#his people need to step in and shut this down

[pathologicalreid]

sweet talker | s.r.

in which french!reader gets caught using a special nickname for a particular genius

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: french. guys i don't speak french. bad french. bad flirting. but wholesome content all around. word count: 639 a/n: i do not speak french but this was a request and i live to serve the people of tumblr. if this offends the french i think that's just a risk i have to take.

Something about it felt like home. Not necessarily like the bullpen compared in the slightest to where you grew up, but the hustle and bustle of the BAU, while they were in the depths of a case, had the same feeling of a home.

As you rushed around the floor, placing files on desks and picking old ones up as you went, dropping soft thank you’s to the people in the office rounding the corner of Morgan’s desk, scooping his files from his desk and placing them in your own collection, “Merci, mon chou,” you thanked quickly.

Your co-worker smiled in response, “Anything for you, sweet talker,” he said, leaning back in his desk chair.

Scoffing, you shook your head. To Derek Morgan, anything said in French counted as sweet talking.

Balancing all of the files against your hip, you prepared to pick up the stack of papers on Spencer’s desk, but he stood up and gathered them in his own arms, “I’ll get them,” he offered. Although, it wasn’t much of an offer, seeing as he was already carrying his files.

It would be worse if you were to attempt to carry all of the files on your lonesome, so you decided to follow his lead to the file room.

Spencer was somewhat of a guiding light for you in the BAU. You considered yourself lucky to have been placed with a team that had two members who spoke French, which came in handy when you forgot certain English words, Emily and Spencer were usually there to save you.

Setting your files down on the spare table in the room, you started to organize them by which cabinet they went in as Spencer went ahead and returned his folders based on memory. “Do you think Morgan knows what you’re saying when you speak to him in French?”

Chuckling, you shook your head, “Non, mon cœur,” the words easily slipped out of your mouth. “I think Derek gave up on comprehending me the first week I joined the team,” you responded, checking the front and back of a file to make sure you were sorting it into the correct drawer.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “His English-to-French dictionary sits pretty untouched.” No one was of the mindset that you shouldn’t speak French at work, and you didn’t ask them to learn for you. Besides, work allowed you to strengthen your English skills.

Frowning at the same folder, you held the folder out to Spencer, “Do you know where this one goes?”

Accepting the folder from you, Spencer flipped through the first couple of pages before deftly slipping it into a drawer, “Sometimes I wish I could just know where things were, I’d never lose my car keys again.”

Spencer hummed in response, “I wish I spoke French like you.”

“Oh,” you said, “I think you speak French very well.”

Sliding another drawer shut, Spencer stepped over to a new one a few feet closer to you, “Thank you, but if I ever go to France, I’m taking you with me.”

You smiled to yourself at his proclamation, biting your tongue as the door swung open and Emily stepped in, “Hey, do you have that file on the Montana killer? I need it back.”

Spinning on your heel, you looked around for it, only to realize that it had already been put away, “Sorry,” you said, forgetting your proximity to Spencer as you stepped to the side.

He closed his drawer, “Pardonne moi, mon ange,” he said, grabbing a folder from your pile on the table and slipping out of the file room, “I still need this one.”

With Emily’s folder in your hand, you turned to look at your shell-shocked co-worker, “Did he...? And you two...?”

Thrusting the file in her direction, you looked at her with equally wide eyes, “Tais-toi.”

[logansluvr]

TASTE

LOGAN HOWLETT x F!READER

SUMMARY : You won’t admit it, but it stung when you realized you were just a placeholder while Logan waited for Jean AGAIN. Now that she has him, she realizes that no matter how hard she tries there will always be you somewhere on him…Or Jean and Logan both fucked themselves over while you enjoy the aftermath.

WARNING : description of mutant powers (all things nature), angst, more angst, Jean slander (sorry), suggestive content, nothing deeper than a make out, hurt/slight comfort, some Logan slander (ily), Logan has some self reflection time, love triangle??square???

basically I was listening to taste and this sparked in my head and now it won’t leave me alone…

I heard you're back together and if that's true

you'll just have to taste me when he's kissin' you

IN ALL HONESTY SOMEWHERE IN THE BACK OF your mind you knew it was coming. It was nice to indulge in the fantasy though. You indulged in it as an ode to your past self ( you from a year ago ) when you realized that what you thought of Logan was more than a crush. The opportunity presented itself so sinfully you thought it had to be some sort of hallucination.

You couldn’t say no, after all you still had that ode to your past self and deep down you felt…comforted. Comforted in the fact that Logan had thought about you in that way — though that thought diminished soon enough.

At first it was nice, Logan treated you right even if there was something a little off about it. He took you out on occasion, made you laughed, hell he even laughed with you.

There was a point after three months where he began to not mind falling asleep in your bed — even if he acted a little colder the day after it happened.

There were nights when he would be extra tense after a small rescue mission, or after something happened during the day.

He’d take it out on you by burying himself inside of you, biting down on your chest in places clothes covered — other times he’d just bury his head between your thighs taking his time in making you fall apart over and over.

But after nights like those he wouldn’t even look you in the eyes directly. It seemed that only a half a year into your relationship you realized something odd. Certain people in the halls would stare at you with pity, Scott Summers barely looked you in the eyes and even the professor seemed like each word he said to you he was internally wincing.

It was only one night after a particularly rough mission that you had pieced most of it together. Once you were in your room you recalled the high tension between Scott, Jean, and Logan. Most of the time you felt like you a Ororo were missing a big piece of something — especially with the way they’d all go at each other.

You were grateful he had the decency to tell you rather than ignore you, you weren’t even paying attention. Too busy trying to hold back tears — ones you were confused on having.

He muttered something along the lines of you being too young and he just isn’t ready for something like that. You didn’t care, it was a bunch of bullshit. You didn’t need telepathy to know that.

Once he shut the door behind him you had walked to the shower, turned it on, stepped inside with your clothes on, and cried. For a minute you didn’t even realize why you were crying until you had the realization that it was because you felt more for him than you initially let yourself believe.

The days after that everyone sensed the tension, Logan tried to act normal. You however, you just simply brushed him off — he didn’t need to know that he had seriously fucked with your mental. You were going to act normal, act like it didn’t affect you.

It was bad enough the professor looked at you with sympathy the day after your crying session.

On the bright side he fixed your schedule around so you’d see less of Logan.

The week following the breakup you realized he hadn’t even waited that long before he was already crowding Jean — that’s when you realized it wasn’t one big coincidence Scott was meaner at the same time Logan was crowding the Dr.

You had unfortunately turned down the hallway about a week and a half after the breakup, patting a student on the shoulder after they had bombarded you with questions. You were going to meet Scott, his next class in coordination with yours.

But as you glanced at the end of the hall you saw him. Standing next to her, arm on the wall as he smiled down at her. Staring like she was the only thing in the room — you could almost hear the swish of the trees outside, an affect from the anger simmering beneath you.

Thankfully someone stepped out of the classroom you were about to enter. It was one about halfway down the hall, and it seemed to draw both your attention and the attention of couple practically eye fucking at the end of the hallway.

Scott glanced at them, thankful for his sunglasses so they couldn’t see the glare on his face before he turned towards you. Clenching his jaw he walked towards you, handing you the lesson plan he had worked up.

