#but just like back then I know now that it won’t be like this forever

[00valentina-writes00]

heyy love how abt vi x insecure reader where reader can’t come due to nerves and vi calms the reader down eventually and makes her cum so hard UGHHHH lots of angst too bby plssss

Angxx havxbajzb jahxbsn yes

♡♥︎Soft and Safe♥︎♡

Warnings: reader can’t cum, oral sex (reader receiving), Vi being comforting (I need her.)

Vi is patient. More patient than anyone gives her credit for.

People see her and expect fire—recklessness, heat, a fighter through and through. And she is all of those things. But she’s also something else. Something quieter. Something softer.

And thank God for that, because right now, you need that side of her.

You’re straddling her lap, your bare thighs framing her as she leans back against the headboard. Her hands rest on your waist, steady, grounding. She’s warm beneath you, her body solid, strong, unshaken.

You, however, are trembling.

Not because you don’t want this. You do. You ache for it. For her.

But your body won’t cooperate.

No matter how much you try to lose yourself in her touch, no matter how good she makes you feel, something inside you remains locked up tight, nerves tangled around your ribs like barbed wire. You can feel yourself getting closer—so close you can taste it—but then it vanishes, slipping through your fingers like smoke.

And now, frustration burns in your chest, acid-hot and awful.

Vi notices. Of course she does.

“Hey, hey, baby.” Her voice is soft, but the concern in it is unmistakable. “Breathe for me.”

You suck in a shaky breath, your nails digging into her shoulders as you try to will yourself into relaxing.

It doesn’t work.

“I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whisper, voice thick with unshed tears. “I just— I can’t—*”

Vi’s hands tighten on your waist, not hard, just there. Just enough to remind you that you’re not alone. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” she says firmly. “Not a damn thing.”

You shake your head, shame curling tight in your chest. “I just want to make you feel good—”

“You do make me feel good,” Vi interrupts, her voice unwavering. “Every time. Even now.”

You bite your lip, chest tightening. “But I can’t—”

“Shh.” Vi presses her forehead to yours, her breath warm against your lips. “You don’t have to force it. I don’t need you to prove anything, babe.”

A lump rises in your throat. “But you—”

“But nothing.” Her thumbs stroke slow, soothing circles over your hips. “This isn’t a race. We’re not keeping score.”

You exhale shakily, trying to let her words sink in.

She leans back slightly, studying you with those sharp, knowing eyes of hers. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

You hesitate, the words catching in your throat. But Vi just waits, patient as ever, her hands never leaving your skin.

Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, you admit, “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Vi scoffs. Actually scoffs. “Disappoint me? Baby, the only thing that disappoints me is hearing you say shit like that.”

You manage a weak laugh, but the ache in your chest doesn’t ease. “I just… I feel like I should be able to, you know? I feel like—like something’s wrong with me for not being able to.”

Vi’s expression softens, and she reaches up, cupping your face in both hands. “Nothing is wrong with you,” she murmurs. “Not now. Not ever. You’re safe with me, okay? We’ve got all the time in the world. You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart.”

Your throat tightens again, but this time, it’s not from frustration. It’s from the way she’s looking at you—like you’re everything. Like she’d hold you like this forever if you let her.

“Can I take care of you?” Vi asks, voice low, careful, like she’s handling something delicate.

You hesitate, but then you nod.

Vi’s lips brush against yours, barely a kiss, just a promise. Then she shifts, adjusting you gently until your back is against the pillows, her body sliding down the bed until she’s between your thighs.

“Just breathe, baby,” she murmurs, pressing slow kisses to your stomach, your hips, your inner thighs. “I’ve got you.”

And you believe her.

Her hands settle on your thighs, thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles against your skin. She doesn’t rush. Doesn’t push. Just waits, letting you feel every touch, every press of her lips.

By the time she finally kisses the inside of your knee, your muscles have loosened, your breathing deepening.

“That’s it,” Vi murmurs, nuzzling against the sensitive skin of your thigh. “There’s my good girl.”

Heat coils in your stomach, slow and steady this time instead of sharp and anxious. Vi feels it—feels the way your body reacts, the way your hips shift slightly, the way your breath hitches.

She groans softly. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Then, finally, finally, she leans in and drags her tongue through your folds, slow and deliberate.

Your breath punches out of you, your fingers tangling in her hair.

Vi moans, low and satisfied, and does it again.

This time, there’s no panic. No pressure. Just the warm, wet heat of her mouth, the slow, insistent strokes of her tongue. She doesn’t rush you, doesn’t chase after your pleasure like it’s something to conquer.

She coaxes it from you. Draws it out like a secret only she’s allowed to hear.

And fuck, it feels so good.

Your hips jerk against her, a whimper spilling from your lips. Vi groans into you, gripping your thighs tighter, holding you right where she wants you.

“That’s my girl,” she rasps, voice wrecked and desperate. “Come on, baby. Let me feel it.”

You moan, thighs tightening around her, and—

Oh.

Oh.

The pleasure slams into you like a wave, crashing hard and unrelenting, stealing your breath, your thoughts, your everything. You sob her name, arching, trembling, falling apart completely against her tongue.

Vi doesn’t stop. Not until you’re gasping, twitching, oversensitive.

She finally pulls back, pressing one last kiss against your inner thigh before crawling back up to you.

“There she is,” she murmurs, brushing damp hair from your face. “Knew you could do it, baby.”

You let out a shaky breath, still trembling as she pulls you into her arms.

[goldenroutledge]

if tomorrow never comes

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 2.0k

prompt: ❛ i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, i just have a lot on my plate. ❜. based on this request.

summary: in which you and carlos drift apart and the tension boils over on your anniversary.

a/n: i’m having so much fun writing these requests! thank you to everyone requesting :)

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“When do you think you can be here, Carlos?”

His voice is tight on the other end of the line, knowing that you won’t like the answer. “An hour. Ninety minutes tops.”

You want to scream out and repeat his answer back to him so loudly that he can hear from the balcony of your shared apartment. It’ll let all of Monaco know how ridiculous he sounds. The flight attendant’s presence at the other end of the cabin helps you keep your composure. “And you’re sure that’s it? One hour?”

“Yes cariño, I promise.”

“Don’t call me that when I’m annoyed with you.”

“Can’t help it.” Carlos smiles cheekily, you can hear it in his voice. You can’t help but roll your eyes, feeling that he’s not taking you seriously. Postponing time spent together, sometimes venturing into canceling dates altogether, was becoming too frequent for your liking. But patience had to be your strong suit dating Carlos. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah. See you soon.” You end the call abruptly, leaving him to a last minute business meeting while you’re sitting here, awaiting your boyfriend on the private jet he has abandoned. Then again it would only be considered abandoned had he shown up on time to begin with.

