#or an emotional connection to any of them

[kiragecko]

(Just realized that everything I'm about to say only counts for long-term relationships. Short-term relationships ... work differently.)

This conversation is hard, because consent¹ and emotional needs are BOTH poorly taught (or not taught at all). If you only learn about consent, you can really hurt yourself by accepting consistent 'no's for things you actually need, or really hurt loved ones by giving consistent 'no's for things THEY need. If you only learn about emotional needs, you can really hurt others by insisting that your needs get met no matter what, and really hurt yourself by trying to meet other's needs you don't have the resources to meet.

Figuring out if 'having sex' or 'not having sex' is a need for any members of a relationship is IMPORTANT. Figuring out how often it needs to happen (if it does) is important. Figuring out if there are other ways to get emotional needs met, or if sex is the only way for someone, is important! And if partners can't figure out how to find a balance that works for everyone, talking about whether the relationship can work is ALSO important.

It's only when those questions have been discussed that consent gets valuable, in my opinion. Consent is important for individual requests, but it can run into issues when trying to support long term patterns of action.

Asking for sex is a type of bid for connection. To have a healthy relationship, it's good to be responding positively to the majority of the other person's bids for connection. Making frequent bids for connection in areas the other person has said they don't want to connect in can be really damaging for both of you. So can refusing to ever connect in areas that are really important to the other person. It HURTS to hear 'no' when you're asking to share yourself with someone else! And it hurts to feel like the only ways to connect to someone else are through things that are painful. Partners need to set up a structure where not consenting is SAFE - and that often includes figuring out ways to minimize when it's likely to happen, so the 'no's don't get a chance to build up.

-

My partner and I are still fine-tuning the sex bids 16 years into our marriage. I'm sex-neutral/positive, but it's hard to get interested, and he doesn't really want an uninterested other party. We did a lot of damage when younger - he asked frequently enough that I felt pressured to say 'yes' more than was healthy for me, and I was saying 'no' enough that he ended up insecure in our connection. We've gotten to the point where I feel free to say 'no', only start feeling guilty if I've said the same thing the last 4 or 5 times, and don't feel like he's pressuring me. But we're still working on getting him feeling safe to ask again, because the rejections have worn him down.

-

¹ I'm using the word 'consent' to refer to "saying 'yes' or 'no' to a specific request". It can also be used to refer to broader agreements or refusals, but those often require a MUCH more nuanced response than 'yes' or 'no', so I'm separating them out.

I feel like too many consent-related posts focus too much on giving and getting consent, and not making sure that people feel comfortable not consenting. We talk too much of consent as if it is a given, as if you just have to ask and then you’ll get it. 

like, there are so many things that boil down to “before you have sex, ask for consent” rather than “don’t assume you’re about to have sex unless you know for sure that the other party/parties want to, and even then they could change their minds”.

Which is just really unhelpful. The whole point of consent shouldn’t be “you should always ask for it and then you can have care-free sex”. That still assumes that you’re going to have sex, when the whole point of asking what people want to do is that it should be possible to say no.

Consent and dissent are both equally valuable. It’s OK if someone asks you if you want to do something, and you say no. And whether you say no for today, for a week or forever, it’s all fine.

Because you know that there are going to be people who think they’re so ~progressive~ and so ~feminist~. when they ask their partner(s) if they want to have sex, but then won’t be able to handle the word “no”.

[becauseheartsgetbroken-hs]

Do you have any harry fics you’d recommend on here and on wattpad?

you asked for fic recs and i took the assignment very seriously (maybe too seriously? lol) my friend so here's a list that i think you'll vibe with:

on wattpad:

duplicity by happydays1d (i know, i know i always talk about it but this one has me absolutely feral. 😭 it’s dark, dramatic, and addictive in a “just one more chapter at 2AM” kind of way lol. but what really got me? the character development. 🥹 like, watching these characters unravel and rebuild themselves is truly amazing. i’ve been thinking about them way more than is normal hehe - plus duplicity harry is my pookie 🥹)

complicity by happydays1d (it's sequel to duplicity - if duplicity wrecked me, complicity came back for the emotional leftovers lol)

*also bonus recs if you find yourself enjoying a julez (happydays1d) binge reading (like me):

malignant, hideaway, devotion (it's her earlier work and while they have more like a "chaotic fanfic energy" vibe, they’re a blast to read. also i think it's super fascinating to see her growth as an author - major props to her! 💞)

*moving on*

devil's due by petit_cerise (okay, so i didn’t connect with this one as deeply as the others - but that’s 100% a me thing. a ton of people love it, and i still had a great time reading it.🥰 it's beautifully written and the drama is like on fire.)

flower girl by @sushirrrry (my bestie laur @daydreaming-laur recommended it to me and it’s such a beautiful story: soft in some ways, gut-punching in others and the characters feel so real)

*also these are on my TBR and I’m dying to get to them, i just haven’t had the time (or emotional strength) yet lol:

aerial by peanutboyfriend (this one’s been haunting my TBR thanks to my friend dreea @fkinavocado , she has amazing taste and if she says it’s great, i believe her. 🙌)

nine blue signs by littledovedoll (someone recommended this to me on here a couple months ago and it’s been quietly sitting on my list ever since. i haven’t read it yet, but my friend laur @daydreaming-laur has and she loved it - and honestly, if laur’s into it, that’s all the endorsement i need 🥰)

stall by MysteryMixtapes (this one’s is also a classic but i haven’t read it yet - i know, i know - but it’s been on my radar forever. everyone who's read it seems obsessed, and the hype has me very curious.)

cherry by fuxkingharrry (everyone says it’s so well written and basically great. so yeah, i have to read it!)

on tumblr (a mix of old loves and new finds):

okay so some of these are like classics 💕 (the kind that stay with you forever and you come back to them every now and then) and others are more recent gems i’ve come across. they’re a mix of series, one shots and blurbs bc i didn't know what you'd preferred:

404 by @freedomfireflies (well obviously, this wouldn’t be a proper rec list if i didn’t mention @freedomfireflies 💖 her writing just hits! there’s always so much heart, tension, and ✨vibe✨ in her words. this one is one of my absolute favs - it’s sharp, emotional, and laced with just the right amount of angst. the writing is so atmospheric, and the tension? *chef’s kiss*.)

pillow talk, the playboy, the angel and the fae by @freedomfireflies as well. (well she has this uncanny ability to get inside her characters’ heads and make you feel everything right along with them and basically if she wrote it, I’m reading it. that's it.)

butterfly boy by @looselucy (okay, butterfly boy is everything. i’m talking laughing, crying, full-on emotional rollercoaster. it's just so well written with so much heart. amazing, truly!)

a toast to the future by @narryffdreaming (toast to the future is one of those fics that’s just.. wow 🤯 dani has this rare talent for making her characters feel so real, like you can practically hear their thoughts. it's actually mind-blowing how she can dive into those layers of complexity while still making it feel so natural.)

teach me by @jarofstyles (listen- teach me is so hot like really hot 🔥 the writing is so smooth and it really sets the mood.)

off limits by @harryslittlefreakk (fire. this one has that perfect mix of steamy tension and just a hint of angst that makes the whole thing like so hot.)

enigma by @heartateasee (the angst? top-tier. the misunderstandings? so deliciously painful. the tension? you could cut it with a knife. loved it.)

talk nerdy to me also by @heartateasee (what can i say? HOT, HOT, HOT.)

no loss by @adorebeaa (like, flirty banter? great. sexual tension? off the charts. would read it again in a heartbeat- she absolutely nailed the vibe✨)

hawthorn also by @adorebeaa (hawthorn is like watching a movie in your head like it's amazing)

truth or dare and sex tutor by @gurugirl (her writing feels always so effortless. she just knows exactly how to make every story hit just right.)

something old by @didhewinkback (i read it a while ago and i’m seriously thinking it might be time for a reread - that’s how much i loved it. honestly, it’s the kind of story that stays with you long after you’ve finished it, and i can’t wait to dive back into it again)

harry and Y/N are in the same ballet class, and they hate each other by @jawllines (let’s just say that this one had me feeling things. like, I’m over here blushing and squirming in my seat because that harry? holy hell.. 😩 he had me weak in the knees.)

oh also this one by @jarofstyles (it had me blushing and kicking my feet - loved it.)

press play by @cloudyluun (well, if you like your fics with a big dose of passion and intensity, this one will definitely leave you flushed in the best way hehe)

his angel by @ghstyles (it's the perfect mix of a little dark and a little soft hehe it keeps you totally hooked!)

player, do anything, make her regret it and valerie by @watchmegetobsessed (her writing is sharp, creative, and emotionally rich. every story feels fresh. she’s just so talented.)

it's you by @ijustmissyouraccenths (the writing is so good, the vibes were on point and now i’m super curious to check out more of her work. definitely keeping an eye on her stuff from now on.)

okay so… i definitely got carried away. like, hard. 🥲 i started this thinking i’d rec a few fics and i ended up here lol i had so much fun putting this together (shoutout to 1d for soundtracking the entire chaos and keeping me emotionally charged through it all lol) i know i forgot some amazing stories and authors, and for that i'm so sorry! seriously though, how lucky are we to have writers who pour so much talent into these stories? 🥹

anyway, hope you find something here that makes you feel things or just gives you a really good time! 😍 let me know what you think, and happy reading friend! ❤️

[distantreverbs]

Tonight's episode really highlighted how Buck and Eddie actually have a very conditional and somewhat one-sided friendship, something that deeply contrasts the romantic relationship between Buck and Tommy. Because despite the latter couples woes, they have shown time and time again the unconditional and pure love they are capable of sharing together, which will only be amplified once they work through their current shortcomings as a couple.

Buck and Eddie;

While Evan Buckley has so often offered Eddie — and many others, to be clear — his unconditional love and support, he has also embarked on an endless journey of self-reflection. He may not be perfect and he has no doubt made some pretty significant mistakes throughout the show, but what he is is someone who is capable of looking inward, learning, and doing his best to improve, even if the process is sometimes messy or slow and too little too late. No, Buck isn't perfect, but by god, he's continuously evolving and maturing.

(I'm sorry, but Evan Buckley is very much not the one who has been stuck on the hamster wheel like so many in fandom love to claim. That lovely "honor" would actually go to Eddie Diaz.)

Buck also has a lot of love in his heart, to the point where it sometimes overwhelms and leads him astray. But even so, his intentions are almost always pure and connected to the important people in his life. In summation, his heart and the love cast from it is extremely unconditional and wrapped within a casing of overwhelming loyalty and selflessness, some missteps aside.

Eddie Diaz, on the other hand, is quite the opposite. He'll love Buck — and other people, to be clear — but with a condition, one that is so often unspoken, but always lurking beneath the surface. With Eddie and conflict — be it his own or belonging to others simply seeking his guidance and support — there always seems to be this line drawn in the sand, a line representing what Eddie is and is not willing to put up with. And once you cross that line, he'll have very little patience or consideration for you and your feelings. It will show through not just overt or passive aggression, but also unapologetic projection.

