#(even if i took months to get to this i'm so sorry :(((((()

[jasntodds]

can i request a jason fic 🥺 i was reading through the prompt list and saw two ("here's a spare key, so you don't have to keep coming through the window" and "i didn't know you could cook this good") and i thought they'd make a cute setup for a friends to lovers moment 🥺 sorry for not being around! i've been struggling with reading on my phone for long periods of time the last few months 😭 -guiltywaves

@guiltywaves omg hey!! I love friends to lovers so much dkjf but no no it's totally okay!! No worries!! I totally understand!! It happens to me all the time lmao I'm so sorry this took so long!! I wanted it to be perfect and make sure it wasn't super long!! I hope you like it!!

Maybe I'll do a part 2

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,045

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of injuries

masterlist | tag list | requests: open

Jason climbs through your window. A routine of sorts, really. After patrol, he comes by and always through your window. Sometimes he’s injured and lets you help him before you offer your couch to him. Sometimes he just stops by with a snack. But, he always comes in through the window.

Tonight is no different.

It’s after three when your window creaks open, Jason noting to himself to fix it for you. He crawls through your window, your apartment dark as it usually is when he comes by this late. He flips on the floor lamp to your living room before taking his helmet off and making his way to your kitchen to rest it on the table. He finds a note, your handwriting scribbled across the page containing Nightwing symbols at the corner.

Jason rolls his eyes but reads the note.

Leftovers in the fridge please eat

A smile tugs itself onto his lips before he pockets the note, folding it neatly beforehand. He’s quiet, reaching for the fridge where he finds the leftovers already in a bowl for him with a note that has his name on it, something that almost always makes him laugh. He's the only one you ever save food for.

This note has the Robin symbol.

He doesn’t think you even own anything with a Red Hood symbol and a very large part of him knows it’s because you do it to fuck with him.

It works every time.

He grabs the bowl, pulling the plastic wrap from it before he pops it in the microwave. He grabs a fork from the drawer and leans himself against the counter with hooded eyes, sleep tugging at his chest and bones. Patrol wasn't too bad tonight, that's not really it. He's standing in your kitchen and it's comfortable here. He's allowed to breathe with ease in your apartment and sometimes, that alone can make him crave sleep. The white noise of the microwave is only contributing to the heaviness of his eyes until it’s suddenly interrupted.

“Knew you’d be hungry.” Your voice tugs Jason from his almost sleep.

You look tired.

You sound tired.

“Thank you.” Jason’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of red as he rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “Just gonna eat and head out.”

“You can stay.” You roll your shoulders.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “‘M fine.” He gives you this toothy grin as some sort of proof he isn’t injured tonight though you’ve already pieced that together with him heating up his food.

“It’s late. You’re just gonna be more tired after you eat, Jay. It’s not like you don’t stay half the time anyway.” You roll your eyes at him before you disappear down the hall.

The microwave dings and it sends Jason quickly reaching for the handle to get it to stop. The noise is so jarring in your quiet apartment it sounds like his ears might bleed. The bowl is hot on his fingertips as he grabs it, quickly stirring before he puts it back in for a bit more time.

“I got you something.” You state as you reemerge from the hallway.

Jason’s brow quirks up. “What?” He let out a half-scoff half-chuckle.

The microwave barely gets a ding off before Jason grabs it and removes his bowl. He places it on the counter before you approach him. Jason faces you, eyeing you carefully before he sticks his fork into the pile of pasta.

“Here’s a spare key.” You stick out your hand and open your palm, revealing a painted red key. It matches his helmet. “So you don’t have to keep coming through the window.”

Jason thinks he might have a panic attack.

He’s comfortable around you. You’re his best friend. You’ve been friends for years, long before Red Hood. You know everything there is to know about him. It’s why he’s so comfortable walking into your apartment and grabbing his food. It’s why he can get some sleep when he’s here. But, having a key feels serious. It feels like a large responsibility. It feels like a commitment to something he’s not sure he knows what to do with.

He's staring at your palm like the key might try to bite and you have to hold your breath. There's always a chance he says no and it really shouldn't be a big deal because he's your best friend but you hold your breath anyway. You tell yourself it's just a key because Jason Todd deserves to feel welcomed somewhere at all times and that somewhere is here.

“Jay, you’re here all the time.” You tell him before you grab his hand and put the key in it. “Just use the damn key. And whenever you want.” You shrug. “I know sometimes you just don’t want to be alone so you can just come over whenever. I don’t know. You’re just always welcome.” You glance to the key in his hand and then up to him, hoping he takes it.

“I can’t do that.” Jason shakes his head, still holding out the palm of his hand.

“And why not?” You challenge.

Jaosn’s different than he was when you were kids. He’s guarded, cautious, you think he’s scared. When he was a kid, he was a little fearless and a little reckless. It wasn’t anything too crazy but a little reckless. He was open and welcoming. He was still cautious but it was more that caution just came from needing to survive from one day to the next. Jason’s caution today makes him look over his shoulder, look at every single person near him to see if they have a weapon. It makes him hide a gun under your couch and in one of your cabinets. He has a stash of food in his apartment he thinks you don’t know about. He’s different now than he was. So, you offer patience while still testing him. He doesn’t need to be different with you.

“Not trying to impose.” Jason tries to play off his own fears. “The window’s fine.” He tries to deflect. “It’s not even a bother anyway and—“

You let out a sigh cutting him off. “You’re not imposing if I’m inviting you which I am. The window’s fine until someone spots you and wants to know what the fuck is going on. The door is right here.” You point over your shoulder to the door. “Just take the key and use it.” You offer him a soft smile. "I want you here." You clarify.

Maybe it’s not the key itself that makes Jason want to run through a window. It’s the implication of what a key could lead to. And what if you ask for it back?

What if you change your mind?

“I painted it to match your helmet.” Your eyes soften, a hint of innocence behind them.

Jason's eyes go to the table, spotting his helmet and his chest feels like it’s on fire. Most of the stationary you own has to do with the bats. You have random collectibles of theirs, too which may have actually been gifted to you but you have them regardless. But the key to your apartment is Red Hood red.

You think you see a smile forming.

“Fine.” He caves, curling his fingers around the key before stuffing it deep into his pocket. “‘M gonna thank you for it then.”

“Okay, Jay.” You shine, relieved he took it.

“Can I eat now?” He points to his bowl of food that's no longer steaming.

“Yes, yes you can.” You chime.

Jason picks up his bowl, leaning his lower back against your counter before he twirls the pasta around the fork. You sit in front of him on your table just watching him. He’s your best friend but it’s hard not to notice how the armor compliments his muscle. It’s hard not to notice how pretty he is even in the low light of your apartment. You think he’s always been pretty but since reconnecting, you can’t help but think he’s stunning and tall and big. Your mind wanders to his hands, the way he holds the fork with large but delicate fingers as if he could break the metal with ease. You think how it would feel to hold his hand in yours, knowing Jason’s always radiated heat. You think how his palms are probably calloused and how they’d feel against your skin and—

Nope.

You shake your head of your own thoughts. He’s your friend and you’re just extra tired and touch-starved lately.

“How was patrol?” You ask with ease, kicking your feet in front of you, just missing his legs.

He shrugs. “Not too bad.” He answers. “Stopped a few robberies.” He states as he twirls his fork around his pasta.

“You look tired.”

He hums softly before taking his first bite, not even realizing how hungry he was until now.

“You look tired.” Jason quips back with the nod of his head towards you.

“That’s because it’s four in the morning.” You laugh softly. “Most people are tired at this time.” You widen your eyes at him to tease him.

"You can go back to bed, don't have to watch me eat." Jason widens his eyes back at you in response.

"No, that's okay." You smile back at him, not wanting to go back to bed when you could be out here with him.

“You know,” Jason starts as he points his fork at you. “Gotta get you different stationary. Tired of your Nightwing, Red Robin, and Robin bullshit.” He changes subject, a little relieved you want to stay up a little bit with him. He feels guilty you're up with him but he does really enjoy your company.

“Aww,” You give him a pout. “But don’t you just love Dick and Damian and Tim?”

Jason blinks at you a few times as he keeps a straight face before taking another bite.

You let out a laugh and Jason thinks your laugh could cure him of all of his sadness.

“They’re your brothers.” You giggle.

“Exactly.” Jason answers.

“I could have painted your key Nightwing blue or the Robin colors.” You tease him with a cheeky grin.

“Can’t pick Spoiler or Orphan?” Jason says it more sarcastically than anything else.

“No, you like Steph and Cass.” You laugh.

“Swear, if I show up to Batman shit, I’m out.” Jason laughs back.

You make a mental note to pick up a Batman mug tomorrow just to fuck with him.

“Of course not.” You scoff but Jason knows he's given you the bad idea.

Jason laughs softly before taking another bite. “Go to bed.”

You let out a sigh before you hop down, noticing Jason is almost done eating anyway. "Pillow and blanket are already on the couch for you."