He’d returned home from training yesterday exhausted as ever, yet reassured you with the promise that you two would spend a few days on a quiet getaway for your anniversary. Just the two of you, alone together. A trip you’d been planning for weeks now, with the need to make it an anniversary you’d always remember. If getting away was what it took to get Carlos to relax again, to be with you free of any distractions from work, you’d do that.

Carlos regards his career with a dedicated spirit, diligently organizing his schedule to make sure nothing falls between the cracks. His training, his sponsorships, his future at Williams… As badly as he feels to leave you waiting, duty calls. A last minute Zoom meeting with a new sponsor held him back at the apartment for longer than he anticipated. While most people have already resigned themselves to the fact that they can’t have it all, Carlos Sainz is not most people. He’ll either have everything, or die trying. It’s one of the many traits you love about him. Your heart aches at the thought of it being what tears you apart.

“Champagne?” The flight attendant offers you the drink, one of two that was meant for your celebratory toast with Carlos to kick off your anniversary trip.

“Thank you, it’s been a long day.” The flight attendant gives you a sympathetic smile, watching you down the drink with no effort. If this keeps up, it’ll be a long weekend too.

–

Once Carlos finally joins you on the plane, his ask for forgiveness is difficult to deny. He brought you a bouquet of flowers so large they took up their own seat on the plane, and he hadn’t stopped showering you with love since he arrived. Something about making up for lost time, he’d mumbled into your ear when you questioned his overwhelming affection. The colors of the flowers tied in beautifully with your outfit; Carlos was sure to capture it with a few photographs.

His attention to detail was another thing that you loved about him, it drew you in everytime. When you’re together like this, free of the outside noise, you wish it could last forever. Always on the other end of the phone or outside the airplane window is something ready to whisk him away. Ideally, an anniversary spent with him would consist of a lazy morning making breakfast together, simply basking in each other’s company.

His company was hard to enjoy when you were barely experiencing it, now sitting alone at your anniversary dinner hours later. Your mood turned sour when Carlos excused himself to take a call, walking away from the table before you had a chance to express your distaste. The tension that had been simmering between you two was bound to bubble over once again as Carlos returned to your table with a guilty look, phone to his ear as he ended his call with his cousin/manager.

You didn’t bother to look up, taking your anger out on your meal instead, poking and prodding the food with your silverware. It was a delicious meal that did nothing to deserve a brutal assault by fork and knife, ruining its picturesque presentation.

“Mi amor, I’m sorry.”

“Did you know that the more you say those words, the more they lose their significance each time?”

He sighs, running a stressed hand through his dark hair. “You know the kind of pressure that I’m under right now, cariño. How much this year has worn on me in general. Please, I just need you to be a little more-”

“Understanding? Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.” You cut him off harshly, and the look you give him across the table is worth flinching from.

“You have. And I feel terrible, but it won’t last forever.” He attempts to soothe your worries, reaching for your hand. You don’t accept or deny his touch, you’re just still. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“You’re right, Carlos. It won’t last forever. You’ll make sure of it.”

“What do you mean by that? You think we’re going to break up?”

“I’m saying that if you don’t make time to nurture our relationship, there won’t be a relationship left! I’ve been here, Carlos. For you, for us, while juggling my own life and career, so don’t tell me it’s impossible. There was a time when you balanced it all before, when you weren’t working yourself to the bone because you decided you have something more to prove to the world.”

“I’m trying to balance everything, but it’s not always going to be smooth sailing. You know it’s not easy.”

“I know it’s not. I don’t need it to be, but I miss the days when you felt like our relationship was worth making time for. When I wasn’t the last of your priorities.”

“Maybe I miss the days when you understood that I’m not always going to be available for you 24/7.” Carlos rants, feeling defensive at how this time, the gloves are off, you’re finally letting Carlos feel the weight of the burden you’ve been carrying– loving enough for the two of you. Your pounding heart reminds you that it’s impossible to carry on like this. Something has to give. “Do you realize how much time I’m spending away from training to be with you? Is that not making time for our relationship?”

Tears prick your eyes in frustration, the air suddenly feeling warmer than before. Your nervous system begs you to get out of there, to leave the conversation before either of you say something you’ll regret. If it hasn’t been said already. “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t even need any of this! I just want you! I remember the days when that wasn’t too much to ask for.”

Your hand has long dropped his, and Carlos’ eyes widen in panic as he watches you move out of your chair. “Amor, stay. Please, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Confliction moves through you like a strike of lightning, torn between staying to talk it through or taking a moment of space, after pouring out the feelings you’d spent so much time locking away. The last straw is when your waiter approaches your table, holding a small cake in his hands. On the top of it is a picture of you and Carlos together on your first anniversary, more content and in love than ever. A candle burns on the cake and wax melts down the sides, resembling the tears that wish to fall. Carlos’ eyes plead with guilt, begging you to stay and forget. Smile and pretend that right now, you’re still that happy couple printed on the cake.

Instead, you throw your napkin to your plate. “I need some air.”

–

Carlos watches you go, he doesn’t stop you. A timeout will do you both some good right now. He tries to tell himself that it’s not that bad. Couples fight. But he sits there, sullen, knowing that he’s fucked up this time. His heart burns as he stares at the picture of you two on the cake. It’s unbearable, and that little surprise he orchestrated now feels like a pointed joke at his expense. He blows out the candle and the light goes out. But closing his eyes won’t help his fear of the dark. Even he can’t run from this.

He finds you outside of the restaurant, sitting on a bench, staring down into the renewing waters of the fountain. It’s mesmerizing, the way you can drown in the sight and get lost in the calming sound. He slides his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, mi amor. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just have a lot on my plate. But that’s no excuse to put our relationship on the backburner. I’m so, so sorry.” Carlos presses a chaste kiss to your temple, and feels comforted by how you subtly lean into his space. It’s a step. “I love you, and I’m going to listen to you. I want to make this better because there’s not a life for me without you in it. I need you, cariño. I want to be with you, always.”

“I’ve felt so disconnected from you lately and being here on our anniversary, reminded of all the happier times we’ve shared, I just… that scares me. I’m scared we won’t get back there if there’s any more distance between us.”