The way he came at Buck in tonight's episode is a glaring representation of this:

It's easier for Eddie Diaz to look at everything as black and white, especially when it's convenient for his narrative, than it is to partake in self-reflection pertaining to his personal grief and struggles. It's easier to put the blame on his best friend, rather than acknowledge how he is not processing his own grief very well at all. It is easier to accuse his best friend, who is clearly hurting and crying out for help, that he's being selfish, than to make any attempt at taking on the pain of others while also grappling with his own. It is easier for him to fly his son back to LA to distract his best friend, than it is to take any semblance of accountability for his recent actions and actually fucking apologize. (Hoping this ages poorly because he apologizes in the finale.) It is so much easier to accuse his best friend of making everything about himself, than to acknowledge that, in this moment, he's actually the one doing so. It is easier for Eddie to grab Buck, corner him, and generally physically intimidate him, than it is to actually hear Buck out and understand his reasoning and perspective. Because... God forbid, he has his often black and white ideologies — and the emotions rooted in them — challenged. It's easier for Eddie Diaz to keep repeating the same mistakes in his life, than it is to actually work on his issues and truly evolve, even if those mistakes trickle down to the people around him, including his own son.

In summation, if Buck and Eddie were actually canonically together, I would be praying that the writers were setting up a season finale breakup, so that Buck can move on with his life and find someone who won't minimize his feelings to highlight their own, all while using physical aggression to intimidate and shut him down, or use their son to manipulate him into forgetting about what happened. Because whether the writers intend to follow up on this or not, or do or do not recognize the severity of Eddie's actions, I know what bullshit I witnessed unfold on my screen tonight.

Buck and Tommy;

I'll just be blunt here because this post is already in danger of getting too long...

Tommy Kinard would never pull the type of shit Eddie Diaz just did. Tommy may have some issues of his own that he needs to address — including his own tendency to project onto others, in addition to running away versus talking shit out. But had he been the one with Buck tonight, he would have never minimized the pain Buck was experiencing just to elevate his own, nor would he have grabbed and cornered Buck to maximize the severity of his pain and anger.

At "worst", Tommy would have gently reminded Buck to remember that people are grieving in their own way, similar to how Maddie handled Chimney, or Karen handled Athena, in the very same episode. And he would have done so, all while still considering and prioritizing Buck's feelings. And at best, Tommy would have asked Buck how he could best be there for him, because that's the type of person Tommy is. And to give Buck his own credit, he would have apologized if Tommy expressed needing more support and consideration, and then followed through after said apology. And Tommy would have been completely receptive of this and worked with Buck to ensure that both of them received the emotional support and consideration they both need. Because, ultimately, they are both mature and emotionally loving and supportive individuals — again, some missteps aside. While Eddie Diaz, sorry — but not sorry — has shown he just isn't. Not yet, at least. Buck and Tommy have shown they're capable of being a true partnership in all the ways that matter, while Eddie has made his friendship with Buck incredibly one-sided.

(Man, Buck. I am honestly proud of the man you've evolved into. You've come a long way, despite some in this fandom pretending you haven't and gleefully waiting for you to crash and burn more than your loved ones and other colleagues whenever a challenging situation occurs.)

While Eddie is quick to make Buck feel like he and his problems are "too much" to take on, Tommy would be mortified if he ever did the same, much less more than once.

I'm so glad Buck will have Tommy back in his corner soon, whether it be in the finale or sometime during 9A, because Tommy is the person Buck so clearly needs in his life right now. Buck needs someone who is going to reciprocate everything he is so eager to offer, and Tommy so clearly needs and is willing to do the same.

[imperialtopaz]

pick a pile - what the person in your mind feels about you? (romantic ver. / quick reading)

pile 1 - ��� pile 2 - 🍌 pile 3 - 👻 pile 4 - 🌲 pile 1 🎪 ➼ page of cups reversed ➼ this person is repressing their feelings for you because of a past trauma or bad experiences in their past relationships. they have too much on their plate right now so being in a relationship or getting involved with someone will be too much of a burden to them. you won't be seeing your relationship with them going anywhere atm. pile 2 🍌 ➼ 6 of pentacles ➼ this person is hiding their true intentions towards you. whatever they are feeling towards you doesn't feel genuine, it feels more.. transactional. maybe they think they can benefit from this connection because you have something they want; money, popularity or reputation etc.

pile 3 👻 ➼ 8 of cups ➼ this person loves you, they love you enough to move forward with you even if there are uncertainties in your connection. even if they are overwhelmed by their feelings. this person envisions a future with you and wants to include you in their future plans. ➼ for those that just recently met this person, this person sees you as a possible romantic interest. they think you might have been someone they prayed for or manifested into their lives.

pile 4 🌲 ➼ 5 of cups ➼ i'm not seeing any communication between you and this person, maybe you ghosted each other? or you're both waiting for each other to text first? either way, they feel sad about the lack of communication. this person has developed a certain misunderstanding about you, they're currently perceiving you as someone who is closed off and it's hard to read your feelings. deep down this person feels a lot of emotions but is afraid of showing it to you in fear of being "too much". i also think they're used to being the one getting pursued by others. so, the fact that you don't reach out to them instantly (like other people have in the past) makes them think you're not as invested in this connection.

[regretismyconstantcompanion]

Albus watched Harry closely, his heart softening at the quiet sincerity in his words. Harry seemed to be searching for something, trying to make sense of his emotions, and Albus could see the uncertainty behind his determination. The conflicting feelings were clear, and Albus understood better than anyone how easy it was to feel torn between two desires—one for stability, the other for something more elusive.

The warmth Harry spoke of wasn’t lost on him. Albus could feel it, too, that pull between them, the connection that seemed to settle over them like a blanket, one that was as comforting as it was unsettling. Albus said nothing for a long moment, letting the silence stretch between them.

"I understand," he said quietly, breaking the stillness. "It’s not always the grand gestures or the great adventures that make us feel alive. Sometimes, it’s simply... being in the right place, with the right person." His voice softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I think I’ve spent most of my life looking for answers, trying to find something grander, something more."

Albus studied Harry for a moment, as if weighing the unspoken thoughts that hung between them. The warmth in Harrys eyes, the subtle shift in his posture. Albus could see the truth behind his words. But that only raised another question.

"If you're staying," Albus began softly, his tone careful, "what is it that you're intending to do? I can't imagine you'd be content just sitting idly here with me forever. There is more to your life than this, I know that much."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze both inviting and tentative. "But if you’re truly willing to remain here... I could use your help. I’ve always found peace in tending to the animals and the garden, you know. It might be a good distraction, something for us both. You could assist me with them, feed them, care for them. There’s something about the simplicity of it that’s grounding."

Albus hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was pushing too much. "You don't have to make any decisions right now, but... it's an option. And we can take it one step at a time."

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on the couch, staring into the fireplace that was across from him. The crackling of the flames was the only sound breaking the silence in the cottage that was nestled in the Scottish Highlands. It was isolated, miles away from even the nearest village. He had chosen it for that very reason, desperate for solitude even if it wasn't something that had been forced upon him. He had lost the duel against Grindelwald. He had known that had always been a possibility. There were equals after all and had known each other painfully well. They had spent that summer duelling, friendly but pushing each others boundaries. They had grown and changed and become more powerful but their tendencies had lingered. The fight had lasted well over an hour but in the end, Gellert had just gotten the better of him and managed to disarm him and send him flying backwards. His only minor consolation was the fight had left them both panting and injured. But it had been clear who the winner was. There was no backing out of the agreement they had made. His time in Nurmengard had been brief. A chance to recover from the duel before Gellert gave him an ultimatum. He could remain free if he agreed to leave Hogwarts and retreat from the Wizarding World. Albus had already known he would leave the school, for certainly he had lost that right when he had failed his students and the Wizarding World as a whole. He had agreed, knowing Gellert wasn't giving him a choice and not agreeing would result in either his death or being imprisoned in Nurmengard forever or the deaths of those he cared about. And so here he was, over a year after the duel. Staring into the fire, sitting beside a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Books had been removed from the overflowing bookshelves, scattered around the room. Some had been read, some he hadn't even yet opened. Plain parchment piled up on the desk. Few knew where he was and so letters came rarely. He had picked some of the fruit and vegetables he grew in a small garden he tended to. Perhaps he would make some jams and chutneys if he could find the strength and motivation. It came sometimes, mixed in with the heavy weight of despair that seemed to fill his waking hours. He had failed. He had let down the wizarding world and now he banished just beyond the world he loved so much. He knew what was happening there, of course. He did his best to learn of Gellerts ongoing plans and rise to power. Without him there, there was nothing to stop him. He knew the few Ministries that still existed moved against him but it wouldn't take much for them to fall. Everything would be lost then and Albus knew he was powerless to stop it. @johamfated

[freakaz0-id]

for all the people out there that are upset about Ellie's change from "well you're a burden now aren't you" to "I'm gonna be a dad!", I think this will make the entire plot of the show wayyyy more emotional. Ellie being genuinely excited and happy for dina, ready to protect her at all costs, and not putting any sort of blame or holding any grudges against her because of her pregnancy is going to make the dellie breakup even WORSE.

I honestly think ellie and dina's connection has a lot more layers in the show than in the game so far (and as of right now). I think the way they're handling their relationship is so fucking perfect, and I know there's a handful of folks who disagree and want the show to be exactly like the game, but this is a really beautiful portrayal of love, and queer/sapphic love at that! we just don't have a lot of genuinely good sapphic media out there (that hasn't been cancelled...).

plus, CAN WE JUST LET THE LESBIANS BE HAPPY!!!! like everything is going wrong and will go even more wrong in future episodes, so just let them be happy for this tiny sliver of time my goodness!! 😭

[kiddotarot]

Planet, food and your taste .

There is a reson why the venus governs the taurus ♉️ and libra ♎️ sign in your chart and in kaal purush kundali . Venus is the planet of luxuries, money , abundantly , spouse, love and Beauty . Venus governs the 2h ( taurus) which represents money , your mouth and how you speak + 7h your ( spouse) your partnerships, business, how you represents yourself .

Planet in 2h mostly have major influence on your taste buds , food habit , eating routine, how your speak you style .

☆ Mars in 2h or its influence can give you major potential to eat spicy food . My friend have this placement in her chart and trust me she can eat 10/10 rated spicy food and she talks very straight forward and sometmes her words are harsh which potential lead to hurt and make people offensive. And mars or Aries ♈️ sign also represents head in your body so she also have pimples and cuts , spots on her face , so if you share this kind of placement this can be some things you can relate.

☆Satrun in 2h make your eating habit very disciplined and you only can get money if you have some control over your food habits . It can also give a person so blunt speaker , like always telling trust , speaking what ever they find trust and tell if they don't like something and can disagree with other people. Having this placment can make you live seprated or moving away from your family.

☆ Moon - as someone who's 2h ruled by moon , i can tell many people have there comfort food and do emotional eating well it also depends on whole condition of chart . But these kind of people can love the food of there home or any specific dish which your mom made and loose the apatite when struggle emotionally and mentally. People often speak very slowly and have great voice personally my classmate have to reminde me evertime to speak louder when i want to talk to them and even in class like i sound like going to cry. People with this placement can earn with food business, water business and any kind of art and feeding other can give you help in stabilizing money .

