#but i think it's also... comforting in a way to find that people were so similar and the world's always been crazy

[kiragecko]

I decided to do this for the Batfamily. (Preboot version, because I disagree with DC's modern decisions.)

If the Batfam were queer, how would they talk about it?

Dick - awkward and tentative. No clue when he picked up the terminology he's using, but it's probably pretty general/balanced¹. He's not going to be using microlabels, but may have done a reasonable amount of research on whatever term he's accepted. Possibly the most ashamed out of everyone? Look, people haven't been very gentle with him about his romantic, sexual, or personal choices. And he's internalized that. I could see him EVENTUALLY being comfortably open about his identity, but that would be a long journey.

Babs - only talks to romantic partners, if she can help it. Clinical. Probably also prickly. Maybe dismissive. More focused on how it will affect their relationship than on how it affects her, or on specific terms. But also the most likely to explain the split attraction model, or pull up a graph? Possibly she'd shift tactics based on what her partner was comfortable with. Probably it would be to tactics her partner was LESS comfortable with? Babs, make things easier for yourself!

Jason - What flavour of fanon are we using here? Or canon? Using slurs that the people he grew up used for themselves could be accurate. Reading up on all the latest terminology so he can support the street kids seems in character for some versions. (He sounds like he's reading from a brochure, but like he's a counsellor reading from a brochure for your benefit!) Not having thought about it at all because he's been 'somewhat' distracted for most of his life seems VERY likely! Jason contains multitudes.

Tim - avoiding this conversation at all costs. Refuses to use labels. Might describe his experience, awkwardly, if he needed to, but would get distressed if you tried to give it a name. He might be able to accept BEING some flavour of queer, but openly talking about it in ways people can use against him? That might affect social standing and job opportunities? That might disappoint authority figures? No. Most likely to use a fake identity to explore. Has almost certainly done all the research, KNOWS current terminology, and will use it for other people. Just don't suggest he applies it to himself.

Steph - Would probably get extremely attached to language when first accepting it. Maybe to the point of policing things a bit. Because she's defensive and has spent her whole life being policed and judged! MIGHT sound like she was reading out of a college brochure. Possibly DID read it out of a college brochure!

Cass - summarizes complex topics into a 2 or 3 word sentence, and if you aren't following along, that's on YOU. Might like listening to someone else explain their extremely nuanced identity. Might be impatient. It's a toss-up, depending on how obvious she thinks things are, how much you seem to be overcomplicating it, and how much she's picking up from HOW you're saying it. I hope she figures herself out before she learns TOO much terminology, because later Cass respected words a bit too highly, and I want her to be able to understand the fluidity of self without thinking it NEEDS boxes.

Damian - okay, preteen Damian doesn't WANT to know about any of this, thank you. Many preteens do! Damian does not. Damian wants to join in on every rape and hate crime investigation, and also thinks kissing is gross. Wrangling and protecting Damian is a challenge. Older Damian would probably use microlabels, if any applied. (And he felt safe saying anything.) Accuracy is always to be desired! Also, they fit his worldview of exceptionality and isolation.

Duke - I think he'd be pretty comfortable with general, broadly understood, terminology. But he might struggle if that stuff didn't fit. Feeling compelled to explain the nuances of self seems like something he'd find really uncomfortable? So I can see him casually talking about himself if it was easy to talk about, but struggling to be open otherwise. Also, he might get pretty stuck on not being SURE about his identity. How can he talk about it if he might be wrong?? (Tim and Dick might struggle in a similar way, but it would be less obvious because of their other issues.)

Bruce - Extremely likely to used old-fashioned or clinical language, especially if it lets him sound like he's reading out of a psychology text-book. Most likely to accept the language without internalizing the identity. (It might be accurate, but that doesn't mean he needs to ACT on it.) Also most likely to have accept-ED some term 25 years ago and then just never brought it up again or acknowledged it in any way.

Alfred - wouldn't talk about it at all. Relationships are private. If it was important to do so, would use euphemisms like 'close to', 'cared for', 'did a small amount of exploration', etc.

-

¹ I kind of think of modern queer identities coming in 3 broad categories:

general - uses language like 'queer', 'LGBT', 'nonbinary' - commonly understood umbrella terms. Prioritizes fluidity of identity and connection with community over precise description

balanced - prioritizes connection with people of similar experiences, uses broad subcategories like 'gay', and 'trans', or combines broad terms together to suggest more precision, like 'nonbinary lesbian'.

microlabels - breaks down identities into more precise subsets like 'greyace', 'fem-aligned androgyne', 'genderfae', etc. Precise understanding of self prioritized over other people's understanding or connection.

'Microlabels' as shorthand is often used to mock people, so I thought it helpful to explain where I'm coming from.

he would not fucking say that but it’s he would not fucking talk about his queer identity like he was reading out of a college campus lgbt center brochure

[pretentious-blonde]

for you? always

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you’re unravelling—badly—but steve refuses to let you fall apart alone

warnings: toxic work environments, crying, SWEET STEVE OMG

a/n: i made a part 3 but can be read as a STANDALONE, and once again, it is hurt/comfort. i just love sweet steve!!

if people want another part i am down. pt. 1 pt. 2

It might be an exaggeration, but Steve Harrington didn’t think life could get much better than this. 

He was standing behind the counter at Family Video, half-listening to Robin as she complained, not really giving her his full attention. She could have been ranting about his terrible sorting system, or the stain on the carpet neither of them had managed to get out since last week. He wasn’t too sure. His focus was more invested at the clock on the far wall, waiting for it to hit 6 p.m. 

It was Friday night, closing time. Normally, he’d be stoked to clock out and get home, maybe lounge around or hang with the kids. But for almost four weeks now, his evenings had been filled with something—someone—more exciting. 

He was aware of how annoying he had gotten. Hell, even Robin teased him about it, calling him the “lovesick puppy,” for the amount of times he was caught staring out the door wistfully, hoping you would wander in on your lunch break. 

She wasn’t exactly wrong, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Plus, if he could put up with months of her pining after Vicky, she could put up with it for a little while longer. 

Four weeks—four perfect weeks since that first time you let him take you out for dinner. He brought you to Enzo’s, the fanciest spot in town, really trying to impress you.

He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face remembering it: the two of you tucked into a booth, your eyes lighting up when you tasted the pasta, holding it up for him to try it from your fork, your giggle when he got some of the sauce on the side of his mouth. He became acutely aware of your laugh, actually. It was quickly becoming one of his favourite sounds. 

After he’d driven you home that night and dropped you off at your door, he’d stood there, wanting so badly to kiss you, but also not wanting to assume just because you let him before, he could do it again. 

So, he’d leaned in awkwardly, maybe an inch too far, and you’d given him the sweetest little smile that told him to relax and pulled him in the rest of the way. That moment was etched into his memory, something he found himself revisiting over and over. 

And from there, it had only gotten better. 

The second date at the local diner (you’d shared fries with him and stole a sip of his milkshake), the movie night where he insisted you pick the snacks—any snacks, your call—and still ended up grabbing M&Ms halfway through the film, claiming it was for “variety.” Then there was the afternoon you invited him over to bake cookies—insisting it would be a fun bonding activity—only to end up with flour in your hair and half the dough on the floor, while Steve practically bent over double laughing at how grumpy you looked in your patterned apron. 

And that perfect night at Lover’s Lake. God, he was happy you hadn’t grown up around here. He took full advantage of your lack of knowledge about the location. It was magical, lying on a threadbare blanket underneath the stars. You’d called him “a total sap” when he waxed poetic about constellations he barely remembered the names of.

He had caught you smiling at him like he’d hung the moon himself. He’d stolen a kiss—okay, maybe two, or three—when you’d turned your head toward him, and the surprise on your face melted immediately into something so soft. It made him sure you were feeling the same as him. By the time he was driving you home, hand resting on your thigh, you both felt like you’d just lived out a scene in one of those old romance movies he pretended not to like.

Then came your visits to his territory. He could still picture the day you stepped through the door, a shy smile on your lips. He tried to maintain some level of professional cool, but the moment Robin saw you, she took it upon herself to tease him relentlessly. “So you’re the one Harrington won’t shut up about.” 

He’d glared but couldn’t hide the flush in his cheeks. You’d just grinned, leaning against the counter, and introduced yourself to Robin, who then spent the rest of the shift chatting with you while Steve tried to play it cool and failed miserably. Yet somehow, that failure felt okay—good, even—because seeing you click so easily with his best friend just made his day sweeter.

Yes, the last month had been a whirlwind—one that left him with a permanent giddy glow. He liked you, really liked you, in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever. And it wasn’t just because you looked great in every light—though, let’s be honest, that didn’t hurt—but because you seemed to get him. You found humour in his dumb jokes, shared your own stories with him, and let him into your life without any of the hesitations or expectations he’d grown used to.

Even Robin had mentioned how he didn’t snap at customers as much. He threw a glance in her direction, who was now tapping her fingers on a shelf impatiently. 

“Dude,” she said, rolling her eyes, “if you stare at that clock any harder, it’s gonna melt.”

“Give me a break,” Steve smirked, flicking his gaze back at the time. “I’m just… in a good mood, okay?”

“You just want to get out of here to see your girlfriend,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

“She’s not my—” He paused, the flush creeping over his cheeks again. “We haven’t exactly— I mean, yeah, we’re kinda… I dunno, it’s been a few weeks. She might be my girlfriend.”

Robin laughed, smacking him lightly on the arm as she approached. “You’re so far gone, it’s painful to watch. Honestly, it's jarring watching you be all heart-eyed lately.”

He wanted to deny it, but instead he found himself laughing too. Was it that obvious? Judging by the glances from Robin and the kids—especially Dustin—it definitely was. But he couldn’t bring himself to care; if being obvious meant you were in his life, then so be it.

Finally, the clock hit closing time. Steve turned, circling the counter to the front entrance. He flipped the sign to “Closed,” already imagining what he might do for the rest of the night. 

You told him to come over that evening at around half past, maybe order some late-night takeaway, or go for a drive, or just hang out on the couch, do nothing but talk about your days. It all sounded equally perfect to him. 

As he began turning off the main computer, the store’s phone rang, shrill and unexpected in the quiet. He exchanged a puzzled look with Robin. 

Who the hell was calling this late?

You arrive at your apartment with shoulders hunched. Your day at The Hawkins Post had been a complete train wreck. You’d expected to face challenges when you got into journalism—no one just handed out dream assignments on a silver platter—but you hadn’t expected to be treated like the office errand girl.

All day, you’d been fetching coffees, photocopying pages, and biting your tongue whenever they cracked jokes at your expense. You told yourself you could handle it, that it was just part of paying your dues. But this afternoon, when they were brainstorming story ideas for the week’s paper, you’d jumped at the chance to volunteer something—anything. Before you could even get more than a sentence out, they’d laughed it off, practically shooing you out of the room.

You clenched your fists, trying not to let tears burn at the back of your eyes as one of the senior editors—some balding guy who’d never bothered learning your name—actually said: “Why don’t you just get us another round of coffee, alright hun?” 

You’d never felt so small in your life.

Now, alone in your living room, the tears finally came. Hot, embarrassing, unwelcome. You kicked off your shoes and tossed your bag aside, your mind buzzing with memories of the condescending smirks you’d gotten. It felt like a punch to the stomach. Made you question what you were even doing there. 

The clock on your bookshelf read 6:00 p.m. That meant Steve was probably about to close. You’d said something about grabbing dinner, or even just hanging out at your place to watch that cheesy horror flick you’d both joked about. Normally, the thought would make your heart lift. But right now? You felt too raw to face him.

Not that you didn’t want to see him—you did, desperately. But something inside you balked at the idea of letting him see you like this: tear-streaked, puffy-eyed, humiliated. It’s too soon for that, you had only known him for about a month. No point in handing him your emotional baggage just yet. Maybe that was a two or three month sort of milestone. 

With trembling fingers, you picked up the phone and dialed the number he’d scribbled on a scrap of paper “just in case” you needed him. A part of you wished you had the strength to ask for him, to ask for comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

It rang a few times, and your stomach twisted painfully. Then, his voice came through, warm and cheerful, exactly what you needed and exactly what you felt you didn’t deserve right now.

“Steve?” you asked hesitantly. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve’s tone instantly made your eyes sting with fresh tears. “I’m just finishing up here. Shouldn’t be too much longer. You alright?”

You swallowed, forcing your voice not to crack. 

“Uh… yeah. I mean—no, not really.” You cringed at how shaky you sounded. “I’m not feeling so great, so, um… I think I’m gonna have to cancel tonight.”

There was a moment of silence, and you could practically hear his eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, really? You sure you’re okay? Like fever or something? I can—”

“N-no, I promise, I’m good,” you cut in too quickly, wiping at your cheeks even though he couldn’t see you. “Just think I need some rest.”

“Right. Yeah, okay.” He sounded so disheartened. You didn’t like disappointing him. “If you need anything, will you call me? I can be there in like ten minutes.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, guilt gnawing at you. He was so sweet, and you were lying. Well, half-lying. You weren’t okay. But you couldn’t tell him that. At least not yet.

“I’ll be fine,” you murmured instead. “Just… sorry to cancel.”

He hesitated, that warm voice going even softer. “No, don’t worry about it. Feel better, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve,” you said, barely keeping it together. “Talk later.”

You hung up before your voice could betray you. The moment the line clicked, you tossed the phone aside, heart feeling heavier than before. God, you just hoped he wouldn’t be upset—or that he wouldn’t pry deeper. You didn’t trust yourself not to break down if he asked the right questions.

Still, a tiny part of you wished he’d come anyway.

Steve set the receiver back on its cradle, staring at the phone for a moment longer than necessary. His stomach did a little flip, the kind it did when something was wrong. He could usually read you pretty well by now—your moods, the subtleties in your tone. And that phone call? It screamed distress.

Robin, who’d been watching from across the store, raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, glancing at her. “She canceled.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Robin’s face immediately fell into sympathy. “That really sucks.”

He shook his head, grimacing. “No, I don’t think it’s… I mean, I hope it’s not that. She sounded off, like… said she wasn’t feeling well.”

Robin tilted her head. “She’s sick? Flu or something?”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip, trying to reconcile the tension in his gut. “She said she just needs rest. I offered to bring her something, but she shot it down.”

Robin gave him a long look, then sighed dramatically, piecing together the puzzle. 

“Harrington, come on. You told me she just moved here, right? She’s got no family around? No close friends yet?”

“Yeah, she’s new,” he admitted, mind flashing back to the time you mentioned how weird it was living in a town where you barely knew anyone.

Robin folded her arms. “So, if she’s not feeling great, she’s gonna be alone.”

“Yeah,” Steve repeated, slower this time. A prickle of realisation stirred in him.

“Which might mean,” Robin continued in her usual exasperated tone, “that you, as the devoted whatever-you-are—boyfriend? friend? something—should maybe check on her anyway.”

His eyes widened. “But she said—”

“People say a lot of things,” Robin cut him off. “Sometimes they don’t want to feel like a burden. Or they’re embarrassed. You, of all people, should get that, right?”

A flicker of memory—Steve himself blowing off concerned offers because he didn’t want to look weak—made him swallow hard.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “You think the pharmacy’s still open?”

Robin gave him a small, genuine smile. “Definitely. Swing by, grab some tea or cough drops, or whatever else might help. And maybe the grocery store for soup.”

Steve nodded firmly, adrenaline already buzzing in his veins. You’re alone. You’re upset. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let you suffer through that. Not if he could help it.

“You’re a genius.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here.” She waved him off. “And call me later—if you’re still alive. Just in case she actually has the plague or something.”

“Ha-ha,” he shot back as he flew around the counter, grabbing his jacket and headed for the door. 

Steve hovered outside your apartment door, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, an overstuffed bag clutched in one hand. He’d stopped at three different stores, grabbing tea, soup, your favorite candy, a variety of painkillers—everything he could think of to help you feel better.

Maybe he was totally wrong about the situation. I mean, hey, it wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe you truly wanted space. Maybe he’d overstepped. Maybe he’d come off overbearing. 

But the memory of your shaky voice on the phone nagged at him. He couldn’t just stay away. You’d insisted you were fine, but your voice cracked at the edges. Better to let you tell him in person than for you to suffer in silence. So he took a breath, rang the doorbell, and braced himself.

When you opened the door, it was worse than he expected. Way worse. Every bit of resolve he’d mustered wavered.

You were still in your wrinkled work clothes, eyes red, cheeks blotchy. It was obvious you’d been crying, and the sight of it knocked the air from his lungs. Instantly, all of Steve’s doubts vanished, replaced by a need to do whatever he could to help.

“Hey,” he said softly, attempting a small, reassuring smile. You looked ready to apologise, but before you could say a word, your eyes brimmed with fresh tears. His heart clenched as he gently pushed the door open wider and slipped inside, letting the bag drop beside him.