You were far too busy reading over the sheet to notice the gaze burning holes into your back — but Scott wasn’t. And as he glanced over his shoulder he found Logan Howlett staring directly at you.

And a Jean grey staring at him staring at you.

It was only about three weeks after the breakup when something seemed to change. You hadn’t truly been feeling better but you were getting there — busying yourself with other things. Working more on your abilities and working on your training.

You were none the wiser to the situation happening between the two people you’d successfully stopped feeling hatred for. You stopped the avoidance thing about two weeks after the breakup, the mansion was big but not that big.

While it didn’t outwardly bother you that much, other people seemed to notice a tense thing between the couple anytime you were in the vicinity.

There was a day when it seemed like everything went from bad to worse between them. It was a nice day outside and Jean found herself in Logan’s arms, holding onto him whilst his lips pressed against hers.

Her hands were tangling in his hair whilst they swapped whatever DNA they were hoping to swap. And when they pulled away to catch their breath her eyes remained closed, a small furrow in her brow as her tongue ran over her lips.

If someone were to ask her, she’d say she was hallucinating.

Because she could’ve sworn she tasted cherry lipgloss on Logan’s lips — cherry lipgloss she didn’t own.

Yet as her tongue darted out to lick her lips again, it was gone. Her eyes cracking open to find Logan’s gaze over her shoulder, and when she spun around to glance at what had got his attention there you were.

There you always were.

Oblivious to the fact that Logan was watching you. Oblivious to the fact that wherever you showed up he seemed to only look at you the way he used to look at Jean. Oblivious to the fact that all you had to do was enter the same room and all of the sudden his attention was on you.

And it wasn’t on purpose, cause there was a moment where your mental forces had slipped and she probed. And when she dug deeper she only find pure oblivion, it made it all the harder to spite you.

She could ignore if she wanted too, and she tried. For a while. But every-time she kissed him, there was that lingering feeling of tasting cherry lipgloss.

The same cherry lipgloss she watched you apply in a mirror in the hallway.

And she swore your perfume lingered on him even if it had been weeks since you’d been within five feet of him.

Every time you close your eyes

And feel his lips, you're feelin' mine

And every time you breathe his air

Just know I was already there

this was short Ik but I’m currently crying because I had a smut with over 6.k words and HALF OF IT DIDNT SAVE?!??!?

anyways <33 taglist??

[maruflix]

  — ★ hell hath no fury...

☆ — like a woman scorned.

featuring: narumi gen x f!reader

synopsis: it was at this moment narumi gen knew... he fucked up.

contents: female reader, reader is an officer in the first division, hoshina’s little sister!reader, narumi is an idiot, men who beg and grovel, no beta we die like narumi’s hair in the anime

word count: 1,8k

Heav’n has no Rage,

Narumi Gen knows he fucked up.

He can see it in his subordinates’ eyes, in the way they all ignore his silent plea for them to acknowledge the levity of his earlier statement.

“Without me to watch your back, you’re practically dispensable.”

Gen thought everyone knew he was just kidding.

He rethinks that, because you — the one who never backs down from a playful banter — immediately fall silent.

“I-I’m sure the captain didn’t mean that.”

“Of course I did.”

Of course he didn’t. But in the heat of the moment, he can only blame Kikoru for opening her mouth and forcing him to say words he didn’t mean.

Because what else could he do? Apologize?

There’s a heavy tension around the cafetaria table, and it still hangs in the air even after you gathered your belongings and left with a clatter.

like Love to Hatred turn’d,

“Here.”

You barely spare him a glance, opting instead to take a fresh towel from the rack.

Gen purses his lips, gripping the towel he offered you before bringing his hand down to rest on his sides.

“So, uh, you wanna play that new game tonight?”

You’ve been avoiding him these past few weeks and it’s killing him more than he’d like to admit. To usually have you by his side and suddenly be robbed of your company…

You straighten your chin. Gen feels like he’s going to choke.

He’s still standing in the same spot even after you stand up and leave. Behind him, he can hear you laughing with the other officers.

Practice used to be fun, now it’s like he’s walking on eggshells or the chill in the air will freeze him solid if he’s not careful. The worst part? They pretend like nothing is wrong.

It’s not like anything happened after the incident — life goes on as normal in the Ariake Maritime Base. The same practice, the same missions, the same meetings. No one spoke of the incident. Not even you.

Still, he knows your relationship with him changed, and not in the way he intended. He wants to continue being the person who everybody thought is your boyfriend, but is actually your best friend, but it’s complicated because he kinda has feelings for you. But now you won’t even acknowledge his existence.

Gen knows he has to apologize.

But he doesn’t know how.

Nor Hell a Fury,

“What?! You haven’t apologized?!”

Gen doesn’t understand what the big deal is. Everyone knows that you’re always involved in some sort of bickering with him.

The two of you compete about everything. To him, being able to compete with someone fair and square is rare — it’s proof enough that the two of you are on equal footing. So why is everyone acting like one nonsensical sentence from him discredits all your achievements and prowess?

If he says he’s the Director of the Defense Force, will old man Shinomiya instantly step down from his position and give him the spot?

“… No, I don’t feel the need to.”

Eiji shakes his head. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Gen sighs and looks to the side.

Truthfully, he regrets it already. Why else would he discuss his relationship with Hasegawa Eiji, of all freaking people? You ignore his texts, reject all his calls, pretends like he doesn’t exist, and you even exit the room when he comes in. He’s desperate, that’s why.

Gen admits that he was never good with words. He’s better at showing you how he feels through his actions. Now he can’t even do that, because you don’t let him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Gen breathes out a shaky; “What should I do?”

“I have an idea,” Eiji starts, “but I don’t know if you’re brave enough to do it.”

When Gen opens his eyes, there’s a newfound determination in them.

like a Woman scorn’d.

“Sir, please, you can’t just enter like this..!”

Narumi Gen has never let a kaiju stop him, let alone a mere attendant. He storms his way past the flurry of housekeepers, gardeners, and household staff — all of them combined is not nearly enough to stop him.

He halts in front of the wooden steps leading up to the front doors, huffing and catching his breath.

The stately Hoshina Estate looks intimidating with the shiny thatched roofs reflecting the brilliant sun.

The attendants have caught up to him now, their footsteps thudding on the rocks behind him. Hushed whispers of his identity and his purpose of coming reverberates through the field, making his chaotic heart thunder loudly in his chest.

“(Y/N), please come out! I’ve come to see you!”

For a moment, no one dares to step forward.

What is the Narumi Gen doing here? It’s no secret that Japan’s strongest anti-kaiju combatant has always been at odds with the Hoshina Family’s Hoshina Soshiro, but why has he come seeking for their young lady?

They all wait with bated breath. There is no response. What will he do next?

Gen gets down to his knees.

“(Y/N), please..!!”

The attendant from before scrambles to his side, gripping his arm in an effort to drag him out. Gen stubbornly stays rooted to his spot. He’s prepared to do this, however long it takes.

“Sir, please don’t cause any problems!”

“I just need a few seconds, please!” Gen frantically reasons, “(Y/N), I want to apologize, so please come out, damn it!”