♡♡Thats why there is very famous saying in Indian household that don't eat food on bed ( cause it represents 12h which is house of loose ) so when you eat sitting on bed your 2h automatically connect with 12h and you can face money problem or unnecessary expenses.

Let me know your planet in 2h .

Buy your own reading .

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[wpdarlingpan]

The Shadow (Thunderbolts*)

Beginning Yandere Yelena x Anxious!Widow Reader

Beginning Yandere Bob x Anxious!Widow Reader

(Could expand to all Thunderbolts)

Female Pronouns

Summary: Former widow reader feels out of place in the watchtower, Bob and Yelena are here to remind her that her place is with them, they are family after all.

Word Count: 1.7k+

Warnings: Angst, Possible Spoilers, Depressive Thoughts, Anxiety, Use of Y/N, The Start Of Obsessive Behavior (let me know if I need to add more)

A/N: I absolutely loved the movie and had to write something for it so this is my first attempt. I hope it’s good and my requests are open (even if I may take awhile to get to them) so if you have any Thunderbolts ideas, let me know! <3

Being in the Watchtower after never having set a home for years was an odd experience, and from being on my own to having a team was an adjustment I hadn’t quite gotten used to.

I often sit in my room, as I am now, tucked into a window seat I requested from Valentina when we were able to decorate our rooms. As I stared out into the skyline, I couldn’t help but think why I was here.

John was… well, John. He was pretty good at acting like he was important.

Bucky was kind. Kinder to me than the others. Maybe he saw himself in me, or it’s because I’m too reserved to cause him trouble like the others.

Ava had her phasing abilities and was good at keeping up with the team's banter.

Alexei was like the team dad, supporting his kids' soccer team.

Yelena was a former Red Room assassin who paved her own path.

Bob is the strongest being on Earth.

Then there’s me. I can do what Yelena does, but not as efficiently, nor am I able to connect with others as she does.

Growing up in the Red Room made her want to help others and grow beyond what they wanted her to become. To me, it stunted me. I’ve never been able to move on. Every time I close my eyes, I see Katerina, the girl I killed on my first test to show my worth to the Red Room and almost desensitize my emotions from death.

She got out, she saved me and the other widows from Dreykov while I couldn’t even remember my name. Yelena was the new Black Widow, rightfully so, while I’m her shadow.

We have dinner together every night at Alexei’s insistence, and it was not like anyone really had any other plans. But even when we sit together, I feel the pressure of their stares. As if they are waiting for me to speak up.

I try to spend time with them so that they don't feel like they have a ghost in their home, but it is not much.

John and I watch television while he talks about something, and I listen.

Ava and I usually train or practice her abilities, I time her as she works on phasing for longer than a minute. 

Alexei makes me nervous; he is loud but never has said anything rude, although he makes me nervous when he says to speak up when he can't hear me.

Bucky and I usually read together, or sometimes he lets me stick magnets on his arm. That ones rare but it’s mainly when he can tell I need to fiddle with something.

Bob and I usually seem to just exist in the same space, letting ourselves use each other to be a lingering presence to keep us from the void.

Yelena… I avoid Yelena. I can’t face her; we know what the other has gone through, and I still can't bring myself to talk to her about it. She seems to be handling things better than I am, and I don't want to hold her back. She was older than I in the academy and advanced further than I did before we escaped, yet she found who she is, and I am still looking.

I can tell she wants to talk to me, it’s in the way she looks at me at dinner or the way her mouth opens slightly when I rush past her in the hallways. Even when she makes a sarcastic comment, most likely to Alexei or John, and I can’t help but laugh, I never say anything more.

I don’t even know why I’m here. I just am not special- I am cut off from my thoughts by a knock at the door. Looking over I spot Bob shyly poking his head in.

“Hey Y/N,” He stuttered out, not moving into the doorway yet as he rocked on the balls of his feet.

“Hey Bob,” I say softly, beckoning him inside. He lets out a small smile before joining me on the window seat. This had been a common occurrence for the past few weeks. He’d come in whenever he was overwhelmed by the team or simply to see me, as he claimed. I don’t see what he sees in me, yet he seems oddly attached.

I was surrounded by people, yet I felt just as alone as before. I was no hero to be worshipped, and the public agrees.

We sit in silence, and I appreciate it, while a part of me longs to reach out and start a conversation with the man who seems so easily approachable, yet I cannot even make the first step.

He reaches into his pocket, and I tense up nervously before he pulls out a simple locket. It was silver with a small star on the end. I look at him questioningly as he hands it over to me.

"Just in case you forget," Bob replied simply and tucked his hands away, surly twirling them nervously in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

I fiddle with it slightly before opening it. It was a picture of me and him on one side and the team on the other. I grip it tightly before looking up at him, confused.

“I can see the look on your face. The longing for a connection as you watch people around you smile at one another. But you are so deep in your own head that when people look at you, you see judging eyes over the soft smiles. I only say this because that was me. Before them and before you,” He spoke, pointing at the group in the picture. Each of them had their heads turned and were smiling at me in their own way, as my own was tucked. Although Alexei was just a corner of the face as he looked like he was taking the picture while looking at us. 

I stare at him wide-eyed. I realized I was not exactly hiding my feelings, but I was not expecting to be approached about them like this. Nor do I even remember the picture being taken.

“I-I just.” I couldn't bring myself to say anything more as he shook his head with a shy smile before grabbing the necklace from my hand and leaning in to put it on me. I close my eyes in fear of having someone so close, even though a part of me probably yearns for any physical connection. 

“Everyone cares about you in their own way. You just gotta open your eyes and see it… Don’t just tuck the void down. It’ll overflow and explode one day, I would know.” He tries to tease at his own expense before reaching over for my hand.

I stare at him in slight anticipation before a knock on the door interrupts us. Yelena is standing there, a hand still on the door as she looks at us.

“Did not realize we were having a heart-to-heart. I am getting good at those.” She says, walking into the room. “Can I have a second with Y/N, Bob?”

She looks at him expectantly as she stands in front of his spot at the window. I look at him desperately trying to tell him not to leave me. He seems to consider it for a moment before looking back at Yelena and nodding. 

“I’ll come back after.” He reassures softly, looking down at the necklace and smiling slightly before walking out and shutting the door. 

I curl into myself more at the thought of talking, let alone with only Yelena. 

“Why don’t you like me?” She asks straightforwardly, sitting down in front of me as she looks into my eyes as if she is staring into my soul.

“I don't not-” 

“Every time you see me, you run away, and even at dinner, you sit as far away from me as possible.” Yelena cuts me off immediately, and I gape at her, trying to find the right words. “Did I… Did I do something to you? In the Red Room?” 

She looks at me expectantly, but I can see the lingering heartbreak behind her eyes as she asks me that question. I did not even consider her resorting to that.

“No! No you didn't.” She lets out a sigh of relief “I just, you have been handling all this New Avenger stuff so well and connected with everyone on the team. You guys are like a family, a dysfunctional one, but still a family. I feel like a part of your past lingering behind you.”

Yeelan stares at me silently. I begin to fiddle with my fingers, and she reaches over, grabbing my hands into her own. I froze momentarily, not expecting this reaction before looking up at her. 

“You are a part of my past I would rather leave behind, yes, but that doesn't mean you are the one who hurt me. I see you, and I see the first good thing I did. You fought your way out once you were released, and I have never been so proud. And I only act like I am a good Avenger, I had the best model, you know.” She nudges me slightly with a smile.

“Natasha?” 

“My sister.” She confirms with a nod. “She was my older sister and without her I don't know what I would've done.”

“An older sister,” I say wistfully. Someone who would protect me, someone who could be that guiding light- I shake my head to knock myself out of the fantasy.

“You are not beneath me in any way, you are so strong. Stronger than I was at your age, and you have so much farther to go. To make a new name for yourself. You don't have to be a widow. Hell, if you don’t want to fight, I will keep you off of missions. But, maybe you can give me a chance to be for you what Natasha was for me. An older sister.”

My heart beats sporadically out of my chest as the locket and her hands ground me to the earth. A sister? After all of this?

“You don’t have to be alone, you know. I won't let you be ever again. Just let me in.” 

“Yes,” I whisper, and I see the joy in her eyes as her hands hold me slightly tighter. Completely missing the flicker of obsession growing behind them.

[athenalvss]

SECRET LANGUAGE ( circus! batmom )

summary: Batmom and Dick have a different connection than with the rest of the family, they even have their own language, causing the rest of the family to become exasperated.

pairing: batmom x batfam

open request — batmom masterlist

Although Batmom loves and protects all members of the Batfam equally, she shares a special bond with Dick Grayson. It wasn't about favoritism or privilege —there never was— there was simply something different about the connection between them. And while the rest of the kids understood (more or less), that didn't stop them from raising a fuss whenever something clearly exclusive happened between batmom and Dick. How dare they have inside jokes about their past lives right in front of them? Give each other those silent glances that sparked entire conversations without saying a word? It was outrageous!

Except for Bruce, he had given up a few years ago, he could never win his wife, and he wasn't trying either.

── .✦

Between them, they have a sort of visual code developed over the years: raised eyebrows, half-winks, tapping the table... any excuse to silently mock some absurd situation. The rest of the Batfam pretends not to notice, but they're fed up. How could they be left out of this?

That's why everyone was there gathered in one of the rooms of the big Wayne manor, well... "everyone" is a way of saying, everyone was there except you, Bruce and Dick, but the rest of the family was there sitting on the armchairs while they watched Tim enter with his computer.

Tim walked into the room with a confident stride, and with a satisfied smile, he projected the image, showing his hard work. "Welcome to the secret meeting of the marginalized children" he reached the center of the room, causing everyone to look at him, leaving a PowerPoint presentation titled "Spy Project: Sign Language According to Batmom" in the background.

"Does it have an index?" Steph asked, already taking mental notes.

"Of course it has an index" Tim replied, opening the first slide. "Section one: The gestures. Section two: The looks. Section three: Revenge on Dick."

"Shouldn't we call Bruce too?" Duke asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Bruce? Bruce gave up years ago," Jason said. "And he can't help, he doesn't even try to guess what they're saying."

Tim changed the slide. A slow-motion video showed a kitchen scene from two weeks ago: you, pouring coffee; Dick, leaning on the island; both of you shooting each other a quick glance… followed by a synchronized laugh. No one else was laughing. Just the two of you.

"See that? That was a complete, wordless joke! Wordless!" Tim exclaimed, pointing the laser pointer at the screen.

"And right after, Dick told me he was laughing at the dog on the news. Blatant lie!" Jason shouted indignantly.

Just as Tim was getting into the most important part of his analysis—a slide titled “The Raised Eyebrow: Criticism or Mockery?”—the door softly opened.

"And what are you all doing together? I like it, but it's weird," you asked with a relaxed smile, walking in with several recyclable paper bags in your arms.

Dick appeared right behind you, also laden with bags, and said with disarming ease "We went to get things for dinner. Mom wanted to make her lasagna, you know…"

The entire room froze. Everyone stared at the projector screen, which was still showing a snapshot of the two of you in what appeared to be an intense telepathic conversation during a gala.

Jason was the first to react, standing up from the chair with his arms raised. "I TOLD YOU WE HAD TO GO SOMEWHERE ELSE."