“Hey, c’mon,” he murmured, pulling you toward him immediately. Not expecting to find you in this state, but nonetheless prepared to help. “It’s okay. Talk to me, yeah? Are you—are you feeling sick, or…?”

You stood there, overwhelmed, arms shaking as you let yourself cling to him. Steve’s heart ached—the same way it did when he saw one of the kids upset, except this was deeper, more urgent.

Your lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you closed your eyes and sank further against him, your breath catching in a muffled sob.

It was all he needed to hear.

He readjusted his arms to fit you better, cradling the back of your head, letting you cry into his shoulder. He could feel how shaken you were, how close you were to coming completely undone. It made him want to bury you in every comfort he could possibly give.

“Shh,” he whispered, voice steady. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re alright.” He didn’t know if those things were true, but by the end of the evening, he would make sure they would be.

You pressed your face into his chest, holding him like he was the only solid thing in your life right now. He felt the tremor in your shoulders, the ragged rise and fall of your breaths, and it lit that familiar spark inside him—he needed to fix this. Except he didn’t know how yet. But he would try. So for now he just held you, gently running his hand across your back.

Eventually, he guided you away from the door, nudging it shut behind him with his foot. He decided it would be better to get you settled before trying to get you to talk.  

“C’mon,” he murmured, leading you to the couch. “I…I brought a bunch of stuff—tea, soup, that candy you like…” He tried a tentative smile, but worry still ached in his gut. Those things seemed rather redundant now that he spoke them aloud. When he looked at you, it appeared you didn’t even register what he was saying. Whatever was ailing you, it certainly wasn't the flu.

“Hey,” he said again, voice hushed so as not to scare you. “Please tell me what’s wrong.” His gaze flicked over your tear-stained cheeks, and you could practically feel the genuine concern radiating off him. “I just… I want to help. I can’t help until you tell me what’s wrong. So… let me try, okay?”

His words hung in the air, soft and pleading. There was so much earnestness in his eyes, it almost hurt. He was trying so hard, and you could tell he was moments away from offering every solution under the sun.

That was who he was—a guy who dove in headfirst, wanting to protect and fix. And though part of you still felt hesitant, the rest of you knew you needed him right now. His soft, brown eyes begging you to let him in. 

It would be cruel to tell him not to worry, especially since he already saw the state you were in. You took a deep breath as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

“Work was… hard,” you start, voice trembling on the last word.

Steve nods, encouraging you to continue. “Yeah?” He scoots a little closer. “Tell me about it, angel.”

You bite your lip, hesitating. The humiliation still burns in your chest, but as soon as you see the concern in his eyes, the words begin tumbling out.

“All the guys at the paper,” you say, swallowing hard, “they basically laughed in my face today. I wanted to pitch an idea—I thought, maybe if I showed some initiative, they’d take me seriously.” You pause, a bitter laugh escaping your throat. “Turns out, they don’t.”

He inches forward, the couch creaking beneath his weight. “They laughed?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, blinking away tears. “The whole room, practically. They didn’t even let me finish. Just told me to go make more copies or bring them more coffee. I felt so stupid. Like I’m not cut out for any of this.”

Your voice cracks, and Steve’s expression tightens with empathy. He raises a hand to your cheek, carefully brushing away a stray tear with his thumb before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I know how you feel,” he says softly. Then he corrects himself with a small shrug. “Well, not exactly. I know someone else who went through that crap. I don’t know the full story, but from what I heard, it was awful.”

Nancy let slip here and there snippets from her time at The Hawkins Post. The incessant ridicule, the constant demeaning remarks. It irked him then, but now? He was vexed. Grown men picking on you all for a power trip? Unbelievable. 

He had to school his anger before he said something regretful, he always did have a sharp tongue. What you needed now was comfort, not someone going on a rampage on your behalf.

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah. But you know what I do know?” Steve continues, his voice dropping to a firm, truthful tone. “Those guys? They’re idiots, alright?”

“Maybe…” A shaky laugh escapes your lips, and you sniff, wiping at your nose with the back of your hand. “They made me feel like a complete joke.”

“No way. Not even close.” He shakes his head firmly, like he wants to banish that thought forever. He won’t allow you to linger in self-doubt. “You’re brilliant. Look, you picked up and moved across the country by yourself, found a place to live, and started a brand-new job in a town where you barely know anyone. That takes guts.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of the day pressing in again. “Feels like it was a dumb move,” you admit, voice quieter. “Like I’m playing dress-up in a grown-up’s world, and everyone else can see I’m an imposter.”

A flicker of protectiveness flashes across Steve’s face. He can’t stand the idea of you belittling yourself—he’s seen how you throw yourself into your work, how bravely you uprooted everything to move here, how determined you can be when you set your mind on something.

“Hey,” he says, tilting your chin so you’re forced to meet his eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re strong, you’re smart, and if they can’t see that, well…” He shrugs. “That’s on them. They’re the ones missing out. I swear half those guys probably haven’t stepped foot outside of Indiana.”

When you lean into him, relief flickers in his chest. 

Thank God, maybe he’s getting through. 

He tucks you closer against his side, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you decide to do, you’ll crush it,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “I believe that.”

“Yeah?” you ask, voice thick.

“Absolutely.” He gives you a little squeeze. “You want a new job? You’ll find one. You want to stay and prove those assholes wrong? You’ll do that too. Just say the word, and I’ll be right there to cheer you on. Or beat them up, if that’s easier.”

Despite the tears still threatening at the corners of your eyes, you let out a half-chuckle. “I’ve never really been much of a quitter,” you admit, the first spark of determination returning to your tone.

“Didn’t think so,” he says with a grin, admiration evident in his voice. “Strong girl like you? You’re gonna do just fine.”

You nestle closer into him, thankful beyond words that he’s here, that he understands in a way you desperately needed someone to.

Steve’s just relieved that you’re letting him be the one to help you shoulder the weight. Something else he realised this evening was that he hates seeing you hurt, but if being here—listening, comforting—helps even a little, then it’s worth every second.

You exhale a shaky breath and smooth down the front of your shirt, eyes still puffy from crying. You feel lighter, like a burden’s been lifted just from having Steve here. Even with a hint of embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” you say, voice quiet. “For making you worry, I mean. I should’ve just told you what was going on.”

Steve’s gaze flicks over your face. “You didn’t—well, okay, maybe I was worried,” he admits, a tiny wry smile tugging at his lips. “But I’d prefer it if you just told me when you’re sad. I mean, I can’t fix everything, but I want to help—when you’ll let me.”

You nod, fingers picking at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I still feel bad for lying earlier. Telling you I was sick.” You let out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “You got me soup and everything.”

“Yeah, well,” he says, shifting with a touch of bashfulness. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t at least try to look after you?”

A beat passes, and then your eyes snap to his. 

“Boyfriend?”

Steve freezes, colour blooming across his cheeks. 

Shit.

“Uh… yeah?” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, that’s—what did you think we were doing? I figured we were… you know, dating. I pick you up, I pay for stuff, sometimes we—uh—we kiss—” He falters, stumbling over his words. “Not all the time, but—”

You press your lips together, fighting a smile as you watch him ramble. Something tender wells up inside you. It’s like he’s laid himself bare—admitting out loud how he sees you, how he sees this. And it’s so damn endearing you can’t help the small giggle that escapes.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” you tease, reaching to gently poke his cheek.

He groans, cheeks going even pinker. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, covering his face with one hand. “I can’t believe—”

You place your hand over his, coaxing him to look at you. “I like the idea of you being my boyfriend,” you say softly, each word weaving comfort through the space between you.

“Yeah?” His eyes widen, and for a second, he looks almost boyish with relief. “You do?”

A small smile curves your lips as you lean in. “Yeah.” 

You slide a hand to his cheek, guiding him into a kiss—slow, sweet, and laced with the warmth of everything you’ve been lacking back all day. He exhales against your mouth, shoulders easing with the gentle press of your lips. His thumb strokes lightly over your jaw as he returns the kiss, and you taste a hint of peppermint from the candy he’d been snacking on in the car. When he finally pulls back, breath a little unsteady, there’s a stunned happiness in his eyes. 

“So…” he murmurs, voice catching in his throat. “I’m your boyfriend.” He tried to make it sound like a joke but you could see the question behind his statement. He wanted full clarification here. He wanted to hear you say it out loud. 

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “Yes, Steve. You’re my boyfriend.”

“That’s—God.” He laces his fingers through yours, a giddy laugh bubbling from his chest. “That’s—yeah. Glad we cleared that up.”

You both end up in the kitchen soon after, unpacking the soup he brought. It’s nothing fancy—just store-bought chicken noodle—but it warms you from the inside out as you eat together, perched on stools by the counter. He slides you half the candy he picked up, and you pass the bag back and forth, bumping shoulders with quiet smiles. There’s something so normal about it—the day’s troubles left behind in another world.

Later, you curl up on the couch together, switching on the TV. Steve insists you get first pick after the day you had. You flick through the channels until you settle on some old sitcom that neither of you pay much attention to. You’re more focused on the weight of his arm around your shoulders, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Eventually, the clock inches toward midnight. The hum of the television plays softly in the background as you shift to look at him. 

“Hey, are you working tomorrow?”

He winces a little. “Yeah,” he says, regret threading through his voice. “’Fraid so. Saturdays are insane. I tried to switch shifts, but Keith was being a total pain. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t apologise,” you shake your head. “I was just wondering if… you wanted to stay here tonight.” Your cheeks warm slightly at the invitation. “I live closer, and I’ve got a spare toothbrush somewhere. Plus…” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze momentarily. “I’d really rather not be alone tonight.”

Steve’s eyes flicker with surprise and then a rush of tenderness. “You—you want me to stay? I mean, I don’t want to impose. Not like in a—like we don’t have to—I mean—”

You cut off his rambling by resting a hand over mouth. “Steve.” Your smile is gentle. “Stay the night, please? I’m asking you to.”

He searches your face, seeing sincerity there, and his entire demeanour softens. You’re too damn sweet for your own good, he swears. 

“Alright,” he breathes. “Yeah. I’ll stay.” Then he leans in, pressing a slow, grateful kiss to your temple. “Thank you.”

Eventually, the two of you shuffle into your bedroom, quietly laughing as you rummage around for that spare toothbrush you promised. You lend him an old T-shirt that’s slightly snug across his shoulders, which only makes you giggle more. By the time you both slip beneath the blankets, the mood has shifted from the sadness of the day to the tenderness of tonight. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, and you snuggle into his chest, breathing in his soft scent. For a moment, neither of you says anything—it’s enough just to lie there, safe and comfortable, heartbeats syncing in the quiet. 

“Night, sweetheart.” He murmurs and you sigh in agreement, already being lulled into sleep. It’s a happy sound—one that makes him pull you closer as you drift off. 

You stir awake to the warmth of Steve’s arm still draped over your waist. Morning light filters through the curtains, illuminating the little dust particles swirling in the morning light. The alarm you set starts to go off and he lets out a quiet groan, burying his face in the curve of your shoulder as if he can hide from the responsibilities of the day. You can’t help but smile, tracing idle patterns on the back of his hand.

“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin.

You push a sleepy chuckle past your lips. “You have to—Robin would miss you too much.”

“No she wouldn’t.” He sighs dramatically, rolling onto his back and turning off the blaring sound. “Probably count it as a blessing not to put up with me for a whole Saturday.” But there’s a small, silly grin on his face that betrays the fondness beneath all the complaining.

A short while later, you’re both in the kitchen, sipping hastily brewed coffee due to your shared reluctance to get up. You lean against the counter, watching as he rubs sleep from his eyes and nurses his mug like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. You don’t say anything about the state of his hair, enjoying the way it falls messily across his forehead. 

“You sure you’re feeling better?” he asks, gaze flickering over you, still laced with concern even though you’ve assured him more times than you can count.

You nod, a softer smile pulling at your lips. “I am. Thanks to you,” you add, nudging his foot with yours, blushing with how sappy you’re both being.

He tries for a humble shrug, but the flush creeping up his neck is unmistakable. “Anytime, angel.”

Before long, the clock reminds him that time is up. He slips into yesterday’s shirt—grimacing a bit at the wrinkles—and heads for the door. You follow, hands clasped around your mug. At the threshold, he turns to you, pressing a gentle goodbye kiss to your lips.

Then another.

And another.

“Steve, you’re gonna be late.” You let out an exasperated laugh, placing a firm hand on his chest.

He grins like a kid caught stealing candy. “What—trying to get rid of me already?”

“You know I’m not,” you sigh, rolling your eyes as you gently shove him. “I’m literally seeing you after you clock out!”

His voice lowers playfully as he backs out the door. “Damn right you are.”

He winks, then sets off, leaving you with a warm, tingly feeling long after he disappears from sight.

When Steve finally strolls into Family Video, he finds Robin already at the counter, re-shelving tapes. She glances up, raises an eyebrow, and greets him with a lazy wave.

“Hey. So… how’d it—” She stops mid-sentence, narrowing her eyes at him. “Wait a second.” She points accusingly at his shirt. “That is the same outfit from yesterday. You did not—”

“Whoa,” Steve lifts both hands defensively. “It’s not like that, okay?”

Robin sets down the tapes, folding her arms over her chest. “Then enlighten me. Because it sure looks like you had a fun night.”

“Ugh,” he groans, scrubbing a hand across his face. “It was—look, it’s not what you think. She was having a rough time, I went to check on her, and… well, I stayed over. Nothing crazy.”

Robin cocks her head, curiosity replacing her initial look. “So she’s okay?” She may not know you as well as Steve did, but if you were important to him, you were important to her too. 

“Yeah. She will be.” He nods, and a small, proud smile graces his lips. “My girl’s tough.”

Her eyes light up. “Your girl, huh?”

He bobs his head, trying to hide the giddy surge that washes over him. “Yeah. Officially.”

Robin squeals—actually squeals—and Steve flushes, glancing around to make sure there are no customers to witness it. 

“We have to do a double date!” she says, practically bouncing on her heels. “We’ll get Vickie—”

“Rob,” Steve pleads, fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from curving up too high, “let’s not scare her off, okay? One step at a time.”

“Fine,” Robin huffs, but she’s beaming at him. “But soon. I’m serious.”

He rolls his eyes, yet there’s no denying the warmth in his expression. The truth is, he’s never felt so content. The memory of your smile still fresh in his mind, and the knowledge that, yes, you’re his girl. Officially.

“Yeah, we’ll figure something out,” Steve says quietly, stocking a few tapes behind the counter. His voice is softer than usual, carrying a note of contentment Robin hasn’t heard in him for a long, long time.

She shoots him a conspiratorial grin. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, thinking of how you looked in the morning light, how sweet it felt to hold you close and kiss you goodbye. He looks out the window toward your apartment, knowing you’re going to be there when he leaves in a few hours. “Me too.”

[diushek]

Shen Yuan was a beta all his life so then, now, being the omega Shen Qingqiu who can no longer suppress his secondary gender by Without-a-cure, needs to learn to be an Omega.

The information in the books is damn unclear and it would not be right to go ask for help from disciples or brothels, so he just... Well, he knows that Shang Qinghua is a spy for the demons, and he knows that Mobei Jun is an Omega for his meta knowledge. So he decides to go and threaten Shang Qinghua's ass with exposing him with the other Peak Lords for treason unless he allows him to have private meetings with Mobei Jun.

(At some point, they both reveal themselves as transmigrants? Yes. But not at the beginning for more drama lol Shang Qinghua racking his brains over what the hell Shen Qingqiu the scum villain and HIS KING will talk about in private- )

So, in private meetings with Mobei Jun, Shen Qingqiu humiliates himself with a half-truth: he tells him that I had never experienced anything like omega (after all, the entire CQMS thinks Shen Qingqiu is a beta), and now with Without-a-cure he has stopped taking his suppressants because the damage they were doing to his health, so right now he doesn't know how to do omega basic things like nest, purr, scent, pack behavior...

Mobei Jun agrees to teach him all those omega things; in exchange, Shen Qingqiu will give him more information and those things that Shang Qinghua doesn't have access to, since Shen Qingqiu is, well, Peak Lord of the second most important peak. They make a half-hearted and reluctant agreement, but they are on the same page.

And Mobei Jun teaches him. He teaches him how to fix a nest and the different ways he can use it. How apply blankets properly for softness, or comfort, or space, depends on what suits him. Teaches him to scent with the necessary amount of pheromones on people, objects, pack gifts, puppy gifts- It is a different level for each situation, and it is very necessary that it be respected, because otherwise it could give the wrong message!!

It also teaches purring, different growls, the type of reactions these sounds would have in Alphas or other Omegas. Also what kind of fabrics or robes are more comfortable to wear closer to the heat, what herbs to avoid, what kinds of things might not help him, what types of foods to stock up on for those occasions.