A second attendant seizes his other arm, and just as he thought he’s going to fail, the front doors slide open.

Gen looks up to see you staring down at him. Next to you, your brother crosses his arms as his gaze trails down to him in amusement. The two Hoshina siblings, dressed in hakama, katanas resting snugly on both your hips as it gleams in the sunlight.

A shiver runs down Gen’s spine at the coldness of your glare.

The attendants immediately bow in your presence, “Our apologies for the ruckus. This person suddenly broke down the gate and forced his way in, insisting to meet with the Young Lady,” The attendant throws Gen a glare, to which he ignores, “Young Lord Soshiro, should we throw him out?”

“Should we, Lil’ Sis?” Hoshina Soshiro wraps an arm around you protectively, “What’s this clown doing here anyway. Should I get Soichiro?”

“No, no, wait! (Y/N), I made a mistake!” Gen inches his body up but immediately bows back again to retain his kneeling position, his legs now shivering from adrenaline, “I didn’t mean what I said that day! I was wrong, and I.. I’m sorry!”

He’s pretty sure the entire household can hear him screaming, but he genuinely doesn’t give a shit.

“You’re indispensable to the First Division and you totally don’t need me to watch your back, I was just.. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Gen doesn’t even dare to lift his face up, “I really regret saying those words, I…”

“Look at me when you apologize.”

Your sharp reply makes his head jolt upwards.

He can see an amused smirk creeping on your lips as you finally humor his attempt of trying to get your forgiveness.

“So you stormed my family estate just for this? Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

Gen shakes his head. “I’ve waited long enough to apologize. Am I forgiven?”

You smile. “Well, now. No need to beg.”

Like a cue, the attendants finally let go of his aching arms.

You step to the side, inviting him to enter. “I was just training with my brothers. Wanna join?”

Gen practically beams as he makes his way to you. He trips on the last step, almost falling on his face, and smiles sheepishly when he finally reaches the door. “Pardon the intrusion.”

The two men watches as you walk back inside with a smile on your face.

Soshiro shakes his head. “Yer’ a mess.”

Gen laughs. “For your sister, I always am.”

They make their way inside, walking in a comfortable pace.

“Don’t let Soichiro hear that. Yer’ gonna get a beating.”

“If that means we can be brother-in-laws, sure.”

Soshiro scrunches his nose in disgust. “Wouldn’t count on it. Yer’ not even dating.”

Gen hums. Maybe he should ask Eiji how to go about that.

taglist: @bgyuus, @plsmarrymehioriyo, @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @moon-cakiie, @17020, @eeiternity, @ryescapades, @vash-yuu, @yueliie (tags not working as usual so i will be tagging in the comments smh)

[munsonsmixtapes]

If you’re taking requests I would love a fluffy fic between Logan and a usually sunshine! Reader with mutant powers similar to Charles (telepathic). Specifically, one where the usual gang decide to go to a rowdy club to let off steam after a mission. Usually the reader loves team bonding but due to the music, all the thoughts jumping out of the drunk crowd, and her own drinking, she gets super overstimulated and essentially shuts down. Maybe Logan sees her off on her own and trying to manage to get over her dizzy spell while some guy is bothering her and decides to step in and escort her out for a breather and a walk. ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡. Regardless if you pick this up, I hope you’re having a great week and I look forward to whatever you post next!

Thank you so much! I hope you're having a great week as well!

cw: mention of alcohol, reader gets anxious

The club was crowded when you entered it. You were all looking forward to letting off steam after your mission and you just liked to spend time with the team, Logan especially. Even though he never would have admitted it, he had a soft spot for you. You were the newest addition to the group and he just felt the need to protect you. You hadn't gotten full control of your powers yet and he wanted to make sure that nothing went wrong.

You made a beeline fore the bar and ordered your usual drink before sitting down on one of the stools, making conversation with everyone around you, even making them laugh with whatever you were talking about. That was one thing that Logan admired about you, that you were always able to make conversation with anyone you came across, which was not something he could do even if he wanted to. He didn't have your charisma or that bright, bubbly personality that he adored so much.

Once he saw that you were okay, he moved further back into the club, but decided to sit somewhere he could still see you. He didn't like drinking when he was doing things like that. He wanted to be one hundred percent alert so he had no problem volunteering to be the designated driver even though his mouth watered anytime he saw someone drinking one of his go-to drinks.

You sipped on your drink as you made conversation with the man next to you. You really hoped that he wasn't going to make a move, though. That wasn't something you were looking for and people often took your niceness for flirting which made the whole thing awkward.

I wonder how long it will be before I can take her home

Your eyebrows furrowed as the thought that definitely wasn't yours and you realized you were reading the mind of the man who was sitting next to you involuntarily. That had only happened when you were overwhelmed or if you had gotten a few drinks in you so you tried to not go overboard because of that.

And all of a sudden, so many thoughts that weren't yours were flooding your brain, making it ache. And between that and the loud music and the alcohol in your system, you were suddenly feeling overstimulated.

You set your drink down on the bar and clutched yor head with both hands, feeling it pounding, almost as if was going to explode. You didn't know what to do, but what you did know was that you needed to get out of there, and fast.

Logan watched everything unfold from his seat, watching you holding onto your head, seeing the tears streaming down your cheeks even from there. And before he could stop himself, he was making a beeline for you, scooping you into his arms before ushering you out of the building.

He was carrying you by the time you got to the door, knowing that you didn't have it in yourself to walk. And he just wanted to get you out of the madness as quick as possible. He had never seen you like that before and hated the feeling he got in his chest watching you struggle like that.

Logan got you out of the club in record speed and set you down, pulling you to his chest, hoping that getting you out of there was actually helpful to your situation. And it was. As soon as you got out into the open air, the voices fled, the pressure in your head slowly dissipating.

He pulled you to his chest as you cried, stroking your hair while his other hand rested on his back. You held onto him so tightly, convinced that if you didn't, he would just disappear. But he wouldn't. Logan would never leave you and he had told you that numerous times when he helped clean up your injuries after a mission.

"You're okay," he murmured into your hair. "I'm here. Just listen to my heart, okay?"

Logan had to admit that he was never good at comforting people, but with you, it was like second nature. He was able to do it so easily, always knowing exactly what you wanted or needed to hear. And he had gotten so good at it that he noticed you seeking him out for advice or help when you needed as opposed to going to the others.

You pulled away to look at him once you had calmed down and he reached up to wipe your tears away, trying to make sure that you were doing okay before leading you to where he parked his car.

"I have some ice cream in my freezer with your name on it," he said as he opened the passenger door for you.

"You know me so well," you smiled as you got into the car. And he did. He knew you better than you knew yourself and you were grateful for that. Someone needed to look out for you and you were just glad that it was always Logan.

[samandcolbyownme]

I got the itch to write dealer!Sam, so that’s what I’m doing. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, mentions of weed, flirting, kissing, rough actions, hair pulling, choking, biting, scratching, oral (f rec), unprotected sex, creampie, filth

Word Count: 2.3k | unedited

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

You have a small smile to the man who helped you out of the car, “Thank you.”

He nods, “Not a problem, Miss y/l/n. Enjoy the party.”

You smile and walk up to the door, mumbling to yourself, “I definitely won’t.” You take a deep breath, sighing as you walk through the doors.