"What's all this?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dick looked at the screen, then at the group, then at you. "Were we being spied on?"

"Spying is a very hard word, it's just a deep analysis of your gestural conspiracy," Tim exclaimed normally.

"We call it... emotional connection" you said, calmly putting down the bags.

"And we call it 'betrayal,'" Damian muttered, arms crossed, visibly hurt.

"It's not treason if we've always been like this," Dick added with a smile.

"That doesn't make it better!" they all shouted at the same time.

You and Dick looked at each other. Raised eyebrow. Smile. And then you burst out laughing without saying anything.

Jason covered his face with his hands. "Of course they're doing it again. In our faces. No shame whatsoever."

Bruce watched silently from the stairs, nursing a cup of coffee. "I told you not to try to decipher it."

── .✦

The Wayne Manor dining room table was, as always, a battlefield disguised as a family dinner.

"You have to accept that Red Hood is a better public figure than you!" Jason bellowed, pointing his fork at Tim, who barely dodged it.

"Public figure? Please, your reputation is half a step away from an arrest warrant," Tim replied quietly, but with venom in every word.

"Tch. He's got it, Pathetic," Damian muttered from his spot, not even looking at the others, busy cutting his steak with surgical precision.

Bruce sighed. He said nothing, as usual. Alfred, stoic, poured more water with the elegance of someone who has seen a thousand wars at that table and survived them all. Amid all that noise, you leaned back a little in her chair and looked at Dick, who was sitting across the table. He wore a stoic expression, but when he felt your gaze, he raised his eyes. And then it happened: that knowing look.

It was barely a second. A meeting of eyes with a restrained smile, a slightly raised eyebrow on your part, and a slight nod from him. A silent gesture that said:

"Same thing again?"

"Always the same."

They both held back their laughter at the same time, as if they'd rehearsed it. No more need be said.

"Are you laughing at us?" Damian snapped, his fork in the air.

"No," you and Dick replied, perfectly in sync.

"Here we go again..." Tim muttered, "This isn't normal!"

"We're not doing this on purpose," they both said, again, at the same time.

Jason brought his napkin to his face. "Okay, this is disturbing."

"Have you been practicing?" Steph asked.

"No" you said in unison, and this time they looked at each other immediately after, holding back their laughter.

"Enough!" Tim shot up from his seat. "They literally have a secret script! It's like they share a neural chip!"

Alfred, unperturbed, poured more water. "I must say, master Tim, this has been going on for so many years that I'm surprised you're still alarmed."

"Thank you, Alfred," both said at the same time, without even looking at each other.

Bruce sighed and muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, "I never had a chance to fight."

Damian, arms crossed and looking annoyed, grunted. "This is unbelievable."

"No," Jason said, "It's a cult, and we're not part of it."

Dick shrugged at the same time as you. "We're not that predictable," you chorused.

and in unison they all shouted: "YOU SAID IT AGAIN!"

── .✦

It was a quiet night. Miraculously quiet. Everyone was sitting in the living room, no missions or alarms. Even Bruce was relaxed—relatively so—with a glass of wine in his hand. It was one of those family reunion nights they had every Friday night.

Tim was lounging on a beanbag with his laptop, Jason was flipping through a magazine without really reading, Damian was trying to teach chess to Steph, who was just moving the pieces around to annoy him. Alfred was passing by with a tray of cookies, ignoring the chaos with his trademark dignity.

But on the main couch, away from the rest, Bruce, Dick, and Batmom were surrounded by photo albums. They'd started under the guise of "organizing memories," but had clearly fallen into a nostalgic spiral.

Suddenly, a photo caught my eye: You were younger in that image, dressed in your iconic illusionist outfit, black top hat, black and white suit, with a shiny cape that reflected the light, and Dick, barely ten years old, in a tiny trapeze artist's outfit, smiling as he hung from a rope. The image showed a moment in the circus, when they were a different family, before Bruce came into their lives.

"It was fun living in the circus," you looked at the photos with a touch of nostalgia. "Except when the tiger escaped."

Dick immediately burst out laughing. "That was just one time! And technically, he didn't run away…"

"It's true, he didn't escape, you let him out."

The laughter shared between the two of you filled the room like an echo from the past. Bruce watched you with a mixture of curiosity and resignation.

"Were you always like this?" he asked, half joking, half serious.

"So how?" you asked with feigned innocence, while sharing a quick glance with Dick.

Bruce frowned as he watched from his seat, confused. "Was that a sign?"

"No," you and Dick answered in unison, with the same smile, that tone that made it clear it wasn't the first time they'd done it.

Bruce sighed. "But what does that tap on the arm just now mean?"

"Nothing" you said again, while Dick tried not to laugh.

"Liars" Bruce said with a resigned smile.

Then, very slowly, Bruce raised both eyebrows, tapped the table, and looked directly at Dick. There was a second of silence. Dick looked at him, you looked at him. And you both blinked, surprised.

"I've been practicing," Bruce said, with a hint of satisfaction.

"You did well, darling," patting him gently on the arm that was around your shoulders.

At that moment, from across the room:

"What's going on now?!" Jason yelled, throwing up his arms as if he'd just been betrayed.

"Bruce speaks your secret language too!?" Tim almost choked on his popcorn.

"This is... unacceptable," Damian muttered, squinting.

"Welcome to the club," Dick said, raising his glass to Bruce.

"They'll never understand," you whispered in Bruce's ear, smiling.

"I know. And it's glorious," he replied, his expression completely serene as chaos erupted around him.

[itsnesss]

𝐧𝐨 𝐢'𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | franco colapinto × fem!reader

summary | you and franco share a kiss, but you quickly convince yourself, "no, I'm not in love." still, his presence lingers, and despite the denial, the connection feels real

warnings | emotional tension, internal conflict, denial of feelings, kissing, mention of vulnerability

word count | 3.7 k

🖇️ sctw album 🖇️ more fc43

The city lights glowed outside your apartment window, creating a reflection that danced softly on the glass. It was a cool night, but inside the room, the warmth was palpable. Everything was in place: the TV off, coffee cups still on the table, the clutter of daily life. Next to you, Franco Colapinto was lounging on the couch, as carefree as always, but his eyes never stopped following you.

You, on your part, tried to avoid the penetrating gaze he was throwing from where he sat. He was silent, but you felt as if he was observing every gesture, every sigh that escaped your lips. Was it possible that he had already figured you out?

Franco was one of those guys who didn’t need to say much for his presence to be felt. He took his time, relaxed, but at the same time, there was something about him that always kept you on edge. Perhaps it was that strange connection between you, the one that defied any simple label, but one that was impossible for you to accept.

You turned towards the window, watching the lights flicker in the distance. You didn’t want to look him in the eyes, didn’t want to see that expression he always wore when he felt you knew something but weren’t brave enough to say it. And the worst part was, he was right. He knew there was more between you two. And even though you kept telling yourself you weren’t in love, the knot in your stomach said otherwise.

“Everything okay?” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts. It was soft, but with that curiosity that sent shivers down your spine. He had the ability to ask questions without seeming too direct, but you knew that, in the end, he always got the answer he wanted.

“Yeah,” you lied, forcing a smile, trying to make the insecurity in your eyes less obvious. “Just tired. You know, all this being here all the time…”

Franco raised an eyebrow, watching how you ran your hand through your hair. You weren’t convinced, not one bit.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, with a slight playful tone. But you knew he was looking beyond the obvious. Franco knew you too well, enough to catch every tiny crack in your facade. “Tired of what?”

Of you, you thought, but didn’t say. Instead, you did the only thing you could: divert attention.

“Of everything. Of the same routines. Of the same nights, of…” you let the sentence fade into the air. You didn’t want to explain what “everything” really meant. You didn’t want to talk about him, not in that way.

Franco let out a low chuckle, but not in a cruel way. It was soft, as if he knew something you didn’t want to admit, but he had no intention of pressing you for it.

“Mmm, sure,” he murmured, stretching his arms as he made himself more comfortable on the couch, lighting a cigarette calmly, letting the smoke dissipate slowly into the air.

The atmosphere between the two of you began to grow more uncomfortable. You knew he wasn’t stupid. You could feel the tension growing in the air. It wasn’t as simple as you were making it out to be.

“And your exes?” you asked casually, trying to distract him, change the subject. But, really, it wasn’t so casual. It wasn’t just curiosity.

Franco didn’t flinch. He kept staring at the tip of the lit cigarette, the glow of the fire illuminating his face in the dimness.

“My exes?” he repeated, as if it was the least important thing in the world. “I don’t care, you know. I don’t think about them much.”

But something in his tone made you doubt. That answer sounded too rehearsed. As if he were responding just to avoid digging into something that, in reality, he did care about. As if he had his own fears, though he didn’t want to share them.

In that moment, you realized he was acting just like you. Avoiding the truth behind a facade of indifference, just like you. You both knew what was between you, but neither of you dared to say it. You weren’t in love, but Franco… he could read between the lines.

Suddenly, without thinking, you said what you knew you shouldn’t:

“I’m not in love, Franco. It’s just… convenient, you know?” your voice sounded forced, almost as if you were talking to yourself to believe it. “I only come here because… you know, I don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s easier being here.”

Franco was silent for a moment, his expression turning more serious. He sat up straight, putting the cigarette in the ashtray as he stared at you intently.

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his tone now soft but filled with something more, something you couldn’t quite identify. Perhaps understanding, or maybe… disappointment?

You didn’t know. You didn’t know what he wanted from you. You didn’t know why you hadn’t walked away if everything was so simple. If everything was just… comfortable.

“Yeah,” you answered, unable to stop the doubt from creeping into your voice. “It’s all. Don’t get any ideas, Franco. I’m not falling in love with you, no… I’m not.”

He stayed silent, as if processing your words, looking for something in your expression that matched what you had said. But you knew, and you knew it very well. You had said what was expected, but you had realized yourself that it wasn’t true.

No, you weren’t in love.

But just like the sun always sets, something inside you told you that you were just hiding the inevitable.

Franco sighed slowly, a small smile appearing on his lips, as if he had decided not to push further, but also not let go of what you had just said. He didn’t say anything, but stood up from the couch, walked over to you, and without warning, gave you a hug. Something that was normal between you two, but this time you felt that there was more. It was a warm embrace, wrapping you in a bubble of security.

“You don’t have to lie, you know?” he whispered, his voice close to your ear. “I don’t care if you’re in love or not. I just know I want you here.”

Franco’s hug wrapped around you, but it didn’t give you the comfort you expected. Instead of reassurance, what you felt was a knot even tighter in your stomach. It was like the hug had a strange power over you, undoing all the walls you had built. It was so easy to be there, in his arms, as if a part of you really belonged to him, but that feeling only made you more aware of what you were denying.

He didn’t say anything else after those words. He simply held you close, silently, and it was that silence that made you the most uncomfortable. He held you like it was the most natural thing in the world, but you knew it wasn’t. You knew that if something changed between you two, it wouldn’t be as simple as going back to normal. Things were never that simple.

You pulled away slightly from him, but not enough to break contact completely. He looked up, meeting your eyes, and for a moment, he remained silent, as if waiting for an answer. The truth, the one you were trying to hide beneath a mask of empty words, was floating in the air between you two.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked suddenly, without thinking. The question slipped from your lips like an arrow launched aimlessly, but pointing directly at something deep. “Why are you still here? Why do you keep looking for me? You know this doesn’t make sense.”