“I should’ve seen it sooner. The truth is, I am able to do what I do because you’re always there. You support me when things are up, when they’re down. When I lost my seat, when I got sick with appendicitis, when I won races… you’re there for it all. I took you for granted thinking that I could give everything I have to my career, when it’s you who deserves it.”

“You do give it everything, but I think you’ve lost sight of things a little bit. Usually you give me everything you have too, I mean the little cake with us on it… I love that you did that for me, Carlos. I’m only so upset because I love you too.”

Those words haven’t stopped echoing in his mind. He swears he’ll engrave them into his brain forever, as long as you’re happy. “Maybe I have been overcompensating a little bit, feeling pressure to make things perfect in my career. The year has been difficult, but I couldn’t have gotten through without you.”

You kiss his cheek, warming up to his affectionate words. He’s sincere, he truly means them. “You’re more than enough, Carlos. Just the way you are. Weathering the storm isn’t always easy but there’s nobody else I’d rather be with either.”

“Can we start over?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

“I have an idea. Should I throw my phone into the fountain, cariño? You’ll have my undivided attention for days.”

“Tempting, but no. Keep your phone dry, my love. Would you be opposed to going back to the villa? Enjoying the rest of the night in?”

Carlos wiggles his brows, as he recognizes that familiar glint in your eyes. One that shimmers with hope and longing. “We do have a pretty sweet cake being boxed up as we speak.”

“Maybe we can light the candle again? I promise I won’t leave the room this time.” Your hearts soar at the thought of blowing out your candle together, hands held as you make a new promise to each other. The past years together have been bliss and the rainbows have always shined through the cloudy skies. The next years together, you will wish for the same and even more.

“Anything for you, cariño. Happy Anniversary.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you with no choice but to cup his jaw and bring your lips to his. The cool breeze outside is no match for either of you– you’ve got your love to keep you warm.

“Happy Anniversary, Carlos.”

💌: thanks for reading! reblogs & comments are very much appreciated :)

taglist: @marjorieswrld

[gracie-eilish]

our girl💞 (pt. 2)

an: i was inspired to write this like FOREVER AGO by a tik tok this woman made talking about how she found it impossible to sleep the night after she gave birth. just knowing her little dream baby was real and right there next to her. so i wrote it finally LMAO

ok i srsly promise this is the last one for this weekend hahah! actually though, im going out of town tomorrow until monday night/tuesday so i might be MIA on here anyways but i promise i won’t bombard you with my baby fever anymore hahaha!!

part 1

The room was dark and quiet, save for the occasional hum of machines and the distant beeping of monitors in the hall. The soft glow from the small nightlight near the bassinet illuminated just enough for Billie to stir awake. At first, she wasn’t sure what had woken her—maybe it was the subtle shift in the air, or maybe it was just her natural instinct as a new mom kicking in.

She blinked sleepily, stretching slightly before swinging her legs over the edge of the extra hospital bed for visitors. As she moved to stand, she glanced to her right—and there you were, laying on your side, wide awake. Not just awake, but completely entranced, eyes locked onto the tiny bundle nestled in the hospital bassinet.

Your daughter was awake too, just staring right back at you with those wide, curious newborn eyes. Neither of you moved. Neither of you made a sound. Just two little souls, taking each other in.

Billie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Baby,” she whispered, voice thick with sleep, “why are you still up?”

You blinked, almost startled, as if you hadn’t even realized Billie was watching. Your lower lip trembled as your gaze flickered to her. “I…” Your voice cracked, and suddenly your eyes were shining with fresh tears.

Billie’s teasing smile softened instantly. She crouched down to sit softly on the bed, her warm hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, my love?” she murmured, wiping away a stray tear with her thumb.

You sniffled, laughing a little at yourself. “I just… I don’t think I’ll ever fall asleep again.”

Billie frowned slightly, tilting her head. “Baby, you had quite the day. You literally gave birth. You should be resting.”

You shook your head, another tear slipping down your cheek. “She was just in my tummy, B. For nine months. We talked about her, we dreamed about her, we waited for her…” Your voice wavered as you looked back at your daughter, eyes glistening with overwhelming love. “And now she’s here. She’s real. And she’s looking at me.” Your breath hitched. “I can’t believe this is real.”

Billie’s heart clenched, love swelling inside her chest until it was almost too much to contain. She leaned in, kissing away the fresh tears that rolled down your face. “Oh, baby,” she whispered, brushing her fingers through your hair. “It’s real. She’s real. And she’s ours.”

You let out a soft, shaky exhale, nodding. Billie smiled, helping you sit up and get comfortable before she finally stood, squeezing your hand once more before heading into the bathroom.

When she returned, she found you in the exact same position—sitting up now, but still completely absorbed in watching your daughter, your lips slightly parted, your expression nothing but pure awe. Your eyes were teary but full of joy.

Billie smirked, shaking her head fondly. “You’re obsessed, huh?”

You blinked, looking up at her with a watery laugh. “Completely.”

She let out a breathy chuckle before stepping toward the bassinet. “Alright, I know the cure for this.”

She reached down carefully, her hands expertly cradling your daughter as she lifted her from the bassinet. The moment your baby was in her arms, Billie melted. She rocked her gently, pressing featherlight kisses all over her tiny face. “Hey, little lady,” she whispered, brushing her thumb against her impossibly soft cheek. “You keeping Mama up? Just staring at her like she’s the best thing in the world?” Billie grinned as your daughter yawned, her tiny lips parting, her face scrunching slightly. “Yeah? I get it. She’s my favorite thing to look at too.”

You wiped at your face, your heart swelling so much it almost hurt.

After a few minutes of mommy-and-baby time, Billie turned to you, maneuvering your daughter carefully. “Alright, my love. You need the full experience.”

She placed the baby gently against your chest, making sure she was positioned just right. The moment that tiny, warm weight settled on you, you sucked in a breath, your hands immediately coming up to cradle her. Her little head rested right over your heart, her tiny hand grasping at your skin.

You closed your eyes, biting your lip to keep yourself from crying again. A quiet, breathy giggle escaped you, overwhelmed with the feeling of it all.

Billie laughed softly at your reaction. “Oh my God, you’re squealing,” she teased. “You’re literally gonna combust.”

“I might,” you admitted, voice muffled against your baby’s head. “I can’t help it, B. This is the best feeling in the world.”

Billie let out a soft sigh, her expression tender as she climbed onto the hospital bed beside you. She snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, while her other hand rested gently on your arm, fingers brushing over the baby’s tiny back. She pressed her forehead to your shoulder, needing to be as close to both of you as humanly possible.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were the occasional distant beeps from the machines and the soft, sleepy breaths of your newborn.