This hotel was absolutely breathtaking.

Crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, sculptures incorporated into the ceiling works, it was like you walked out of real life and entered something of the fairytale sorts.

“Champagne, Miss?”

You look up at the guy holding the tray of glasses holding bubbly, and you groan, “Yes, please. Yes.” You take the glass off of the tray and down it within seconds, “Hold on.”

You place the empty glass on the tray and the water raises his brows as you down the second glass, “Do you want the third one or should I just walk away?”

He laughs as you look at him and you smile, laughing softly, “I’ll take the third, please.”

“It’s yours.” He smiles and gives you a nod, “Enjoy your night.” He walks away and you bring the glass up to your lips, sipping it as you move to walk around.

“I thought big parties weren’t your thing?”

You turn around to your friend, Alisha, “They’re not, but you know I can’t turn down an open bar.” You joke, bringing the glass up to your lips.

“You mean, you can’t say no to Sam.” She smirks and shakes her head, “I know you, y/n. You can’t lie to me.”

“Okay.” You roll your eyes, “You got me on that one, but we just friends, you know. He deals me weed and we keep it at that. Easy peasy, lemon squeezey.”

“You’d let him squeeze your lemon if he asked.” She laughs into her glass and you push her, “Oh my god, shut your mouth.”

You take a sip of your drink, “But yes.”

You both laugh and you look around, “Speaking of. I gotta find him. I need to place an order.”

“You’re out already? Didn’t you just see him two days ago?” She raises her brows and you shake your head, “No, no. I want..” you move in, “I want to see if he has anything right now. I’m anxious as fuck being around all of these rich people.”

“Y/n.” She pauses, “You’re a part of these rich people.”

“What? Just because I’m good friends with the son of the people who own this place?”

She nods, “Yeah. Kinda.”

You shake your head, perking up when you see Sam making his way down the steps, “Oh. There he is.” You chug your drink and hand it to Alisha, “Take care of this for me?”

She scoffs at your empty glass in her hand, but takes it anyway, “Just tell him you love him already.”

“Not gonna happen.” You glance back at her as you walk away and smirk, turning to make your way through the crowd.

Sam looks around, doing a double take when he sees you. He smiles and lifts his hand to wave, looking back at the man he’s talking to, “Hey, I’ll find you later.”

You smirk, tilting your head as he walks up to you, “I thought you weren’t coming?”

You shrug, “Changed my mind, I guess.”

He smiles, “Can I get you a drink?”

“Oh, I’ve already had three.” You laugh and he raises his brows, “Already? Didn’t you just get here?”

You laugh, “You know crowded places like this make me anxious.” You look around and back at him as he tilts his head, “Uh huh.”

You step closer, “You um, wanna disappear for a little bit?”

“Y/n y/l/n. Are you trying to avoid this party?” Sam fights back a smirk and you sigh, groaning as you tilt your head back, “Sam.”

“Ask nicely and maybe I’ll consider it.” He smirks and you fight back a smile, “I did ask nicely.”

“Did you?” He squints and tilts his head and you laugh, “Sam. Please.”

“Oh beggin’ me now, huh?” He leans in, “I kinda like that.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

“Do you?” You ask, rolling with the punches, “Cause, I can do a lot more if you help me out.” You look up at him, tilting your head as you bat your lashes.

“If I give this to you, what do I get in return, hmm?”

You could tell he was joking, but you shake your head, letting out a sigh as you speak nothing but the truth, “Maybe you’ll get the confession of being so in love with you that it hurts, or you’ll get me on my knees, your pick.”

His brows flick up and he takes a shaky breath, “I was thinking more along the lines of you won’t leave this party early but goddamn, y/n.” He wraps his arm around your waist, “I’m good with getting both of those options.” He nods, “C’mon.”

You bite your lip as you walk with him, your hand gripping his jacket as he leads you towards the elevator.

“Sam.” A voice calls out, “Where are you going?”

He turns, you still attached to his hips, “Upstairs.”

The man glances at you and he sighs, “You have the toast to make here soon.”

Sam looks at the elevator as the doors open, “Just stall. I’ll be back soon.” He nudges you towards the elevator and walks in behind you.

The doors aren’t even closed yet and your leg is already brought up next to his hip, his hand holding your thigh as his lips attack yours, “So..” he says in between kisses, “You love me, huh?”

“Yeah, I do.” You smile, tilting your head back as he kisses down your neck, “And I promise, it’s not just because you’re my dealer.”

“Oh good.” Sam leans back, brushing hair from your face, “I was hoping it was my charming personality that caught your attention.”

You laugh, “Yeah, that’s one of the reasons.” You pull him back in, moaning lowly as he bites down on your lower lip.

The doors open and he pulls you forward as he walks backwards off of the elevator. He spins, your hand in his as he leads you down the corridor.

“Where are we going?” You ask as you glance over at him.

He looks over at you as he pulls a keycard from his pants pocket, “My penthouse suite.” He smirks, “That a problem?”

You shake your head as he pushes the door open, “Nothing about any of this is a problem.”

You walk in and Sam is right behind you, his hand grabbing yours as he pushes the door closed with the other, “Where are you rushing off to? Thought you wanted something first?”

“Rearranging things is never a problem.” You pull him towards you, your hands sliding up to push his jacket off of his shoulders as he leans in to kiss you.

He pushes his jacket off before his hands find your hips, squeezing as he walks you back into the wall. His hand slides down, pulling the slit of your dress up further, “God, you are so beautiful.”

You smile against his lips, “I came here tonight just for you.”

“I figured.” He chuckles and steps back, “Come on.” He leads you into his room and you raise your brows, “Wow. All of this and just you?”

He wraps his arms around you and sighs, “Yeah, well that’s what happens when the person you like doesn’t say anything to you until now.”

You roll your eyes with a smirk, “My apologies Mr. Golbach.”

“Mhm.” He smiles and reaches up with one hand to cup your cheek before planting a kiss on your lips, “How about you get that dress off now.”

You feel the zipper on the back slide down, revealing your back and you gasp quietly before it drops down to the floor, pooling at your feet.

He walks you back to the bed, his lips trailing up and down your neck before your legs hit the edge, causing you to sit down.

He drops down to his knees, reaching up to pull your panties down your legs. He tosses them down before pushing your knees apart. You lean back onto your elbows, watching as he lifts your one leg over his shoulder.

He dips his head down, his tongue trailing up your slit and you gasp out, your body shifting as you move your arm to lay a hand on his head, “S-Sam!”

He groans against you as his tongue pushes in.

“F-fuck, fuck.” Your head tilts back, moans leaving your lips as Sam move his tongue to your clit. You watch down at him, his eyes on you as your face scrunches with pleasure, “Sam.. Sam..” you pant, “P-please.”

He pulls away, undoing his shirt as quickly as he can before undoing his belt and dropping his dress pants.

You bite your lip as your eyes fixate on the cock online in his boxers, the walls of your pussy clenching around nothing.

You continue to watch as his boxers leave his body and he starts to crawl up the bed as you move up, lying back as his body hovers over yours.

Your hands slide up his arms, legs spreading further apart as you feel the tip of his cock bump against your folds.

He pushes his hips forward, groaning lowly as his cock enters inside.