Franco furrowed his brow, but not in a confused way. It was as if he already knew that sooner or later, you’d have to ask that. As if he knew you so well that he expected that doubt to come to the surface.

“Because I like having you close, and you?” His answer was simple, direct, and at the same time, it left you speechless.

You didn’t know what to say. Why did you like having him close? Was it really just for convenience, like you had been repeating, or was there something more? What would happen if you accepted that there was something more?

“I…” you began, but the words got stuck in your throat. You didn’t know how to continue. You knew that if you said what you really thought, you would be crossing a line you didn’t want to cross. But there he was, in front of you, as if it was so easy for him to say what he felt, while you could only hide behind a mask of empty words.

Franco observed your inner struggle and, instead of pushing, did something you didn’t expect. He slowly approached and, with a gentle movement, stroked your hair. It was such a simple gesture, but so full of meaning. And that’s when you realized that words no longer served. The silence between the two of you spoke more than anything you could say.

“You don’t have to say anything, okay?” he whispered, as if he understood everything you hadn’t said. “You don’t need to justify it.”

At first, you didn’t understand what he meant. You didn’t need to justify it? Really? Your whole life, you had tried to justify every move, every decision, so you wouldn’t be vulnerable. But now, Franco was offering you something entirely different: acceptance without judgment, a truth without the need for explanations.

But that momentary peace disappeared as quickly as it arrived when his next words made you snap back to reality.

"But, do you really think I don't notice what's going on?" his tone was more serious, his eyes deep, almost piercing. "I'm not blind, I know this goes beyond what you're saying."

The temperature in the room rose a few degrees. You felt trapped.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you lied, as usual, even though it hurt to say it.

Franco didn't flinch. Instead of getting upset or frustrated, he simply smiled faintly, that smile that bewildered you because you couldn't tell if it was a sign of triumph or an invitation to vulnerability.

"I know, and you do too." He took a step toward you, getting even closer. "What we're doing isn't just for convenience. It isn't, and you know it."

At that moment, the pressure on your chest increased. The truth was crushing you, and all you wanted was to escape from it. But how could you run from something you already knew was real? Franco was still there, so close, so present, and his gaze left no room for more lies.

In a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation, you took a step back, breathing deeply to calm yourself.

"I'm not in love, Franco," you repeated, though now your words sounded emptier than ever. "I'm just here because I need something. Something I don't know how to get anywhere else."

He studied your face, the way you avoided his eyes, the way you kept your distance despite everything overflowing inside you. He knew what was happening. He knew your words didn't match your gaze.

Then, unexpectedly, Franco took another step toward you. His closeness made you feel vulnerable, but at the same time, you were drawn to him like a magnet. You couldn't resist that attraction, that pull that made you want more, even though you denied it.

"I don't care if you don't want to admit it," he whispered, now so close to you that you could feel his warm breath on your skin. "The only thing that matters is that this is real, even if you don't recognize it."

Franco lifted a hand, gently touching your cheek, and his touch sent an electric shock through your whole body. You felt so confused, trapped in this game neither of you seemed willing to lose.

Before you could react, he leaned in toward you, with that intensity that always characterized him. You knew what was about to happen would change the rules of the game, but you couldn't turn back.

When his lips brushed yours, it was like a spark igniting a fire you couldn't put out.

The kiss was brief, but intense enough to make your heart race uncontrollably. The contact, the heat of his body so close to yours, was too much to process in a single moment. You stood there, frozen, your lips still trembling from the touch, as Franco slowly pulled away, watching you with that expression you knew so well. As if he was waiting for something more, but didn't say anything.

The air felt dense, heavy, as if time had stopped moving while you found yourself trapped in that instant. What had that been? Your mind was spinning, but your lips were still burning from the warmth of his kiss. Could it really mean something?

"That..." you murmured finally, but your voice cracked. You didn't know how to continue. You didn't have the words to describe what had just happened.

Franco didn't say anything at first. He simply looked at you with a calmness that disarmed you. It seemed as if he was waiting for you to break the silence. But how could you break it when everything inside you was breaking too?

"It wasn't an accident, was it?" Franco said suddenly, his words full of a sincerity that hurt more than anything else. "You know it wasn't just an impulsive kiss. You know there's more."

Your gaze shifted to the floor, as if you could find answers in the cold floor of the room. But there were none. The chaos kept growing inside you, stronger and stronger, and you didn't know if you wanted to let it out or keep hiding it under layers of lies.

"I don't know what I want," you admitted, and even though it wasn't what you had planned to say, those words fell from your lips without you being able to stop them. "I don't know if I want this."

Franco approached you again, this time more slowly, as if he were taking your emotional pulse, making sure not to cross the line you still weren't willing to cross.

"It's not about what you want or don't want," he said, his voice soft, yet firm. "It's about what you really feel. And even if you keep denying it, I know what you feel."

Your eyes looked at him, and for a moment, you realized what was happening. You were so terrified of feeling, of admitting that something had changed between you, that you had closed your eyes to the truth. Fear kept you prisoner in your own thoughts, in the idea that maybe it wasn't right, that maybe it wasn't okay to feel so vulnerable, so exposed.

But Franco seemed to see it clearly. He didn't need to hide anything, and that made you feel even smaller. It made you feel like maybe everything you had believed about relationships, about love, about desire, was a lie you had told yourself to avoid facing what you really wanted.

"What if you're right?" you said quietly, as if the words were poison, but you needed them to free yourself from that pressure. "What if what I want is this? What if all of this, everything we've done, everything we've said... isn't just confusion?"

Franco didn't say anything at that moment. His face remained calm, but his eyes shone with a mixture of understanding and something else, something that made you feel even more lost. He didn't expect you to have all the answers. He knew you couldn't solve it immediately, that there were still many pieces of the puzzle you needed to fit together.

And that was the worst part. The uncertainty you felt wasn't just because of what Franco might represent, but also because of what you represented to yourself.

Suddenly, the space between you two became unbearably large. A million thoughts flooded your mind, each more confusing than the last. You felt trapped between who you had been and who you could become, between what you thought you wanted and what you really needed.

Franco seemed to read your thoughts, or maybe he just knew what it felt like to be lost in the same darkness you were.

"You know you don't have to hide," he whispered, getting even closer. "You don't have to pretend that you don't feel what you feel."

His words sank deep, like a cruel reminder of what you already knew: that you could keep denying it, keep saying that you didn't want it, that you didn't need it, but deep down, you knew you couldn't go back.

And it was in that moment, with the distance between you closing, that you finally understood that the real fear wasn't what Franco might say or do. The real fear was what would happen if you gave in completely, if you allowed something as pure and as confusing as what you felt to envelop you.

But before you could process it, he was already too close. His hand, so firm and warm, rested on your cheek, and with a slight movement, he pulled you toward him. This time, there were no doubts in his eyes, nor in yours. There was only desire, and a truth neither of you could deny any longer.

The kiss was deeper this time, as if you both knew there was no turning back, that there was no room left to keep playing the "I don't want, I don't need" game. Because, in the end, there was something that bound you both more than any lie you could tell yourselves.

The room was now filled with a dense, almost unbearable silence. The kiss had left a deep mark on both of you, as if it were a seal that couldn't be undone. But the world kept turning around you, and even though you were both trapped in that moment, you knew it couldn't last forever. Nothing is eternal, you thought. Not even what you feel in such a frantic instant.

Franco pulled away slightly, but not enough to make the air feel light again. Somehow, the closeness between you hadn't diminished. What did this mean now? Were you finally facing what you felt, or was it just a temporary distraction, an easy way out of the chaos you both felt in your hearts?

"I don't have all the answers," Franco whispered, his voice low. "But I know this, whatever it is that's happening between us, it's real."

Your eyes searched for him, looking for something in his expression, something that would give you certainty, something that would tell you that you weren't the only one trapped in that emotional whirlwind. But his face was as impenetrable as always, though there was a softness in his eyes that you hadn't noticed before.

"What if this is just another lie?" your words came out before you could control them. Doubts began to invade you again, bringing with them that feeling of insecurity you had always feared. What if you were wrong? What if what you felt wasn’t what you thought?

Franco took a step closer, just a small one, but enough for you to feel his breath against your skin.

"I'm not playing with you. And I'm not asking you to change how you feel. I just... want you to see that this could be something real. Something you don't have to hide."

Those words, filled with sincerity, hit you in the stomach like a wave. Real? That word you had always avoided, that you had feared. Because if something was real, then it couldn’t be ignored, it couldn’t be kept a secret.

You couldn’t keep ignoring what you felt. It was getting harder to be honest with yourself. But the truth, the truth had always been scarier than any lie you could tell yourself.

"And what happens after this?" you asked, your voice barely audible, afraid to hear what he had to say. You didn’t want everything to end in a simple kiss, in a fleeting illusion that would only leave you emptier than before.

Franco sighed, as if he too were trying to find the right answer, something that wasn’t just a temporary comfort for both of you. And even though he didn’t say it with words, the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, made you understand that there was something more than just physical between you.

"I don’t know," he said finally, a touch of brutal honesty in his voice. "But whatever happens, I don’t want it to be a lie."

The truth was on the table, so clear and so hard to accept. You both knew you couldn’t keep living in uncertainty, you couldn’t keep up the facade that everything was fine when your hearts had already taken the first step toward what you wanted.

"Maybe it’s not the perfect moment," you said, looking into his eyes with a mix of fear and courage. "But, I don’t want to keep running from this."

Franco nodded, the tension between you easing at last, as if all the weight in the world had fallen on his shoulders and, at some point, had begun to lighten.

"Then don’t run. Don’t let fear control what you feel."

A longer, more comfortable silence settled between you, as if the whole world had decided to give you both a break to process everything that had just happened. You didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time, you both agreed on something: uncertainty wouldn’t separate you anymore.

The distance between you, that invisible wall you had both built for so long, disappeared. And even though the future was still uncertain, there was something you both now knew for sure. You didn’t need immediate answers, just the courage to move forward, together or apart.

And with one last glance filled with everything that hadn’t been said, but that both of you understood perfectly, he gave you a smile that, for the first time, didn’t seem so distant.

"It doesn’t matter what happens after," he murmured. "What matters is that this is real."

