“I like routine, structure, things a certain way. Are you going to be a part of that?” It’s like my brain is warning her off before my mouth can save us from destroying this before it starts. But I have to know. I slip my shirt over my head, leaving my sports bra on. “And you’ll take care of me.” She doesn’t ask; she parrots the same words I granted her as she tilts her chin to the side. “Yeah. I’ll take care of you, princess.”
Everytime she says princess I am a puddle
I am literally this emoji 🫠