You tilt your head back more, the nails on your fingers digging into the skin of his shoulders as you let out loud moan after moan.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Sam moans lowly into your neck, kissing and nipping at the skin, “So fucking good.”

Your arms tighten around his neck as you tilt your head up to smash your lips against his.

He swallows your moans with ease, groaning as his thrusts pick up, “Feel good, baby?”

“Yes!” You moan loudly, gasping as you squeeze his cock, “Fuck, yes, yes. So good!”

He slides his hand up, laying it around your throat as he moans into your ear, “takin’ me so well, sweetheart.”

He leans up, hand still on your throat, “Fuck.” He groans as he looks down, watching his cock slip in and out of you, “So fucking hot.”

His eyes move back to your face, head tilting as he watches your eyes roll back with the harder he squeezes.

He bites down onto his lip, tilting his head back before letting go. His lips on hours muffled his groan and you wrap your legs tight around his waist, whining out, “So.. fuuuck, I’m right there, baby.”

Sam sucks a hickey onto your neck, groaning against you as he feels your walls spasm around him. Your limbs holding him tight as your back lifts up off the bed and your moans glide through the room.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck, good girl.”

Your breath hitches and your head snaps back to look at him. He smirks, “Ya like that or something?”

“Coming from you?” You smirk, gasping as his thrusts deeper, “Y-Yes.. a lot.”

He bites down on his lip, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I can give you a lot more if you let me.” He kisses up your jaw and to your lips, swallowing your moans as his thrusts resume.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, moaning out as his grip on your outer thigh grows tighter, “Fuck, fuck, don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

“Goddamn.” Sam groans as he buries his face into your neck, moaning as his cock twitches inside of you. His thrusts slow down, slowly pushing his cum deeper into you.

He presses a few kisses to your neck, moving to your lips before rolling off of you, “So, how about that J now?”

You roll over, “Oh fuck, I forgot all about that.”

“That’s what you wanted first, wasn’t it?” Sam chuckles as he presses a kiss to your forward before getting up.

“I mean, it was, but like I said, I’m not worried about rearranging.” You smirk and sit up, moving to grab your panties and slip them on.

You walk over and watch as he brings the joint to his lips, “Here.” He breathes out, “I’m gonna get redressed.”

You groan before taking a drag, turning to watch him grab his clothes. You exhale the smoke, “We still have to do that?”

He laughs, nodding his head as he slips on his boxers and pants, “Yes, babe. We do. Well, I do. If you want to hang out-“

“No.” You shake your head, “I’m good to go.” You take another hit and smile as you walk over to him. You blow out the smoke, “As long as I’m with you down there, I’ll be good.”

“You can be wherever with me.” He smiles as he takes the joint from your fingers. You smile and watch as he takes a hit before giving it back, “You know..” he blows out the smoke, “You’ll have to pay for this later.”

You bite your lip, “Yeah?” You tilt your head, taking a drag, “What do you want?” You hold it for a few more seconds and exhale as he chuckles, “I’ll leave that up to you.”

He flicks his brows up and pecks your cheek, “Get dressed.”

You hand him back the joint and walk over to grab your dress, “You’ll be paying for this later.” You tease as you slip your dress up your body.

Sam walks over, “Yeah, what do you want?”

You smirk, glancing over your shoulder, “I’ll leave that up to you.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Wow okay, idk how I feel about this, I like the ending but idkkkkk let me know. I love you all so much for reading my stuff. You mean the world to me! I’ll catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[lila-lou]

✨Rough around the edges - Pt. 3✨

Summary: Jack's day couldn’t have gotten any worse. Exhausted from a grueling shift under the scorching sun, he just wanted to crash at home with some wings and a football game. But his plans for a quiet night were shattered when the racket from his new neighbor echoed through the walls.

Pairing: Jack x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! just a little smutty, Language, age gap, angst, violence

Word Count: 6085

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

“Look… if you ever need anything”, Jack began, his voice quieter now, almost unsure, “you know where to find me. I mean, we live right across from each other, so… just knock”.

You blinked in surprise, not expecting the offer, but you smiled warmly. “I’ll keep that in mind, Jack. Thanks”.

As you disappeared inside, Jack let out a slow breath, leaning back in his seat. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all—the conversation, the connection, the way you had made him feel a little less closed off. He hadn’t expected to find himself here, feeling… something again. But there it was, stirring quietly beneath the surface.

Eventually, with a shake of his head, Jack turned off the truck’s engine and stepped out into the cool night air. He locked the truck behind him and made his way toward the entrance of the building, his boots echoing softly on the pavement. The conversation he’d had with you lingered in his mind, uncomfortably and yet pleasantly. He hadn’t planned on opening up, hadn’t expected to feel anything tonight other than his usual exhaustion, but somehow you had broken through his defenses without even trying.

As he reached the door, he paused for a moment, looking up at the soft glow of the apartment windows above. Your apartment was only a few feet away from his, and knowing that made everything feel strangely closer, more intimate. He had always been a man of habit—quiet, keeping to himself—but tonight had shifted something. He wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad yet.

Jack trudged up the stairs and down the hallway toward his apartment, his mind still tangled in thoughts of you. He had spent so long shutting people out, letting the hurt and bitterness from his past fester, that he had forgotten what it was like to have a real connection with someone. And while it hadn’t been anything profound tonight, just a shared car ride and some honest conversation, it had still shaken something loose in him.

Reaching his door, Jack unlocked it and stepped inside, the familiar stillness greeting him. He tossed his keys onto the counter, kicked off his boots, and leaned against the kitchen counter for a moment, staring into the dimly lit room. The silence that he usually found comforting now felt oddly heavy, as though it were pressing down on him, reminding him of just how alone he’d been.

He let out a long breath and rubbed his hand over his face. What the hell is happening to me? he thought. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way, wasn’t supposed to care. And yet, there it was—a growing awareness that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to keep living in his little bubble of solitude forever.

With a tired sigh, Jack grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped it open, and took a long drink. As he sat down on the worn-out couch, his mind kept circling back to you—your laugh, the way you looked at him with genuine interest, the way you had thanked him for a ride that he had felt compelled to offer. It was nothing, really. But it also felt like something.

Jack leaned his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He had no idea where things were going with you—if anywhere—but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like shutting the door completely.

And that was enough for tonight.

In your apartment, the buzz from the night had started to catch up with you. The warmth from the drinks and the lingering scent of Jack’s cologne seemed to ignite something in you, something you hadn’t felt in a long time. After a few moments of stumbling around your bedroom, you began to strip off your clothes, leaving only your panties on.

The sensation of the fabric clinging to you was damp and uncomfortable, and you realized it was more than just the cold. The remnants of the night and the proximity to Jack had stirred something inside you, something physical and undeniable. The combination of his presence, his scent, and the intimacy of the conversation had left you feeling an unexpected longing.

You settled onto your bed, the cool sheets meeting your heated skin. Your thoughts drifted back, to the way Jack’s hand had steadied you, the deep timbre of his voice, and the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne that had lingered on you. You hadn't been with anyone in months, and the desire that had sparked tonight was both startling and intense. The alcohol in your system made everything feel a bit more vivid, a bit more pressing.