Then, your baby let out a tiny, soft yawn, nestling even closer to your skin.

Billie let out a breathy chuckle. “Okay. Yeah. That’s the best feeling in the world.”

You nodded, still smiling, still tearful, still overwhelmed with love. “Mm-hmm.”

A beat of silence passed before you spoke again, voice sheepish.

“Can we have another one?”

Billie’s head shot up, her eyes wide as she gaped at you. “Babe.”

You giggled, snuggling closer to her. “What? I mean… look at her.”

Billie groaned playfully, but the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Oh, I am looking at her. And I’m also looking at you, my crazy, adorable, baby-obsessed wife, who just gave birth like hours ago and is already asking for round two.”

You giggled harder, shrugging. “I can’t help it. She’s perfect. We made her.”

Billie exhaled dramatically, shaking her head, but she was smiling so big her cheeks hurt. She pressed a long, lingering kiss to your forehead, then another to the baby’s head. “Let’s get through this one first, superstar,” she murmured, her voice laced with so much love it made your heart ache.

You hummed, letting your eyes drift closed, the warmth of Billie’s embrace and the tiny weight of your daughter lulling you into a peace you had never known before. “Deal.”

And as Billie held both of you close, her heart bursting at the seams, she knew—this was it. This was the dream.

[thebramblewood]

For one night only, Glimmerbrook University and the Council of Sages proudly present Mr. Mysterio's Floating Circus!

Previous / Next

I must direct a massive thank you to @surely-sims and @doctorsimcraft for not only their incredible Simblreen set but also the stunning build and Sims that accompanied it, without which I could never have mustered up such a beautiful backdrop. I added the carousel, but the rest is theirs. Eternally grateful for your generosity and talent!

Morgyn: Have you had enough time to consider it yet?

Caleb: Consider what?

Morgyn: [rolls eyes] You know what.

Caleb: I’m still not sure it’s a good idea. People already gossip. Living outside the Realm — with your vampire lover, no less — will only open you up to more scrutiny.

Morgyn: I’m not a monk, Caleb. I can live wherever I want with whoever I want, and it has no bearing on my role as a Sage.

Caleb: [tilts head uncomfortably] They seem to think it does.

Morgyn: They may be traditionalists, but deep down they know a little modernization is good for the Realm. Besides, there’s hardly another spellcaster waiting in the wings to take my job. They can’t fire me.

Caleb: That won’t stop the general public from clamoring for it anyway.

Morgyn: A small minority maybe. Spellcasters have never been a monolith, and the younger generation is more open-minded than ever. Cross-occult discrimination is at an all time low. Gemma just turned in a paper on it.

Caleb: [grunting with effort] Lilith wouldn’t like it.

Morgyn: Ah, now we get to the crux of your argument. Respectfully, Caleb, I know she’s family, but she’s also selfish and manipulative. Your philosophies are no longer compatible, if they ever were. Would it kill you to admit you’ve grown apart?

Caleb: Yes, she can be cruel, but it’s only because-

Morgyn: She’s jealous, of course. She wants you all to herself. But you’d think after a century you’ve earned the right to your own life. It would benefit you both.

Caleb: What if it’s just too soon?

Morgyn: [chuckles] You may be an old man, and I’m no spring chicken myself, but five years is plenty long enough. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life.

Caleb: [quietly] But it won’t last forever. You’re keeping old age at bay for now, but one day you’ll have to relent, and then-

Morgyn: That’s a problem for the very distant future. [whispers] Just promise you’ll keep thinking about it.

Caleb: I’ve thought about it.

Morgyn: And?

Caleb: Let’s do it.

Morgyn: Great! There’s an adorable little cottage for sale on the outskirts of Glimmerbrook. We can swing by and see it before you head back-

Caleb: [laughs] You were never going to let me say no, were you?

[hazelira]

at least, once

The night air is cold against my skin as I step outside, the weight of my luggage dragging behind me. The streetlights flicker faintly, casting long, lonely shadows across the pavement. Our house looms behind me, silent and still, like a graveyard of memories I no longer belong to.

My breath shudders as I exhale, watching it dissipate into the night like all the words we never said. I don’t look back. If I do, I know I’ll break.

Ni-ki is still inside. Maybe asleep. Maybe awake. Maybe standing behind the door, listening, waiting for me to change my mind. But we both know that won’t happen.

It hurts. God, it hurts.

But love doesn’t always mean staying. Sometimes, love is knowing when to walk away before the pieces left behind become unrecognizable.

I clutch the handle of my suitcase, my fingers trembling. I should have seen this coming—the way the late-night conversations turned into silence, the way his touch became hesitant, the way his eyes searched for something in me that wasn’t there anymore. Or maybe it was, and he just stopped trying to find it.

A tear slips down my cheek, and I let it.

"Maybe you won’t love me again," I whisper into the void, my voice cracking under my heartache. "But at least I got loved by you once, and that was the best feeling ever."

And with that, I take my first step away.

The suitcase wheels rattled against the pavement, a quiet echo against the stillness of the night. Each step away from him, from our love, felt like ripping apart a piece of myself. But I had no choice.

Ni-ki told me it was an accident. That the girl kissed him, that he pulled away. But all I could think about was—what if it wasn’t? What if, for just a moment, he forgot that I was his? I forgot that I was the love of his life, supposedly.

What if, years from now, we got married, had kids, built the future we used to dream of—and he saw her again? What if he still thought about her? What if, behind my back, he met her in secret and whispered apologies against her lips the way he should have whispered them to me?

The thoughts wouldn’t stop. They clawed at my chest, suffocating me. I didn’t want to live a life full of what ifs. I didn’t want to wake up every morning wondering if I was enough. Suppose I would always be enough.

So I left.

And now, the sun was rising over a Ni-ki-less future.

His POV:

The bed was cold when I woke up.

I reached out instinctively, searching for her warmth and familiar weight beside me. But all I found was space.

My heart dropped.

“Babe?” My voice was hoarse, sleep-rough, but there was no answer.

The air felt wrong. The silence screamed louder than anything.

I stumbled out of bed, my chest tightening as I rushed through our house. The bathroom? Empty. The kitchen? Empty. The front door—unlocked.

That’s when I saw it.

The missing suitcase. The empty closet.

She was gone.

A shaky breath left me as my knees hit the floor. My mind raced, replaying every last word, every last look. The way she trembled when I told her. The way her eyes darkened with thoughts she didn’t say aloud.