Jason glances to the couch, seeing a pale blue blanket peaking out from the arm of the couch.

"Thank you." Jason offers you a sincere but small smile. "Goodnight."

“Goodnight, Jay.” You smile softly before heading back to your room.

The next morning, you’re awakened by the smell of something cooking in your kitchen. For a few seconds, you think you’re either dreaming or hallucinating. But the longer you lay in bed, the more you become positive there’s definitely food being made.

It smells a little sweet and warm. It actually smells warm. And yet, it’s almost completely silent in your apartment. You figure it’s Jason because Jason can cook but you have no clue how he manages to be so quiet about everything he does. Sure, it’s his training and his life depends on it, but every time you try to cook anything, you drop at least one pan onto the floor and utensils usually go flying somewhere. You feel bad for you downstairs neighbors.

You grab your phone from the charger, pocketing it before you head out to the kitchen, still wiping sleep from your eyes. The smell grows stronger and you finally figure out it’s your favorite breakfast food. A smile pokes at your lips because, in all your years of friendship, you and Jason have only done breakfast a handful of times but he remembers anyway.

He’s attentive. That’s also something that comes with his training because his life depends on it. But, you knew him before Rd Hood. Before Robin and Batman. Jason Todd has always been attentive and you don’t think it’s something about living on the streets. It’s something that’s embedded into his DNA, pay attention to small things. Maybe that’s because of his mom, his overall childhood of having to take care of her but maybe it’s also just him.

“Morning.” You greet as you stretch your arms over your head, bending your back back a bit.

“G’morning.” Jason greets as he turns around from the stove.

He sounds well-rested.

He looks well-rested for once.

“You’re making breakfast?” You question as you walk over to your coffee maker, an empty cup already ready sitting there for you.

“Told ya I’d pay you back.” Jason states as he continues cooking.

“You really know the way to my heart.” You joke as you get your coffee going. “Always food.”

You watch Jason continue to cook and you think you could probably be mesmerized by everything he does. He's not really doing anything special but it seems that way because it's him. He could trip over a rock and fall into a lake and you'd still be mesmerized.

"Hello?" Jason calls, waving a hand in front of your face. Your eyes snap up to his as you feel your cheeks starting to burn. "I asked how you slept." Jason chuckles as he starts to plate the food for the both of you. "You alright?"

You shake your head, almost fumbling for words. "Yeah, sorry. Zoned out." You clear your throat before you start to pour your cup of coffee. "Good, to answer your question." You let out a breath with the roll of your shoulders. "You?" You ask with a soft smile before you make your way to your spot at the table.

Jason always tends to sleep better here. Your couch isn’t exactly the most comfortable or the biggest but he still feels like he gets real sleep whenever he’s here. He could sleep a few hours and still be more rested than had he just slept at his place.

Jason doesn’t mind being alone, it’s always a bit safer if not for him then for the people around him but being alone gets pretty lonely. He doesn’t have to feel alone here. You’re here and he thinks he’d never be lonely again if you were always around.

“Good.” Jason answers, not willing to elaborate on his thoughts. “Your breakfast is served, princess.” Jason smirks at you with his quip as he sets the plate down in front of you.

“Ass.” You retort with the roll of your eyes just as Jason goes to take the plate back. Your hand grips his wrist. Your hand is no match for him, it’s tiny compared to him and his strength alone is enough but he stops anyway. “No, no, I’ll take this thank you.” You push his hand away and guard your food.

He laughs with the shake of his head and you hope the walls are absorbing the sound. Jason stays at your apartment a few days a week but he’s never here when you wake up. The blanket is always folded on the arm of the couch with the pillow placed perfectly on top. There’s always some sort of note thanking you for letting him crash. Sometimes, if you sleep in because work sucked or you're sick, he picks up some of your favorite snacks and takeout, leaving it in the fridge for you for when you wake up. But, he’s never here.

You find yourself thinking you could get used to this though. His laugh in the early morning and him looking so comfortable.

His hair is all tousled from sleeping. He looks a little disheveled. You see him disheveled all the time because he always has helmet hair and he’s always getting himself into trouble. It kind of comes tih with territory, you think. But, today, it’s just because he slept here. He looks disheveled because his hair is messy and he’s comfortable. He looks comfortable and warm and you’d go as far as to say he looks beautiful.

You hope he chooses to stay more.

“Okay, I didn't know you could cook this good.” You states after taking a few bites, genuinely surprised. Is there anything Jason Todd is bad at?

A rosey shade of pink dusts over his cheeks as he shrugs. “What? Thought I only eat pasta and whatever else you managed to save me?” He quips, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through his ribcage.

“Well…yes.” You let out a laugh while Jason offers you his fake glare.

“Like to cook sometimes, got good at it.” Jason shrugs a shoulder with his minimal explanation.

“Well, now you have to cook more.” You shrug easily as you offer him a grin.

“I have to?” Jason raises a brow at you, taunting you to rethink your words.

You don’t.

“Yes. I said so.” You laugh back at him.

“Not sure I want to now.” Jason shrugs his shoulders dramatically.

“Awww, pretty please, Jay.” You give him a pout and not even a single ounce of him actually believes he’d ever be able to say no to you about anything.

“What’d ya want for dinner?” Jason asks before he goes back to his food.

“Wait, really?” You beam and Jason glances back to you.

There’s always this sort of pull in his chest when things feel good, like he’s undeserving and he needs to wait for the other foot to drop. It feels like this now. He feels comfortable here. He’s happy here with you. You’re his favorite person and you're always the person he wants to talk to you about a new book he read or something insane one of the bats did. You’re the first person, the only person, he goes to when he’s been hurt on patrol. Jason swears you’re his best friend despite the beating and rumbling through his ribcage.

“Unless you’re bored of--”

“I’m never bored of you.” You cut him off immediately. “Okay, I’ll think of something and I can help.” You beam back at him with excitement before going back to your food.

A smile tugs at the corner of Jason’s lips and despite the worrying and fear of this whole thing blowing up in his face, he finds himself thinking he could get used to mornings with you, just like this.

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

You hate Logan but you have a child together

You had a complicated relationship with your Logan. When he first came to the mansion the two of you hit off immediately. The typical good girl bad guy dynamic, but there always a layer of Logan you couldn't quite get to. He wanted to be with you, but he didn't want to do the work in order to keep you. He struggled with being emotionally vulnerable and you were the complete opposite. You told him you felt, you spoke through misunderstandings with him, and you were always there to listen. To try get any piece of your lover that you could. But after years of begging Logan to love you, when you told him you were in love with him. He said he was not, and that was the end of your relationship.

Or so you thought. Because your relationship couldn't end that easily, but you discovered you were pregnant. Logan tried to make things back to normal, but you rejected him at every turn. He hadn't ever wanted to hurt you, but as he realized your unrelenting anger, he knew he did. He knew that you cried when you were alone, that you'd start going to therapy again. That being pregnant with Logan's child was literally the last thing he thought you wanted. Maybe before when you were together when Logan wasn't confronted on being a coward.

He calls this karma, watching you go to Jean and Scott for support instead of him. Watching you grow progressively more pregnant with his child, and he couldn't hold you or kiss you. Logan thought about leaving, it was he had done so many times before. Even when the two of you were together, he'd leave for long periods of time. Breaking your heart over and over again but coming back asking for forgiveness. You'd given him so many chances and he had wasted them on being a brainless dick.

Little did you know how hard it was not to run back to him, not to give him to his promises. But you couldn't trust that he was going to come through for you. You didn't have any doubts about your child together, you knew that you meant something to him. You'd hope that his anxiety wouldn't pull him away from his own child. Because you knew he'd be a good dad, the way he was with Rogue, always checking in on her, making sure Bobby was being respectful. He loved her like a daughter, and you only hopped he could love your child the same.

Logan was going to have to be a part of your life no matter what now, or so you hoped. There was a hope in Logan that when your daughter was born that you would accept him again. He'd plan to tell you he loved you, that'd he give anything to you, that he'd wait for forever. It took him 9 months to grow the guts to do it.

It was a no brainer when he had their baby in his arms, you laying in the med-bay, he'd never seen you so tired but so happy. "Y/n." He murmured, looking over at you with his soft eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him. "I'm sorry for letting you down, I-I want to give you everything, I-I loved you for so long, I've just been too scared to say anything." He admitted, wearing his heart on his sleeve for once in his life.

You felt tears well up in your eyes at the pang in your chest, you shook your head as you looked away. "I-I can't risk it, Logan. Getting hurt by you-." You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I can't do it again, and I can't focus on you anymore and how you make me feel, I gotta focus on our girl, make sure she has the life she's supposed to."

Logan didn't say anything as he looked back down at his daughter, a shaky sigh falling from his mouth as he tried to keep the tears welling up in his eyes at bay. He didn't think he would cry if you said no, but Logan also thought you would forgive him. "I uh-I wanna name her Hazel."

