll tell you later, maybe. Or maybe not. Some days, she just needs this—your skin, your heartbeat, your hands in her hair.

Eventually, with a kiss to her forehead and a promise of warmth, you nudge her toward the bathroom. The bath is already ready—steam curling in the air, water just how she likes it. She presses a kiss to your cheek before disappearing inside, stripped down to just skin and weariness.

While she bathes, you warm up the food you saved her. It’s simple, hearty. You plate it carefully, setting it on the table just in time for her to emerge—clean, warm, her hair still damp and around her face.

She eats fast. Not like she’s starving, but like she’s eager. Like every bite gets her one second closer to being back in your arms. You watch her with a small smile, heart quietly blooming. And once the plate is cleared, she returns to you.

Curling up on the couch with you again, her arm thrown over your waist, her face tucked in close. She exhales. This time it’s not weary. It’s peaceful.

You press your lips to her temple, and she hums low in her throat. Content.

No words needed. Just the warmth of home, Just the quiet love you hold her with.

☯ - 𝓣ag list.' : @princess-ish-shit , @marieeeluvsyou , @caitviana , @abbysdollie , @watermelonshine , @diouna , @boomhellokitty3141 , @zombieeepup .

the women of america were once promised that butch dykes would be lurking in all corners of society, ready to corrupt our minds and turn us all gay. what ever happened to that. where are the butches uncle sam.

black angels. black demons. black vampires. black werewolves. black elves. black mermaids. black fairies. jus… pls… more black fantasy characters… i’m beggin…..

@arianagrande :

"eternal sunshine deluxe ♡ 📦 3.28"

Happy lesbian week

Inattentive ADHD

Future ADHD

they were right, fat DOES last longer than flavor…