I thought she’d stay. I thought she would yell, cry, tell me she hated me, but still choose me anyway.

But she didn’t.

I pressed a hand over my mouth, my body trembling.

She left.

Forever.

Your POV:

The morning light creeps through the cheap motel curtains, bathing the dull room in soft gold. But no warmth reaches me. The sheets are stiff, the air stale. Everything about this place screams temporary—just like us.

I pull my knees to my chest, staring at my phone on the nightstand—no missed calls. No texts.

Ni-ki hasn’t called.

I don’t know if I should be relieved or shattered.

Maybe he’s still asleep. Perhaps he woke up, saw I was gone, and decided I wasn’t worth chasing. Maybe this is proof that I was right to leave.

But why does it hurt so much?

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push away the image of him waking up, running through the house, calling my name—only to be silent.

Would he cry? Would he sit on the floor, his head in his hands, wondering where I went wrong?

Or would he… move on?

I bite my lip to keep the sob from breaking free.

I want to believe he’s hurting like I am, that this is tearing him apart, too. But I also want to believe that leaving was the right choice.

I can’t have both.

I press my forehead against my knees, swallowing the ache in my throat.

Maybe in another life, I would have stayed.

Maybe in another life, he wouldn’t have let me go.

His POV:

The house is too quiet.

Too empty.

It doesn’t feel like home anymore, not without her.

I sit on the floor, staring at the space where her suitcase used to be. My fingers dig into my hair as I replay last night repeatedly. The way her face fell when I told her. The way her lips trembled like she was holding back a scream.

She didn’t yell, throw things, or demand to know why.

She just… left.

I should have stopped her. Should have grabbed her wrist, pulled her into my arms, begged her to stay.

But I didn’t.

Because deep down, I knew—she wasn’t just leaving because of the kiss.

She was leaving because of what it meant.

She thinks I’ll do it again. That someday, years from now, she’ll be sitting at home with our kids while I’m out somewhere, lips pressed against another girl’s.

And the worst part? I can’t blame her for thinking that.

I never got the chance to tell her—tell her that it was never a choice, never a moment where I forgot she was mine.

Because forgetting her? Impossible.

She is in everything. The way the pillows still smell like her shampoo. The tea mugs on the counter that she always forgot to clean. The way the sun hits the window just right at this hour, the same way it used to catch in her hair when she sat in this very spot.

She’s everywhere. And now, she’s nowhere.

I reach for my phone, my hands shaking. I stare at her contact, my thumb hovering over the call button.

What if she doesn’t answer?

What if she does?

What if she’s waiting for me to fight for her?

I take a deep breath and press the call.

It rings once. Twice.

Then—

"The number you are trying to reach is unavailable."

The automated voice cuts through my chest like a blade.

She blocked me.

And just like that, I know—

She’s really gone.

His POV:

I keep staring at my phone, my mind racing with thoughts I can’t escape.

What if I never told her?

What if I had just swallowed the guilt, buried it deep inside, and let it rot within me instead of breaking her heart with the truth?

Would she still be here? Would she be curled up on the couch, waiting for me to wake up so we could eat breakfast together? Would I still hear her laugh echo through the house, still feel her fingers tangle in mine, still see the love in her eyes when she looked at me?

I told myself that honesty was the right thing to do. That I owed it to her. But now, I wonder—did I just ruin everything for nothing?

It wasn’t my fault.

I didn’t know the girl. I didn’t even see it coming. One second, I was standing there, and the next—her lips were on mine. Everything happened so fast. I pulled away immediately. I didn’t kiss back. I didn’t even hesitate before pushing her off me.

But none of that mattered, did it?

Because in her mind, the damage was already done.

She didn’t just leave because of the kiss. She left because she couldn’t live with the possibility of me hurting her again. Because she thought that someday, I would forget she was the love of my life.

But she was wrong.

I could never forget.

I press my palms against my face, squeezing my eyes shut.

If I had just kept my mouth shut, if I had just held her a little tighter that night and never let her feel like she had to run—

Would she still be mine?

Or would the truth have found its way out eventually, tearing us apart in an even worse way?

I don’t know.

And maybe I never will.

Your POV:

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting in my car, hands gripping the steering wheel, staring at nothing.

The bags are still in the backseat, untouched. I was so sure when I packed them—so sure that leaving was the right thing to do. That I had to go before I convinced myself to stay in something that would only hurt me later.

But now, I don’t know anymore.

Ni-ki told me the truth. I didn’t even give him a chance to explain everything, to tell me what happened in full. I just let my mind take over, drowning in worst-case scenarios until I felt like I was suffocating.

And now, sitting here alone, I keep asking myself the same question.

Why do I always run?

Every time someone hurts me, even if it’s unintentional, even if they don’t deserve to be abandoned—why do I leave before they get the chance to fix it?

Ni-ki isn’t perfect. He made a mistake. But I know him. I know his heart. I know the way he looks at me, like I’m the only thing that matters.

I still love him.

I love him so much it terrifies me.

I glance at my keychain, my fingers brushing against the silver house key.

I still have it.

He didn’t change the locks. He didn’t throw my things outside. Maybe…maybe he’s waiting.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the key and step out of the car. The cold air stings my face, but I barely notice as I make my way back to the house.

I stand in front of the door, hesitating.

What if he’s asleep?

What if he doesn’t want me back?

What if I’m too late?

I shake the thoughts away and slide the key into the lock.

The moment the door opens, my breath catches.

There he is.

Ni-ki is sitting on the floor in the dimly lit living room, his back against the couch, his phone hanging limply in his hands. He looks exhausted—eyes red-rimmed, hair a mess, his hoodie wrinkled like he hasn’t moved in hours.

The second he sees me, he freezes.

We stare at each other, time stretching between us, hearts hanging in the balance.

And then—

“...You came back.” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

I nod, my throat tight. “I never really wanted to leave.”

He swallows hard, like he’s trying to hold himself together. “Then why did you?”

I step inside, letting the door click shut behind me. “Because I was scared.”

Silence. A thick, fragile silence.

Then he stands, his movements slow, careful, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he moves too fast.

“I need you to know something,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “That night… I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t even see it coming. The moment it happened, I pushed her away. And the only thing I could think about was you. How much I love you. How much I—” His voice catches, and he swipes a hand down his face. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat, my vision blurring. “I know.”

Ni-ki takes a shaky breath. “Do you?”

I nod, stepping closer. “I let my thoughts ruin everything before you even had the chance to explain. I ran because I thought it would be easier than staying and facing it. But I—” My voice wavers, and I look down, hands trembling. “I don’t want to keep running from the people I love.”