"Yeah?" He grinned over at you, even just the slimmest of hope fluttering in his chest. You also spoke about his hazel eyes; it was one of your favorite things about him. Even if you didn't consciously pick it because of him, he had given him the glimmer of hope he needed to completely devote himself to you and Hazel.

Logan didn't confess anymore feelings or push you to be with him. But you grew rather annoyed by his presence always a reminder of something you wanted desperately but whenever you got it hurt you. It was like the apple that you wanted so desperately but everything was telling you to not grab the apple, don't eat it. Don't give into those green eyes and that handsome smile. Try not to focus when he was talking in that almost condescending way while his eyes flitted up and down your body. This man had no shame in showing you how much he loved you, by teasing, poking, antagonizing. But also being the first one to show up when you were overwhelmed with Hazel or you were just having a rough time. He didn't need to ask, he just did.

Being so agonizing good with your daughter that it was hard not to fold when he was such a good man. But instead of giving him a chance, you only pushed him away more, complaining about the littlest things and not giving Logan the benefit of the doubt. When Hazel wasn't around, it was you calling him some name and trying to start an argument with him.

But it was hard to act like a bitch when you saw your one and half year old on Logan's hip while he made her breakfast. It was his morning to take care of her, but you'd waken up early so you went for some coffee. "Morning beautiful." Logan grinned at you, you were suer he said those things to purposely piss you off. You ignored him as usual coming up to Hazel and kissing her cheek.

"Good morning love bug." You murmured to her, as she grinned over at you before putting a kiss on your own cheek. Logan gazed over at the two of you, imagines of you calling him that nickname, 'Love bug'. You'd explained to him how much that nickname actually meant to you, how it was favorite term of endearment. Something that you called him for a long time. He just wished it would be directed at him one day, one day he'd regain your trust again, right?

Logan wasn't a patient man.

But he was patient for his girls.

Notes: angsty moment here lmao got this idea last night just didn't have time to write it. hope you enjoy! lmk if you want a part 2

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

[roosterforme]

Okay, but how about the first time Jake and Darling have a fight? How would that go?

I really like your stories bc while it is fiction, I feel like you show every aspect of a relationship, not only the good parts.

🩷

OMG, nonny. I'm swooning. I try to make my stories realistic (as much as they can be for fanfic). Nobody is happy and confident all the time. Everyone is stressed about something. Relationships are hard work, and dealing with someone else is sometimes weird and annoying. So thank you, I appreciate that so much.

Jake and Darlin' argue all the time about all the small things in life. They have different opinions on a lot of things, but it's never usually anything they remember by the next day. I think their first big fight would happen shortly after she moves in with him, just after she graduates from school and starts her new job. (angsty below).

"I had the longest day at work," you muttered, shoveling the last bite of the dinner Jake made into your mouth. You set your fork down and stretched as you stood. This whole week was dragging. You realized you were probably complaining more than usual, but you were just over it. "Let's go take a bath and just go to bed. I'll clean up tomorrow morning."

Jake looked at you, his lips pressed into a firm line. "Go ahead. I'll clean it up."

You reached for his hand, but he was already stacking the plates. "You cooked. I don't want you to clean up. I'll do it later," you reiterated.

"Just go get in the bath," he snapped, carrying everything back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to take a bath without you!"

Jake dumped everything into the sink and spun around. "You're not the only one who's working full-time, but you're certainly acting like it."

With narrowed eyes, you asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake took a deep, practiced breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're tired, but it would be nice for you to acknowledge that I work longer hours than you do. So just go relax in the bath by yourself while I clean up."

"Well, now I don't want to!" You were suddenly so angry, you couldn't see straight, and you also wanted to cry. "You're treating me like a child!"

"You're acting like one."

His words hurt you more than a slap across your cheek would have, and your jaw dropped open. But then his next sentence made it even worse.

"In my house no less."

"Wow," you gasped, turning and running toward the bedroom as you started crying. It wasn't like you weren't paying to be here. You knew it wasn't much, but you had been insistant about giving Jake five hundred dollars per month. And for what? So he could act like you were an unwanted guest?

You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before you curled up on the tub mat on the floor and sobbed. Work wasn't like school. Trying to figure out how you fit in with your coworkers was exhausting, and you were still learning all the ropes. You drove back here every day mentally drained, and up until tonight, Jake was always the one who seemed willing to listen. You should have just cleaned up the kitchen, because now you felt like you didn't belong anywhere.

"Darlin'." Jake's voice was as sharp as his knock on the door. You tried to dry your tears, but it wasn't working, and maybe you really were a child compared to your boyfriend. "Darlin'!"

"It's not even locked!" you shouted, but it came out as weak as you felt. Jake opened the door, and in an instant, he was curled up on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole." You tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "I think I'm more exhausted this week than I'd like to admit, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

In spite of the fact that you were on the floor crying, you mustered up the courage to whisper, "I'm not a child."

"You're an adult," he said firmly. "An adult who just started a very impressive job. You're holding it together better than I did when I was in flight school." He kissed your forehead. "And you're absolutely right. We should have just climbed in our bathtub and then gone right to our bed. The fucking dishes do not matter right now. They can sit in our kitchen sink until whenever the fuck we feel like cleaning up."

Jake rubbed slow, soothing circles against your lower back until you were all cried out. If you thought you were tired before, it was nothing compared to how wrung out you felt now. You wanted to put forth a peace offering and just get up and clean the kitchen, but his lips were on your damp cheek and his voice was in your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. It has been a long week for both of us. I would like nothing more than to climb in a hot bath with you, relax until the water gets cold, and then get in our bed and go to sleep."

You nodded and started the water while he got two towels ready, and then both of you undressed. Jake kissed your bare shoulder and held you while the tub filled. "You belong here," he whispered. "I don't want you anywhere other than our house."

[guytransformedforever]

Office competition

You were sitting in a stuffy office in a conference room surrounded by a dozen of your colleagues and a boring boss. An unremarkable Tuesday. Your thoughts were flying far away throughout the meeting. You flipped through the tape on your phone while your boss showed graphs of departments that did not concern you, talked about profitability and costs. Your gaze fell on the window, the boss's projector, on the table, the enthusiastic face of Jake Strey. This guy is weird, always trying to stand out in front of the boss and earn his trust. And now he literally catches his every word and agrees with stupid exclamations.

"So colleagues. The meeting is coming to an end. And I would like to thank Mr. Graves separately. He worked for the benefit of our company for 40 years and is retiring. On behalf of the whole company, I wish him a wonderful holiday." The conference room burst into applause and the old, plump Mr. Graves was handed a large box with a present.

"Nevertheless," the boss continued, "now the position of the head of the department will be vacant. I will hire someone who will do the best job this month." At this point, you had to strain yourself, because the boss's gaze was also directed in your direction. You didn't mind the promotion, but the extra workload didn't appeal to you, although if it's guaranteed to give you a raise, why not. You were also surprised by the expression on Jake's face: genuine discontent and jealousy – that's what was read in the eyes of this thin guy.

Well… The next 2 weeks were difficult. Overtime and heavy workloads. Recycling didn't do you any good. You lived on coffee and stress. One Friday evening, you were sitting late at night finishing a project again when you heard a modest "cough-cough". You thought all your colleagues had already left. Looking up, you saw Jake holding 2 cups of coffee.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you. I'm working late here too today. I thought coffee would be good for both of us." You thanked Jake and took the coffee. The fragrance was amazing. With strange notes. Lavender? Hibiscus? "Of course I see you as a competitor for the position, but you still need to help your colleagues," Jake's words were soothing, but his expression was distant and slightly scared. The guy nodded and retreated to his desk.

Without giving it any importance, you went back to work. The coffee was delicious and you didn't even notice how you drained the cup. Jake was giving you sidelong glances at the time. A few minutes later, you felt a strange burning sensation in your chest, your stomach rumbled and then suddenly: "Buuurrrppp" a terrible belch left your mouth. You've never done this before. Did your body react strangely to the coffee? That's nonsense. The burning sensation did not go away, you felt yourself getting hot. Your limbs are weak, and your vision is slightly blurred... you leaned on the back of the chair and unbuttoned your tie. What the hell? You saw Jake's figure approaching you.

"Damn, I didn't think it would work so fast. Haha, but what did I expect? The mysterious potions of change from the black market do not contain complete instructions," you heard Jake's voice.

What was in that coffee? Did that bastard poison you? You tried to focus your eyes, reach for your phone, but your body wouldn't listen to you. The stomach rumbled again, but this time the intestines also moved in unison with it. You made 2 sounds at the same time. "BUUUUURRPPRUU", "PPFPFPFTTTPPPPFFFFF" - echoed through the office. You were terribly embarrassed by it.… The smell was terrible. "Haha damn.. The seller did not cheat. This elixir has been accurately described as a suitable combination for stink and stupidity." What the hell is Jake talking about? What kind of potion?