There is a lot of monosyllabic talk, a lot of directions and teachings, and Mobei Jun is not really the type to talk a lot, but neither is Shen Qingqiu, so unless necessary, they won't say much that is not so very important. They drink tea (iced) and they always end their secret meetings by scenting their wrists. It's a habit. Mobei Jun's omega scent is clear like ginger-mint and somewhat spicy, but it doesn't smell demonic itself, then it can go unnoticed.

The change in Shen Qingqiu's Omega behavior is noticeable, not only among the now very spoiled puppy disciples, but among the Peak Lords. Mu Qingfang is glad that Shen Qingqiu is finally accepting being part of the pack, scenting them, giving them scented gifts for their own common spaces. Alphas and betas do not necessarily nest, but in their homes they often have things with the aromas of their packs, giving shape to their home.

There is only one notable difference. Mobei Jun, of course, has taught his omega knowledge biased by his demonic family teaching. So, Shen Qingqiu finds himself... biting.

He bites his disciples' cheeks, he bites their little hands when he comes to scent them. It is easier to give them little bites, so they will only laugh or blush.

He bites Liu Qingge's cheek, one day the Alpha gets really close to him sniffing the clear scent of Mobei Jun on him, asking who is. In defense of Shen Qingqiu, he became nervous!!! And Liu Qingge stepped away as if he had been set on fire, walking away like a penguin.

Randomly bites Mu Qingfang's hands when he is checking him out by Without-a-cure, little bites on his fingers, on his knuckles. Mu Qingfang blushes, steps back, and quickly notes down the reactions. Pff. As if it wasn't normal for Omegas to bite and lick their packs!! Now they will tell that Omegas should not court their Alphas by proving they can kill them in a fight only to decide not to! Of course Binghe's harem didn't work like that, but those were female Omegas! He was a male Omega, that would make the difference, wouldn't it?

So, just, Shen Qingqiu is there, gifting his packs with things with his scent, purring when some Alpha around him is stressed, biting hands, wrists, cheeks. He shamelessly sits close to anyone and drenches them with his scent. He's much more tactile with everyone. He makes comfortable public-nesting spaces in gardens where he invites his youngest disciples (and Binghe, because how could he deprive Binghe of those experiences?! The poor boy is always hungry for affection, hugs, pats and bites more than any other disciple) to snuggle with him while purring and playing some music, just as Mobei Jun had explained that Omegas did with their pups so they could relax after long days-

(The other Peak Lords don't know if Shen Qingqiu has gone mad or is trying to court them all. They also don't want to risk asking and ruining whatever's going on.)

(Amidst all this, and instinctively, both Mobei Jun and Shen Qingqiu begin to see and feel like a pack. They give each other scented blankets, their scents are in their respective nests. There are new jewels among Shen Qingqiu's hair accessories, and new necklaces hanging over Mobei Jun's open necklines. They are a pack. Family of some strange and accidentally acquired kind. Even Shen Qingqiu relaxes in Mobei Jun's nest once while waiting for him due to an urgency among the rebellious demons - which almost causes Shang Qinghua to almost have a qi deviation when he sees him, comfortable in his king's nest just reading.)

(At some point, Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu reveal themselves to be transmigrants- and Shang Qinghua is laughing his fucking shit off, because now he has the explanation of everything, and he's definitely not going to tell him that the normal omega mode of demons is the omega-courtship-family mode of humans. Nope. He'll let Cucumber-bro figure it out for himself.)

[jikooklove9795]

The MMA 2018 seating arrangement switch is one of those moments that perfectly encapsulates why so many people (including those who are reluctant to see them in a romantic light) find Jungkook and Jimin's dynamic fascinating. Its not just about the visual contrast in Jungkook's expressions but what it suggests about his comfort level and emotional state when Jimin is near.

We also got to see this on this same night:

The way he glares at them 🤭

Let's get back to the topic.

Before Jimin sits next to Jungkook, he looks composed but somewhat serious or detached. Almost like he's passively existing in the moment. He's physically present but not necessaring expressive.

After Jimin sits next to Jungkook his whole demeanor changes instantly. His posture becomes more relaxed, his facial expressions become livelier and there's an unmissable light in his eyes. Its like a silent but obvious Oh, you're here! moment.

This is more fascinating and interesting because it is a natural, unconscious reaction. The fact that his expression changes so naturally and effortlessly suggests that Jimin genuinely affects his mood.

We all have people who make us feel instantly at ease. The way Jungkook responds to Jimin's presence is so automatic that it feels deeply ingrained. It suggests that Jimin is a personal source of comfort for him. Jimin brings out a side of Jungkook that is warm, free and full of joy.

Sometimes the strongest bonds don't need words. The way his body language adjusts and how his face softens says a lot. Its in the subtle details that you see the real connection.

This isn't an isolated incident. There have been multiple instances where Jungkook's mood or energy seems to brighten around Jimin.

Here's a few instances which shows how Jimin's presence and absence affects Jungkook:

1) Jungkook's "Jimin is here" and "You're here. Finally" when finally they got the opportunity to spend extended time together (I'm sure they spent time together before AYS but that time was too short due to their demanding schedules)

His bright face and excited smile. He was so happy to spend time with Jimin after all those stunts he pulled on his lives to get Jimin to come to him

2) Jungkook not knowing what to do when Jimin goes to bath in AYS Jeju

3) Jungkook not even wanting to talk about ms when it was uncertain if their request for companion program be will be approved and then there's the same Jungkook talking about their ms in AYS Jeju once their application was approved:

4) Jungkook's words here:

Why would he say this?

Surely he's been on many trips. Even in 2023 apart from those trips for AYS with Jimin he went on other trips with his friends. So why would he say the trips for AYS were the best?

Because it was with Jimin. That's what made it the best experience for him. Traveling and exploring with his bf.

Its for this same reason we get to see a shift in Jungkook's demeanor after the seat switch in MMA 2018.

Jungkook is naturally close with all the BTS members and he has many other friendships outside of BTS but there's no denying there's something unique and deep about the way he interacts with Jimin.

We have seen how even in group settings Jungkook often ends up near Jimin. Whether its at award shows, interviews or casual moments he naturally gravitates to Jimin.

Jungkook is affectionate with all the members but his level of touchiness and physical comfort with Jimin is distinct. He often leans on Jimin, seeks out hugs or casual touches. He is protective around Jimin, loves to cook for him and doesn't hesitate to show his emotions openly when they're together.

If it weren't for Jimin I don't think we would have gotten to see Jungkook's naturally uninhibited, warm, affectionate and romantic side.

Credits to the owner of the video

[hwalovs]

Absolution, My Fine Friend (M)

Pairing; Priest! Jayce x Fem!Reader Word Count; 4.9k Warnings; Porn Without Plot (kind of), mutual masturbation, finger sucking, drooling (Jayce), he gets talked through it, misuse of the confessional, trying not to get caught, paper eating, misuse of a bible, blasphemy, religious kink, corruption kink.

Summary; Father Talis has done his best to forget the sin that permeates his office, taking refuge in the confessional. Maybe, by listening to other ask to be forgiven, Father Talis himself can earn his absolution.

First Sin; Temptation Second Sin; Absolution (currently here)

A/N; this can be read on its own, i think, but part one was a hit in my books and i couldn't stop thinking about Father Jayce and reader. Theres also a little someone on ao3 who sent the most amazing comment and I got a fire ignited under my ass so now we're here. Again, this is dedicated to my babies on discord, all of them. This wouldn't be here without them. Anywho, enjoy!

THIS IS NOT EDITED!

DO NOT COPY, REPOST ON OTHER SITES, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION!

Absolution; Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment. 

It’s customary for the Priest to wait in the confessional, sitting in the small box for the small door on the other side to open, a person to come sit down, and confess to him their sins. From there, he would listen, give advice, and pray with them before sending them on their way. It was something he had done multiple times before, finding comfort in the enclosed space. His own body heat would keep him warm, heating the small space rather quickly. Taking off his rosary, he could drag the small chain through his fingers, playing with the beads. He would think of prayers, roll a bead between the pads of his fingers, grip the small cross and lightly kiss it. He would do this for hours, sometimes someone would arrive, sometimes there would be no one. 

The sun was shining brightly through the small lattice on the door in front of him, directly in his eyesight, blinding him. Gold light filtered through stained glass, casting an array of colorful rays across the pews and patrons. Eyes clenched shut, he sits taller while leaning his head back against the wood, sighing. There was an imaginary clock in his mind, constantly ticking away, bringing a faux comfort. He could hear the slight commotion of people still in the church, talking to loved ones and neighbors who were all smiles and high off of the worship he held. He needed something more to keep him distracted, the LED clock in the confessional was silent, unlike the clock in his bedroom. Its ticking filled his mind now, his foot tapping the ground along with it. 

Arms moving, he moves the slowly sliding bible back into its place on his lap, the book small enough to sit idly on his thigh. It rocks back and forth in time with the bouncing of his foot, the movement bringing yet another distraction.

He wished to go back to his room, sit at his desk in his office- no, the desk in his bedroom. He hadn’t sat at the desk in his office for eight days, two hours- his eyes crack open to peek at the small LED clock in the corner of the confessional- and forty-five minutes. He prayed for the strength to sit at the mahogany desk, to write correspondence to other churches, and send letters to the people who gracefully sent donations. 

Yet, perhaps he didn’t pray hard enough, didn’t kneel at the side of his bed long enough. Didn’t sit in this small box long enough. Perhaps, God has turned his nose up at him, forsaken him from the greatness of being forgiven. Even now, your ghost had its claws wrapped around his heart like a vice, whispering obscenities into his ear while he was alone. You were the one who led him down this path, and now he searched for the bright light of God with his eyes closed. 

Guilt eats away at the fibers of his soul, rips him apart late at night when the image of you appears in his mind, a giggling smile on your lips as they skim across his throat. Your hands were so warm, though, dragging across his body without condescendence. He would wake up and find himself sweating profusely in his cold room the next morning, breathing heavily as his hands grip the blanket. With shaking legs, he would sit up and rip the drawer of his night stand open, glare at the blue rosary that was tied tightly around a small bible, and grab his new one. 

He would drop to his knees, heart racing, and pray until the sweat on his back dried. 

Even now, he thinks he can sense you in this enclosed space with him. Your scent lingering in the air around him, permeating his clothes no matter how many times he changes or washes them. 

Hands gripping his rosary, he hopes the metal cross cuts into his skin. Maybe then, if he sacrificed his blood, God would see he was punished long enough. Maybe then, he could be forgiven. Your face appears in his mind, and his teeth clench. How could you do this to him? Reduce him to nothing but the filth that lines the pristine floors?

Jayce startles when the door on the other side opens, his breath quick as he shifts in place. Clearing his throat, he waits for the person on the other side to get comfortable, their throat clearing. It's silent then, both Jayce and the newcomer getting comfortable with each other. Jayce’s eyes clenched shut, your scent washing over him with newfound strength, the hair on the back of his neck stands and as if he was struck with lightning-

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Your voice. 

His heart shakes, muscles tight and his breath short. Immediately, he thinks he can zone in on your breathing, so calm and quiet. Eyes cracking open, his head tilts to the lattice, and he can see your lips curved into a smirk. It's sickening, how the sight of you can make him feel so electric. You ignite something deep within him, akin to a lighter held under a sparkler. His stomach clenches, and his leg stalls its bounce. Fingers gripping his rosary, the sudden weight of the bible in his lap taunts him. 

“I’ve never confessed before, could you guide me?”

“I-” his voice squeaked out, and he snapped his jaw shut. Swallowing, Jayce looks back to his lap, gazing at the rosary. Was it just him, or did it suddenly look like the blue one he cast aside? Was the small figure of Jesus gazing with accusatory eyes? Did he know what was reeling in his mind at the sight of you?

“Father?”

His eyes shut tight, head falling towards his chest, shoulders hunched, robes tight over his shoulders, “I listen to your confession.”

It took a lot of strength to force his voice into a steady cadence. The small box seemed to be a little too small, he seemed too big to be in here. What once was comfort, was now torment. Your voice filled his side, bouncing off the wood and surrounding him.

“I give you advice, and you’ll- um,” he shifts in his spot, refusing to meet your gaze through the lattice, “You’ll be on your way.”

“Are you alright, Father?” You’re smiling, he just knows it. He can see your face behind his eyelids, how bright your gaze is, how your pupils are dilating at the sight of him so unkept. 

Nodding his head, he takes one more deep breath. He couldn’t let you see him like this, he was supposed to push what happened between you to the back of his mind. Forget it, even. He was praying to God for forgiveness, and by letting you entrap his senses, he would be pushed back to step one. 

“What was that?” Taunting, you hum, “I didn’t quite hear you.”

Shivering, he lifts his head and finally gazes through the lattice, meeting your sharp eyes. They’re encapsulating, looking at him with knowing. You can see him for what he truly is, a man of sin. 

Yet, it was your fault he was like this, why he swallows a whine and lets his mouth open to answer. If he were to put on a strong front, you would understand why he couldn’t progress in this sinful back and forth. Couldn’t let you torment him with your pretty words, or your addicting touch. 

“I’m here to listen to your confession, please just-” voice trailing off, his hands grip the rosary for comfort, but all he finds is the sharp edges of the cross. 

You chuckle, head leaning against the wood, raising your hand to tap your forehead, chest, and each shoulder. 

“In the name of the Father, Son, and The Holy Spirit. My confession, Father, is that I cannot stop thinking about you.”

Jayce smiles, gaze locked onto his rosary, “That’s normal- I’m your Priest-”

“No, Father,” voice quiet. serious, you shift closer to the lattice, “I think of you when my fingers are inside me, I wish they were yours-”

Muscles tight, Jayce says the first thing that comes to mind, “that was a mistake-”

“Was it? You seemed to enjoy yourself a lot, Father.”

“Temptation is a powerful thing, but you must find it in yourself to resist.”

There’s silence on the other side, your gaze assessing him. Humming, you let your head swing to the side, your own fingers rubbing across the tops of your thighs absentmindedly. 

“How can I resist, Father?”

Finally, his lungs allow air in. He breathes deeply, ignoring his shaking hands. He ignores the fire in his gut, how his thighs clench together, and recites words from the book still resting in his lap, “Asks for guidance out of temptation, and for the strength to use the Word of God as a weapon.”

“Ah,” you sigh, “the Word of God as a weapon? Do you really think that’ll save me?”

There's a teasing tilt to your tone, and Jayce ignores it. Voice closer, you whisper through the lattice, “have you been saved, father?”

“I ask for forgiveness, just as you are now,” he whispers in return. Hands shaking, he lets his fingers return to fidgeting with the rosary beads. His mouth waters, wanting you to drop it into his mouth-

No, he cannot think of that. He was a holy man. Faithful to his God.

“So, you’ve confessed?”

Nodding, he bites his cheek, his skin burning, “I- I have.”

“Liar.”

White hot fear runs through his veins, and his hands unknowingly release the rosary. It clatters to the ground between his feet, and his eyes meet yours. They narrowed, disappointingly pointed his way; All of a sudden, he felt the roles reversed. 

“No-”

“How often do you think of me, Jayce?”

Heart racing, his hands grip the tops of his thighs, feel the muscles beneath tighten. 

His chest heaves, and his legs clench together. Pushing back that licking flame that ignited between his legs, all because of your voice. It's sticky-sweet like honey, drowning him in molasses that clogs his senses. He can feel his cock twitch, wanting your touch instead of his. 

Head leaning back against the wood, he can feel a droplet of sweat run down the back of his neck, soaking into the roman collar. His shaking hands move to grip his bible, fingers sliding between the pages to seek any form of strength. He can hear it rip under the pressure of his grip, yet how else would he ground himself? His mind races, feeling your eyes staring at him through the lattice

“Does your God know you think of me as much as you do him?”

Jayces’ shuddering breath is loud, eyebrows furrowed as he wills his racing heart to calm. He must not give in. This must be another test for him, he thinks. This was God's way of seeing if he was worthy of forgiveness. 

Yet, you seemed so genuine, even if you sounded teasing. 

“What do you tell yourself at night? Maybe I could speak the same, so I can forget about you.”

A whine, and Jayce thinks he doesn't want you to forget him. He couldn’t forget you, no matter what he did, what he said, or tried. Stomach turning, he can see your waiting eyes, how you won’t change the subject until he gives in. 

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us of our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

“Ah,” you nod your head once, “Do you want to be forgiven, though?”

He’s silent, clenching his teeth, “Of course.”

You sigh, and with a low voice you talk with a harsh tone, “then why are you still speaking to me?”

“I-” voice stuck in his throat, Jayce knows he’s had the opportunity to steer the conversation back, to not engage you in such sinful conversation. Yet, he craved it. To be told what to do, to be on his knees between your knees instead of the altar. 

“Oh,” you say, Jayce freezing. Had you read him so easily?

“Oh, you’re liking this, aren’t you?”

Whining, his thighs clench. You laugh, and it makes his chest seize. Cock jumping in his robes, Jayce refuses to touch himself. There were people outside, they would hear-

“I’m liking this too,” you whisper, and he can hear the first button pop from your pants. Shoulders tense, his breathing turns rapid. 