As you lay there, trying to find some semblance of comfort, your mind replayed the moments from the truck—the casual way Jack had offered you a ride, the genuine concern in his voice, the unexpected connection you’d felt. Even in your tipsy state, you recognized that the attraction you felt was more than just physical. It was a mix of loneliness, desire, and the craving for something real.

You shifted restlessly, the fabric of your panties feeling almost restrictive. Your body ached for more, driven by the intimacy of the night and the raw, unfiltered emotions that came with it. The sense of isolation you had been trying to escape seemed to merge with the physical need you felt, making it all the more intense.

Your thoughts about Jack and the connection you felt were a heady mix of excitement and confusion. You hadn’t expected any of this to happen—hadn’t planned on feeling this way about him. But now, with the night stretching out before you and the warmth of his scent still clinging to you, it was hard to ignore the raw, primal feelings that had surfaced.

In the quiet of your room, with only the soft hum of city sounds coming through the window, you found yourself grappling with these newfound sensations, caught between the lingering effects of the evening and the deep-seated desires that had been stirred up.

As you lay there, the room felt quiet and intimate, a stark contrast to the bustling bar and the late-night conversation you’d shared with Jack. Your thoughts were a tangle of lingering attraction and physical need.

With a restless sigh, your hand found its way to your stomach, slowly slipping inside your panties. The sensation of your own touch sent a shiver through you, intensifying the feelings that had been simmering since your time in Jack’s truck. You were acutely aware of the dampness between your legs, a tangible reminder of the excitement that had built up during the evening.

As your fingers began to explore, you let out a soft, shaky breath. The gentle pressure you applied felt both comforting and electrifying, and you found yourself lost in the sensation. The contrast between the cool fabric of your panties and the warmth of your skin was a constant reminder of the physical desire that had been awakened.

Your mind wandered back to Jack—the way he had looked at you, the way his voice had sounded, the faint scent of his cologne. The combination of the physical sensations and the emotional undercurrents from the night made everything feel more intense, more urgent.

You continued to touch yourself, the movements slow and deliberate, driven by the lingering memory of Jack’s presence and the deep-seated need that had taken hold of you. Each caress and gentle pressure heightened your awareness of the feelings coursing through you, blending the physical pleasure with the emotional complexity of the evening.

The quiet of the night wrapped around you, making the moment feel intensely personal and private. As you continued, the feelings of arousal and longing became more pronounced.

As the intensity of your touch increased, your moans grew louder, the sound carrying through the quiet of your apartment. Unaware of how audible you were, you were completely immersed in the moment, your senses heightened by the alcohol and the lingering thoughts of Jack.

Meanwhile, Jack, unable to sleep and still winding down from the night, was sitting in his living room. He was idly scrolling through his phone with a beer in hand, trying to distract himself from the thoughts of you and the conversation you both had shared. The quiet of the night amplified the noises in the building, and it wasn't long before he heard the unmistakable sound of your moans coming through the wall.

His finger paused on the screen of his phone, and his breath hitched. The sound was soft but distinct, stirring something within him that he had been trying to suppress. For a moment, he sat frozen, the reality of what he was hearing sinking in. His heart raced, and a rush of unexpected emotions clouded his judgment.

The sounds from your apartment painted a vivid picture that Jack couldn’t ignore. He tried to focus on his phone, tried to pull his mind away from what was happening so nearby, but the sounds of your pleasure were insistent, pulling him deeper into a turmoil of arousal and confusion.

The part of him that wanted to stand up, to distance himself from the wall that was the only barrier between him and the source of those sounds, battled with the part that was captivated, drawn to the intimacy of the moment despite himself. Jack knew he should move away, go to another room, put on some music—anything to drown out the sounds that were all too clear and much too close.

But he remained seated, his body tense, his mind racing. The sounds of your moans mingled with the memories of the evening—the look in your eyes, the sound of your laugh, the way you had looked at him as you thanked him for the ride home.

Jack took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts whirling through his mind. His eyes closed for a moment, a futile attempt to shut out the auditory invasion that stirred him so deeply. But with each soft moan that filtered through the wall, Jack found himself less able to deny the attraction, the undeniable pull that he felt toward you.

As the realization settled in that he was not going to be able to ignore or escape the situation so easily, Jack set his phone down, his last attempt to distract himself abandoned. He sat there, listening, caught in the tension between his own loneliness and the unexpected connection that seemed to be taking root in the most unexpected of ways.

As the sounds from your apartment continued, Jack felt his resolve crumbling. The moans—soft yet insistent—penetrated through the walls, and despite his best efforts to focus on anything else, his body began to react involuntarily.

He shifted in his seat, the growing pressure in his jeans becoming uncomfortable. His breathing grew uneven as he tried to maintain control, but the sounds were relentless, stirring a deep-seated desire that he hadn’t anticipated. The reality of his own arousal hit him hard, a stark contrast to the internal struggle he’d been wrestling with since your chance encounter.

Jack’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he fought to keep his composure. The image of you, the warmth of the truck, the conversation—it all swirled together in a confusing blend of longing and regret.

Jack’s resolve continued to deteriorate as the sounds from your apartment grew more insistent. His breathing became ragged, and despite his best efforts to maintain control, he found himself unable to ignore the sensations building inside him. The pressure in his pants was becoming too uncomfortable to ignore, and as much as he fought it, his body was betraying him.

In a moment of weakness, his hand moved almost instinctively, unfastening the buckle and pulling down the zipper of his jeans. He tried to fight it, to regain some semblance of control, but the need was overpowering. His mind raced, torn between the escalating arousal and the guilt of what he was doing.

His hand, now trembling slightly, reached inside his jeans, feeling the heat of his own arousal.

Overwhelmed by the flood of emotions and physical responses, Jack finally succumbed to his urges. He pushed down his jeans and boxers, seeking relief from the intense pressure and heat that had built up within him. Alone in the dim light of his living room, Jack was torn between self-reproach for yielding to his desires and the undeniable relief that came with acknowledging them.

His actions were hurried, almost desperate, as he tried to quiet the turmoil swirling in his mind—the guilt, the loneliness, the undeniable attraction to someone so close yet so far in many ways. Each sound from across the wall seemed to amplify his actions, intertwining his reality with the imagined closeness of you, heightening his sense of isolation when he most craved connection.

As Jack began to move his hand, he closed his eyes, allowing his imagination to take over in an effort to distract from his inner turmoil. The sounds from your apartment—faint but unmistakable—fed into his fantasies, painting vivid scenes in his mind. He imagined you, just across the wall, caught in a similar moment of vulnerability and desire.

In his mind’s eye, Jack saw you lying in your bed, a mere echo of reality blending with his imagination, driven by the sounds that had inadvertently bridged the gap between your separate lives. He pictured the way you might arch your back, the soft sighs escape your lips, each detail adding to the intensity of his own actions.

The mental images served as both a balm and an accelerant, soothing his loneliness while simultaneously driving his desire to new heights. His movements became more deliberate, syncing with the rhythm of the muffled sounds that continued to filter through the walls, as if he and you were connected by more than just proximity, sharing a moment of escapism from the solitude that usually enveloped his nights.