Suddenly, the fever increased, and you felt terrible pain and burning all over your body. Through the haze of vision, you could see your shirt stretching against the swelling muscles. You felt your body getting heavier and more massive. The office chair creaked under the pressure of your body. You could feel your feet starting to stretch, ripping off your office shoes. You could feel the sweat running down your huge feet, soaking into your socks, which immediately became wet... the smell of sweat from the locker room hit your nose. Then you felt your calves and shins swell and literally tore the bottom of your trousers in half. They were straining, and you could feel the muscles playing under your skin. Then the hips and buttocks. They expanded with terrifying rapidity. The seat of the chair became cramped and soaked in sweat from your buttocks in a second. Then your bulge. You felt your average penis begin to lengthen down your thigh, reaching 10 inches, and your balls became almost twice the size. At the same moment, your whole body was shaken by the amount of hormones... you were instantly aroused, soaking the front of your underpants and trousers. Your breathing became faster and with each breath your entire torso grew larger. The pectoral muscles, back and arms tore the shirt to shreds. The musky smell has intensified, coming from your now hairy armpits. Finally, the burning sensation along the ascending path reached your face and head. You felt the facial features begin to move, the bones break in order to fuse at other angles. The ears were enlarged, and the nose was rearranged inside. You felt how it became more difficult to breathe through your nose due to changes in the bones of your nose and involuntarily opened your mouth, giving your new face a slightly stupid look. Meanwhile, the fog in your field of vision has cleared, but the problem has become different. The fog in your brain has intensified. You felt your thoughts running away from you. It was getting harder to think. You saw the table on the laptop screen, but it was almost impossible to concentrate on it… The words in my head were not built into long sentences and thoughts, and strange ideas arose. You suddenly felt the urge to drink beer, lift weights in the gym and have sex in the locker room – this thought revived your penis again. The final chord was again a terrible belch.

"Bro.... Fuck.. Uh. What the hell did you do to me?" - you heard your new voice, which was very different from the rudeness and notes of the stupidity of the athlete. You jumped out of your chair and ran to the office window in your underpants to look at yourself. In the reflection, a frankly stereotypical dumb jock was looking at you. You saw Jake's grinning face in the background.

"Well.. now it will be obvious to the boss who should take the place of the head of the department. Am I obedient and smart, or are you stupid and clumsy. See you tomorrow, asshole," and Jake stormed out of the office with his things.

To be continued…

This story was written as part of a story-sharing game for Ykuri73

[petew21-blog]

No way back

Richard Madden was now on top of his career. Starring in Game of Thrones and after that in many successful movies as well.

He loved his aching career and his life

Until it was taken from him. By you

You really loved him as an actor. But you fell in love with his body much more. And that's why you attacked him on the street after that play he starred in.

He put up quite a fight. But you had a knife and eventually you succeded in stabbing his shoulder. Stabbing was the crucial step to swap bodies. After that, you were now fighting your old body, that was towering over you and held a knife in your shoulder. Thank god for the police for shooting him and saving you

The ambulance took you to the hospital. He hit some of the big veins, so you were bleeding rapidly. So they had to take care of that. Some doctor stitched you up and told you you were lucky. "I know. Thank you"

You were finally left alone in your room. You went to the mirror in your gown to look at the wound and at your new self.

And there he was Richard staring back at you.

You took of the gown. Revealing the big wound and some scratches on other parts of the body.

He put up quite a big fight before you switched. If you wouldn't stab him, you'd be the one who was dead now. Not Richard.

You looked over your new shirtless body. Your hairy torso covering the muscular chest and abs. All yours now to enjoy.

Your nipples hardening at the sight of the beautiful man in front of you. And not the only thing that was hardening.

You are Richard Madden now

But the blood and scratches reminded you what you have done. That you were now in a different man's body. That you took his life and got him killed. There's no going back anymore. You can't get back to your old life, see any of your friends or your family. Or even your dog

It was all so bittersweet. Getting his body was one thing, but now you felt the guilt of it all overcoming you. You looked at yourself in the mirror and saw the teary eyes looking back. Did you screw this up?

6 months later

After dealing with the aftermath and going to therapy. You decided to quit acting for a while. You didn't even know how to act, cause Richard's memories did not stay in his body and secondly you probably wouldn't even enjoy it.

You asked for therapy after the attack a decided to pretend to have some sort of amnesia, which became an excuse for everything after that. Especially for not knowing who in Richard's life was who.

But now it didn't matters. You were in Los Angeles, Hollywood Hills. Enjoying the beautiful scenery and the sun shining on your beautiful hairy chest.

With just one bottle of water and a phone in your hand, you arrived to the place and sent the photo

"I'm here" you said out loud

From a bush, an attractive young man came out

"Holy shit, it's really you. Omg sir I have to say I am the biggest fan."

"I thought you came here to hook up"

"Yeah... right. Sorry. Sure"

You unzipped your jeans and pulled out your big dick to jerk. It was getting hard. You loved freaking out these twinks in your body. Hell, this guy's probably the same age as you were. But you're in Richard's body now, being older than him

He was shocked and just stared at you. Definitely aroused

"Are you gonna stare or take care of it?"

"I... YES! I just thought we could go somewhere private. There is a lot of rattle snakes here you know"

You came close to him. Pushing him on his knees and shoving your hard dick into his mouth

"There is only one snake you gotta be worried about right now"

You left him on the mountain. Covered in cum all over his face. You had an interview to get to. Fuck, your acting career was about to start again.

The twink caught up with you. "Can I call you? I really wanna do this again"

"Already hungry for more? This is my adress. And bring a friend"

The guilt was still deep in your heart. But moments like this definitely made it better

[neontokyoo]

Can you write something where halsin x wife reader and she gets hurt badly with a lot of angst but a happy ending

ugh I love angst. I'm so sorry this took so long, I was in the hospital when I saw the notification and tried to write a few weeks ago, but I forgot about it in my drafts because I've been really busy these past few months😭

Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav Genre: angst Summary: After finally defeating the Netherbrain Tav wasn’t seen after the explosion. All her party members made it out alive, but her disappearance was starting to worry Halsin. Warnings: angst, Tav goes missing after the explosion, Halsin thought he was going to be a widower, I’m not a crier so I’m not 100% sure but read at your own risk because it is pretty angsty.

Halsin was at camp with the others when it happened. Tav took Lae’zel, Karlach, and Shadowheart with her, leaving her husband at camp with the rest of their companions. But, of course, they didn’t exactly stay at camp, as they wanted to see how everything would work out. So they went out to the city, doing what they could to help there while the girls were trying to defeat the Netherbrain.

Halsin wasn’t much of a worrier when it came to his wife. She was tough, and she knew she’d be able to handle it. She always did. And he was feeling pretty confident that she’d make it out alive. But that was until the ship crashed.

That’s when he started to worry. He saw the explosion, but he couldn’t go investigate it because he was trying to help fight off the remaining illithids who were still in the city.

He assured himself that Tav would be alright as he finished off the remaining mind flayers. But his heart sunk when his wife was the only one who didn’t make it out yet. There, on the docks, he could see Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae’zel, all standing together on the wooden boards with soaking wet armor. Hells, even Shadowheart made it out alive and the poor girl can’t swim.

The cleric coughed as she climbed onto the docks, wringing the water out of her snow-white hair. “Ugh. Should’ve learned to bloody swim.” She scolded herself. “Can’t believe I almost drowned at the last hurdle.”

She coughed again, and Karlach went to pat her on the back. “Well, you’re lucky that Tav was there to help you,” the tiefling said, trying to help her friend breathe.

Lae’zel stood there, helping herself get rid of the excess water, when the realization hit her. She looked around, examining her surroundings as if she were looking for something.

“Guys,” the Githyanki called, her face showing no signs of any emotion. “I don’t think tav made it out yet.”

Halsin couldn’t help but overhear their conversation as the fear started to take over. He wasn’t thinking anymore as he ran towards the docks. It took nearly every one of his companions to hold him back.

“Tav!” He shouted, fighting his companions to let him go. “Where’s my wife?!”

The tears were starting to stream down his cheeks, causing his companions to really feel sorry for him. It was very rare to see the Druid cry, and they weren’t exactly sure how to help him.

“Easy there, tiger,” Karlach interjected, trying her best to calm him down. “Your wife is going to be alright, bear-man. She’s a true soldier, I’m sure she’ll come up eventually.”

Halsin wasn’t having it. Finally breaking free from the party, he was able to transform into an octopus, jumping off the docks and into the water. His eyes scanned the water as he swam deeper towards the shipwreck, looking for any signs that his beloved was nearby, but he hadn’t been able to see anything for miles.

He started to feel guilt, sadness—pain. But just as he was about to give up, he see the distant glare of armor in the distance as light reflected off of it. He started to feel a little hopeful as the swam to the light as fast as he could.