A pause. Then, a whisper. “You still love me?”

I look up, and for the first time since I left, I smile. It’s small, hesitant, but it’s real. “Yeah. I do.”

Before I can say anything else, Ni-ki closes the space between us, wrapping me in his arms so tightly it knocks the air out of my lungs. I bury my face in his chest, breathing him in, feeling his warmth, his heartbeat racing against mine.

He’s shaking.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs into my hair. “I thought I lost you forever.”

I close my eyes, holding onto him just as tightly. “You didn’t.”

And in that moment, I know—

We’re not perfect. We’ll make mistakes. We’ll hurt each other sometimes.

But love isn’t about running when things get hard.

It’s about finding your way back.

requested by: anonymous

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

@seonhoon @dollrincess @ethanatvre @rei4sunoo @shxhdsstuff @jakeflvrz @laylasbunbunny @jiiyen @saphiranishimurashan @lovelycassy @starry-eyed-bimbo @babyboomysweetie @24svnn @pinkglitterpuke @mellowgalaxystrawberry @dolliewon @s1rawb3rry @freaky-enhamadswriter @aishigrey @yangjungwonnie @lilmarsh-t @hoseokteardrop @mrsjjongstby @ro-diaries @ijustwannareadstuff20 @leilamaybelyla @celestialen @yejisuu @kpopslays @berryberrystrawbery @jungwon101

[geowrites03]

A Part of the Family

Part 1 ~ Getting Adopted

Batfam x Fem!Orphan!Reader

Summary: Y/n is just another kid left out on the harsh streets of Gotham, all having to fend for themselves. She however had a friend in low places. But, what will happen if this friend gets sent to Arkham Asylum? Who will she have to save her from the dangers of this god awful city?

“Waylon!” I called out as I stomped on the manhole cover to get his attention. He usually came by now, I hope the Bat didn’t get him again. But much to my shitty luck.

“It’s no use kid, Batman got him last night.” I look over to see Selina there. She isn’t wearing her Catwoman suit which is surprising because of how late it is.

“You probably helped him somehow, too.” She looked at me quizzical. “Everyone knows that the Cat and the Bat got something going on.”

“Okay, but what if I say that, I didn’t help him?” She came closer and wrapped her arm around me so we could walk to somewhere else because she noticed a small group of sketchy guys walking towards me.

“Then I guess I can… Share some of my food? I usually split it with Waylon, but…” She laughed and shook her head.

“No I was kidding, I don’t want anything. You can keep all the food to yourself tonight.” She stopped walking and put each of her hands on either of my shoulders. “I take that back, I want one thing. You to stay safe, Waylon won’t be back for awhile ‘cause he always takes forever to escape, so please, stay out of trouble.”

I nodded and gripped one of her hands for reassurance. “I promise.” She smiled down at me, then got a message on her phone.

“I have to go now. Bye, and I mean it, Stay Out Of Trouble.” I nodded again as she ran off.

I looked around to see if the group of guys was still following us but it looks like we lost ‘em. Now all I have to do is find a place to eat my food.

Deciding that up on a hard to get to roof would be best, I put my food in my backpack so I don’t drop it. I climb up onto a dumpster, jump to a ledge and climb up a pipe. It wasn’t that hard to onto which made me a little uneasy but nobody would be that desperate to jump from a dumpster to a skinny ledge and then climb up a single, small, water pipe for 5 stories.

I get my food out of my bag, I got what I always get. A cheap burger and a small, curly fries from a small take out shop. But tonight, because I can’t give Waylon his and I already bought it, I get double that, besides the fries being a large, and some nuggets. I was feasting tonight.

I couldn’t eat all of it though, I still had the extra burger, some fries and some nuggets left. I put them back in the takeout bag and into my backpack. I slide down the pipe and jump to the ground from when it ends. When my feet hit the ground I’m met with a voice I wasn’t planning on hearing tonight.

“What were you doing on a restricted rooftop?” The latest Robin’s voice called. I looked his slightly lean figure up and down, rolled my eyes and walked away from him.

“Look, why don’t you go deal with some actual crimes, rather than someone just trying to find a safe place to eat.” He scoffed and started walking the opposite direction. I decided to be extra bitchy, not caring who I’m talking to, even though I could most definitely out run him. “And thanks for putting Croc away too.”

“Why are you sarcastic about me putting away a villain that deserves it? Shouldn’t you be relieved that a threat is off the streets?”

“A threat? Waylon was the only person looking out for some of us kids living on the streets who can’t protect themselves. Those random ‘defenceless’ guys that kept showing up in the ER nearly scratched to death? That was him protecting us. Now some of us have noway to protect ourselves.”

~

After a mini dispute with Robin I was back to my usual activities of pickpocketing random people walking down the street, while keeping an eye out for quiet safe spaces to sleep for the night.

Just like most nights there weren’t really any ‘safe’ places so I decided to stay awake and moving all night. I sighed, I haven’t slept in 4 days and it was really starting to take its toll on me.

I was walking for a while when I finally caught onto a car that has been following me for awhile tonight. I subtly try to look at it to see if I could possibly identify it. I could, it was one of the orphanage coordinators cars. I also notice a police car behind it so I couldn’t try and run again. These bitches are really persistent.

I stop walking and the car pulled up next to me. The driver rolled down the window, it was one of the old and rude coordinators.

Bruce’s POV~

“Look Lee, I already said that I’m not currently in the position to take in another kid, I have enough on my plate.” I sighed talking to the woman on the other line. “As much as I would love to help a child in need, I just can’t at the moment, I’m sorry.”

“Please, Bruce she’s already gotten in too much trouble at the orphanage and is on her last strike.” The hospital where Lee works helps out the Gotham Orphanage by providing free health checks and regular check-ups, so she is often concerned about these kids. “She’s on a 5-strike system, but she’s already run away 5 times Bruce. This was the last straw before they kick her out, please. Even if it’s just for a little while to see how she’ll adapt.”

“Can I think about it overnight?” She agreed and I ended the phone call.

Y/n’s POV~

Here I was back in this horrendous room, just for one night though, they finally want me out. I put my small amount of belongings that were surprisingly still here in a duffle bag then climbed into bed.

I wondered where I would end up being sent, or if they even had anything planned for me at all. It wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep.

~

One of the coordinators, Jessie, woke me up with a harsh shake and ushered me out of bed and to get changed. She left as I was getting changed so I had the opportunity to slip a pocket knife into my bra, another in my pocket of my shorts, another in the inside pocket of my jacket, and one down my sock but not visible due to my shoe.