“You’ve plagued my mind everyday, Jayce, its tormenting-”

A zipper, and Jayce can feel his thighs shake. His fingers curl against the pages, and he clenches his eyes shut. You were taunting him, you wouldn’t touch yourself now, in the confessional of all places. 

“You-” he whines, “you’ve been tormenting me-”

“Good,” a sigh, and he wishes to be in the small space with you, to tear down this wall to see your form in all its glory, “should we pray together, Father? Beg together for forgiveness?”

Shivering, he pushes his head further against the wood, swallowing with a dry throat. 

“Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me: do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit-”

Your voice starts immediately after his, repeating his words, breathy and soft. The fire, slowly swelling in his stomach, licks and burns at his chest at the sound of your sweet voice wrapping around each syllable of the prayer. He sets the bible in the small space beside him, sliding his free hands across his torso. 

He moves, fingers undoing the buttons of his robes. With a shaking grip, he slowly pushes it to the side, the air wrapping around his thighs. Cock jumping, Jayce whines softly. His hands rest on the inside of his thighs, his cock radiating heat under his boxers. Chest shuddering, his back slouches, legs spreading. 

“forgive all my sins, renew your love in my heart, help me to live in perfect unity with my fellow Christians that I may proclaim your saving power to all the world.”

Tone shaking, he barely opens his eyes to find you already looking at him. Your own eyes were half lidded, chest heaving as your mouth opened to copy him once more. He can barely see you, but he can make out how your shirt was pulled up on your tummy, your pants undone, your hand hidden under the fabric. Your back was arching, neck exposed to the light that seeps in. 

He can’t help himself, his hands grip his cock over his boxers, hips jumping into the contact. Jayce growls, rough and gravely as he grips the base of his clothed cock.

“Jayce,” you whimper, and he moans. You sounded so heavenly, his mind reeling at the cadence. 

“Do you think we’ll be forgiven?” You ask, smirking. He shakes his head, and watches as your gaze shifts to the ceiling. Eyes closing, your eyebrows furrow as you lose yourself in your own pleasure. Jayce whimpers, wanting to be the one giving you that pleasure, he wants you to be above him, using him, punishing him for being so sinful. 

“Keep talking, Jayce, be a good boy.”

“Hnng- I-” he chokes, snapping his gaze to his lap. There was a rapidly growing wet patch at the tip of his cock, he grips the top of his boxers, pulling the elastic away to push it down his thighs. The fabric is tight against his skin, straining. With his cock finally free, he softly trails the tips of his shaking fingers along the shaft. Twitching, he presses his finger into the beads of pre that seeps from the tip. 

“Tell me another prayer, Father,” it's harsh now, how your eyes glare at him. He bites his cheek, sparing a glance to the bible next to him, searching his mind for anything to say. All he could think of, though, was you. 

“Therefore, confess your sins to- to one another and pray for one another-” he sighs, tears gathering on his waterline as he finally grips his cock tightly. His thumb swipes across the tip, and he moves his wrist once, slowly pumping his cock from top to base, and back up again, its uncoordinated, sloppy, “that you may be healed. The p- hnn- prayer of a righteous person has great power as it- it is working.”

“I want to taste you, Jayce,” you whisper. He hips jerk, and his eyes snap to the lattice separating you both. You’re so much closer, and when he leans close to look closer, he can see your pants pushed down your thighs. The soft skin of your thighs looked so inviting, spread as far as the restricting clothing will allow, your fingers circling your pulsing clit as your other hand grips onto the edge of the seat. 

“You can’t,” he whimpers, much louder than he intended. He wanted nothing more than for your mouth to taste him, replace his shaking hand and bring him to euphoria once more. 

“I can,” you reply with a hiss, “the gap is wide enough, let me taste you.”

Jayce furrows his eyebrows, his focus turning to how big the gap actually was, it was small enough that at a glance you wouldn't be able to decipher what was on the other side. Yet, if you looked close enough, you’d be able to tell what was what. His hand leaves his cock, gathering his sticky pre onto the pad of his middle finger, and slowly raises it to the gap in the lattice. His chest shudders as he watches you move, meeting your lips on the other side. 

His moan is loud, reverberating in the space as your wet tongue wraps around his finger. You're sucking hard, teeth grazing his skin, the breath escaping your nose warm on his already scorching skin. 

Your mouth is gone just as quickly as it wrapped around his digit, your tongue swiping across your bottom lip as your hand drips deeper on your cunt, no doubt pushing them inside. 

“You’re an angel,” you whisper, and Jayce’s back arches slightly. His hand retracts from the lattice, immediately running the spit coated skin across his lower lip before sucking his own finger. He could taste you, the candy you ate, the coffee you drank, and he could taste himself. A tangy saltiness that lingers in the back of his throat. 

He almost sobs, drool dripping down to coat his palm. When he pulls his finger away, his hands are replaced onto his cock, now glistening with the collection of his and your spit. He doesn’t realize that he’s gasping for air, his legs shaking, the choked sound of a whimper pushing from his throat. 

“Be quiet, Jayce.”

Licking his lips, he clenches his thighs shut, pushing his head back against the wood. His cock was throbbing in his grip, and when he slowly rubbed his thumb across the tip, he moaned. 

“I-” he swallows, throat suddenly too dry, “I can’t, I’m sorry-”

You sigh, and he can feel his stomach clench, “grab your Bible, show it to me.”

“What?-”

“Show me your Bible, now,” you hiss, and his hand leaves his cock to grab the leather-bound book. Raising it, he refuses to look at the gold writing across the front. 

“Good boy, open it up for me, any page will do.”

Dropping it from your gaze, he lets the binding fall to any page, heaving as his eyes blearily look over the page. The text was so small, mixing together in a conglomeration of sentences and prayer he could no longer read. All he could think of was you you you you-

“Rip out a page, and put it in your mouth.”

Freezing, Jayce finds it hard to breathe. Rip out a page? That’s blasphemous.

“Since you love to recite God's words so much, why don't you eat them so no one can hear what's rightfully mine?”

Jayce can’t, he simply can’t. By doing this, he would never be forgiven- 

Yet, would you forgive him if he refused?

You can sense his racing mind, your voice a calm beacon in the rough waves of a storm, “Tell me another prayer, Father- One more, just for me.”

Jayce breathes deeply, calming himself, “You are my refuge and strength; no matter what happens, I trust You and will not be afraid.”

“Good boy,” you coo, “do as you're told, Jayce.”

Mind over matter, Jayce forces his unwilling hands to rip a page, bringing it slowly to his lips. The pages were thin, and when he pushed it against his tongue, his spit immediately soaked through it. The ink was slowly seeping from the paper, bitter against his tongue. He looks at you, teeth chewing down onto the paper to keep it in place. 

Smirking, you tilt your head, “another.”

He rips multiple pages at once, pushing them between his teeth to meet the other. 

You scoff, “such a good boy, doing what you’re told. Yet, you can’t follow your own God’s teachings.”

He can do nothing but whimper around the pages, his hand dropping the bible to the ground to grab back onto his cock, jerking his wrist to the sound of your voice. 

“You would do anything I ask, wouldn’t you?” You taunt, your own hand picking up its pace. Sweat shines on your forehead, lips glistening with spit as you shift in your spot, your other hand joining the one on your cunt. Whimpering, you push your own fingers inside, the other still circling your swollen and throbbing clit. 

“How far would you go for me, I wonder?” A sigh, and your eyes close. Smiling at the thoughts that race through your mind, “would you leave the priesthood for me?”

His head nods before he even realizes it, your head snapping to watch him, smile widening. 

With the small semblance of clarity in his mind remaining, Jayce thinks of the forgiveness he’s been begging to receive for weeks. 

It’s always been you, he realizes. You’re the one he seeks forgiveness from, you’re the one who he prays to each night. Not the God whose teachings he no longer follows. Not the God who judges him for feeling emotions only you can bring him. You would forgive him, you wouldn’t judge him for his actions. He would do anything for you, he thinks. If you asked him, he would be yours- he was yours from the moment you sat on his desk.

His pleasure washes over him in waves, no longer held back by guilt. He allows his hand to squeeze, feels the bite of pleasure in his thighs. 

Your whine makes his hand jerk faster, that sweet noise the only thing that he seeks out in the night. Breathing heavily, he bites down on the pages still lodged in his mouth. Some were becoming too soggy, the ink transferring onto his tongue. 

“I’m so wet, Father-” you sigh, and he can hear your fingers run through your sloppy folds. It’s pathetic, how his hips rise off the seat to chase after it. He wanted to see, wanted to taste you-

“Do you want a taste? I bet you do.” He whines, tongue pressing against paper and you laugh. It's quiet, airy as you release a breathy moan. His eyes strain to watch your mouth drop open, your fingers pressing against your tongue. Eyes watering, he clenches them shut and leans his head forwards against the lattice, the wood cool against his scorching skin. 

Your fingers trail down your chin, chest heaving, and you push your hand back through your folds. Your soft skin glows in the light, blue’s and pink’s coloring you Holy as your glistening fingers come back into view. Instead of raising to your lips, they slowly close in on the small openings of the lattice. Your other fingers were still inside you, he realizes, you were halting your own pleasure just to tease him. 

“Why don’t you taste what I give? Rather than your God,” you taunt, glint in your eyes. Without hesitation he lets the soggy paper drop from his mouth, drool pouring from behind. Down his chin, soaking his beard. Bits of paper remain on his lips, the bitter taste of ink left behind. He can faintly hear the paper hit the floor, a wet smack, and he runs his tongue across his lip. He didn’t want anything to dilute your taste, not even his own spit. 

The tips of your fingers appear on his side, and he surges forwards to meet them. His tongue touches soft skin, lips pressed against wood. You push further into his mouth, your slick coating his taste buds. It washes away the taste of paper and ink, his body shivering as his hand grips tight onto his cock. It pulses, begging for your touch instead of his.

“I wonder what God would think, you forsaking his word for such sin.”

He whines, tongue parting your middle and ring finger to taste the slick between, feeling you press down onto his tongue, sliding as far as the lattice will allow. You almost hit the back of his throat, and he pushes harder against the wood, wanting you as deep as possible. 

“Fucking-” you hiss, retracting your finger and quickly licking across the tips before pushing them back between your folds. The sloppy-slick sounds louder than before, his hand trying to catch up to your rapid pace. 

There's a fire growing inside him, quick and unrelenting as his hand sloppily jerks his cock. His thighs twitch, toes curling in his shoes as his lungs beg for more air. Although he was gasping, he felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. 

“Don’t you fucking cum yet,” your voice growls, and he sobs. Pressure behind his eyes, scalding tears on his cheeks, his tongue searching for your taste that lingers. 

“Jayce-”

“Please- I-” he whispers, hearing the horrifying sound of heels against the floor outside of the confessional. Could they hear what was happening inside? Hear how their priest was touching himself, committing a sin he was no longer guilty about? 

His hand falters, cold humiliation creeping over his shoulders. 

“Ignore them, puppy-” your voice borders a whisper, “keep going- tell me another prayer.”

He looks to you, sniffling lightly as his hand resumes its previous pace. Nodding your own head, you encourage him. There was a gathering heat in his gut, embers collection to prepare a large bonfire. Your gaze threw wood onto it, flames catching quickly. His thighs felt gooey, his mind blank, but he wills himself to think of any prayer, just for you. 

“To all those- those that repent of in this wise- Oh, hnn- and look to J-Jesus- Christ for their salvation. F-fuck- I declare- that the absolution of sins is effected- please, oh fuck- In the name of the F-father- and of the son, oh- hnng ‘m gonna- Wait-”

“You can finish father, come on-”

“Mm- and- i can’t- h-hold-” he begs, your voice pushing him impossibly closer. 

“And of the Holy Spirit, Amen-”

Fire under his skin, and he feels his release begin. A raging fire in his gut, spreading to his thighs and chest. It tingles so intensely, and his hand clamps over his mouth, biting onto his palm to muffle his strained moan. Blinding white explodes behind his eyes, and he can faintly hear your cooing voice talking him through it. He wanted to hold your hand through this intensity, wanted your calming embrace rather than the prayer that was seared into his mind. God could no longer provide comfort, for you had burned him away to make space for your own presence.

He can hear your own whines, choked moans as you, no doubt, go through your own orgasm. You bite down on your cheek to keep yourself silent, hips canting into your hands to chase that pleasure. Jayce tries to watch, but his hands feel his thighs, and can't think of anything else but the euphoria he was feeling. 

Heavy breathing is what he hears when he comes back, his hands and skin covered in his own sticky release, cock still throbbing and red, yet too sensitive to continue. His abs hurt, his arm was slowly relaxing from the cramping that occurred. Licking his lips, he brings his hand closer to his mouth, tempted to taste the opaque liquid that coats him. 

Feeling your eyes on him, he looks over, you’re waiting on the other side of the lattice. With shaking hands, he raises his tired arm, slides his finger through the lattice, and feels your tongue wrap around the digit slowly. Heart in his ears, he makes circles on your tongue, feeling the muscle move and chase after the cum, a smile slowly stretching across his face. 

Your hand appears, your own shining fingers pushing through the gaps in the lattice, and Jayce wills his lethargic body to move to wrap his own lips around your fingers. His cock twitches at the taste of your own cum, his tongue licking away the sweet-tart taste. Your face was so close, he could feel the breath from your nose against his cheek, your body heat seeping through in the slightest. When he pulls away for air, he opens his mouth to speak. 

A voice beats him to it, though, older and questioning.

“Father?” 

Ice cold fear, and he tilts his head to stare at the door ahead.

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 12

Synopsis: You send Jason home, but he’s still worried about you.

Note: Last filler chapter for a minute. Reader and Jason have lost all sense of what normal platonic touching is but it’s fine.

Masterlist

Jason did stay another night. He had offered to sleep on the couch this time, claiming your bed was too small for the both of you. You had just rolled your eyes and said he would be sleeping in your bed with you, claiming that it would be like a sleepover (it gave you more sense of security if he was close). Secretly, he was grateful for your insistence. He hadn’t slept the night before, like at all. He spent the night next to you worried something else would happen, despite knowing nothing would. You seemed worried about the same thing, mumbling in your sleep, face scrunching and relaxing randomly. You woke a few times, a terrible look of terror on your features. But Jason was there. He’d pull you close, petting your hair and murmuring to you about how you were safe, and you would drift back off into a fitful sleep. He’s not sure you even remember it.

He had checked in with the family first thing in the morning after he found his phone full of spammed text messages and phone calls. Mostly from Steph, shockingly. She seemed extremely concerned about you like you were friends. That’s when she told him that she had also been visiting you at work, a kinship forming from there. She’s not just yours Jason, you have to share, she had messaged in complaint. He scoffed at the statement but conceded with keeping everyone posted after that. He had one text from Bruce. We need to talk. No doubt about how the news was broadcasting that Red Hood was back in his murder phase.

After you had woken up, you looked worse for wear but less terrified. He enjoyed having you close, it seemed you need it just like him. You would relax against him, and he would stare at you, like a creep. You seemed less fitful in your sleep on the couch. He kept his touch on you, your legs, for your peace of mind, not his. At least that’s what he told himself. Jason liked taking care of people, it's why he protected Crime Alley and the surrounding areas the way he did. It’s what he’s known since he was young, with his mom. She was so out of it most of the time, what else could he do but take care of her? He likes to think that his mom (the one he rarely met when she wasn’t hyped up on drugs) would have liked you.

At the close of the evening, only 7 o’clock, you dragged him to your room and shuffled into your bed, apologizing that you didn’t have any clothes that would fit him more comfortably to sleep. He shook off the notion and settled on top of the covers like the night before. You were on your side watching.

“You know you can sleep under the covers. I won't mind,” especially because you won't do anything. You add mentally because if Jason wanted something sexual from you, he would’ve taken it last night when you were barely conscious of what was happening around you. You want him to be comfortable while you keep him trapped in your home.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Sweetheart.” He crosses his arms as he settles on his back against his pillow. You think he almost looks like a mummy.

“Jason,” your voice is stern in a way he isn’t used to, “get under the covers.” Not a question, not an offer, but a demand. He glances over at you and finds a serious look on your face, no room for argument. It makes him smile. You had seemed out of it still throughout the day, but he was happy to see some notion of your old self showing. Your eyebrows lift like this is some challenge and who is Jason to say no to that? He shuffles under your covers, worrying briefly if he’s a blanket hog, or a bed hog simply because of his size. You don’t seem worried about it all as you curl against him like you had the night before, holding his arm and pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

Then you start talking. You complained momentarily that you should have brushed your teeth before you had gotten into bed and apologized if it smelled like the Chinese you had ordered for dinner. Then you complained that you hadn’t washed your face and done your skincare. Jason was about to offer to do it for you, but you kept going. You rambled on about the Gotham weather and how it sometimes felt bone-chillingly cold even in summer, and you thought maybe Gotham was cursed or haunted. You started talking about Jason, about how pleased you were that he liked romance movies and musicals. You would have to show him La La Land, even though that movie made you cry every time. You didn’t say why it had made you cry but you cried when you had finished The Notebook earlier in the evening, so he didn’t question it. Instead, you followed a tangent about how La La Land was a tragedy but not like Romeo and Juliet. Then you followed a tangent about Shakespeare.