He was starting to see better now. The hair, the armor… the blood… he refused to give up now, swimming as fast as he could until he managed to wrap a tentacles around her. Which probably wasn’t the best thing he could do considering the situation they’ve been in for the past few months. But he knew he couldn’t have saved her with a shark or a crocodile.

Luckily the docks were only a few miles away and then he could find her a healer. He kept swimming, occasionally looking back to see if she was doing alright.

When he finally reached the dock he got rid off the octopus, lifting Tav onto the wood before himself.

Karlach and Astarion ran over to help pull the couple out of the water. As Halsin handed Tav to Astarion, the vampire pulled her out of the water, checking for any signs of a pulse or any breathing. She was unresponsive.

Once Halsin got up, he rushed over to Tav, trying to get her to breathe again. She was bruised and covered in blood from the explosion, and Halsin worried that she wouldn’t make it.

“Someone go find me a medic,” he said frantically. “Quickly! I’m afraid we’re running out of time!”

Shadowheart and Lae’zel exchanged glances before leaving to look for help.

“You know, now’s probably a bad time, but if she doesn’t survive this, I’d happily take the body.” Astarion offered, licking his lips hungrily as he looked at the bloody figure lying before him.

Gale, who recently arrived at the dock while they were getting Tav out of the water, hit the elf in the back of his head, giving him a disapproving look.

Halsin, however, ignored his comment, focused on trying to stop the bleeding and keeping her alive.

It was rare to see Halsin this upset. The other party members had no idea what to do. He usually didn't worry like this, but Tav has already proven to do things to the druid that nobody even thought possible. Sometimes he couldn't help but worry, especially in times like this.

The remaining companions in the area all gathered around the couple. Jaheira and Gale attempted to help calm Halsin down while Wyll and Karlach were tending to Tav's wounds with ripped scraps of clothing, trying to help with the bleeding.

There was no denying that Tav was dead. She had no pulse, she was bleeding more than she should, and she wasn't breathing.

By the time Lae'zel and Shadowheart returned with Withers, Halsin was a weeping mess. The second he saw Withers, the druid wiped his tears away and took a few steps back from the body.

Whithers said a few quick words, and Tav was resurrected. She coughed out the water left in her lungs and gasped for air as Halsin pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I don't ever want to lose you like that again."

[fascinorous-argonaut]

I am still full of the love you want

Hello, everybody! It's my first time posting a fic here. Well, it's my first time here on Tumblr at all, so please, be kind. English is also *not* my first language. Grammaly helps but don't do magic. Enjoy. ~ Daredevil.

Once again, there he was—her husband—lying on the couch at 3AM with a book in his hands. *Again*.

Clarice understood. He had only just returned from prison, wrongfully convicted of a crime he didn’t commit.

It had devastated her, but she managed to pull through. She had stayed by his side, just like they had both promised three years ago when they got married.

When the news came that he was being released, that his team had found the real culprit, Clarice cried with joy. *Her Spencer* was finally free, and that meant he was coming home—back to *her*.

But the man standing before her now wasn’t the same *husband* she remembered. He barely spoke to her, and ever since he came back from prison, he had been sleeping on the couch. It had been nearly two months.

*She understood*. He was angry, sad, and likely traumatized by whatever he had gone through while locked away.

But she missed him in every way imaginable. She missed his random conversations, his laughter, and *God*, even his touch. She missed *him*, and the fact that he was physically there but emotionally distant was breaking her heart.

All she wanted was to be there for him, but every time she tried, he shut her out.

And there she was again, standing there with her arms crossed, an almost pleading look in her eyes as she watched him.

"It’s 3AM… can’t you sleep?" she asked softly, careful not to step too close to him or the couch. She didn’t want to upset him.

Spencer glanced up from his book, his expression blank. "No, I’m sleeping. Can’t you tell?" he replied, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Clarice lifted her hands slowly, showing her palms to him as a sign of peace while taking a step back. "I’m sorry, honey," she whispered, looking down at the floor before glancing back at Spencer. "I didn’t mean to disturb you."

Spencer sighed heavily. He closed the book he was reading and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. The only light in the room came from a lamp next to the couch. He ran his hands through his hair, visibly frustrated.

"No, you’re not disturbing me," he mumbled quietly, pausing for a moment. "I just... I just need some time, I guess."

His tone wasn’t as sharp or harsh as it had been on other occasions.

"Yes, I... I get it," she continued in a whisper, as if afraid that raising her voice above a whisper would stir up a storm.

Spencer glanced at her. She was walking on eggshells around him. He could see it in the way she spoke, the way she stood with her hands raised, palms forward, and the way she took slow steps backward.

He felt like a wounded animal, and she was approaching him carefully, trying not to scare him away or trigger his defenses.

"Hey... could you come here, please?" he said, motioning her toward him.

She lowered her palms and, step by step, quietly walked toward Spencer, watching his every movement. "Sure."

The reply was simple, but if there was one thing certain about the situation, it was that neither of them was sure of anything.

Spencer patted the spot on the couch next to him, gesturing for her to sit down.

"I'm not going to bite you," he said with a slight hint of humor in his voice—a rare occurrence these days.

He knew he hadn’t been the most welcoming or communicative partner since he had come home. To say he had been unpleasant would be an understatement.

Finally, she sat next to him, on the edge of the couch, keeping both hands in her lap.

Even though she maintained a calm facade, her heart was racing. Being this close to him, after everything that had happened, was unusual. It was so rare that she had no clue how she was supposed to behave around him. Saying they were strangers living under the same roof would be generous. They were worse than that. They were two people who knew each other deeply yet didn’t know one another at all.

He noticed her body language:

The stiffness in her shoulders, the way she kept her hands clasped in her lap, the tension in her expression. This didn’t feel like the easy-going relationship they had shared just a few months ago.

He missed that.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer looked at her, his gaze steady.

"You know you don’t have to act like a stranger with me, right?" he asked quietly, trying to dispel the tension between them.

"I don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you anymore." She wanted to take the words back, but the truth was too heavy to swallow.

It was a brutal truth.

Spencer's heart sank a little at her words. The fact that she didn’t know how to act around him stung.

For a moment, he said nothing, just looking down at his hands, his expression unreadable.

But when he spoke, his voice was soft—almost vulnerable.

"You could start by treating me like your husband again."

"Treat me like your husband again." Those words felt like a hard slap to her face. Clarice could swear she felt her cheek burn from a touch that never came.

"What I know and what I feel are two entirely different things." She ran both hands through her short hair. "I know you're my husband. But I don't feel you anymore."

His breath caught in his chest.

Deep down, he knew he was responsible for that. He had shut her out, pushed her away, kept her at arm’s length. But hearing her say those words out loud made it all too real.

"I..." he started, but the words trailed off. He didn’t know what to say. He knew she was right. He wasn’t the same.

"I'm sorry," he muttered after a moment. "I know I’ve been distant. But prison changed me, I—"

"It's not your fault. It is not your fault," her tone was firm yet soft.

She wasn’t blind, of course. Clarice knew he was suffering. They both were. They were lost in a storm of unspoken feelings and painful memories.

"But it is," Spencer insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. "I'm not the same person I was before. And I’ve been taking it all out on you. This isn’t fair to you."

He paused, looking directly at her, his gaze intense.

"I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight, but I can't keep pushing you away. I don’t want to be the reason we’re so distant."

"Please, for the last time. It’s not your fault. It’s not as if you could avoid the changes. It would be strange if you hadn’t changed at all. You went through hell and back, and I—" the pain in her throat reminded Clarice of the tears she was holding back. "This isn’t fair to us, honey."

Spencer felt a pang in his chest as her voice cracked. He saw the pain in her eyes, the tears she was trying to hold back, and it killed him.

"I... we," he corrected himself. "We went through hell. Both of us. And I’ve been too wrapped up in my own pain and anger to see how much you’ve been hurting too."

He reached out and gently took her hand in his.

"And I’m so sorry for it. I’m sorry for shutting you out. I’m so sorry, baby."

The sudden touch surprised her, but in a more positive way than she expected. Her eyes met his, oh, those beloved brown eyes.

But there was more than just his usual tired demeanor. Finally, she started noticing the environment around them. The book Spencer had left on the coffee table was marked about halfway through. By now, he should have finished it. Knowing how fast he could read, an unfinished book could only mean one thing.

"When did your migraines come back?" she asked softly.

Spencer froze. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it from her for long, but dammit, that woman was perceptive.

He sighed heavily, letting go of her hand and rubbing his temples as a mild headache began to emerge.

"Two weeks ago," he admitted. "They've been pretty bad, but I didn’t want to worry you."

He grimaced, his expression a mixture of pain and exhaustion.

"Are you taking any medication?" Her tone was calm but serious.

His history with Dilaudid was no secret to her. And after the incidents in prison, he had to get clean all over again, which only made him even more cautious about any kind of medication.

The result? Spencer didn’t take anything—not even vitamins.