[cbeargyu]

what you want

summary: you and taeyong have been best friends since college, sharing your adult lives side by side—your flower shop, his branding firm, countless shared memories. but as you near your 30s, the yearning to become a mother grows unbearable. during a reunion trip to jeju island, a tipsy conversation turns into something tender, raw, and irreversible. what begins as comfort and shared vulnerability becomes something deeper—intimate confessions, unspoken love, and the beginning of a quiet forever.

pairing: bestfriend taeyong x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn, friends to lovers, emotional smut, soft romance, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, eventual pregnancy.

warnings: breeding kink, unprotected sex (consensual, emotional context), impregnatio, pregnancy mention, emotional vulnerability, suggestive adult themes (18+), heavy romantic tension with soft resolution.

wc: 4,5K

notes: hi hiiii, okay so i've been dying to read smutty taeyong fics lately and it's been ALMOST impossible to find 😭 like 90% are mxm and there's barely any tae x reader content out there... if anyone has recs pls drop them in the comments ily. alsooo it's probably painfully obvious by now that i'm obsessed with the whole breeding kink + domestic fluff combo BYE that's literally my favorite thing ever 😩🫠💗

you’ve always been close to taeyong.

since college, really—when you met in that ridiculously stuffy marketing class during your second year. he was late that day, hair still damp from a rushed shower, a printed branding portfolio tucked under one arm, and somehow, he still managed to slide into the seat beside you with an easy smile and that soft voice.

you became inseparable after that. group projects, late-night convenience store runs, silent study sessions that turned into hours of talking about everything and nothing. you built a quiet rhythm with him, one that never required a label or explanation.

you opened your flower shop right after graduation. taeyong built his own creative agency, specializing in branding and design—sleek, intentional, always poetic in its aesthetic. you sent him flowers for his launch day; he designed the logo for your storefront for free. "it’s a gift," he said when you tried to pay him, his voice warm over the phone. "besides, i owe you for all the coffee you bought me during thesis week."

now in your late twenties, things feel stable. solid. your dreams are real. you run a blooming business. taeyong’s agency is doing well. life, on the surface, is soft and good. but there’s one thing that sits heavily in your chest.

you want a baby.

you’ve wanted one for years. even when you were young, you imagined yourself as a mother before anything else—before being a florist, a business owner, a woman navigating city streets with earbuds in and a tote bag full of errands. you crave that connection, the physicality of pregnancy, the quiet intimacy of raising someone who came from you.

but dating? nonexistent. your schedule is tight, your circle small, and the men you do meet are more interested in weekend flings than parenting plans. you’ve been obsessively reading about IVF, sperm donors, even traditional remedies your grandmother used to whisper about. you bring it up to taeyong one night, half-laughing as you scroll through forums.

“i don’t know what to do,” you admit, looking over the rim of your mug at him. “i’m not seeing anyone. i don’t want to wait until i’m forty. and i want to carry them. i want to feel them growing inside me.”

taeyong goes quiet.

he doesn’t have the answers, but he listens. tells you that you’d make an amazing mother. suggests maybe you could consider adoption, but you shake your head gently.

“i want to be pregnant,” you whisper. “i want them to be mine from the start.”

he nods.

he doesn’t push.

a few days later, he messages you.

taeyonggie👺 [11:13am]: remember our old classmates? they’re planning a reunion trip to jeju. want to go? they said you’re welcome too.

you hesitate, then say yes. maybe a change of scenery is what you need. something about the sea and the quiet and the way jeju always smells like citrus and wind.

you don’t expect to feel so at ease.

you arrive together, him beside you on the plane, headphones shared between you as you both doze off mid-flight. you’re staying at a cozy hotel not far from the beach—modern but warm, all wood accents and soft lighting.

there’s a mix-up at check-in.

“two rooms for y/n and taeyong?” the clerk asks.

“no, just one,” taeyong corrects, glancing at you. “two beds, please.”

you nod. it’s nothing new. you’ve stayed over at each other’s apartments before. this is the same. right?

your room has two full-size beds, a window view of the ocean, and barely enough space for both your suitcases. you joke about how you’ll end up tripping over each other, and taeyong just grins, tossing his duffel onto the bed by the wall.

the first two days are calm.

nakamoto yuta—now a travel content creator, all sun-kissed skin and open laughter—is the life of the group. seulgi, working as a creative director for a fashion label, is effortlessly elegant, always with a camera around her neck. also in the group: kwon eunbi, a vocal coach; hwang minhyun, managing a production company; kim seolhyun, running a podcast on pop culture; and kim hanbin, now a choreographer.

you spend your days exploring the island.

taeyong helps you pick tangerines from the orchard. you braid small wildflowers into your hair, and he snaps a photo when you’re not looking. he buys you honey ice cream and insists on carrying your bag when your shoulder starts to ache.

it feels like nothing’s changed.

but there’s a moment.

you’re inside the hotel lounge, grabbing drinks. yuta and taeyong sit near the back, shoulders low, conversation soft between them.

“you still in love with her?” yuta asks, voice easy but not teasing.

taeyong chokes on his drink. coughs. blushes.

“no,” he says, eyes flickering. “i mean, not anymore. that was...college. i’m over it.”

yuta raises a brow. “you sure?”

taeyong doesn’t answer right away. his fingers tap against the glass, slow. thoughtful.

“she wants a baby,” he says eventually. “that’s all she talks about now.”

“so give her one,” yuta shrugs.

taeyong laughs quietly. like it’s ridiculous. like it’s tempting.

he doesn’t bring it up again.

but something shifts.

you notice him watching you a little longer than usual when you laugh. his gaze lingers on the curve of your jaw, the line of your collarbone, the way you absentmindedly rest a hand over your stomach when you’re lost in thought.

you don’t say anything either.

you’re still just friends.

sharing a room.

sharing a life.

almost.

dinner that night is golden.

the kind that stretches out with laughter, grilled seafood, tangerine wine, and flickering lanterns strung up between pine trees. the restaurant is open-air, tucked near the cliffside with a view of the ocean glowing beneath the full moon.

everyone's a little tipsy by the time dessert comes around. yuta’s telling stories about backpacking in morocco and the time he accidentally ended up at a wedding. seulgi keeps taking pictures of everyone's reactions, cheeks flushed from wine. hanbin and seolhyun are arguing about the best era of k-pop choreography. eunbi sings a soft verse of something nostalgic, and minhyun smiles so softly you wonder if he's thinking of someone he left behind.

taeyong is beside you. always beside you. refilling your glass with something citrusy. resting his arm along the back of your chair. letting his knee bump into yours and not pulling away. the heat from him is steady. familiar. almost too much.

later, the drinks keep flowing back at the hotel. minhyun brings out a bottle of plum soju he brought from seoul, and that’s when it really starts. shots. dares. flushed cheeks and slurred memories.

you’re warm. glowing. a little too honest.

“i mean it,” you say, your voice low, shoulders loose as you sit with taeyong on the floor by the balcony door, away from the noise. “i think about it every night. sometimes i dream about it.”

he looks at you, gentle. “dream about what?”

you lean your head against the windowpane, watching the wind rustle the curtain.

“having a baby,” you murmur. “being pregnant. the little kicks. the soft cries. the weight of them on my chest. it’s so clear in my mind. like… i can almost feel it already.”

taeyong swallows.

you’re drunk. not sloppy, just vulnerable in a way you rarely let yourself be.

“i’ve tried not to obsess over it,” you continue, voice quieter now. “but it’s hard. i want it so much. and i know it’s selfish to want the whole experience—the belly, the pain, the birth. i just… i don’t want to feel like i missed it, like i missed the chance to be the kind of mother i’ve always seen myself becoming.”

taeyong doesn’t know what to say. you can feel it in the silence. his fingers curl slightly, brushing the edge of your sweater.

“you’d be such a good dad, you know,” you say suddenly, eyes half-lidded, smiling gently now as the alcohol softens your words. “like… annoyingly good.”

taeyong blinks.

“you’d be the kind that warms up the milk just right. that kisses tiny foreheads. that always carries extra snacks. that reads the bedtime story even when he’s tired. you'd probably cry when they take their first step.”

he laughs under his breath, a little shaky. your words are melting something in him.

“and your baby would have your eyes,” you add, like it’s nothing. “those pretty lashes. and maybe your laugh. and you’d panic the first time they got sick. and hold them all night until they stopped crying.”

he’s staring at you now. full-on. wide-eyed, a little undone.

“you’d be so gentle,” you whisper. “you already are.”

taeyong shifts. swallows again. his voice is rough when he finally speaks. “don’t say that.”

you tilt your head, confused. “why not? it’s true.”

“because,” he breathes, gaze flicking down to your lips for half a second before pulling back to the ceiling. “you’re drunk. and i’m trying really hard not to do something i’ll regret.”

you blink slowly, the alcohol making everything feel suspended.

you’re suddenly aware of how close you are. how intimate this has always been. not the words. not the night. just you and him.

taeyong stands. runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“i’m gonna get some water,” he mumbles, stepping away from the room.

you stay behind, heartbeat thudding, his warmth still lingering beside you.

you meant every word.

but you don’t know if he’ll ever believe that.

taeyong returns to the table with your glass of water clutched between his fingers like it’s something to hold himself together. his pulse is still uneven, the weight of your words clinging to him like sea salt in the air—soft but undeniable.

you’re laughing at something when he returns. yuta’s grinning, telling a story about a disastrous photoshoot in cambodia that involved a monkey, a drone, and his own foolish confidence. your cheeks are still flushed, but your expression dims a little when your eyes catch his, like you can feel the shift. like you remember what you said.

taeyong sets the glass in front of you gently, and you whisper a quiet “thanks” without looking up.

he doesn’t sit down again. instead, he hovers, letting the chatter of the group wash over him, standing on the edge of it all. seulgi pulls hanbin into a debate about concept staging in idol tours, seolhyun’s already half-asleep on the couch, and minhyun is texting someone with a small smile. the night has thinned out. the fire outside has died, leaving only the dim golden lights strung overhead and the soft hum of a playlist playing someone’s nostalgic mix of late 2010s ballads.

by the time the clock hits nearly two in the morning, someone mumbles about calling it a night.

you blink blearily, your words slurring just a bit now, your weight leaning more and more toward the backrest of the couch. taeyong’s already there before anyone else moves, slipping a hand beneath your elbow and helping you to your feet like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“come on,” he says quietly, warm breath by your temple. “let’s get you to bed.”

you nod sleepily, your body soft, trusting. your fingers find the edge of his jacket sleeve as he steadies you, and he doesn’t pull away. the walk to the room is silent, the hallways dim and muffled. your steps are clumsy, and he catches you more than once, his hand curling around your waist like second nature.

inside the room, it’s dim and warm. the faint scent of saltwater and clean cotton lingers in the air from earlier. you collapse on the edge of the bed you claimed the night before, one of two queen mattresses sitting side by side with a single nightstand in between. the tension returns with the silence, thick and cloying. he walks to the dresser and grabs a bottle of water, offering it to you.

you drink half of it. then sit there. watching him.

he avoids your gaze at first. fiddles with the hem of his shirt. looks out the window like he might say something—then stops himself.

but you’re still drunk. and honest. and maybe a little bold in the way you never let yourself be.

“you know,” you start, voice quiet, “i wasn’t drunk when i said you’d make a good dad.”

taeyong turns slowly. you meet his eyes.

you swallow thickly, fingers wringing the edge of your pajama top. “i’ve thought about it before.”

he blinks, lips parting like he wants to ask but isn’t sure if he should.

you continue.

"not just in the abstract. not just... you as someone’s dad. but you as my—" you stop, heat blooming up your neck. you exhale. “sometimes, i think about what it’d be like if you were the one.”

he says nothing, but his expression crumbles—something tender and wounded flickering behind his eyes.

“i mean, we’ve been in each other’s lives forever,” you say, softer now. “we grew up together in every way that matters. you’ve seen me fail and get back up and fall apart again. you’ve never walked away. not once. not even when i was unbearable. i trust you with everything. i always have.”

taeyong doesn’t breathe.

you keep going.