The rest of the evening was like that. You would follow a random line of thought that would form into another and another. Your voice stayed soft, only speeding up and getting just a little louder if there was something that excited you before toning back down again. You would pause for a moment before going back to a thought you had left unfinished. He wondered if you were blocking, trying not to sleep out of fear of what you might find. He knew that feeling, woken up by nightmares of that stupid clown and dirt engulfing his lungs. If this gave you peace of mind, then it gave him some peace of mind. He liked your voice. The cadence of it, the way you lilted some words, and how some of them slurred as you got drowsier and drowsier. Soon enough, your pauses became longer until you stopped mid-sentence. He waited, thinking you would start back up again but after a while, you didn’t.

He glanced down at where your face was pressed to his shoulder. At some point, your hand had moved from curled around his forearm to lacing it with his hand, he can feel your fingers twitch as you sleep. Your features were relaxed, lips parted slightly, soft even breaths escaping you. He leans over and presses a too long kiss to the crown of your head; your hand tightens subconsciously in his own. Jason decides to be selfish, just for tonight. He turns on his side to face you, carefully slipping your head from his shoulder to your pillow. He pulls the covers up and over both of your shoulders. His hand slides to your back and pulls you close. His other hand lightly pressing your face to his neck and he just holds you. A sigh escapes you and your arm slithers over his own waist, hugging in your sleep. Your warmth bleeds into Jason in a way he’s not used to.

You were right about Gotham’s perpetual cold, like a ghost breathing down your neck. But here, holding you like this, the cold didn’t exist. Only warmth and deep breaths do. For the first time in years, Jason’s body genuinely relaxes. Every alarm, trained into him by Bruce, the league, and his own self-preservation, shuts off. He just focuses on your breathing. In and out, in and out, steady. He presses another kiss on your head and makes an internal promise. He would tell you the truth, sooner rather than later. He’d tell you everything, about Red Hood, about his feelings for you, even if it meant you would hate him. He was going to tell you but first, he’d wait for you to get back on your feet, back into a normal rhythm of life. With that thought and your body closed, Jason closes his eyes and falls asleep. Nightmares don’t haunt him, only you.

Jason slept the hardest he had ever slept before. You woke up before him and he didn’t even know it. You’d like to say that you got up and piddled around your apartment, but that would be a lie. When you woke up, you were still pressed against Jason. You had somehow wrapped yourself around him like a deranged koala, or a squid. One arm haphazardly tucked under his head and wrapped around his neck, shoulder aching from the placement. Your other arm was wrapped around his waist, a leg thrown over his hips. You were quick to pull your leg back, feeling it was a little promiscuous should he wake. You take the opportunity to stare at him, closer than you usually would.

For the first time since you’d known Jason his skin was smoothed over, no worried wrinkles. He was relaxed and you hadn’t realized how wound up he usually looked until this moment. Usually, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world, and you don’t know why or what caused it. You just know that it lightens when you can get him to laugh or talk about something he enjoys. Once you had asked Steph about it, sitting at her table one slow afternoon. She said it wasn’t her story to share but that there was some serious trauma along with a mountain of familial issues that didn’t help. You understood that having been there yourself. It's why you moved to Gotham in the first place. You never asked Jason about it because he never asked you what you were doing in Gotham. Your mind comes back to keep staring at him.

You get distracted staring at his lips longer than you’d like to admit, following the soft curve and pout there. Your thumb gently swipes over the small scar there absentmindedly, your hand already on his face without you realizing it. You feel a puff of air against your thumb, and you freeze as Jason’s forehead crinkles for a moment before relaxing again. God, you were such a loser. Staring at him while he slept, touching his lips. You needed to get a grip, and it was not going to happen in this bed. You take your time to peel out of his hold, his grip on you stronger than you anticipated. You pause once your feet are on the ground, letting him reorient himself until he stops moving. Bodily functions are taken care of in the bathroom, and you move to the kitchen starting the kettle on the stove for some tea. You stand there staring at the kettle while you wait, ignoring the headache forming behind your eyes.

A surge of upset overtakes you as you set two mugs on the counter with your usual tea. With a moment alone, with your tea, you think about Red Hood. You know it's dumb, but you still feel right to be mad at him. Between the kidnapping, which was his fault, and his abandonment, you understand now that he couldn’t have stayed, you think that anger is valid. But now, two days later, he hadn’t checked on you at least. You know Jason had been here but there was no note or any sign that he had been on your fire escape. You’ll admit to waking up, sneaking out of bed, and standing by the window waiting. It wasn’t for long, ten minutes, because you could cold without the space heater sleeping in your bed. He never showed himself.  You thought he cared but now you were questioning everything about your strange friendship with the vigilante.

“Tea?” a deep voice says. Your entire body flinches and for a brief moment you wonder if you’d summoned Red Hood by thinking about him but when you turn, you find Jason with a guilty look on his face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You press your hand to your chest, trying to make your heart slow down.

“You're so quiet.” You say with a deep breath. You know you were kind of lost in thought but you heard the usual sounds of your apartment easily. The creaking of the fire escape, the whistle of air from the window that’s not sealed right, and the whine of the ceiling fan. You hadn’t heard Jason moving at all.

“Part of the job.” He says with a shrug. You nod even though that doesn’t really make sense. What do security systems have to do with being quiet? The kettle starts to whistle. You turn off the heat and decide to ignore your usual tea habit for some hot chocolate. You put the box back into the cabinet and swap it for the box of hot chocolate. Once the hot chocolate is made you bring the mugs to the island. Jason is giving you a curious look.

“Oh, I’m sorry I should’ve asked if you want tea instead.” You say guiltily. He shakes his head.

“It’s okay, I like hot chocolate.” He takes the mug. He doesn’t drink it just yet only looks at you in that analyzing way.

“Why do you do that?” you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Do what?” he responds confused.

“Look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Jason,” you say sternly. You think he knows exactly what you're talking about it. He innocently shrugs and picks up the mug. You see the start of a smirk as he brings the mug to his lips. You roll your eyes.

“Whatever.” You round the island to look at the papers left on your dining table, and you hear Jason shift in his seat.

“Why do you have a cup of water on your window seal?” He questions. Your brows for furrow and you look up to see the cup he’s talking about. The real reason you had crawled out of bed in the middle of the night was because you were thirsty. You’d stood by the window while you sipped on it.

“I was thirsty in the middle of the night.” You leave it at that. You hear him move and then see him out of the corner of your eye moving towards the window. He pauses and looks at your window locks for a minute before picking up the glass.

“You should’ve woken me up I would have gotten it for you.” He walks past you taking it to the kitchen.

“I’m not helpless you know.” Honestly, in your half-asleep state, you had forgotten Jason was there until you were climbing back into bed, snuggling up against him.  He’s standing next to you again when he speaks next, voice soft.

“I know you’re not, but it doesn't hurt to let someone take care of you.”

You don’t look up from you skimming of the papers, but you feel a warmth in your chest.

“Next time I need a glass of water and you’re in my bed; I’ll be sure to wake you.” You say with a hint of a smile.

Jason's heart does a little jump at your statement. He knows you're being facetious about it but the idea that you would let him stay in your bed again… It’s a nice thought, especially if it is under different circumstances. You look up from your skimming and meet his eye with a small smile.  You look over his face.

“You should go home.” You say softly. Jason's internal jumping falls to the ground. So, you don’t want him here?  You must see the confusion on his face because you put down papers you were reading to hold his face. You tip his head this way and that as your thumb swipes just above his jawline.

“You're growing a beard,” you finally say, “Not that I think it would be a bad look for you, I just assume you don’t like it.”  Jason's own hand comes to feel at his skin. You were right, a coarse stubble where his hand is. Jason wants to laugh at your statement. The few times he hadn’t shaved consistently, usually on a long mission with the outlaws, his alleged beard would grow out patchy and uneven. Not a good look like you apparently think. He had complained about it one time to Bruce (it was a weird family bonding activity that was unrelated to the conversation) and Bruce had said it was because Jason was still young, that in a few years it would even out. Jason feels your hands leave his face and he tamps down the urge to pull them back. Your smile sweetly at him making it easier to reign himself in.

“I can’t keep you hostage forever.” You add. Jason does laugh at that; two days is hardly forever. You could keep him for a month and he wouldn’t complain.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and you roll your eyes at him. He hadn’t asked how you were feeling today but he got the feeling you might kick him if he did. You seem to be in higher spirits but your apparent venture in the middle of the night worried him. The window was unlocked, and it had to be because of you. He had checked every lock in your apartment before he let you drag him to your room the night before. The window had been locked. Nothing was out of place in the apartment, so not a break-in. Red Hood was him and he was already there, so that wasn’t it either. You were the only option left. He didn’t tell you that though.

“You know, I have lived my entire life without you. I think I’ll be fine for a couple of days. Besides, you’ve been wearing the same clothes for two days.” He glances at his current apparel. You had good reason to be concerned about that. They were part of his Red Hood suit and he’s thankful you hadn’t made a connection yet. Black cargo pants and a black T-shirt. His armor and guns dropped at the garage he got the car from. His clothes weren’t exactly clean when he picked you up at the warehouse, already sweaty from a few hours of patrol. And now two days later, yea, he should go home.

“Fine, if you're kicking me out, I’ll leave.” You blink at him in disbelief, and a smirk works its way onto his lips.

“I am not kicking you out.” You say defiantly. Jason rolls his tongue between his teeth to keep from laughing. He puts his hands up in defense.

“Okay, okay, you’re not kicking me out, but I leave you alone. You let me know if you need anything, anything at all, okay?” he says. Your eyes widen and you shake your head.

“No, not yet.”

“What?”

“Stay til lunch” you pause, eye imploring, “Please.” Jason understands now.

“You don’t have to say please, sweetheart. I’ll stay for lunch.” You seem pleased with his response, nodding with a contented smile. The morning proceeds with you cajoling him into another movie and by noon you were both quietly eating leftover Chinese from the night before.

“You’ll call me if you need something, right?” Jason asks around some sweet and sour chicken. You’re sitting at the island together, your ankle hooked around his.

“You know, I think you’d make a great dad.” You say, while picking through your food for the perfect broccoli. Your statement throws Jason off-kilter and must show on his face because when you look up you laugh at him.

“I will let you know if I need anything, please don’t worry about me. I get the feeling it might drive you crazy.” Jason’s mind is still running through what you meant by your previous statement. A great dad? Was there a purpose in that statement? Were you thinking about him like that? He checks back in registering what you just said.

“You're right about that.” Which is why he already had a plan ready for when he left your apartment. He’s positive that the only reason you’re asking him to leave is because you feel guilty and that you're still not ready to be alone. So, he was going to make sure you weren’t alone. The rest of lunch is spent quietly, feet randomly kicking at each other under the island. He attempts to wash the silverware you’d used but you stopped him, threatening to stab him with your fork. You drop the fork before he can concede in the battle of the dishes. A haunted look crosses your face for just a second before you hide it with a smile and start to shuffle him out your door.

Jason knew that look in an instant, he did not want to leave you alone for any amount of time. But he didn’t want you to feel bad about keeping him here. You help him collect his things which amounted to just his phone. You do a quick scan of the hooks by your door, clearly searching for a coat he hadn’t worn when he picked you up. A worried crease shows between your brows when your eyes settle on the Red Hood jacket next to the shock blanket. You glance between Jason and the jacket and just for a second he wonders if you know. You’re smart, he wouldn't be surprised if you did, but then you shake your head and pull him into a hug.

He’s a little startled but not as much as he would have been last week. The past two days of constantly touching each other in some manner made it easier for him to relax in your touch. His arms easily circle around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head without thinking. A pleased hum escapes you and you squeeze him a little tighter. You pull away just enough to see his face.

“Thank you for everything, Jason, really.” He nods and watches your eyes; you look like you’re struggling with something, and he waits to see if you’ll talk about it. After a few seconds of nothing, his hands moves. One squeezes at your shoulder and the other tucks some hair behind your ear, hand resting on your cheek. You lean into it just slightly.

“If you need anything-” he starts, and you cut him off with a shake of your head.

“I’ll call you. Stop worrying about me and go take care of yourself.” you pull out his hold and all he wants to do is drag you back. He stares at you, and you give him an insistent look back.

“I don’t want to kick you out, but I will if I have to.” You say with a dramatic huff. Jason laughs at the picture that conjures.

“Alright, I’m gone,” he unlocks your door and with one foot out he turns back and adds, “but if you need-”

“Get out of my apartment!” You demand with a giggled screech. He grins at you and finally shuts the door. He waits, listening for you to lock it. Once you had he heads down the hallway to the elevator, pulling out his phone. In the elevator, he hits Steph’s contact. It rings for a few seconds and then loud voice rings through the speaker.

“Is she bored of you yet? I wanna see her.” Jason pulls the phone away from his ear with a wince. He doesn’t answer her question.

“I need you to come stay with her.”

“So, she is bored of you.” She exclaims

“Stephanie”

“Jason”

He huffs, “Please”

The line is silent for a minute and Jason wonders if the call dropped in the elevator when the doors slide open, and he steps out.

“You’re really worried about her, aren’t you?” she asks, quieter than normal. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation.

“Stephanie, will you come stay with her? She doesn’t need to be alone.”

“Does she know you’re asking?” Jason sighs already tired of this back and forth as he pulls a ticket off of the parked borrowed car. (Bruce’s Problem)

“No, and she’s not going to find out I asked.” He tells her.

“I’m going to bring Cass with me.”

“Steph” Jason grumbles as he slides into the car.

“It would be weird if it was just me showing up at her apartment, trust me. It’ll be a girl's night.”

Jason sighs again, “Just promise to take care of her?”

“Promise. This going to be so much fun!” Steph must end the call cause the line goes dead. Jason wonders for a moment if this is a good idea, but he doesn’t have a lot of options and you didn’t need to be alone.

Additional note: Shout out to the lovely person that talked about Jason actually getting good sleep. I loved it and I think its going to become a reoccurring thing for both of them. The next chapter is all Steph and Cass and some conversations about the family our girl has not had with Jason. She is going to basically be adopted into the family, it’ll be great. Thank you for reading. Please comment!! The good, the bad, and the ugly are all welcomed.

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog

[gatorbites-imagines]

I’m not picky just wanna be fussed over & cuddle

Peter Parker x sick male reader

Headcanons

You can imagine most Peters in this scenario, though I always write with comic spidey in mind. Aka, adult, own apartment, job, etc. but I don’t think it’s really mentioned in this. At first, I was gonna write about Trafalgar Law, but I feel like he would we way too much doctor, not enough cuddling.

Not that long, but I hope it’s enough.

I have a feeling Peter would realize before you that you were sick. Like, hed notice a change in your scent, your body temperature or how sluggish you would get.

Noticing early on wouldn’t stop a cold obviously, but he would start getting ready for it, most likely without thinking about it. He just catches himself gathering blankets and your favorite snacks that he knows you can stomach when sick.

Would he make a nest out of webs when you got sick? Maybe? It depends on how spidery we imagine this peter. I feel he would at least stick blankets and pillows together to make the most comfortable bed for you to lay in.

He would try to talk you out of going out or going anywhere when he notices you getting sick. But Peter is known for dating stubborn people, so it would shock nobody if you still went out, thinking you were fine, only for you to get really sick.

Hes never mad about it though, Peter loves you too much. He does tsk and crack a few jokes about it, how your neighborhood spider-nurse needs to take care of you.

Peter would patrol and work less when you are sick, or not patrol at all, depending on how bad it is. If crime is at the normal amount he might stay home anyways, just to spend time with you and make you feel seen and cared for.

I feel like his healing factor keeps Peter from catching common colds and fevers, so he doesn’t worry about kissing and cuddling you. He does joke about the kiss being extra germy, which you would have pushed him out of the bed for, if you weren’t so tired.

Peter likes you feed you when you are sick, since he thinks you should use all your energy to fight whatever sickness you have. He also just thinks it’s kinda romantic.

Peter is also the kind of guy who always worries if you’re drinking enough. He doesn’t just bring you water but all kinds of juices, gatorades, whatever you can think of. You always end up with like 10 different drinks by the bed “just in case you want something else babe”

Not having to worry about getting sick also means Peter will cuddle you. Having a very flexible spider boyfriend also means he can fit right around you inside whatever blanket nest you guys have made up.

His hugs are always so comfortable, since he’s got the strength to give you a good squeeze. Peter would spend this time massaging sore areas of your body, if you are fine with that.