"No," he said with a sigh, still massaging his temple. "I’m not taking anything. I don’t want to risk... you know."

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. They both knew his history with addiction. Now, he had a strong aversion to any medication because of it.

"I've just been trying to manage them the best I can," he continued. "Taking it easy, avoiding too much stress, that kind of thing. But it’s been a rough two weeks."

"Let me help you, Spencer," she whispered, still looking deeply into his eyes.

Spencer met her gaze, a mixture of exhaustion and vulnerability in his eyes.

He was so used to handling those migraines on his own, but God, he missed having her by his side.

Her presence, her touch, her soothing words... she had always been his comfort during his hardest days.

He nodded slowly before speaking.

"I need your help," he admitted quietly. "I can’t keep doing this alone."

Clarice gently lifted the hand he was holding to her lips.

"You’re not alone, Spencer. You never are."

His heart ached at her touch and her words.

He knew he wasn’t truly alone, but these past two months had made him feel like he was.

He was so glad he had been wrong.

He looked at her with a mix of sadness and gratitude, his voice hoarse. "I don’t know what I would do without you."

He squeezed her hand gently, adding, "I’ve missed you so much."

"I miss you too, Spencer. So much."

Clarice let go of his hand gently. "I’ll be right back," she muttered before standing up and disappearing toward the kitchen.

Spencer watched her go, a mix of curiosity and anticipation in his eyes. He wondered what she had in mind.

He remained seated on the couch, still rubbing his temple in a futile attempt to soothe the building headache. He waited patiently, taking deep breaths and trying to ignore the pain throbbing through his skull.

She came back moments later with a large bowl of hot water and a towel draped over her right shoulder.

"Careful," she warned as she placed it down next to his feet.

Spencer's eyes widened slightly at the sight of the bowl and towel. He knew what she was about to do, and a rush of emotions coursed through him. His headache seemed to intensify for a moment, pressure building behind his eyes, but he stayed still, watching her closely. He leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath.

"You don’t have to do this," he said quietly. "It’s not your problem."

"You," she said, her tone firm yet with a hint of playfulness, "married a neurologist, Dr. Spencer Reid, and truly expected me to just sit here while my husband, who won’t even take an aspirin, suffers through a migraine? Tell me."

She had a point.

Spencer chuckled softly, despite the pain. He knew there was no arguing with her once she was in this determined mode. He opened his eyes and looked at her, a mixture of affection and resignation in his gaze.

"You’ve always been too stubborn for your own good," he said, his voice full of warmth. Then, in a softer tone, he added, "And I don’t deserve you."

After placing the bowl by his feet, she gently took each one in her hands and submerged them in the warm water, massaging them with skilled touches.

"You deserve the world," Clarice whispered, lifting her head and looking up at him.

The warm water, combined with her expert touch, sent waves of relief through his body, and a small sigh escaped his lips.

He looked down at her, his expression a mix of pain and pleasure. At her words, a small smile crept onto his face, his heart swelling with gratitude. But after a moment, his expression grew somber again, and he shook his head slightly.

"I don't deserve you," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion.

"You deserve the world," she softly echoed.

Spencer could almost feel the love in her words wrapping around him like a warm, comforting blanket. It was exactly what he needed. He closed his eyes, his breath catching as the headache began to ease, little by little.

For a moment, he remained silent, savoring the feeling of her touch and the closeness they hadn’t shared in so long.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

"You are my world."

Clarice felt her heart warm at his affectionate declaration. It had been so long since he had said something like that.

Too long since they had said anything like that to each other.

In his words, she recognized someone she hadn’t felt in a long time: her husband.

The headache continued to ease as she massaged his feet, her touch like a soothing balm to his aching muscles and mind. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of peace and contentment in her presence.

He watched her in silence, taking in her every feature, her every movement. He had missed this closeness. He had missed her so damn much.

He reached out a hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I’ve missed this... I’ve missed you," he whispered.

She closed her eyes and nodded slowly. "I miss you too, honey," she whispered, as if speaking too loudly might make him vanish into thin air.

The sound of her voice, soft and sweet like honey, only made him want her more. His heart ached with the need to pull her closer, to feel her body against his, to kiss her, to hold her.

"Come here," he said, his voice gruff and hoarse. He patted his lap, his eyes dark with longing. "Please."

He needed her closer, needed to feel her, touch her.

Clarice left his feet in the bowl and slowly stood, drying her hands with the towel. Then, slowly, she sat in his lap, wrapping her arms gently around his neck and resting her chin on the top of his head.

As she settled into his lap, Spencer felt a wave of relief and contentment wash over him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in deeply, taking in the scent of her skin and hair. A wave of emotions—sadness, relief, love, desire—washed over him, all intertwined and overpowering.

He held her tightly, as if afraid she might disappear, and he whispered against her skin, "I need you... so much. I love you so much."

She tightened the hug. "I love you, Spencer. So much. I'm not going anywhere."

Those words, coming from her lips, settled something deep within him. She wasn’t going anywhere. She was there, in his arms, where she belonged.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. His eyes, filled with a mix of sadness and love, met hers.

"Promise me," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Promise me, you'll never leave me."

"I promise you. I'm not leaving you," Clarice replied in the same tone.

Spencer felt a wave of relief wash over him at her promise. He squeezed her tightly, his eyes closing as he buried his face back in her neck. He inhaled deeply, savoring her scent and the feeling of her body against his, trying to memorize every detail, to imprint this moment in his mind forever.

He whispered against her skin, his voice hoarse with emotion.

"I don't deserve you."

"You deserve the world," she whispered, closing her eyes as his warm breath brushed her neck.

She let out a soft gasp at his kisses—familiar, yet somehow new.

"Spencer..." Her whisper was a call. A call for everything they had left behind, for all the future would bring, for the love she used to know, for the man he had become, but above all, for her husband. Her Spencer.

Her gasp, a mix of pleasure and recognition, sent a jolt through his entire body. She was feeling the same thing he was.

His hands continued to explore her skin, desperate to relearn every curve and contour he had missed. He pressed his lips to her collarbone, his voice a rough whisper against her flesh.

"I've missed you," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "I've missed holding you, touching you, feeling you... I've missed us."

"Spencer," she whispered, lowering her lips to his ear, "Are you done sleeping on the couch?"

He chuckled lightly, both at her words and the feeling of her warm breath against his ear. He pulled back slightly to look at her, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Are you trying to invite me to our bed, honey?" he asked, his voice low and sultry, his thumbs tracing small circles on her hips.

"I’m summoning you," she whispered before pressing her lips to his forehead.

Her words, her touch, her invitation sent a shiver down his spine. He was powerless to resist her, not that he ever had before.

His hands moved to her hips, pulling her even closer, as he nuzzled his face into her neck. He pressed a kiss to the soft skin above her collarbone, his voice a low rumble.

He hummed at her words, his heart swelling with love and desire.

"And it worked. I yield completely to your beck and call" he said, his voice dripping with affection and an edge of humor.

He tilted his head, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss, his hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb tracing her jawline.

"Take me to bed, love" he whispered against her lips.

Dear @whoisspence , I hope this is what you were looking for. ~ Daredevil

[militarymenrbomb]

Found another story:

24 Straight with a gf of 6 years and somehow ended up with a sugar daddy

Sorry this is a really long story everyone!!

I wouldn't consider myself straight anymore but I sure did about 6 months ago. Bisexual would be the best way to explain it now!

6 months ago I wouldn't of thought of hooking up with another person , let alone a guy. I considered myself pretty straight past the little phase when i was 15 of wanting just about anyone to suck my cock and watched some gay porn a few times..

I'm in a happy relationship with a great girl but we are just finishing school and don't have a lot of money. We both live at home and are trying to save to buy a house together but it's almost impossible nowadays for young people. I took up a second job at a restaurant my family friend owns just on nights being a bartender!

The tips are great usually and I found myself saving some money but we were easily years away from the goals we had even with the second job!

One night I had an older man come in that had to be about my dad's age and he sat at the bar for hours talking to me whenever he had the chance about his business he used to own or about his ex wife and kids and I listened like a bartender does, he told me that after his wife left him he decided to start getting with younger girls and guys that needed money. I was kind of taken back by his comment and didn't have much to say and made up some reason to help another customer. It was pretty awkward honestly.

At the end of the night he gave me a 100$ tip which was amazing and I was very thankful and thanked him a few times. He looked at me and said there's alot more if you really want it and slid his number over on a piece of paper and walked away. I crumpled it up and threw it in the trash and finished my night that was about to end.

As we were cleaning up and leaving , I did the trash and saw the number.

I was curious how much money he was talking about, and what he really wanted from me.. I took the number and texted him asking what he wanted out of curiousity.

I texted him "hey it's Jay from the bar" and he answered back "Oh hello, you're taking up my offer then?" I answered back asking what he wanted.

He said to come over when I'm off, he will be naked and he just wants to cum all over my chest, no touching. For 1000$. "Simple" in his words..