“so yeah. i think about it sometimes. about what it’d be like to have your kid. to raise them with you. to wake up to you and a messy little human with sleepy eyes and your stupid laugh. and maybe i’m insane, maybe it’s just my hormones or my loneliness or whatever—but the thought doesn’t scare me. it grounds me.”

you laugh, a little bitterly, wiping at the corner of your eye. “and that’s the worst part. because i know you don’t see me that way. or if you did once, it’s long gone. and i shouldn’t be saying this—i know that. but there’s something about tonight that makes me feel like i’ll burst if i don’t.”

taeyong moves before you can finish.

quiet. careful.

he kneels in front of you. not touching you. not yet. just there, looking up at you like he’s memorizing every curve of your face.

his voice is raw.

“don’t say i don’t see you.”

you meet his eyes.

“i’ve always seen you.”

your breath hitches.

taeyong lets out a quiet, shaky laugh. “you talk about me being a dad like i wouldn’t spend every second wondering how the hell i got so lucky to build a life with you. like i haven’t already imagined it too. maybe not with words. maybe not out loud. but… i have.”

you whisper, “you have?”

he nods.

“every time you smile like that. every time you bring me coffee with your name scribbled next to mine. every time you hug me like home. yes. i have.”

you don’t move.

he reaches for your hand—slow, reverent, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“but i never let myself say it,” he murmurs. “because i didn’t want to mess this up. not with us. not with you. and definitely not like this. but if i’m being honest… the thought of you carrying my child?” he swallows. “that doesn’t scare me either.”

the room is silent.

you stare at him, your fingers trembling in his grip.

you whisper, “then kiss me.”

he does.

not rushed. not heated.

just true.

the kind of kiss that feels like coming home after years of wandering.

like maybe—just maybe—you weren’t crazy after all.

the kiss deepens slowly.

taeyong’s hands are warm on your cheeks, cradling you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. you melt under his touch, your fingers sliding up his neck, into his hair, pulling him closer, closer still—like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you let go.

he’s the one who gasps first when your lips part just enough to whisper his name. it falls from your mouth like a secret you’ve kept buried for too long, and he swallows it whole.

he pulls back slightly, forehead resting against yours, his thumbs brushing over your flushed skin. you can feel his heart racing beneath his shirt.

“y/n…” his voice is hoarse. “are you sure?”

you nod, soft and breathless. “i’ve never been more sure.”

and there’s something in your voice—something so certain, so full of quiet longing—that makes taeyong inhale like he’s taking you in for the first time.

his lips find yours again, slower now, more deliberate. his touch trails from your face to your waist, pulling you gently into his lap, like he needs you close enough to feel everything—the way your body trembles against his, the way your thighs tighten around his hips, the way your breath stutters when his mouth moves down your neck.

he tastes your skin like a prayer, like something he’s dreamt about in the quiet hours of the night when your voice was the only thing that could calm him down.

you whisper into the space between kisses, into the curve of his jaw, “i want it to be you.”

his breath hitches.

“i want your baby,” you murmur, your hand pressing over his chest, right where his heart is pounding. “i want to carry your child. someone small and perfect and warm, someone who has your eyes… your smile.”

taeyong lets out the softest sound, almost like a whimper, and you feel his fingers tighten on your hips, his body tensing like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you lean into his ear and say it again—this time slower, your voice shaking. “i want your baby inside me, tae.”

his hands slide up your sides, under your shirt, reverent and gentle. “god,” he breathes. “you have no idea what that does to me.”

“tell me.”

he leans back just enough to look at you—really look at you. his pupils are blown wide, his cheeks flushed, lips swollen and parted.

“i think about it all the time,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “what you’d look like with my baby growing inside you. your belly round and soft, your body glowing. coming home to you with your shirt stretched over the bump, your hands cradling it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.”

he presses a kiss to your collarbone, then another, lower. “i want to see you like that. i want to wake up and run my hands over your belly, feel it kick. talk to it. kiss it.”

you whimper, your fingers knotting in his hair. “tae…”

his hands slip beneath the waistband of your shorts, thumbs brushing over your hipbones like they belong there. “i want to fill you up,” he murmurs, voice thick and trembling. “not just for tonight. not just for the fantasy. i want this to meansomething. it does mean something.”

you nod, cupping his face. “i know. it does to me too.”

he kisses you again, deeper now, one hand at the small of your back, guiding you down onto the mattress. the room is quiet, lit only by the moonlight spilling through the window, and everything feels soft. intimate. warm.

he undresses you slowly, carefully, as if every piece of clothing he removes reveals another piece of your heart. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer until there’s no space between you, nothing but breath and bare skin and whispered names.

when he enters you, it’s slow and deep, like he’s savoring every inch, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel wrapped around him. your back arches, and he moans into your neck, your name a broken sound on his lips.

you’re both trembling—emotion thick in your chests, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. because it’s not just sex. not just lust. it’s home. it’s years of friendship and quiet yearning finally coming undone in the safest way possible.

taeyong presses a kiss to your temple and whispers, “you’re perfect. you’re mine.”

you cradle his face in your hands, smiling through the tears. “give me everything, tae. i want to feel you. all of you. i want to feel you stay.”

his rhythm falters, just for a second, overcome by the weight of it all. “i’ll give you everything. i’ll give you a family.”

you tighten around him at the words, gasping.

“i want to make you a mom,” he whispers. “tonight.”

you nod frantically, lips parting, “do it. please. i want to feel it—i want to feel you—when you fill me.”

taeyong groans, hips stuttering, burying his face in your neck. “fuck. y/n…”

you whisper, “put a baby in me, tae.”

he thrusts deeper, harder now, the restraint beginning to crumble. your bodies are slick with sweat, moving together with a kind of desperation that feels like both a beginning and a promise.

when he finishes—inside, just like you wanted—it’s with a gasp, his arms locked around you tight, like he’s scared to let go. and for a long moment, neither of you move.

“i want you full of me,” he says against your mouth, already hardening again. “i want to make sure.”

you nod, dazed. open. warm.

“don’t stop,” you whisper. “please don’t stop.”

and he doesn’t.

he makes love to you over and over again, slow and focused, like each time is another chance to seal your wish into reality. sometimes he holds your hips, watching your face as you fall apart for him. other times he lays you on your side, kissing your shoulder while whispering how beautiful you are, how perfect you’d be with his child inside you.

when dawn breaks, you’re tangled together in silence. your body aches, sweet and sated. your thighs sticky, your heart full. his hand rests on your stomach again, like he’s already waiting.

he is groaning your name, whispering over and over, “mine. you’re mine. our baby. our future.”

you’re crying. he is too.

and when the trembling stops and the world is still again, he kisses your lips, then your cheeks, then your stomach.

“i can’t wait to see you grow,” he whispers, resting his head just below your ribs.

you run your fingers through his hair, heart pounding.

you whisper back, “i hope it has your eyes.”

the sunlight pours through the thin curtains like a slow, golden confession. the air smells like salt and lemon shampoo. taeyong wakes up first this time, his arm heavy over your waist, your back pressed flush against his chest. sunlight filters through the cream-colored curtains, warming the bare skin of your shoulder.

it kisses your bare shoulder first, then the soft curve of your waist, then the scattered marks taeyong left across your chest like constellations only he could read.

you’re the first to stir, eyelids fluttering open to the unfamiliar ceiling of the hotel room. for a second, you forget where you are. but then you shift slightly and feel the weight of an arm draped across your stomach, the steady rise and fall of a chest pressed into your back, and the unmistakable warmth of taeyong’s body, still wrapped around you like a second skin.

his breath ghosts against your nape, slow and deep, and you realize he hasn’t let go of you all night. not once.

you smile.

when you turn your head just enough to see his face, it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. he’s peaceful like this—softer, younger somehow. his lashes rest against his cheeks, and his mouth is parted slightly, lips still swollen from all the kisses you gave him. his hand, large and warm, is splayed gently across your lower belly, protective and possessive in the same breath.

you reach down and lace your fingers with his.

as if he feels it, he stirs, humming sleepily against your skin. his nose nuzzles into your shoulder. “mmm… morning,” he mumbles, voice thick and low, still soaked in sleep.

you twist around slowly in his hold so you’re facing him. he blinks a few times, eyes still heavy, but when they focus on you, they soften in that way they always have—like you’re the center of his world and he’s been waiting all night just to see you again.

“you stayed,” you whisper, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

he smiles lazily, eyes fluttering shut again. “of course i did. where else would i go?”

you tuck yourself into his chest, your nose against his collarbone. “you feel so warm…”

his arms tighten around you instantly, drawing you closer until there’s no space between you. “you kept me warm first,” he murmurs, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “i didn’t want to let go.”

you stay like that for a while. breathing together. existing.

and then you feel him shift, one hand still resting over your belly, thumb drawing lazy, absent-minded circles over the skin there. he hums, low in his throat. “do you think… do you think it worked?”

your breath catches.

you look up at him, searching his face. he’s watching you carefully now, no longer groggy, eyes wide open and impossibly tender.

“i don’t know,” you whisper. “maybe.”

he leans in, kisses your forehead. then your temple. then the spot just below your eye. “i kind of hope it did.”

you feel your throat tighten with emotion.

“you do?”

“mmhm,” he nods, nudging his nose against yours. “i kept thinking about it last night… the way you’d look months from now. the way i’d get to take care of you. rub your back. cook for you. kiss your belly every morning.”

you let out a small laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand.

“i’d be so annoying,” you murmur. “always crying. craving weird stuff. complaining about everything.”

he smiles, brushing your hair behind your ear. “you’d be perfect. i’d love you more every day. and our baby… our baby would be lucky.”

you bury your face in his chest, overwhelmed by the sweetness of it. the certainty.

he strokes your back gently. “and if it didn’t happen this time… we try again,” he says softly. “no rush. no pressure. just us. just love.”

you pull back, tearful and smiling all at once. “you want to try again already?”

he grins, lips brushing your cheek. “i want to make love to you every morning for the rest of my life. but yes… also for the baby.”

you laugh, breathless, and he kisses the sound right out of you.

his hands start to wander again—slow, exploring, remembering. he murmurs against your lips, “can i stay inside you today too? just like this… all day?”

you nod, whispering, “don’t leave me empty.”

and he doesn’t.

he makes love to you again—this time slow and languid, under the weight of sunlight and morning warmth. he kisses your face like you’re already glowing. like you’re already carrying a part of him.

when he comes again, deep inside you, he doesn’t look away. he holds you through it. kisses your tears. whispers your name like a promise.

afterward, he pulls the blanket over your bodies, still tangled. still joined. he keeps his hand on your belly, and you both stay quiet, smiling softly.

as if the future is already there.