The policy that kisses make it better lives through Peter, so your forehead gets a lot of kisses too.

He also keeps your hands inside his own or under his shirt if the fever makes your hands cold, to keep you warm. You always feel nice and toasty with Peter, there’s no way he’s letting his lover freeze.

Peter also never finds you off-putting or gross when you are sick. It’s just human nature to be sick, and honestly? Seeing you sick makes him love you more, since it means you trust him to be vulnerable around him.

So, peter might be somewhat clumsy and messy in the beginning setting it all up, panicking about getting you everything you need. But he’s a great nurse and cuddlebuddy. When he’s done all his research and gotten all the things though, it’s all cuddles and pampering.

Be careful or he’s gonna bathe you too and not let you lift a finger until you are all better again. Make sure to give him extra kisses to show you are thankful, even if he says its just what boyfriends are meant to do.

[drdemonprince]

hey there! in regards to ur last ask (about adults in kink spaces online having status quo ideas about kids in those spaces and such, sorry this isn’t a great summary), do you have any ideas on how to combat that? this is a genuine question - those disclaimers of ‘no minors can follow’ and such have always made me a little confused whilst i understood the statement behind them objectively you know? and now that i’m adult (legally - i turned eighteen a couple of months ago), i’m having trouble figuring out how to talk about kink and sex online in a way that doesn’t hurt kids or exclude them. like, i want to post some explicit stuff i’ve written on my blog or ao3, but i know that i have kids subscribed to me since i used to post relatively bland kids stuff for years before that. so like… how would one navigate kink spaces online and general spaces with an attitude of understanding that trying to close off these spaces to kids completely is harmful but that kids can also be harmed by people in these spaces? if that makes sense?

I think it is a really challenging thing to navigate. The way that I handle it personally is that I don't regard it as my responsibility to monitor and police the ages of people following me. I want the information that I put out into the world to be freely available to the people who need it most; one of the ways that I ensure that is by not paywalling any of my writing, and another is by not age restricting things except for when circumstances mean that I absolutely have to. for example: during some of our live streams that have been particularly focused on kink or sex, Maddie and I have flagged the stream as 18 plus out of necessity, and if a member of our chat identifies themselves as being under 18 during such streams, we have to ask them to leave. but in terms of my own private attitudes, I recall accessing porn and sexual writing from a very young age and learning a great deal from it, and I don't think there is anything wrong with a young person doing so. and if a young person has questions around sexual health and safety and they direct them to me, I would generally be comfortable answering those questions or at least directing them to resources. I do all I can to normalize talk about these things and de-exceptionalize sex, and I don't let myself get intimidated by puritanical accusations about that being inherently evil and improper. but I also have really firm digital boundaries in terms of not giving a stranger on the internet much access to my life or getting too overly involved in theirs. I do this because I'm a public figure and people can be very inappropriate with me, but another benefit of this approach is that I'm never really having any kind of conversation with an internet stranger that would immediately turn inappropriate if I would find out that they were a minor. strangers on the internet are strangers. I can pass along resources and share my opinion if they ask me for advice, but I am not developing a close relationship with them or developing anything involving emotional or sexual intimacy with them. or with any, like, fan either. obviously some of this is different from your own situation, but you can probably see the logic here and how you might apply it to your own ways of relating to the subject online. I think there is never any harm in making information available, being aware of what a platform's terms of service are just for the sake of protecting yourself, and maintaining good boundaries with people you do not know while still being friendly, helpful, and cordial.

[sunrisecaminus]

Hi I hope you having a wonderful day

May I request some sfw optimus x reader?

Message - I am having a great day actually! Also of course! Got to love the Prime once in a great while! I didn't know what to put as a story so I just made the human have a job.

Optimus x Mechanic Reader SFW

Summary - Optimus having a cute hang out at the human's store!

Warning - Very adorable!

Type of fic - Fluff

You have never had to fix so many vehicles before, until you met the Autobots. You never wanted to tell them, but Cybertronian anatomy was actually easy to learn to help Ratchet with the minor injuries these idiots get from missions. You own your very own Mechanic shop and the bots just make it less boring when they come to visit. Optimus was very respectful to you and rarely visits, but after some deep discussions you both have with each other, he will come by to see you a lot more now a days.

Right now you are giving an oil change for someone when you see from the corner of your eye the red, white and blue truck pulling up. The smile that grew on your face said it all and you finished the guys truck, got paid, and let him leave your garage. Walking outside with your o/c overalls (overall color), you pat the front of the hood and greet your big truck friend. "Hi big guy! What you in for?" You wait patiently as he transforms and looks around. "Hello y/n. I came to drop off some parts for your work. Agent Fowler said it's for Bumblebee when he comes in."

You have lifted so much weight off Ratchet's back by giving the mechs their own check ups and basic plating care routines. You have noticed that you haven't given Optimus a full check yet, but you figured it was because the man was very private about his body. You heard from a lot of his friends that he rarely likes to be touched and they blame it on him being a Prime. It didn't matter to you though, you just wanted him to feel comfortable around his new environments and relax. "Well why don't you come in? I closed for the night so no one is coming around anytime soon." Your shop close really late and it's in the middle of no where. Just outside of Jasper was just your mechanic shop, a mini gas station, and the desert. You liked how peaceful it was here, and the autobot base is actually close by, so anytime the kids need a place to stay they could always come to you for a sleep over. You lived in the back of your shop, but you didn't mind. It was like a cozy apartment inside your home with a tv, kitchen, bedroom, and your own bathroom so you didn't need to use the shops public restroom. It wasn't much, but the quiet nature of it made it feel like a luxury to you. Anyway Optimus walks over and sits just outside of the garage as you pull up a chair and grab your microwaved dinner. "So, any new stories you need to tell me? How are the kids?"

You both talk for what seemed like hours. It was so nice to get to be with him again, but what you didn't know is he felt the same way about you. You listened to everything he said and gave such good advice. What he loved most about humans was their empathy, and you had a lot of it. You played a lot of music with your vintage record player and he loved to just close his eyes and listen to the sweet music…made him forget about the war for a few hours. You NEVER talked about the war with him, unless he talked about it first. Being the person you were, you never wanted to talk to someone about deep things unless they initiated it first, a lot of people find dark topics to be uncomfortable to talk about and you knew Optimus was an awkward person. "Hey, thanks for the shipment. Speaking of, I have some new tires for you if you ever wanted to get some new ones yourself. Treat yourself and get something good once in a while to make you feel better." You eat your food, waiting for an answer as he got quiet to think about it. "I don't want to bother you about it y/n. It's very late." He spoke to you like he was such a nuisance. You wanted to change that ever since this man met you. Standing up, you grab your tool box and throw your empty container into the trash. "Transform and come on in, I can hook you up with some good classic black tires! Nothing flashy I promise."

He obeyed and did just that, transforming, and driving inside your garage. He has never done this before, so he may be a little nervous doing this with a human mechanic. It's not that he didn't trust you personally, he was just worried a human wouldn't know how to change Cybertronian tires. What Optimus didn't know, was that you have been taking classes from Ratchet and reading books in translation to help yourself understand how to do everything. You already practice changing tired on Bumblebee and Arcee, so this was going to be a piece of cake for you. Opening the tool box you walk over and hook him onto the big machine. He didn't know what it was for at first until his entire body gets lifted a few feet off the ground. "Are you sure this will hold?" You chuckle from how anxious he was and pat his bumper. "You'll be fine I promise, Fowler hooked me up with some expensive tech so this baby can hold a plane." You put on gloves and start to get to work.

After about two hours, you clean off the last tire and lower him to the ground. He was a big mech so you made sure you lowered him slowly and you see the tires pressing against the shops floors. "Aaaaaand we are done! Now I already sprayed them and put some air in them so you won't have to come back for another check up in-" You interrupt yourself when you heard nothing coming out of him. You could sense that he wasn't listening so you press your hand on his door. "Hey, you ok? Optimus?" That was when you heard a soft noise coming out of his engine…he was asleep. You smiled from the cute moment that is happening right now and you grab a tarp from the back. It was a nice giant blue tarp that is used to protect vehicles from weather conditions as you draped it over his entire body. Going inside the kitchen, you make yourself a cup of hot chocolate as you go back outside into the garage to sit yourself by the desk you have. You take a sip of the mug and place it on the table, grabbing a pen to start drawing for your next blueprint idea. You look back at the sleeping prime that was in your garage. "Sweet dreams Optimus…love you." You go back to work as what you don't see is him flustered on the inside. He woke up when you gave him the blanket…and now he plans to visit you everyday from now on.

[tarotbyjam24]

How do men view you ?

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗 Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Pick a piles \masterlist

Pile 1 Pile 2

Pile 1

Hi pile 1 men view you as someone who's person with innocent mind . Men view you as someone who doesn't like to get tied up be it work related or relationship related? Men view you as someone who doesn't like to be in control. They view you as someone who has their own fire like you don't need to borrow fire aka passion from someone to light your own candle . They view you as someone who's workaholic and doesn't like to get hindered by the situations around them ,you always like to keep working or moving . You are somone who's always busy or someone who like to be busy or just give the vibe of the busiest person who doesn't have time even for their family's important events. Men view you as someone who's a giver person or maybe people come to you to get advices on their important matters . You give great advices maybe in past you were king's advisor and great kings came to you for your advices on their important matters. Men view you as someone who's like a rising sun ,you add new shine to people's life . Men view you as someone who like to have their proper comfort time too like you've your fixed leisure time where you indulge in your self care and watch movies , grab somethings to eat [possibly fruits and cookies] ,wear your fav dressess acting like you're in movie ? Men are intrigued by your beauty pile 1 , they find you so feminine and pretty. You express your feminine energy in the best way possible. Some men may also view you as their muse . Some of you're incredibly knowledgeable. Please share your knowledge to the world . They're waiting for the mentor like you pile 1 . Men view you as someone who's isn't afraid of obstacles and hardships in life . You always thrive and come outta bad situations even more stronger than before . Men may also perceive you as someone who's like rose pretty but hard to get or protected by thorns maybe you've a certain boundaries set with men . You don't like to overshare about yourself! Men view you as their good companion.That's all pile 1 I hope you enjoy this reading.Wishing you best ,bless you and good luck 💗

Pile 2

Hi pile 2 ,men view you as someone who's backstabber. Another possibility is that you're too kind and men like to backstab you you may take which that suits your taste ! Men view you as someone who's not too indulged in materialistic things they may view you as someone who's like a saint because of that . Men view you as someone who likes naturalness more than the artificialness . Like instead of decorating your house with artificial flower plants you may like to buy some real handpicked flowers and put them in your home . They may also view you as someone who works out a lot maybe your body is perfect and toned pile 2 . They also view you as someone who like to take care of their health physically. You may also like to go on hikings or just long walks on daily basis. There's also this possibility of you using your funds more often and resting at your home sleeping all day . Men view you as someone who likes to gossip or you're talk a lot my chatterboxs . They view you as someone who's like if your friend doesn't like this person and always curse you'll also curse them with them because your friend don't like them lol . Men view you as someone who always have enough so that you can rest for a while . Again an example: you earn so much in 2 months that you can rest for next 6 months without working or thinking about ways to earn . Men view you as someone who's go with the flow person . Men also view you as someone who's friendly with the animals or you may have pets at your home . There's also possibility of you having a backyar garden where lots of natural abundance grow and lots animal come there too . And you may like their sounds . Men may also view you as someone who's more like a night person who feels alive at night more precisely. They may also view you as person who likes to live in their imagination a lot more than in reality. That's all pile 2 I hope you enjoy this reading.Wishing you best ,bless you and good luck 💗I apologise if this reading was all over the place 😭

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰

Loads of love , jam\gem

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[crowsofdarkness]

CamBoy! Bill Skarsgard: First Virtual Meeting

-pic not mine.-

Pairings: CamBoy!Bill Skarsgard x Viewer!Reader

Summary: Bill isn't ashamed of the work he does, showcasing his body online for anyone willing to pay. His number one rule was never to make a connection with anyone who either sent him messages or paid for private one-on-one video sessions. That was until you decided to request a certain private session.

Content Warnings: 18+ smut which includes Bill having an only fans page, masturbation, phone sex, virtual sex, and language.

Authors Note: this is a limited mini-series, just a bunch of blurbs that take place in this universe. i'm not sure exactly how long this will be. tags will be open for this if anyone is interested!

CamBoy!Bill masterlist.

What the hell am I doing? 

I found myself asking that same question more than once ever since I signed up for only fans a few weeks ago. Not as a producer but as someone that watches and enjoys. At first I was extremely nervous, chasting myself for even thinking of subscribing to strange men who do sex work, virtually. But after being single for my entire life, I’d become desperate. I craved some kind of attention whether it be sexual or just a simple conversation. Although, after being subscribed to a few different pages on Only Fans for a few weeks, I had yet to actually talk to anyone. 

I mean, who the fuck subscribes to Only Fans to talk to people?

Again, asking myself what the hell am I doing?

Letting out a deep breath, I eased farther back into my bed with my laptop on my lap as I clicked through the different pages I subbed to, ready to unwind after a long day. I had a date earlier that ended in disaster, further proving that maybe a relationship was not meant for me. It was weird, me finding more comfort doing this rather than dating. 

Even though there were a few accounts I liked, there was one that I had always found myself going back to when I thought I wanted something different. 

Bill with the 70’s porn stache. 

I watched nearly all of his videos with my rose vibrator pressed against my clit or using my dildo while Bill had his hand wrapped around his cock. He never had any special effects or wore masks like a lot of the other creators on here which is why I found myself drawn to him. He also had a tik tok page where he would post videos showing off his defined abs or trying whatever viral sound was trending. I liked every single new video he posted but never commented due to being shy. He had over a million followers, there was no way he’d ever pay attention to one of my comments. 

Earlier today, he posted a Tik Tok saying he’s offering a new type of content on his OF page, one on one virtual meetings. For a certain amount of money, Bill would skype call someone for ten minutes and they could have virtual sex. Only one time. He made it clear that he would never have more than one virtual call with someone. Almost immediately I checked to see if my funds were available for this but then when I actually thought about it, it was weird, right? Having virtual sex with a stranger? 

Then again, how would it be any different than me getting off to old videos he posted? 

He would actually be talking to you. Which is what you want, no? 

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I quickly signed up for this special one on one virtual meeting and after paying the amount that would put a small dent in my bank account, I waited. Bill mentioned earlier that due to how many people would most likely sign up, he would have to set times and dates for everyone. So instead of sitting for a reply, I opted on placing my laptop on the other end of my bed and dragged my feet to the bathroom across the hall in my apartment. When I first sat down with my laptop, my body had been vibrating with the need for a release but now as the nerves began to eat away at me for what I’d just signed up for, I needed to think of something else. 

By the time I returned into my room, towel wrapped around my soaked body, I saw a flashing notification on my laptop making my heart nearly burst out of my chest. I didn’t bother to get dressed, simply sat on the edge of my bed still in my towel and brought my laptop to my lap. 

New message from Porn Stache Bill. 

While his username wasn’t that great, he made up for it with the content he provided. 

Letting out a deep breath, I clicked open the message and nearly choked on my saliva when I saw it was a video message from Bill. 

“Fuck, this is too real,” I muttered under my breath, finger hesitating over the play button before I hit it.

Bill appeared on the screen of my laptop, dressed in only a pair of grey sweats. The muscles of his abs seemed to rippled underneath the light of his bedroom as he leaned back against the dark sheets of his bed. His hair was messy, chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took which only made me wonder what he’d been doing before he recorded this video. My eyes, however, quickly honed in on the mustache. I was a sucker for it with every single one of his videos.

“Hi, Y/N.” His face broke out in a smile followed by a wink and I nearly fell back onto my own bed when I heard my name fall from those full lips. “I wanted to say thank you for signing up for my private one on one video chats. I’ll be calling you tomorrow night at nine p.m. You have me for ten minutes for whatever you want. If there are any limits, please let me know beforehand. I look forward for our time together.”

When the video ended, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart sank at how monotone Bill sounded. But then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was recording the same video over and over again, only changing the names for everyone who signed up. 

Closing my laptop, I set it on my desk before stepping into my closet to find something to wear tomorrow night on this video chat. 

“What the actual fuck am I doing?” I yelled at myself while I paced my bedroom. 

It was five minutes to nine and to say I was a nervous wreck was a fucking understatement. I could barely concentrate at work today and when I went out with some friends after work, all I could think about was this video chat that was about to happen. I didn’t dare tell any of my coworkers I signed up to have a sexual video chat with a complete stranger because I knew they would try and talk me out of it. Sex aside, I was doing this for me as terrible as that sounded. I’d been in my own shell for the last 28 years of my life, never branching out or trying anything hence why I’d been single. No one wanted someone who was inexperienced. 

How pathetic. You signed up on a sex website to help a stranger with sexual activities and for them to talk to you. No wonder why you’re single. 