As Jack’s hand moved rhythmically, the fantasy in his mind became almost tangible, blurring the lines between reality and imagination. The sounds from your apartment—the soft, intermittent noises that seemed almost in response to his own actions—intensified the experience. It felt as though you were not just a figment of his imagination but a real participant in this shared moment of vulnerability and release.

Jack’s breathing grew heavier, and his heart raced as he approached the edge. The fantasy of you, so vivid and detailed, pushed him closer to climax. The imagined sounds of your pleasure, the visual of your body responding in kind to his own actions, heightened his arousal to its peak.

Meanwhile, the faint but distinct rhythm of a bed, the soft moans that matched the intensity of Jack’s own breaths—everything pointed to a parallel journey you were undertaking behind the wall that separated you.

The isolation that typically enveloped Jack’s nights was momentarily lifted as he felt an intimate, though unspoken, connection with you. In this late hour, the walls of your apartments felt thinner than ever, as if the physical and emotional distance had collapsed under the weight of shared human needs and desires.

Finally, as Jack reached the brink, the intensity of his fantasy coupled with the real sounds from your apartment brought him to a powerful, almost overwhelming climax. As he came, his mind was filled with the image of you experiencing the same release, a thought that made his moment of solitude feel less lonely.

Another week passed, and the memory of that night had faded into the background, though it occasionally resurfaced in Jack’s mind during the quieter moments. He had kept himself busy with work, the usual routine of long hours and physical labor serving as a distraction from the thoughts that threatened to surface whenever he allowed his mind to wander.

It was Friday morning, and Jack stepped out of his apartment, coffee in hand and his work bag slung over his shoulder, ready to head to the site. Just as he closed his door, he heard the familiar creak of your door opening across the hall.

For the first time since that night at the bar, your eyes met.

You stepped outside, your face lighting up with a surprised smile when you saw him. There was an undeniable moment of recognition, though neither of you acknowledged it outright. It wasn’t just the memory of the bar, but something unspoken, lingering between you.

"Morning", you said casually, pulling your jacket tighter around you as you prepared to leave.

"Morning", Jack replied, his voice gruff as usual, though there was a slight hesitation in his tone. He hadn’t expected to run into you like this, not after the last week of keeping to himself.

The silence between you stretched out for a second longer than it should have, both of you standing there, caught in the awkwardness of the moment. It wasn’t the same as before; there was something new hanging between you two. Jack, for all his efforts to bury it, couldn’t shake the vivid memory of that night and the connection he had felt, however fleeting or imagined.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence. “Heading to work?”.

Jack nodded, lifting his coffee cup as if to emphasize the early start to the day. “Yeah. You?”.

You smiled, glancing down the hall as you locked your door. “Running some errands before work. Got a busy day ahead”.

There was a brief pause, as though both of you were searching for something else to say. Jack shifted slightly, unsure if he should bring up the night at the bar or just let things continue as they were—neighborly, but distant.

"About the other night", you started, surprising Jack. He looked at you, his brow furrowing slightly.

"What about it?", he asked, trying to gauge where you were going with this.

You hesitated for a moment, then gave a small laugh, waving it off. "I just wanted to thank you again for the ride. I had a bit too much to drink, I guess".

Jack shrugged, though he felt something stir inside him. "It was nothing. Just looking out for a neighbor".

You gave him a warm smile, the kind that made Jack feel like maybe, just maybe, there was something more to this connection between you. But before either of you could say anything more, the moment passed, and you both turned toward the stairwell, ready to go about your day.

"Have a good one", you said over your shoulder as you walked ahead.

"You too", Jack replied, his voice quieter, as he watched you disappear around the corner.

As Jack made his way to his truck, he couldn’t help but think about the unspoken tension between you two, the way your eyes had lingered on his for just a second longer than necessary. Something had shifted, and while neither of you had acknowledged it directly, Jack knew that things might never be quite the same.

At work, the sun beat down relentlessly as Jack and Anthony labored over the foundation of the new construction site. The heat was oppressive, and it wasn’t even midday yet, sweat already pouring off them as they moved heavy equipment and mixed concrete. Jack wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his shirt sticking to his back as he focused on the task at hand, trying to lose himself in the physical demands of the job.

Anthony, as usual, wasn’t one for silence. He shoved a wheelbarrow full of concrete into position and grinned over at Jack. “Man, this heat is brutal. Feels like I’m sweating out last weekend’s beer”.

Jack grunted, his mind elsewhere. Despite the distraction of work, he couldn’t completely shake the thoughts of his morning run-in with you. It had been such a simple interaction—just a few words exchanged as you both left the building—but it felt heavier, like there was more beneath the surface.

Anthony noticed Jack’s distant expression and raised an eyebrow. “Hey, you still with me, or are you lost in la-la land?”.

Jack shot him a sideways glance, shaking his head. “Just focused. This heat’ll kill us if we don’t pace ourselves”.

Anthony chuckled, though he wasn’t fooled by Jack’s attempt to deflect. “Yeah, sure. You’ve been off ever since we ran into your little neighbor last week at the bar. You finally make a move or what?”.

Jack groaned, grabbing a shovel to spread the concrete evenly. “I didn’t make a move, Anthony. We ran into each other this morning, that’s all”.

“Yeah? How’d that go?”, Anthony leaned on the handle of the wheelbarrow, clearly not letting the subject drop.

Jack hesitated, then shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big deal. “She thanked me for the ride home. That’s it”.

Anthony gave him a knowing look, shaking his head. “Man, I don’t know why you’re playing this all cool. You’ve been stuck in neutral for years. That girl’s giving you all the green lights, and you’re still sitting at the stop sign”.

Jack’s jaw tightened as he focused on his work, not wanting to dive into the conversation. Anthony wasn’t wrong, though. There was a tension between him and you, something unspoken that seemed to hang in the air every time he thought about you. But Jack wasn’t ready to confront whatever that was. Not yet, anyway.

“Look, I’m not getting involved with my neighbor”, Jack finally said, his tone firm but resigned. “Too complicated. Told you already”.

"You´re fucking afraid", Anthony chuckled.

Jack shot Anthony a sharp look, but his friend just grinned, clearly not backing down from his playful needling. Jack hated that Anthony was right—there was a part of him that was afraid to admit he was interested. It wasn’t just about you being his neighbor; it was everything that came with it. The messiness of relationships, the vulnerability, the risk of getting hurt again. Jack wasn’t sure if he had the energy or the will to go through that kind of emotional upheaval, even if there was something undeniably magnetic about you.

"I’m not afraid", Jack said gruffly, more to convince himself than Anthony.

Anthony wiped sweat from his brow, watching Jack closely. “Then what’s stopping you? Life’s too short to play it safe all the time, man. You’re gonna miss out on something good if you keep hiding behind excuses”.

Jack shook his head, frustrated, as he shoveled another pile of concrete. "It’s not that simple".

Anthony sighed, leaning on the shovel for a moment, his voice losing some of its teasing edge. "Jack, nothing's simple. You of all people know that. But you can’t just keep putting up walls. You’re stuck in neutral because you won’t let anyone in".

Jack stayed silent, his eyes fixed on the work in front of him. He didn’t want to admit how much Anthony’s words were hitting home. The truth was, Jack had been putting up walls for a long time, ever since his marriage fell apart. And every time he felt a connection—whether it was real or imagined—he’d push it down, shove it into a corner of his mind where he didn’t have to deal with it.