I couldn't believe he'd pay 1000$ for that... I honestly thought it was so weird but figured it was a pretty harmless way to make 1000$ blinded by the money and agreed.

I went to his house pretty nervously and reluctantly, I almost left about 4 times before knocking on his door.

He was there naked and jacking off already and said to take my shirt off and anything else that I didn't want cum all over. I was feeling very very weird and felt kinda trapped in this now..

I was going to see my gf after so I couldn't have cum on my stuff. So I took everything off but my underwear which seemed to excite him..

He got me to kneel infront of him and tell him about my girlfriend which led to me telling him I've never been with a guy in my life. He was clearly very excited by that and came quickly all over my chest. I've never seen so much cum in my life and I just stared from my knees while his cock kept cumming ..

He leaned over and handed me ten 100$ bills and said "that's just the starting pay ya know"

I took it , cleaned up quickly and got dressed.. thanked him and went home feeling pretty shitty and sure I wouldnt do it again..

After the fact in about 2 weeks I couldn't believe I had 1000$ for a 5 minute stop home.. and started thinking if I let him do that every little bit we could buy a house in no time... so i texted him again...

Asked if he wanted to do it again to which he responded "Every stop you go up a level, 2000$ and you're naked this time and I want to see some pictures of your girlfriend while I make myself cum"

I didn't know what to say, but again convinced myself it was a pretty easy step up for 2 grand and now I didn't have to do it two more times, just this 1 more time! I went and did it , completely naked and showed him a few naked pictures of my girlfriend, he came hard and I left with 2 grand telling myself never again.

2 weeks later... again somehow now curious what level 3 would be to make 3k... at this rate I realized by level 4 I would of saved more money in this period then in a year. So I said to myself let's see what level 3 is.

I texted him again and asked what level 3 was , he responded with a "oh hey again... level 3 is you naked, jacking me off to pictures of your girlfriend, 5k this time for that."

I didn't want to jack him off honestly and ignored him for a few days thinking about it. Money clearly was my weak spot and I reluctantly agreed again and went to do it. I went in and got naked handed him my phone of pictures and grabbed his what must've been 8" cock and started to jack it off with both my hands like I would like it to make him cum hopefully fast. He loved every second of what must've been about 5 minutes of my jacking him off for him to release all over me. This time it hit my face and I was really grossed out and taken back by it which made him laugh?... kinda pissed me off and I took my envelope of money and left pretty upset with myself.

I now had 8k in 2 months and I didn't need anymore money that quickly. I was done and ashamed of myself but the money did make me feel alot better.

I told my girlfriend I won it at the casino with my friends and we realized we were only 10k away from our goal!!

Looking back, I sometimes wish I never heard we were 10k away..

Because now my brains trying to find quick ways to make 10k! And we all know now where my mind instantly went to. Level 4...

".... what's level 4...."

"Knew you'd be back 😉"

"What is level 4?!"

"Level 4 is you sucking my cock."

"10k if you try to swallow my cum"

I got up and headed over. I didn't give a fuck anymore, just suck this guys cock, make 10k and it's all fucking over with. I'll never make the money I did this fast ever again.

I walked in, got naked and on my knees and just went to town on his cock. I didn't want to over think it and went at it like ripping off a bandaid.

I was about 2 minutes in and realized ripping a bandaid is done once you do it.. sucking cock doesn't work that way.

I looked up and he was smirking at me and telling me I was a good boy, and I was amazing at sucking dick for a "newbie"... he grabbed my hair and just sat back and enjoyed.

I kept sucking his cock to his comments of being a good boy and slut and I fucking liked it kinda.

I was enjoying sucking his cock ? I started to eagerly suck faster and want him to cum which he did, all in my mouth...

He held the back of my head and grunted loudly shooting shot after shot which I just tried to keep swallowing..

When he was done I just sat in my kneeled position kinda horny, kinda embarrassed..

He said "good slut, I'm fucking you next, text me tomorrow when youre ready!"

I got up.. agreed and got dressed and left.. I went home put the money away and just took a shower to think... I jacked off to the idea of him fucking me and texted him like he asked without a thought.

I went over to his house the next day and he made me suck his dick again, which I happily did. He sat down and told me to ride his cock and give him my virgin ass... he poured lube all over and I listened. I slowly put it in which hurt alot honestly and felt pretty terrible. He didn't care and moaned and enjoyed all of it.. even me hurting I think honestly..

The terrible pain lasted 5 minutes maybe even 10 and I was having a horrible time and questioned my whole life I think until it didn't hurt.

This man fucked my ass for an hour and made me cum harder then anything in my life. (I can tell a full story about our sex later)

I left with 0$ that night. Didn't even ask for the money.

I have gone back, 3 to 4 times a week to suck this man's cock and get fucked by him for free everytime for the last 4 months.

I seriously think I'd pay him if he said no.

I'm his fucking slut now and I don't understand it.

I can't stop going back, I can't stop doing it and I seriously am considering breaking up with my girlfriend and just being his little boy which he keeps asking me to do...

Still honestly can't believe this is happening.

[tigergendermoved2tigergender]

Remembering the toxic hellscape that was 2015-2019ish SU fandom and just how much hate the show got is really insane when you rewatch the show after it's been a while. Like the show is good what the hell were any of these people talking about

[icewindandboringhorror]

recent things

[arklay]

RESIDENT EVIL → DR. DIANA WESKER

"This is how a girl becomes holy: first she becomes empty." — Brynne Rebele-Henry, Prelude

[templates × & × — insp — playlist]

[dialux]

Hello! Hope you're having a good day!! Idk if u got my previous ask, but I just wanted to know if you're still doing director's cut and if you are then could you do one for 'i imagined a dark world where the stars clamor to be inside us' aka the feanor and findis fic? I've read it so many times its insane and I just love it so much!! I'd love to know your thoughts when u wrote it

In your findis fic, at the end, is my understanding that feanor ended up making horcruxes or something adjacent to horcruxes right?

Combining these two bc I'm pretty sure they're from the same person!

Literally this started because of the LOTR/ASOIAF crossover AU, where Sansa's dropped into ME and mistakes Boromir for her father: I hadn't read LOTR in AAAAAAAGES and so I hopped onto Tolkien Gateway to learn more about the timeline. My search essentially went Boromir -> Third Age -> Age -> First Age -> Feanor -> SILM.

I then started reading the Silm (keep in mind this is in covid-lockdown in 2020) and found myself so absolutely disinterested in the Valar that I skipped all of it to go to chapter 6 (THEE Feanor chapter), and found myself very confused. So I hopped back onto Tolkien Gateway and used their incredibly useful family trees to keep everyone straight in my head. As I'm doing all of this, I'm struck by the similarities between the Finwean kids and the Stark kids, especially Findis/Sansa-- but at this point all I'm thinking is eldest daughter eldest daughter, nothing else. I put Findis into the crossover fic anyway (still know nothing about her apart from the TG page!) and get on with the rest of the Silm.

And then I find out that there are a number of similarities between Sansa and Findis beyond simple birth order, including favoring their mother, presumably being pious, etc etc. I start reading PoME and HoME. I start building an idea of Findis in my own head from, like, four lines total in all this reading.

Annoyed at the lack of canon material, I go to ao3. This is April of 2020; after filtering for languages, I get about a 100 works. I scan a few, but don't find the character I'm looking for. This is mostly because I've wholesale made this character up myself. I scowl at myself and sulk for a few days. Then I start writing. I post the story in a month's time, and in the process I've gotten so many feelings about the Silm that, a full three years later, I still haven't managed to deal with any of them.

Re: the story itself!! I personally think of the Finweans as a little bit incomprehensible, as more mythologized even to their own family than any normal elf; I wanted to explore that idea in the story, particularly how it feels when one person becomes a myth, and how it feels to be left behind when that happens. Feanor does it first, of course, but Findis isn't far behind-- chapter 2 is all about Feanor leaving Findis (and everyone else in his family, through Findis' eyes), but chapter 3 is very purposely from everyone's perspective but Findis, so we can see how it feels for them when she's walked away.

And yes, Findis does in fact create a couple of horcruxes. So does Feanor. They're good horcruxes, though, ig? Don't need murder, are simply like the... laboratory equivalent of soul fission, and yet with some ephemeral connection to the og soul. Afaik the Valar didn't ask before hallowing the Silms as well, so! Not exactly great when imperfect people have parts of their souls hallowed!

[griseldabanks]

Had a facepalm moment earlier of discovering the brilliant fic you wrote for someone’s Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan prompt and hoping you’d write more, and then…several days later…realizing…PROMPTS. That’s how this works. Anyway, can’t believe I didn’t send you one earlier, but: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan for "I missed you”, if you’re up for it?

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

It had been a long, exhausting day, but Obi-Wan didn't feel tired in the least. Packing up all of his belongings (few as they were) and moving them across the Dune Sea would have been a tiring endeavor, even if he hadn't just come from a harrowing trip halfway across the galaxy. And then, of course, there was a new cave to find, preliminary preparations to be made before nightfall in order to make his new home habitable...but none of that mattered.