Once again ignoring the criticizing voice in my brain, I stopped pacing in front of the large mirror in my bedroom to give myself one final once over. My hair was pulled back in a tight french braid, I wore very minimal makeup, and the outfit I wore was anything but sexy mostly because I didn’t own any lingerie. I chose to wear a loose white shirt that hung off one of my shoulders and a pair of olive green panties which you couldn’t see due to the length of the shirt. 

My bedroom wasn’t anything fancy or special, and with the way I had my laptop set up, Bill would only be able to see me and the wall behind my bed which had those vine lights hanging against it. 

Just as those thoughts began to creep in again, a noise from my laptop had me turning on my heels; the clock on my nightstand blinking 9:00 pm. Bill was calling me. 

“No turning back now,” I sighed, sitting on my bed. 

I didn’t bother trying to find a sexy position to sit in because I wasn’t that; sexy. I’d always been average and it took me awhile to accept it. With shaky fingers, I accepted the video chat and soon was graced with that mustache and smile. 

“Hi. Y/N, right?” 

I blinked, forcing myself not to gawk too long at his bare chest. Bill wore a pair of red boxers as he sat relaxed on his office chair. Unlike the video he sent me yesterday, his hair was neatly combed to the side. 

“H-hi,” I said. 

Bill smiled. “Nervous, huh?” 

My cheeks burned and I ran my sweaty palms on the comforter of my bed. “A little. I’ve never actually done this before.” 

“Is there anything I could do to ease your nerves?” He asked while easing back into the chair. 

“Uh, maybe if you could take the lead.” 

The corner of Bill’s mouth curved slightly. “I read over the list you sent over. Seems like you don’t really know what you’re into.”

I cast my face down, not wanting him to see the embarrassment that covered me. This was a very bad idea. I shouldn’t have signed up for this. 

“Hey,” Bill’s soft voice from my laptop made me lift my gaze slightly. “It’s alright. There’s no need to be embarrassed. We all have to start somewhere when it comes to sex.”

I bit my bottom lip. “If I’m being honest, I’m not sure why I even signed up for this. I thought maybe it could help break me out of this shell. But now I think maybe it’s only making things worse. Which I know sucks because I already paid for this and there’s no refund so I guess I’ll eat the money. I’m sorry that I wasted your time. I don’t know why I did this.” 

“Seems like you ramble when you’re nervous,” Bill chuckled. 

I cringed at myself. This was something I already knew and the fact this attractive man, who I spent hours watching his tik toks and O.F content, immediately called me out on it made me shrink farther into my bed. The hem of my shirt rode up my thighs when I did, showcasing my panties. Bill’s eyes darkened as he sat straight up in his computer chair to get a closer look at the camera. 

“If you want, we can just talk,” he offered me a smile. 

I thought about it for a moment. While I did start this whole thing to try and find someone to talk to, I also did want this to break me out of this shy shell. 

“No, I want to do more but I don’t know where to start,” I admitted. 

Bill glanced at something off screen for a few beats before looking back at the camera. “We have seven minutes. Would you rather us both do something, just you, or just me?” 

I sighed. “Maybe if you just did something? Since I’m so fucking nervous, I think it would be better if I watched you.”

“You’re kind of cute when you curse,” he winked. “Alright, as long as you're comfortable with it. How about you strip for me?” 

“I don’t know why you would want to see me,” I said. 

“Your shirt is thin, Y/N. The last four minutes of us talking, I’ve been looking at those pretty tits underneath. I bet they’re round and so perky,” Bill’s voice had deepened, his hand starting to leave the armrest of his chair. 

“Oh,” I muttered, glancing down at my chest which was in fact visible through my shirt. 

“Just the shirt for me, Y/N. You can keep those green panties on. That alright?” 

Slowly nodded, I dragged up my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the bed next to me. Bill groaned, pushing his chair back so I could see all of him as he took out his cock from his boxers. 

“I knew it. I knew your tits were perky round.” 

I watched, frozen, as he wrapped his hand around his cock in a grip that had to have hurt but only seemed to bring him more pleasure. This wasn’t anything new for me, I’d watch plenty of videos of him teasing his followers on Tik Tok or posting more intimate videos on his O.F. 

Only this time, this was more private. It was only between us. 

“Lay down on your bed for me and spread your legs. Can you do that?” 

Bill’s hoarse voice made my skin shiver with heat and doing what he did, I slowly laid on my bed with my legs spread wide. The show of him jerking himself off made a small wet spot appear on my panties, something he immediately noticed. 

“The sight of me choking my cock with my hand is making you wet, huh?” 

I nodded, slightly blissed out from the sight on my screen. Bill’s jaw was slack as his hand moved in a fast rhythm. I studied the way his thumb would drag over the beads of precum on the head before using it as lube to make his cock slick with it. Or how he would grip the base of his cock, holding it for a few seconds before choking on a breath. 

My pussy ached with the need to touch myself but I couldn’t move. Too engrossed in the private show he was giving me. No one else. Me. 

“Can you touch your nipples? For me, please.” 

Something flared deep inside of my gut at how he begged me so with another nod, I began playing with my nipples in the way I knew I liked. I arched off the bed slightly when I pinched a little too hard. 

“You like it rough, Y/N? The harder, the better?”

“Yes,” I moaned, watching him through hooded eyes.

Bill licked his lips, tongue grazing over the mustache, and I let out a moan when I watched his hips stilled right as he spilled into his hand. 

“Oh fuck, Y/N. You see that? You see what you do to me?” He groaned, working himself through the aftershocks. 

“Oh my fucking god,” I moaned, letting my head fall back to my pillow and my fingers grazed over my panties. 

I was going to wait to touch myself after the call ended, too embarrassed to do that in front of Bill. But seeing him come apart while he watched me pinch and pull at my nipples nearly tipped me over the edge and I knew I wouldn’t last long. 

Just as I went to slip my fingers inside of my panties, my phone began buzzing when the ten minute timer went off. Feeling the world drop from around me, I sat up in bed to silence the timer and stared at the laptop screen where Bill was slumped in his chair trying to catch his breath. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while but that,” he motioned to his messy cock, “Was so fucking messy.

A red hue covered my entire face and my ears as I avoided my gaze from the screen for a moment. “I bet you say that to everyone” 

Bill reached for the tissues on his desk before he began cleaning himself off. “Well, it seems like our ten minutes are up. I hope it was everything you wanted.” 

Silence filled the air between us for a few beats as I tried to think of what to say. Do I thank him? Do I say see you later? Can’t wait to see the next video you post?

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Thank you for this, for everything you do. It’s always a nice thing to see. You’re a nice thing to see. Not your thing! I mean it’s nice, don’t get me wrong. But-.”

Smooth, Y/N. Real fucking smooth.

Bill let out a deep and hearty laugh, running a clean hand through his hair, and tucked himself back inside of his boxers. 

“You’re fucking adorable when you ramble. Have a good night, Y/N.”

When the screen went black, I let out a long breath and closed the laptop. This was the one and only time we would have a private moment like this, just the two of us. He’d continue to post videos, which I planned on watchling like I had before, but now I couldn’t push away the lingering feeling that it would be different now.  

I originally signed up for this thinking it would break me out of my shell, help me find out more about myself, sex wise, and what I was into for future partners. Hell, the few words I spoke to Bill was enough to fill the empty void in my life, even if it was for a few minutes. But now that it was over, I realized how much of a mistake it was. It wasn't the shame that usually followed after I watched porn but more so the disappointment in myself because the only way I could have a man's attention on me was if I paid for it. 

Clearing my throat, feeling the burn slowly rise, I snatched up my shirt and walked towards my bathroom; Bill’s words clinging to my sweaty skin. 

Oh fuck, Y/N. You see that? You see what you do to me?

[khaoala]

Hi, sorry for making my problem your problem, but I'm feeling a little low for a variety of reasons, including the fact that, despite my best blocking skills, I still haven't been able to fully avoid the ppl throwing shade at KB/FK's impact (or lack thereof according to them) in THK (seriously, feels like I'm unwillingly stuck in an endless game of whac-a-mole just with bad takes/poor fandom etiquette!). So I thought I'd try and take my mind off it by sending you an extremely self-indulgent ask! As an FK fan extraordinaire (and one of my fave giffers btw), what are your:

favourite scenes from each of their shows?

favourite FK moments from real life?

hopes and dreams for THK finale?

hopes and dreams for the Holy Grail of FK shows? E.g. ideal plot or genre, relationship dynamic, supporting cast, director, etc.

And now for the harder questions! Your mission, should you choose to accept, is to convert an unbeliever into an FK stan (of them as both separate actors and as a pairing). You can only pick ONE scene from their entire repertoire for each category. Go!

best acting from First

best acting from Khao

best acting from FK as a pairing

best demonstration of FK's chemistry

best kiss (aesthetics+characterisation+emotion+context+whatever other criteria you choose!)

I eagerly await your answers! (but obvs you're under no obligation to respond - tbh, even just forming the ask has helped lighten my mood! Feel free to ignore or to throw it over to someone else if you'd rather, or even if there's anyone else you think would be interested in contributing - I just enjoy hearing other ppl's 'FK as Acteurs' highlights! Someone gushing about my faves = instant serotonin boost!)

In return (and as tribute to your new handle), I offer you this, imo, grossly overlooked example of Khao pulling his signature Khaoala move: https://pbs.twimg.com/media/GhSzVQvX0AAm7mh?format=jpg&name=900x900 ...😉

i'm sorry about that, anon. curating your online bubble can be a lot of work and it's not always 100% and i'm sorry you're getting stressed bc of that. i'm not sure if you're going to the tags on either twitter or tumblr, but i'd recommend you stay away of those. twitter is a bit more difficult, but once you get your little bubble things get better but for tumblr, if you're just looking for pretty edits like the ones fandom provides, i'd recommend checking only the thkedit tag. it's a lot better than dealing with the trolls with poor fandom etiquette. i hope you find a space you feel more comfortable and welcomed, anon, i know i say this often, but fandom spaces are supposed to give you relief and not headaches.

you didn't even ask for advice and i'm already rambling, i'm so sorry, but to your questions which were such a delight to receive (you have no idea how happy i felt for being called a fk fan extraordinaire and to know i'm one of your favorite giffers. i love to know people like the things i do, it does wonders to my self-esteem).

ATTENTION!

this is a nearly 2000 word-vomit reply where i talk in length about my favorite topic of the last couple of years, firstkhaotung. i'm sorry for not being able to be concise. pls have the picture the anon sent as their favorite khaoala moment which i must agree, is extremely underrated, as a form of apology.

1.favourite scenes from each of their shows? (i'll just pick the ones they were paired together bc you know, there's a lot)

the eclipse - akkayan's first kiss in akk's room. that scene is so important to them, and also to me. the way ayan was so careful with akk, he took his time, gave akk room to assess the situation, back away if he wanted to. how softly he spoke to akk and how scared akk was of all of that. that scene was beautiful beautiful beautiful and so well acted, too.

moonlight chicken - listen, i know they only have three scenes, but they are all very important to me, alright? with that being said, the scene in alan's office. alan is smiling like gaipa hung the stars in the sky with his bare hands and it's full sunshine mode, and first's smile is so beautiful, and he's flirty, gaipa is oblivious, it's just so sweet. they are healing and that's amazing.

only friends - the fight in sand's apartment. though the therapy scene is just as amazing, i feel like the apartment fight has so much impact. the way sand was collected the whole time and only allowed himself to break down once ray was out of earshot. and how ray was so distraught by the idea of the one person he thought he could trust betraying him, it was awful. it makes me teary to this day.

the heart killers - the scene at the beach in ep. 8. thank you first for adding a whole monologue to this scene. i can totally understand why that's his favorite. the tiredness, the desolation, they are both so exhausted and bison doesn't want to fight anymore and he's angry, but he loves kant, and kant doesn't want to lie to bison and wants him to know that. it's beautifully acted. i stayed on that scene for days. it made my heart hurt so good.

2. favourite FK moments from real life?

i have too many that i suddenly forgot as soon as i read this question, so at some point i might even add to this when i remember. but the one i can think about right now was when they were on arm's share for first's birthday and khaotung's wish for first in the upcoming year was: "as you grow, you might find more people, but if you do, let them go, stay only with me instead."

3. hopes and dreams for THK finale?

i do hope for a wedding. i didn't want a double wedding bc i find them so tacky, but with the recent talks with fadelstyle + style's dad, that might be where they are going IF they are even going to have one. as you might have noticed, i'm not stressed about the finale. i think they'll have time enough to access the most urgent matters (gay sex in prison) and with fadelbison spending their time locked up, they'll have all the room to live normal lives like they wished. bison talked about assassins not being able to have a home, family and a lover so i hope they get all of that and more.

4. hopes and dreams for the Holy Grail of FK shows? E.g. ideal plot or genre, relationship dynamic, supporting cast, director, etc.

oh man, i'd love for them to work with the women in gmm, first of all. and i know i had a talk about gl people hating men (with reason in some cases) but gmm loves to experiment with them, so pls let them act with namtanfilm (these four in a show would make my brain stupid happy). sarah pitched an idea that was very similar to the one i had in my head, though hers have first and film as siblings, but the premise would be the same. one trying to help the other approach their crushes. it's silly, slice of life, light comedy stuff which i know they can pull off just as well as the heavy drama stuff.

i'd also love to see them in a show a la sammon with the thriller and investigation vibes. but i'm no fanfic writer and i'm happy with most plots i'm given and if it's them, i know it'll be well-acted.

as for directors, p'aof is the pick for most bl stans, and i agree, i hope they get the chance to work with him again, and have fk as the mains this time. i'd love to see them work with p'nuchy as well, from not me, or the director of be my favorite and who's going to direct joongdunk's and skynani's shows this year. he's amazing, i loved what he did with be my favorite, and while i'm not sure if i'll tune in for either of these new shows, i know he'll do great.

(i love that you deemed this first questions as easy and these one as harder, because let me tell you, i had a hard time with both sets!

1.best acting from First

i can only talk about what i've seen, and despite hearing all the praises for his portrayal of a girl stuck in boy's body in the shipper, i didn't have the guts to watch it yet. i was debating between the "break-up" scene in front of yolo and this one, but i need to praise first as akk. while gmm was going their reprise of the eclipse last year, i took that chance to rewatch the show as well, and i can't believe first didn't get a nomination for his portrayal of akk. he's spectacular in his scenes as this hard-working, perfectionist, in-the-closet, slightly homicidal and self-destructive student prefect. the one scene that makes me stop for like five minutes every time is the one where thua exposes him as the curse and he cries in the stairs. and i know there are people who aren't fan of scenes that are heavy on the dramatics, but that scene alone is so sad and first manages to express that masterfully bc it's terrifying yes, but it also feels cathartic in a way bc there's no weight of that lie on him anymore, so he cries ans sobs and leans on aye for support. idk, it just stuck with me for such a long time.

2. best acting from Khao

ray was khao's best performance in my opinion, and while i agree with everyone who mentions his therapist scene (which was a masterpiece honestly, no one and i mean no one would be able to deliver that one other than him the way he did), i'll go with mew's birthday party. i remember watching the bts of that scene and force was speechless and said that was his favorite scene they had shot until then, and man, there's a reason for that. he ate that up! the pure anger and control of the scene he had. the room was full of people but everyone's eyes were on him, and ray was terrifying in that one. that's what i mean when i say khaotung might be shorter than most of his co-stars but he knows when to use his presence to appear actually menacing. ray on mew's birthday party was scary.

3. best acting from FK as a pairing

you said i have to convince a non believer to stan fk, so i'll use the scene where they reconcile in only friends, ep. 10, if i'm not mistaken bc when you have a scene that was a page or two long, and direction shortened shortened shortened it until it was only an "i'm sorry" and they acted so well that it was convincing enough to make you, the audience, fully believe in the sincerity of the apology and the love and regret that laced their hug, that's a skill. they acted their asses off in that scene and the only line of dialogue was an apology.

4. best demonstration of FK's chemistry

okay so for this one, i'll say every time they showed casual intimacy. i feel like it's so easy for them to ignore casual intimacy in shows, but especially as kantbison, fk showed so much of their chemistry in the little touches. they are a very physical couple and they are comfortable being in each other's embrace and it's beautiful to see that being portrayed. holding hands, worshiping each other's bodies, sniffing their hair, kissing their knuckles, just feeling each other close, that's when you felt they are actually each other's person, they are actually so into each other that even crawling under each other's skin wouldn't be enough.

