. ۫ ꣑ৎ .

୨୧

Even now, in the comfort of your shared hut with her arms wrapped around you from behind, you can’t really tell if she loves you or if she hates you.

A few weeks ago, when you and Shauna first started getting ‘close’ (as close as you can get to someone who has the emotional capacity of a tree stump), it was fun. Exhilarating. You got to sneak around, steal suggestive glances and the most passionate yet brief kisses, and the thrill boosted your spirits more than you’d like to admit.

But now? Now, you feel more like a shell of the person you were before you first kissed Shauna. An empty, confused, yet stupidly hopeful shell.

Part of you feels trapped, wants out of this perpetual loop of never being able to do anything right in Shauna’s eyes and feeling like actually she can’t stand you.

Another part of you, however, promptly reminds you that there’s no way she hates you. Not when she’s holding you so tightly against her chest, her arms wrapped around your waist, one hand stroking your belly beneath your shirt while the other grabs your shoulder, practically caging you against her in the makeshift bed in the hut.

“I can tell you’re pretending to sleep.” She mutters suddenly, her voice muffled against the hair on the back of your head. Her tone is stoic like it always is, so as usual, you can’t get a read on her– whether she’s judging you or concerned. “You breathe slower when you sleep.” She adds.

i will only do female characters x female/gender neutral users. here are the fandoms and characters i accept:

yellowjackets

shauna shipman

jackie taylor

natalie scatorccio

lottie matthews

van palmer

taissa turner

melissa

arcane

jinx

vi

caitlyn kiramman

sevika

maddie nolen

the last of us 2

ellie williams

abby anderson

୨ৎ

“Woah, slow down on the vino, why don’t you?“

Your girlfriend’s teasing remark sounds fuzzy as it hits your ears. She’d just snatched the half-empty bottle of wine from your hands after you’d grabbed it to pour another glass. It takes embarrassingly long for you to process her words, but when you do, you let out an almost mischievous giggle that causes her to laugh as well, her dark blue eyes twinkling with affection.

Maybe it’s the wine. Maybe it’s that infectious, almost cocky smirk of hers. You aren’t sure what to blame it on– but you’ve barely made it halfway through home-cooked dinner the two of you made together and you’re already debating hopping over the table and jumping her bones.

“It’s not like I want to stage an intervention, but you just might leave me no choice.” She drawls, leaning over the table a bit and resting her chin in her palm.