Wrapping his cloak around himself against the chill of the desert night, Obi-Wan sat on the shelf of rock where he'd placed his bedroll. He pulled his legs up onto the blanket, closed his eyes, and opened himself to the Force.

Warmth and light that had nothing to do with his small heating unit suffused him from the inside out. For a moment, he hesitated. Then he reached out tentatively and murmured, “Master Qui-Gon?”

“Obi-Wan.”

His eyes popped open, and there, sitting beside him on the rock as if he'd been there the whole time, was Qui-Gon. Translucent and tinged blue—like a hologram and yet not—Qui-Gon looked the same as he had the day he'd died. The same twinkle in his eyes, the same hint of humor lingering in the creases at the corners of his eyes, in the twitch of his beard, in the lilt of his voice....

“You're here,” was all Obi-Wan could think to say.

Qui-Gon nodded patiently. “So I am.”

“I missed you.” Unbidden, tears welled up in his eyes. “I missed you so much, Qui-Gon.”

Qui-Gon's eyebrows knitted together with a look of sympathy. “I know.”

If he'd been here physically, he would have reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. Now, he didn't move, but Obi-Wan felt a gentle ripple in the Force washing over him, warm and familiar. Obi-Wan closed his eyes to savor that feeling, something he hadn't experienced in so long.

How many times a day would Obi-Wan feel that presence brush against his, like the touch of a hand? Checking to see where the other was, reassurance in a moment of trouble, a brief reminder or admonishment that needed no words. As unique and unmistakable as a voice, as a fingerprint forever marked in his soul.

And yet, for some twenty-odd years, he hadn't felt Qui-Gon's presence even once.

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, he felt like a boy again. Like that twelve-year-old boy who had just become a Padawan and wondered if he would ever truly please his Master.

“I needed you,” he whispered, the desperation in his own voice surprising him. “I called to you, again and again. Where were you?”

Qui-Gon's eyes were as kind as ever as he folded his arms inside the voluminous sleeves of his robe. “Tell me, Padawan: What happens to us when we die?”

Now he really did feel like a boy again. This was a question even the youngest of younglings could answer. “We become one with the Force.”

Qui-Gon nodded, as though that settled the matter.

It didn't take a genius to understand what Qui-Gon was getting at. The dead became one with the Force, and the Force was a Jedi's constant companion. In a way, Qui-Gon had never really left.

And yet, Obi-Wan still couldn't shake the feeling of abandonment. He dropped his gaze to his hands clasped in his lap. “There have been so many times I needed your guidance, Master,” he whispered. “And never, not once, did I hear your voice.”

“And were you listening?” Qui-Gon's voice was gentle, oh so gentle, but still it made shame swirl in Obi-Wan's gut.

Because he hadn't been listening. He had closed himself off from the Force for so long, terrified of being found out, of being hunted down, of unintentionally betraying Luke to those who would kill him in an instant. And if he didn't leave even the slightest crack open for the Force to seep through, that meant Qui-Gon couldn't reach him either.

He really was like a child. A child with his fingers in his ears, demanding to know why no one would talk to him.

A warm brush of the Force, like a consoling hand placed on his back. Qui-Gon didn't even have to say anything, because he had already said it a thousand times, in a thousand situations over the years they'd worked together. Accept the shame, then let it go. You are not your mistakes. Learn from them, and they will help you grow.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan envisioned his lungs filling with stale air from the years he had languished here on Tatooine. The years he had let the burden of his guilt press down on his shoulders till he could hardly raise his head in the morning. Then he breathed out, imagining the guilt and shame floating out like wisps of smoke on the air.

Opening eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, Obi-Wan turned to look at Qui-Gon again. “I called to you when I went to face Vader.”

Qui-Gon nodded, eyes warm with compassion. “I was there.”

“I needed you...so many times...here on Tatooine.”

“I was there.”

Qui-Gon's form wavered, and Obi-Wan blinked, letting tears trickle into his beard. “When...I went to confront Anakin...on Mustafar...when I-I thought that I had...that I had....”

All he could see was his master's eyes, full of sympathy and compassion, understanding and acceptance. “I was there, Obi-Wan.”

For a moment, he held Qui-Gon's gaze. Then he dropped his head into his hands and let the tears flow. “So...every time....”

“Always.”

“You saw...every time I've failed....”

“And every success.” Like a warm blanket, Qui-Gon's presence folded around him in an embrace he felt in the depths of his soul. “I am proud of you, Obi-Wan. You have become a greater man and a greater Jedi than I ever could have foreseen.”

The heat of the twin suns seemed lodged permanently in Obi-Wan's chest. “Only because of your guidance, Master.”

They smiled at each other, and even though they looked nothing like they had when Obi-Wan had been an apprentice, the connection between them was as strong as ever.

[daz4i]

suicide and general negativity ig

i hate that english doesn't have a good word for מיואש (filled with despair. hopeless? ig) bc this is how i'm feeling fr

there is just. nothing good. and there is so much bad - both BAD bad bc of the war but also mundane bad bc yknow, Life - that i'm getting so overwhelmed i can't handle anything

my whole month is filled with medical shit and there's probably gonna be even more bc i need more tests and they're all just. such a pain to do (it sounds whiny but genuinely i can't handle them. just thinking abt them makes me so anxious bc they all require lots of painful preparation, sometimes for a few days, and they're so gross and require being poked with needles which my medical trauma certainly isn't helping with. and even tho i did so many already they can't find shit and i'm so tired i'm so done with this body

and like. it'd be one thing if i wanted to live. if i wanted to make my life better or thought it was possible. but by now i know it's not and i know i won't so it just becomes infinitely harder. like if i compare life to being in prison, it feels like the warden decided to torture me just for fun to make it even worse

but there is nothing good there is nothing to look forward to bc everything is shit and nothing's worth it and i hate when ppl tell me to enjoy the little things bc there is nothing to enjoy about them either. i can't have most of them anyway. i wish i could. but this shitty ass body and fucked up brain won't let me

there is no future for me i know i'm never gonna amount to anything when i can't even do the most basic shit about being human, literally how am i gonna be able to fulfill my """"potential"""" when i can't even do stuff like eat or sleep normally. when i can't go outside. when i can't handle being around people. when my body crashes and burns after standing for a few minutes or walking for more than a couple hundred meters. what even IS there for me to achieve in such a state. the only win i can have is getting out of bed and it doesn't feel like a win because i don't. want. to live. i have fucking professionals, people getting paid to help me do at least some of these things, and i can't bring myself to even take the first step bc just thinking about it makes me clam up so bad i can't move or talk and everything starts hurting so much more

there's not even. mundane fun. or joy. bc no one i know has time or energy for that. bc that's just what being an adult is ig. not that there's much to do in order to have fun anyway. like i said nothing to look forward to everything is so shit and nothing actually brings me joy anyway and it's not like i can handle being around people enough to help with that

i was not meant to be alive i am not designed to exist and like at this point I'd assume my who knows how many near death experiences may have been the universe trying to correct the mistake that is my existence and for some reason not managing to pull through the final stretch

i'm so tired i'm so done with this i wish i could be killed in some certain quick way bc i can't. i can't handle any of this. this is too much

[majorplayer]

i moved to a new place 3 months ago and the best internet here is so bad (17mbps....without vpn enabled) that i can't reliably play MMOs, at least not ones like toontown servers since they fully kick you off the game the literal millisecond your connection gets funky in any way. i can actually play most roblox games as long as i'm ok with a lot of textures never loading and me rubberbanding a lot, but toontown is so triggerhappy about kicking you off that i just can't play it without fear of being reported for "maliciously alt+f4ing" or something. or worse, DCing with pace at 100 health. so i haven't fucking played clash in these 3 months. i gave it as long as i could to see if i could adjust to this shit ass internet but i have been so upset that i can't play clash that i'm about to get fucking starlink. like. clash is honest to god my #1 motivation for it. i want elon musk to sudoku as much as anyone else on this website but by god would starlink save my life. a couple of my neighbors have it and they get 100mbps. omfg. i can't even fathom what 50mbps would be like, much less 100. i had 200mbps at my childhood home that i just moved out of. life could be a dream. anyways so basically i'm spending almost my entire next paycheck on starlink because i want to play clash again without getting banned for constantly disconnecting

[marshmallowgoop]

(Previous DCMK-game anon) That was exactly what I was looking for! Thank you so much, you are was so helpful and so kind to take time out of your day to respond! Hope you've been well :) ❤️

[Game ask]

Aww, Anon 🥺 I'm glad I was able to help! I love talking "niche" DetCo content—there's a lot of fun stuff out there that I like bringing more attention to!—so I love asks wondering about that kind of thing. Gives me an excuse to ramble!

Thank you for such a sweet ask!