5. best kiss (aesthetics + characterisation + emotion + context + whatever other criteria you choose!)

most beautiful kiss i always think about the smoke kiss in only friends just because the aesthetic of it was amazing. the build up to it was amazing, and hot and heavy with tension and it was so delicious. i scream every time they kiss for the first time in shows, but the smoke kiss left me with my jaw in the ground for several minutes.

alternatively, in thk, the beach kiss for how meaningful it was since it was their first kiss with no lies between them, and the swing kiss that was perfect, they were so into that kiss and it felt so earned, too. fk really knows how to kiss.

also, akkayan's bridge kiss in our skyy 2, never forget that kiss. they were into it and delivering like no one else. absolutely gorgeous.

and let's remember all the pecks, too, because i have a soft spot for all of them. kantbison, yet again, carrying it in the pecks department (did you guys notice that kantbison kissed every ep? it was amazing to see).

and i think this is it? i finally managed to answer everything. ngl, i answered your ask first before a couple others that are sitting on my inbox bc i feel you needed the pick me up and i love talking about firstkhao. this was very fun. thank you for sending me this, and i hope you feel better.

[greenleaf4stuff]

In Convenience - Chapter 1, part 1

Adar x Celebrimbor (silverscars) political marriage to marriage of love AU, post story chapter 1, part 1. Despite Sauron’s defeat, remnants and memories of his presence still linger. Celebrimbor finds himself conflicted when the matter of wedding rings comes to his attention.

Hehe, look who’s back – that’s right, it’s me! With a post-story snippet! Can’t believe I am managing to do *that* as well. Truly, this little 'verse continues to be a welcome anomaly in my existence as a fanfic writer. Not complaining in the least though! This is a little bit angsty but it has a healthy helping of fluff and comfort mixed in I think. The boys have won, but that doesn’t mean its all sunshine and rainbows along the way. Thankfully, them being together means it will only get easier as time goes on. (Also yes, the title for the post-story bits collection is a play on 'inconvenience'. I think it’s funny. :P) Enjoy!

"Why aren’t you wearing a ring?"

The question was so wholly unexpected that it startled Celebrimbor from his work. He’d been distracted, again, trying to clean up the forge tower. Almost every part of it had been turned into a mess when Adar, Gil-Galad, Elrond, Galadriel and their guards made to attack Sauron there, likely even before then.

Clearing it of the bodies of the fallen had occured without Celebrimbor present. He suspected that it was done for his benefit, since some of his assistants had been among them. He’d visited the dead in the aftermath, when they’d been prepared for proper burials by elven or uruk standards. He shuddered to even think about it – despite the elation of having prevailed over Morgoth’s shadow, there were still remnants of his presence everywhere.

This question, too, exposed one such remnant.

Celebrimbor turned to the elf who’d asked him the question; Nethiel, if he remembered her name correctly. Not yet an assistant, but an apprentice, quite young and looking at him with big, round eyes. She hadn’t been an apprentice yet when the Deceiver had resided in the city, had in fact only joined the others in Celebrimbor’s employ a few weeks ago. The smith found himself grateful for it.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"A wedding band," she clarified, and – seemingly interpreting his silence for confusion, not dismay – continued. "You are married to the leader of the o- uruk, are you not? So why aren’t you wearing a ring?"

Celebrimbor had always prided himself on the fact that his people didn’t have to fear speaking their mind in his presence. He wanted to be a leader who listened to his people and their concerns, their worries, their questions. Especially so after what had almost happened to Eregion.

And yet, in that very moment, he treacherously wished the apprentice didn’t quite find herself so comfortable asking these things.

She couldn’t know how complicated his emotions on the matter were. How guilt, love, and self-loathing converged whenever he remembered that indeed, neither he nor Adar wore a sign of their marriage, despite the pride he felt towards their union and what it represented – for their people and them personally.

If only it could have been anything but rings.

He sighed and turned to Nethiel. As he looked up, he saw Mirdania throw him a concerned glance as she took off her gloves and moved over towards him.

She, too, had been reluctant to return to the forge tower. Undoutably, she also held painful memories of this place, although she hadn’t spoken of them to him yet. But then again, neither had he, at least not in full.

Elrond had assured him that these things needed time. In theory – and from prior experience –, he knew this to be true. That didn’t make it any less painful in the current moment.

Not just for himself; Mirdania had been one of his brightest, most enthusiastic and gifted assistants. Now, her usually cheery outlook had been dampened in such a way that she sometimes startled at loud voices and generally shared less of herself with others.

Celebrimbor could only hope that she had not lost her passion for forge work as well. It was certainly something he, in part, still struggled with.

Though this was not solely due to one thing, it was a combination of circumstances. The tower, which held bad memories. Smithing, which he had only partially regained for himself in Adar’s camp, though it came easier to him whenever he helped Gurlak in her forge for example.

Making rings, specifically, was something he found almost impossible to even consider at the moment.

Why couldn’t it be anything but rings?

He was saved from having to answer when Mirdania appeared at their side. She easily touched the apprentice’s shoulder, but was cautious as she reached out a hand to Celebrimbor as well, expression unusually guarded. Only when the Lord of Eregion gave her a fond smile did she brighten a little and touch his arm.

"How about you take a little break?" she said, adressing Celebrimbor as much as Nethiel. "We have all been working on cleaning up this place the whole morning. Maybe we should go outside and get some fresh air."

By the apprentice’s confused expression, the dainty elven woman was rather insistent on steering the younger one away, but Nethiel ultimately let herself be guided without a protest. "Did I say something wrong?" she asked, looking between the two older elves.

Celebrimbor softened, and shook his head at her. "No, not at all. It’s just as Mirdania said – I find myself a little fatigued, that is all." He motioned for them to walk ahead. "Go outside, I’ll be along shortly."

It said a lot about the apprentice that she nodded in response with a rather contrite expression on her face. She still tried to offer an apology, which Mirdania was quick to dispel with a smile and by deftly changing the topic. The assistant threw Celebrimbor a questioning look over her shoulder – asking, without words, whether he would be okay.

His smile widened, touched by her concern. The smith nodded and slightly jerked his head to shoo her outside. Mirdania, too, could use a break after all.

She nodded, quickly, and the two elven women walked out of the forge together.

With a start, Celebrimbor realized the others who had helped with the cleanup had also left. Whenever that had happened, he had no idea.

It left the elf standing the middle of the messy room. It was a bit demoralizing, perhaps, that he and the others had already done so much work and yet, the smithy still looked as if a maiar had exploded in the middle of it. Literally.

He remembered how one of his builders had mentioned that the forge part of the tower would either need extensive repairs...or to be taken down and rebuilt from the ground up.

Neither option seemed particularly appealing to the smith.

With a deep sigh, he looked up, only to find his husband emerging from the stairs.

It was still a marvel to Celebrimbor how the other’s presence made warmth and the feeling of safety spread through him. How his mood lifted whenever he laid eyes upon the other. The sheer strength of his happiness knowing that this one was his.

It was as if a dark cloud had been cleared from the elf’s thoughts, and he smiled, exhaustedly but brightly, as Adar stroke towards him.

The other also wore a smile on his face. Smaller than Celebrimbor’s, but Adar was typically more subdued in how he expressed himself. To the smith, the smirk was the same as the other giving him a wide, elated smile.

Adar looked over the interior of the smithy as he went, and then quirked up an eyebrow at Celebrimbor. "Perhaps my uruk should come up here and help you after all," despite the flippant manner in which he said it, the uruk’s tone soon became more serious. "Looks like things are coming along more slowly than anticipated."

The elf let his shoulders sink as he looked around. His smile grew smaller, but at least it did not completely disappear. The two of them had always been honest with one another, and while he wished to spare Adar his own self-pity, he did not think it fair to openly lie about his own feelings either. Adar would be quick to recognize them anyways, perceptive as he was.

It was one of the things Celebrimbor cherished about him.

"It’s...a struggle. In more ways than one," he turned to Adar. "The physical work and trying to organize what is left of my notes is taking a lot of time and effort. And that is without considering the prospect that working on the structure itself might be a fool’s errand."

"But that is not all of it," the uruk deduced. Celebrimbor looked at him and nodded, his eyes quickly drifting away again. His smile finally left his face completely, even as Adar stepped close to him.

"No, it is not," the smith admitted, and gladly let his husband hold onto his elbow, a silent, gentle comfort. He returned it with a grip of his own. It brought him back to the time when Adar had killed that hill troll, Damrod, in his camp to protect Celebrimbor.

He was glad for Adar’s strength, his quiet presence. Not just in battle, but in situations like these. The uruk’s history with Sauron had hardened him in many ways, but also made him uniquely suited to understand Celebrimbor’s complicated feelings.

He looked at the uruk, and found only compassion in the other’s eyes. It made it easier for Celebrimbor to be honest, in a way he hadn’t yet been able to be towards his assistants, or even with his friends.

"I’d hoped working on cleaning this place up might bring me some solace, but instead I find myself pondering too many painful memories. And seeing Mirdania and the others similarly afflicted...it’s difficult, at times."

Nevermind all the other things that occupied his mind.

His words sprung forth without his conscious decision and before he could stop them. Adar tended to have that effect on him, inspiring honesty and trust where Celebrimbor would otherwise have been more hesitant. "One of the new apprentices asked me why I didn’t wear a wedding ring, today."

Celebrimbor felt himself grow still at his own words. He hadn’t anticipated the question would bother him that much. Nor had he planned to let Adar know about it, either.

The Lord Father of the uruk had enough to deal with as it was – some of his children were planning on packing up the camp and moving back to Mordor, meaning he was involved in organisational matters most of the day. The rest, who planned on remaining for the ongoing peace talks, needed to be taken care of in terms of food, drink and shelter from the sunlight.

And then there were the peace talks itself, which had overall gone rather well in the aftermath of a shared victory, but were time-consuming and often frustrating with how detailed everything had to be in both word and writing.

Also, there had been some talk of a big celebration as well. Not just of the peace itself, though that seemed to be the main reason. But no, people wanted a proper celebration of the marriage. Since, according to all Celebrimbor had heard, it was considered the foundation of not just the victory over Sauron, but the peace that would surely now come for the elves, the uruk, and hopefully soon Middle-earth as a whole.

So no, something as simple as wedding rings shouldn’t be a concern of Adar’s right now, not when he had so many, and so many more important matters to consider.

Somewhat annoyed at himself, Celebrimbor looked at Adar again. The other had raised his eyebrows and was watching his husband as if trying to figure something out, before understanding dawned on his face.

"You think you should be the one to make them."

Celebrimbor truly did cherish Adar’s perceptiveness, which often worked to the point that the other could glean things from the smith’s mind that he himself hadn’t been quite able to put into words.

Strangely, it was nothing like what Sauron had tried to do. When the fallen maiar had rummaged through Celebrimbor’s mind, it had always been a means to an end.

When Adar spoke aloud what the smith himself did not even dare to think yet, it was a sign of understanding. Of how much he cared, despite how stoic and emotionless he first appeared to others.

The elf nodded, and tipped his head forward. Adar mirrored the movement until their foreheads touched, and Celebrimbor closed his eyes when he felt Adar grab onto his other arm as well.

He felt steadied, understood, kept safe. In this little space, he knew he needn’t fear his own weakness. It was a relief.

"I suppose I do," he admitted, voice quiet. "I am a smith, and I have made rings before. I should be able to do so again, should I not? To overcome what I last made in this forge? To honor us?"

Adar hummed and remained quiet for a moment as the two of them breathed in each other’s air. It was strangely calming to Celebrimbor’s unsettled mind.

"I do not require a trinket to represent, or show, the worth of our marriage. I have not required it when we first joined as potential allies, and I do not need it now that we are joined in love."

Celebrimbor opened his eyes and locked them with Adar’s. The other was so utterly steadfast as he spoke, his words like absolute truths against the questions and worries the smith found himself pondering.

"It is an Eldar custom, not one of the uruk. Do not strain yourself on my behalf, or ours. We are bound by more than shiny metal. And you are defined by more than your last work in this forge – after all, another fine work of yours helped us achieve victory."

Celebrimbor smiled at Adar’s words. Indeed, the sword he had reforged out of Morgoth’s crown had been made after the rings for the dwarves and his attempts to fashion the rings for men. Its pieces still laid where Sauron had been impaled onto it in fact, and the smith let his gaze wander in that direction.

He took a shaky breath and lightly nodded, careful not to dislodge where their foreheads were touching. "You’re right. I know you are right."

Another breath. This one already came out easier. "It’s a struggle to remember sometimes. What you said – that healing from him will take time and that I will face challenges along the way. And that we can forge our own path, together. Thank you for reminding me."

Adar gently squeezed his arms and brought Celebrimbor closer, before he rubbed their noses together. The motion made the elf grin and return the gesture.

The uruk, too, was smiling when he pulled back and cupped the smith’s cheek. "Of course. Come, let us follow your assistant’s example. I think it would do you well to leave these rooms for a while."

The smith nodded, and felt easier as Adar lead him along.

...And yet, even as he felt that his husband’s words were true, as he tried to turn his thoughts away, he couldn’t quite put the idea of the wedding rings out of his mind.

Like his ambitions to surpass his grandfather’s legacy, the idea to overcome Sauron lingered in the back of his skull.

Perhaps, he might surprise himself and his husband yet?

[bloogers-boogers]

THIS. I’m glad you’re feeling more free to discover new things about yourself! It feels nice to have control of your own path without someone dragging you to theirs. I discovered a lot of things about myself that I never consider having, happening or experiencing when I decided to stop listening. However I’m lucky I was never forced to be religious I was lightly encouraged to follow one if I wanted to however I was never put in schools or forced to go to church. It was all willingly, there was a point in my life that I went leaping into different religions (to find some sorta place to belong to, to feel understood?) until I felt comfortable in one (christianity) but as much as I felt comfortable in the church I was at, I never felt connected to the words of the bible. Or the belief of a god. But they’re moments I do question it, from the religions I’ve been, there certain things I kept following without much of a care. Just cause it doesn’t hurt to believe in something if it gives a good message? Makes you do good. This is the idea I followed most of my life when it came to religion. I may have a hard time believing in whats shared from different beliefs but I do believe in good faith. I no longer follow a religion however if I’m asked I would simply answer that I haven’t been connected to god in a while. Im not saying I stopped believing but im also saying im not really interested in talking about it. But that doesn’t stop that I was surrounded by people with conservatives views and opinions that affected the way I thought as a child. A reason to why im also careful in how I say I don’t believe in religion, MAYBE a god, but not religion. They’re people who’ll force it to you with corrupted ideals,beliefs or whatever (like fucked up people) which entirely goes against the whole message of god. Who are we to judge someone based on their race, gender or sexuality. If god were real I doubt he’d care, he loves all his children. Base on the church i was at I was told you’re only ready to be forgiven if you’re ready to accept god into your heart. Nothing else. I wasn’t pushed to accept him, to be there or to follow a way some pastor declare were the right things to do. There was no rules but to respect others, be kind, and spread the word of god to anyone who needed it. Everyone was welcomed there. The moment they changed pastor I immediately felt a different vibe from the previous, I felt pressured to speak about the lessons we were being taught about and I didn’t like how he’d preached. I wasn’t comfortable. It felt forceful. Religion felt like a joke and god felt so far away from me. So I bailed, I was already distancing myself from that church because of other problems and this just made it easier for me to leave.

And now I just follow what my heart wants to believe! I believe in whatever the afterlife takes me to, in the meantime I enjoy what life offers me. Or at-least try to. The moment someone uses god as an excuse to be an asshole I cringe so hard because fuck no. Those are beliefs from man, not god.

So yeah, I don’t care if it’s a sin to obsess about fictional characters (nswf drawings, smut fics, sexualizing a character, fantasying about said character, etc), not following a religion, to explore myself, be queer! Have no idea what the hell am I in gender terms. Call me weird, tell me I’m going to hell! I don’t care, it won’t change how I think or see the world. I feel comfortable in how things are currently within my thoughts of faith. That’s what matters.

I’m happy that you’re in better more comfortable place ❤️ sorry for the long ranting! I didn’t think I’d fall back into talking about my religion problem

Adamsapple has made more comfortable in exploring sex topics, be more comfortable in my body (explore it further), being more open to showing off some of my skin, not feeling ashamed in feeling sexy or wanting to, but also like made me more comfortable in drawing sex. Something I thought I’d never stop feeling ashamed or embarrassed on doing. If this ship has damaged my brain it also damaged my insecurities and conservative beliefs taught as a child that have only brought me unhappiness, shame and anxiety. I love you Lucifer and Adam 🥺❤️

[potatobugz]

Lucky is he, Who lives unaware

[jerreeeeeee]

i don’t know if i’m ever gonna write the fic but i’ve been thinking abt like. the eternal stockade. the implications. lup, a lich who was trapped in a dark featureless cell for a decade completely isolated with nothing to keep her sanity but her own mind. she has to put people in the eternal stockade. how many liches does she see herself in. how many liches started out just like her. how many liches are truly too far gone. and the only liches we ever see other than her and barry are edward and lydia. they’re certainly evil, but mad? they seem pretty sane. they’re not, like, tattered echoes of souls, they’re definitely still people. even as much of a grudge as lup surely has against them, wouldn’t they remind her incredibly strongly of herself? do they deserve to be trapped just like she was? for eternity? isn’t eternity what turned john to existential despair in the first place?