I gathered my two bags, had the duffle bag hanging off of one shoulder and backpack on the other shoulder.

“Oh. No, leave them there for now, you’re only going to meet with him.” She said when I opened the door.

“Him?” I asked confused while putting my bags on the bed that was most likely no longer mine.

“Yes him,” she nodded and ushered me out of the room. “He might adopt you, and if he doesn’t then I don’t even want to know where the head of the orphanage is going to send you.”

I merely nodded and followed her into an office where the head of the orphanage, Agatha, and Bruce Wayne were already sitting. Across the table from them there was an empty chair and another on the side of the table, that Jessie had already made herself comfortable in.

“Don’t be shy, y/n you can sit down.” She had said to me, I looked at her and sat down in the chair.

“Y/n this is Bruce Wayne,” she put on one of her big, wrinkly, fake smiles, and I rolled my eyes. Of course it’s Bruce Wayne, I don’t live under a rock, though I might have lived inside of one at the current state of this orphanage, “he might end up adopting you today.”

“Hi y/n.” He stretched his hand out to me for me to shake, I looked to Jessie. Then at his outstretched hand, then at his face. I shook his hand while looking in his eyes and let out a weak ‘hi’.

~

Meeting him didn’t go that well but I seemed to have made somewhat an impression, considering I was now on the drive to Wayne Manor. The drive was already too long and boring, he had stopped trying to ask questions, as I would only give him small mumbled answers.

I looked around the interior of the backseat of his car. I was distracted by something when he said, “I’m sure you don’t need a pocket knife on you, let alone four.”

I was shocked by his words and that he knew how many I had on me, and to be honest, I didn't know why I had four to begin with, it was definitely a little extreme to have that many on me, so I played it off with a shrug.

“I collected them.” I lied, “and I couldn't carry them out in my bag because it got checked by one of the workers, so I kept them on me.”

“You have a lying problem, kid, but you don’t have to lie anymore, you’re safe now.” Was all he responded with as he kept his eyes on the road.

Did he just guess that my lying was a form of protection? He wasn't wrong, but I was still surprised he caught on, how could a billionaire CEO be so perceptive? Was it because he had taken in other orphans and guessed based on their behaviours, or was there more to the story?

[polo-drone-070]

Losin meself in da footie drill - Third Session – Proper Fukin’ Gone, Bruv

Links : Session 1 Session 2 Session 3 Final Session I dunno, man. This one? This one’s different.

Last time, I came outta it still hearin’ orders in me skull, still feelin’ the drill like it never stopped. Thought it was just hype, just me pushin’ meself harder.

But now? Now I barely even feel like me when I step onto the pitch.

I strap me boots on. Kit’s tight. Muscles buzzin’. Soon as the helmet’s in sight, me hands fukin’ itch to grab it, to lock it down, to let it take me.

And when it does?

Gone.

Not even a second to adjust—just pure football. No hesitatin’, no transition, no me.

"Recover. Regroup. Target. Tackle."

Body moves before the commands even land. I don’t need to process nothin’. I already know.

Lad’s got the ball? I take it. Gap in the defense? I fill it. Opponent in me way? I slam through.

Me body’s unstoppable—powerful, precise, pushin’ past limits I didn’t even fukin’ know I had. Every muscle burns, but I don’t fukin’ care. Coz I ain’t thinkin’ about the pain. Ain’t thinkin’ about nothin’ at all.

There’s no past, no future. Just action. Just obedience.

And fuk, bruv, it’s fukin’ bliss.

Drownin’ in the High of It

I never knew it could feel this good.

Better than winnin’. Better than smashin’ through a tackle. Better than anythin’ I ever fukin’ felt.

It’s like I’m floatin’ in me own skull, but I ain’t even really there—just driftin’, light, weightless, while me body does exactly what it’s meant to do. Every move is perfect, every motion precise.

Like I was made for this.

An’ the best part? Ain’t gotta think. Ain’t gotta make choices. Ain’t gotta fukin’ be anything except a body movin’ for the Gold.

I wanna stay here forever.

I wanna go deeper.

I wanna let the commands swallow me whole so there’s nothin’ left—just footie.

Just Gold.

Visor Up—But I Ain’t Back

Then—light. The visor lifts.

I expect the snap-back, the crash, the exhaustion. The rush of bein’ me again.

But it doesn’t fukin’ happen.

I’m still there.

Me vision’s weird, like I’m still readin’ the pitch, still waitin’ for the next command. Me breath’s too steady, me stance still firm.

And worst of all?

The orders haven’t stopped.

Still whisperin’ in me skull. Still guidin’ me, loopin’ like the game never ended.

"Recover. Regroup. Target. Tackle."

A bro claps me back. “Oi, bruv, you back in the room or what?”

I don’t fukin’ react.

"Uh... uh..." I try to say somethin’ normal, but it won’t fukin’ come. "Sprint. Close gap. Reposition—wait, nah, fuk, I mean—uh, bruv?"

They laugh, tell me I’m just hyped. But I fukin’ know.

Somethin’s wrong.

Or maybe… somethin’s right.

I ain’t just trainin’ anymore.

I ain’t just learnin’ plays.

I’m becomin’ it.

And then it hits me.

Next time, I ain’t comin’ back.

Like, not ever.

I can feel it, deep in me fukin’ bones. Next session, the helmet goes on, and that’s it—no more Maximus, no more thoughts, no more anything. Just Gold. Just footie. Just bliss.

And fuk, bruv—

I fukin’ welcome it.

For the win. For the team. For that addictive fukin’ bliss I can’t live without anymore.

_______________ Join the Gold Team and get brocessed into a proper jock... or even more. Contact recruiters @goldenherc9, @brodygold or @polo-drone-001.

[baekhyunsbestie]

⟢ angsty breakup w baekhyun req by @mayamore 🥹 u will b paying for the heartache i am experiencing, sweetheart 💘💓💖💗💞

the rain pours in relentless sheets, drenching you to the bone, turning your clothes into a second skin, heavy and clinging. but the chill doesn’t touch you—not when baekhyun is kneeling before you, fingers curled into the fabric of your coat like a drowning man grasping for solid ground. his grip is desperate, white-knuckled, as if sheer force alone could keep you tethered to him. as if holding on tight enough might rewrite the inevitable.