[mangionebabymama]

https://www.tumblr.com/mangionebabymama/782573617215143936/do-you-think-he-was-intensely-lonely-at-heart?source=share

i get so sad when someone mentions that he was lonely. i genuinely think he didn't think he had any real friends, the fact that he tried to interact with those bros on twitter and they didn't care about him is depressing. i think he thought he would only get friends if he flattered them or offered them something in return like when he paid for that subscription to gurwinder. he's the only male loneliness that i care about 😭 i confess that im relieved that he is becoming friends with his lawyers and especially with sofia bc she is also a gen z like him and certainly influences him positively. i hope his mental health is better now

I understand that, anon bc yeah 🥺 especially when we’ve seen photos of him throughout his life, surrounded by different people, hanging out, enjoying himself, and clearly finding joy in the company of others. He seemed like someone who could get along with just about anyone and someone who didn’t know a stranger.

Now, personally, I do believe he had genuine friends during different stages of his life—whether that was during his time at Gilman, UPenn, or while living in Hawaii. And while sincere friendships are such a meaningful part of our formative years, the reality is that they’re not always guaranteed to last forever. Sometimes we outgrow people, and sometimes life just takes everyone in different directions. I think we can all relate to that in one way or another.

And even though I wish it didn’t take him being placed into federal custody and navigating the pre-trial process of three different cases to find a support system, I’m genuinely grateful he’s been able to confide in people on his legal team, especially with folks who are older and experienced, but also with even someone like Sofia, who’s closer to his age. Even if it’s something as small as sharing a few inside jokes during a court appearance, that connection matters. I can’t imagine prison ever being good for someone’s mental health, but like you said, I just hope that the people around him—those who care and are truly supporting him—are doing their best to uplift him through this. He deserves that care, and that steady emotional ground to stand on

[dumbassalex]

I think one of the reasons the new DMC show didn't really click with me is because aside from the action and the songs (whitch i liked more because they're the type of music i enjoy rather than them fitting into the world of DMC), the show didn't really have any of the stuff i enjoy from Devil May Cry?

The games are this gothic family drama series with complicated family dynamics and feelings, questions of humanity, power and it's use and effects, but the core part of the series for me are the messy family dynamics and how they affect characters and connect them together.

I also never got attached to this Dante because it never felt like he was being genuine, because he was a complete goofball basicly the whole show, while in the games there were multiple moments in all of the games where Dante is sinciere and vulnearable and emotional and we see his actual mental and emotional state.

And while some of these issues go away when i don't look at it as a Devil may cry adaptation, i still don't really like the story because i think the "refugees" allegory was badly done.

[byeomso]

Introducing OCs, Part 2

🌹 Name: Koré Chrysánthemo

🌟 Age: 19

🍁 Family: Flora Chrysánthemo and Pyrrhos Vulcan

🌿 Dorm: Noctemir (similar to Yuu's dorm)

🐁 Year: Third year (housewarden)

🌸Inspired by: Persephone from Silly Symphonies

🪷Personality:

Koré is an extremely calm person, very understanding and even therapeutic (which can be a problem).

She takes care of most people's needs, but doesn't take care of her own most of the time. Which leads her to spend some time locked in her room, alone, talking to stuffed animals or suffering with her own unique magic.

Despite everything, she is a good listener, trying to do her best to bring comfort to others.

🐦‍🔥 Magical Ability:

Faunae transfigures: allows Koré to transform into any animal she wishes (she cannot transform into something she does not know), but because she does not know how to properly control her magic due to her very shaken emotions and her mind full of other people's problems, Koré can transform according to her emotional condition as an unconscious defense mechanism.

Although her ability should be associated with flowers, Koré has a great attachment to animals, and most of her friends are little animals.

Flora would be her elemental magic, but not her unique ability.

🏆 Club: Arcane Bio-Studies Club

Club objective:

To study magical creatures, enchanted plants and the connections between living biology and magic. Members observe, catalog, breed and care for rare specimens, in addition to conducting magical experiments with questionable ethics (but with supervision... more or less).

Common activities:

Growing plants that react to human emotions

Raising and caring for magical pets (such as mini griffins, mana slimes, etc.)

Expeditions to forbidden areas of the school (with or without permission) to collect specimens

Studying magical mutations and side effects of biological spells

Studying using Koré itself in some cases (experiments are prohibited)

🎭Fun fact:

The person Koré admires the most would be "Mommy" Shroud (she was "kidnapped" by her once).

Koré wears prescription contact lenses, taking them out when she is in her room to change for round glasses.

She is the cousin of Hercules' representative (My OC Alcides Andrakis), housewarden of the Imitheos house.

Koré can communicate with people, but gets nervous if it is a very large group.

Koré has seen Idia at Sam's store several times, which made her know him and Ortho since first grade.

Her mother, Flora Chrysánthemo, represents The Spirit of the Forest. Her father, Pyrrhos Vulcan, represents the Firebird (both from Fantasia 2000).

Koré can transform into a Harpy naturally due to her father's species (but this causes her to grow feathers depending on her emotional state and lack of control).

The tablet that Koré carries around was a birthday present left by the Shroud brothers.

Koré has already talked to Malleus to collect data about dragons, and constantly invites him to have tea (or coffee) on possible occasions.

Koré is addicted to caffeine, but when drinking energy drinks she suffers from rebound and ends up falling asleep.

About S.T.Y.X.... it only follows people, notes progress or (activities that cannot be described)

Her Overblot represents Persephone in various design aspects, carried with the theme of "queen of the underworld"

Has a cat that represents Robber Kitten from Silly Symphonies. He would be the Grim of the RSA

Kulning practice

Others:

Her hair is inspired by Lady Oscar + Abel from Knights of the Zodiac

Her favorite movie would be WolfWalkers

Your favorite singer in real life would be Aurora

[eatsbooks]

a deep dive into eris vanserra's birth chart

virgo sun — mutable, earth, mercury-ruled

intelligent and methodical. extremely caring but reserved in expressing his full range of emotions. prefers routine and consistency. always structured or otherwise very organized in what he does. knowledgeable and exacting but open to altering his opinions or points of view given new information and adequate reason. sarcastic and humorous. harsh on himself and on his loved ones in an effort to incite growth. ambitious — no-nonsense attitude in completing tasks and seeing them through to their end.

capricorn moon — fixed, earth, saturn-ruled

the moon is in detriment in capricorn, making emotional connections particularly difficult for him — both in expression and acceptance. this moon sign is associated with growing up too quickly and having a strained relationship with the mother. need i say more. prefers logic over feeling. insists on digging deeper to see all sides of a situation before forming an opinion and allowing an emotional response. a general sense of never being quite satisfied with what he currently has, always needing to push on to more, to better. keeps emotions close to the chest, buried deep, until perhaps they are not quite even there anymore, until something cracks down into the core of him and the pressure forces them to erupt.

libra mercury — cardinal, air, venus-ruled

extremely intelligent but perhaps underestimated by others. seeks balance — constantly weighing the pros and cons before executing decisions. can easily read into intentions but not necessarily intuitive when it comes to emotions. tactful when required. would prefer to bottle up personal issues than start an interpersonal argument. not a very confrontational placement on its own, but with a scorpio mars chart ruler and an aries rising, this is outweighed when the confrontation extends beyond interpersonal relationships. an element of justice-seeking to his thought processes — not a binary right and wrong, good and bad, but a sense of, i will see this put to rights, whatever that looks like to me in this situation.

virgo venus — mutable, earth, mercury-ruled

venus is in fall in virgo, making the way eris shows love easy to be misinterpreted and his acceptance of love stilted. shows love through consistency and action. grand, heartfelt, romantic sentiments are unlikely to sway him, and he is not going to participate in them readily. wants to see affection through what others do to prove it exists — because that is how he shows it. needs someone as motivated as himself. initially skeptical and closed off towards love, critical of it even. diligent and practical once he lets the love in. will take care of all the little things so his partner does not have to, will try to quietly perfect everything because way down deep, all he has ever wanted is to be taken care of in that way.

scorpio mars — fixed, water, mars-ruled

mars is in domicile in scorpio, meaning that taking action comes naturally to him. where an aries mars would give him a sort of overt aggression, scorpio mars gives eris that covert aggression he is known for. incredibly strategic, possessive, and analytical. sees everything (bolstering his libra mercury) and knows how and when to act on the information he has to greatest effect. very passionate when working towards a goal or engaging with a subject that interests him. does not like to ask for help even if needed — would rather use information as leverage than reveal any weakness in outright asking. has a difficult time expressing his emotions; they might not be recognizable at all even when the action he takes is in pursuit of them because of how well he hides his true motivations.

aries ascendant — cardinal, fire, mars-ruled

aries in the first house means that eris’s scorpio mars rules his chart, governing the trajectory of his life and coloring his personality. while an aries rising is typically very straightforward and direct, his scorpio mars chart ruler (and capricorn moon and libra mercury) gives him that never-quite-says-anything-plainly affect. intense and passionate, vocal and in-charge; demands the attention of a room without even having to ask for it. can be charming when he wants to be, but when he doesn't, he is hellfire, he is wrath. confrontation does not cow him. knows what it is he wants, and he will get it. does not often need to repeat himself or ask twice — and if he has to, he will do it himself.

[almostswagkid]

I feel like a lot of people miss one thing in Rodigor dynamic

Let's start with a little bit off topic, just so I can get that out of my system: Rodya knows Gregor's boundaries and doesn't overstep them. In fact, her teasing towards him is way softer. Gregor allows Rodya way more than he allows others. Plus, he couple of times teased her too (but more often than not he just ignores her attempts to get under his skin)

Now, let's assume they fell in love at the same time. And a lot of people think that Gregor would be the anxious lovesick one, desperate for Rodya's attention while she just uses him to get the praises she needs

But, what people miss is that Gregor wouldn't be like that. You see, the only thing he knows is to accept and adapt. No matter how strong his feelings would be, Gregor would very quickly find a way to just accept it as a fact and move on with his life. Just remember how he reacted to Yuri's death: he very quickly got over. How fast he just calms down in stressful situations (just remember Canto 1). Same thing with love. Gregor wants connections with people but still holds them at arms length, not hoping to build any relationships with them (Angela reference hehe ((they are WAY too similar, my god))

On top of everything he doesn't know what he's losing, thus it's easier for him to let go. Why would he try to hold onto love if he doesn't know what it's like?

In fact, Rodya would be the anxious one. A lot of people, sadly, miss the detail that Rodya's not good at hiding her fear and anxiety (in snake inquisitor's ((or whatever he's called)) logs she mentioned how she cried from the fear). That's the main reason her story even happened (otherwise she would've just go on with her life after murder). Rodya is not morally strong, that's the entire point. Plus, she doesn't have experience with acceptance, that's her main struggle as a character: she's stuck in denial, not knowing what to do with her emotions and how to get out. She's been running away from her feelings, not accepting them like Gregor. If it is like that for one emotion, why wouldn't it be like that for the other one?

Plus, one thing that seemingly everyone missed: during April Fools event Rodya specifically said that she feels iffy around Gregor, because she doesn't know what to expect from him. Let's not get into why exactly she feels that way (because I have a lot to say about it), but I brought that up because she said it herself: she's uncomfortable around him. And yet she's helplessly drawn to him

In conclusion, I see their dynamic like that: Rodya's helplessly in love, but due to her own insecurities, she doesn't understand what to do with those feelings and does what she always did - covers it with a joke. Gregor is in love too, but due to his trauma and cynical worldview, he can't allow himself to open up to her, constantly trying to push away his emotions like he always did. And most likely succeeding, unlike Rodya