“please, sweetheart,” his voice is a ruin, frayed at the edges, trembling under the weight of something far greater than desperation. “please don’t do this. we can fix this. i can fix this. just… don’t go.”

his words crack, raw and uneven, splintering under the weight of the storm. the rain drowns them, but you still feel each one, sharp and jagged, embedding itself deep in your chest like shrapnel. you can’t look at him—god, you can’t, not when every broken syllable is tearing through you, unraveling you from the inside out.

your breath shudders, and you squeeze your eyes shut, as if that could somehow hold back the ache clawing up your throat, the grief pressing down on your ribs like a vice.

it’s always like this. baekhyun reaching for you when it’s already too late, his love crashing over you in waves—overwhelming, all-consuming—but never in time. and you, forever stranded on the other side of the glass, fingertips pressed against something you can never quite touch. always waiting for him to catch up. always waiting for something that never fully arrives.

every fight, every misstep, every unspoken word. every night spent inches apart in the same bed, close enough to feel his warmth but too far to bridge the distance between you.

it all leads here.

you love him. god, you love him with everything in you, so much it threatens to hollow you out completely.

but love has never been the problem.

it’s everything else.

“baekhyun…” his name slips from your lips, barely more than a whisper, fragile and splintered, like glass on the verge of shattering. you force yourself to look at him and the sight nearly guts you.

his eyes, rimmed red, swim with unshed tears, rain tracing sorrowful paths down his cheeks. he shakes his head, disbelief bleeding into devastation, fingers tightening around your wrists like he can tether you to him, like he can stop you from slipping through his grasp if he just holds on a little harder.

“you always run,” his voice cracks, unraveling mid-sentence. “you always run before we can figure it out. why won’t you just let me fight for us?”

his words hit like a fist to your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“because i’m tired,” you whisper, the confession heavier than the storm pressing down on you. “i’m so tired of fighting to be understood.”

his breath hitches, but you push forward, the truth clawing its way free. “we always miss each other, baekhyun. you never say what you mean until it’s too late, and i don’t know how to keep waiting for you to catch up to me.”

something in his expression crumbles, a fissure splitting through his hope, but you can’t take it back now. not when your heart's already breaking.

“don’t do this,” he pleads between kisses, his voice a raw, desperate thing, muffled against the damp fabric of your clothes. “don’t walk away from us. from me. i can be better. please—just let me try to be better.”

his tears seep into your clothing, warm against your rain-chilled skin, each drop a quiet devastation. his fingers dig into your hips, gripping like a man clutching at the edges of a dream, terrified of waking up to find you gone.

then his lips drift lower, tracing ghost-like over your knuckles before he takes your hands in his, pressing trembling kisses to each finger, like he’s memorizing the shape of them, the taste of you—like if he can just hold on long enough, you won’t slip through his grasp.

“i love you,” he murmurs between each press of his lips, the words falling from him in quiet, fervent prayers. over and over, like a mantra, like a promise he wishes he could keep.

his hands cup yours, shaking, pressing your palms against his rain-slicked cheeks as he breathes you in. and when you don’t pull away, a broken sob escapes him, raw and wrecked.

his forehead falls to the backs of your hands, his breath hitching as he confesses, “i don’t know how to do this without you.”

then, softer, more shattered than before—“i love you.”

and that’s the cruelest part—because you love him too. love him so much it feels like your ribs are collapsing under the weight of it, like your heart is caving in on itself, crushing you from the inside out. love him so much that walking away is the hardest thing you’ll ever do.

before your resolve can slip through your fingers, you kneel, hands trembling as they find his rain-slicked face, cupping his cheeks with a gentleness that contradicts the devastation between you. your thumbs brush over tear-streaked skin, tracing the remnants of sorrow that have carved their way down his face.

and when you look at him—really look at him—you see everything. every memory, every piece of your history together flickering across his expression like a reel of film unraveling in real time. the good, the bad, the beautifully unbearable. midnight drives with the windows down, laughter tangled in the wind. soft-spoken “i love you’s” against the curve of his neck, whispered like secrets meant only for the dark. the fights that shook the walls, the slammed doors, the apologies that never quite healed the wounds. the way he held you like you were something sacred, the way he’s holding you now—like he doesn’t know how to let go.

his lashes cling together, dark and heavy with rain, his eyes searching yours like they might still find salvation there. and for a moment, you let yourself memorize him—every warmth, every tremor, the way he leans into your touch like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

like if he can just stay in this moment a little longer, he won’t have to face the next one.

“i love you too, baek,” you whisper, and his breath catches, his eyes flickering with something fragile—hope. desperate, pleading, aching hope.

but then you press a kiss to his forehead, lingering just long enough for him to understand.

“always,” you murmur, a final vow, a quiet farewell.

and just like that, the hope in his gaze fractures. crumbles.

because he knows.

this isn’t a pause. this isn’t a fight you’ll resolve tomorrow or next week.

this is the end.

you pull away, and this time, he doesn’t stop you. doesn’t beg, doesn’t reach for you. his hands fall away, limp in his lap, his head bowing forward as a sob tears from his throat.

you turn before you can second guess yourself, before you can fall apart completely.

and as you walk away, as the rain drowns out the sound of his grief, you wonder if you’ll ever stop loving him.

but you already know the answer.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ more baekhyun angst plssssss

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[mx-metronome]

[alexturner2005]

yesterday my parents brought home a new dog without telling me first, knowing that i’m not ready for another dog yet after the death of my last one 🙃

[lionblaze03-2]

sometimes I think about writing and singing music not because I’m an incredible singer but because no one has my fucking voice, especially in popular music, and its disheartening to be born a girl, told you’ll only get girl roles or try to voice match other girls, or ‘sing with the girls’ and then only be able to match male voices because you’re a fuckin tenor and not anything higher. I can’t think of any girl Broadway roles I can hit all the notes on. Most songs I love I have to pitch down for myself or use falsetto for singing along to. It bothers me a lot less now because I’m an adult who’s more secure in myself but as a teen in kids musical theatre it FUCKED with me, BAD style. And I know for a fact that even now when I hear people with a voice like mine singing I get excited and immediately invested in their work because they’re like ME, finally, for once. A brother in this world of being afab and having the voice of a recently pubescent boy forever. Maybe I should be that brother too.

[dailyautophagy]

SORRY BUT IM JUST TOO PRETTY TO BE UPSET

[rashfcrd]

*

[pepprs]

misery despair suffering etc etc

[sophiewagentje]

.

[pepsimaxolotl]

Even though I know I’m making the right choice deferring next year to try uni again later, god I do I feel fucking awful about it and I’m dreading every moment going forward