The thought of getting involved with you scared him because it was a risk. And Jack wasn’t sure if he was ready to gamble on something that could unravel him again.

But as the day wore on and the sun beat down, Jack couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. The easy smile you’d given him that morning, the warmth in your eyes. There was something there, something real, and Jack was slowly realizing that pretending it wasn’t affecting him wasn’t going to work much longer.

Anthony finally broke the silence, his tone lighter again. “Well, you keep overthinking it, man. Meanwhile, I’m getting a beer after this and you’re welcome to join me if you want to stop brooding for a minute”.

Jack chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. "We’ll see".

Anthony grinned, sensing he’d made a small crack in Jack’s armor. “Good. You might need more than a beer to get out of your head, though”.

As they continued their work, Jack tried to focus, but the idea that maybe—just maybe—he didn’t need to keep his distance from you lingered in the back of his mind.

It was around 11 p.m. when Jack finally returned home from the bar, his footsteps a little slower than usual from the couple of beers he’d had with Anthony. The night air had cooled significantly, a stark contrast to the heat of the day. He reached into his pocket to fish out his keys, ready to call it a night, when something stopped him in his tracks.

Loud noises—thuds, crashes—came from your apartment. Jack froze, his instincts immediately on high alert. His hand gripped the key tightly as he stood still, listening closely. A second later, he heard what sounded like muffled screams, faint but unmistakable.

Jack’s blood ran cold.

He knew he should mind his own business, that you were an adult capable of handling your own life, but this was different. The sound of distress was too clear, too concerning. His hand moved from his door handle, and before he could talk himself out of it, he was crossing the hall toward your apartment, his heart pounding in his chest.

He stood at your door for a brief second, listening intently. Another crash, and this time, a louder, more desperate sound escaped from inside—something was definitely wrong. Without thinking, Jack banged his fist against the door.

“Hey! You alright in there?”, he shouted, his voice booming through the hallway.

There was no immediate answer, just more muffled noise. His pulse quickened, and he knocked harder, urgency taking over. “Y/N! Open the damn door!”.

Still no answer.

Without waiting for a response, Jack tried the door handle, fully prepared to break the door down if he had to. To his surprise, the door was unlocked, and it creaked open slightly. Jack pushed it open wider, stepping inside cautiously.

The apartment was dimly lit, but Jack could see signs of chaos—knocked-over furniture, papers scattered across the floor. His heart raced as he scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on you in the corner. You were struggling, your arms pinned, and a man loomed over you, his grip tight and menacing.

The sound of Jack entering the apartment caused the man to freeze, and he turned toward Jack with a snarl. Jack didn’t hesitate—his protective instincts kicked in immediately.

“Get off her!”, Jack barked, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped forward, ready to intervene. The man’s eyes widened for a split second, realizing he wasn’t alone, but he didn’t move. Jack took another step, his presence looming as he readied himself for whatever came next.

The man finally let go of you, shoving you aside roughly as he turned to face Jack. Without thinking, Jack lunged, grabbing the man by the collar and slamming him against the wall with enough force to make him grunt in pain.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”, Jack growled, his face inches from the man’s.

The man struggled, trying to push Jack off, but Jack was too strong, too furious to back down. He held the man in place, his fists clenched and every muscle in his body tense.

“Get the fuck out. Now! Before i loose my shit”, Jack demanded, his voice cold and hard.

For a moment, it seemed like the man might fight back, but he thought better of it. Jack’s grip loosened just enough for the man to stumble away, glaring as he straightened himself. Without another word, the man stormed toward the door, slamming it behind him as he left.

The room fell silent, the chaos and tension still thick in the air. Jack stood there for a moment, his heart still racing, before turning his attention to you. You were huddled on the floor, trembling and trying to catch your breath, your face a mix of fear and relief.

“Y/N”, Jack said softly, moving toward you carefully. “You okay?”.

You nodded shakily, though it was clear you were still in shock. Jack crouched down beside you, his protective instincts still in overdrive.

“Who was that? Do I need to call the cops?”, Jack asked, his voice gentle but firm.

You shook your head, your voice hoarse when you finally spoke. “No… no, he’s gone now. It was just… my ex. He wasn’t supposed to be here”.

Jack clenched his jaw, anger still simmering beneath the surface. “You’re sure you’re okay?”.

You nodded again, though your body language told a different story. Jack’s eyes softened as he reached out, offering you his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here for a bit”, he said quietly. “You don’t have to stay here tonight”.

You hesitated for a moment, clearly shaken and unsure, but then you took Jack’s hand, letting him help you to your feet. As you stood, the dim light in the apartment revealed more than Jack had anticipated. His eyes immediately went to the bruises on your arms—faint but unmistakable fingerprints marking your skin. Worse still was the cut on your lower lip, swollen and fresh. Jack’s blood boiled all over again, the anger from moments ago threatening to resurface.

“Damn it”, Jack muttered under his breath, his hand tightening slightly around yours as he guided you toward the door. He could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely contained rage at the thought of what had just happened. He wanted to go after the guy, make sure he never came near you again, but for now, his priority was getting you out of there.

You noticed Jack’s reaction, your eyes flickering down to your arms, and you quickly pulled them away, crossing them in front of your chest defensively, as if trying to hide the evidence of the assault. “It’s fine”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “He’s gone. It’s over”.

Jack stopped just inside the doorway, turning to face you. "It’s not fine", he said firmly, his voice low but filled with concern. "Look at you".

Your eyes welled with tears, but you blinked them away quickly, unwilling to break down in front of him. "I’ll be okay. I just… I didn’t expect him to show up. I thought he was done. I didn’t think—". You stopped, your voice catching in your throat.

Jack stepped closer, his voice softer now. "You don’t have to explain. But you shouldn’t stay here tonight. Let me help, even if it’s just for tonight".

You stared at him for a moment, weighing the options in your head. You didn’t want to impose, didn’t want to seem weak or incapable. But the truth was, the fear still gripped you, and the thought of staying in your apartment, alone, after what had just happened, was unbearable.

"Okay", you finally said, your voice barely a whisper.

Jack nodded, relieved that you weren’t going to argue. He placed a steady hand on the small of your back and guided you out of the apartment. He made sure to lock your door behind you, not that it offered much comfort given what had just transpired.

"Let’s go to my place for now", Jack said, his voice calm and reassuring. "You can stay there tonight, and we’ll figure everything out in the morning".

You gave him a small nod, too tired and shaken to think about anything beyond the immediate moment.

As you stepped into Jack’s apartment, the warmth and quiet of the space enveloped you. It felt safe. Jack led you to the couch, gesturing for you to sit. "I’ll get you some water", he said, disappearing into the kitchen.

While he was gone, you sat on the couch, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Your ex showing up had been a shock—a terrifying reminder of a chapter you thought you had closed. The bruises on your arms stung, but not nearly as much as the emotional weight of it all. You hadn’t wanted to seem weak, hadn’t wanted to involve anyone else, but Jack had been there. He had seen everything.

Jack returned with a glass of water and a first aid kit, setting them both down on the coffee table. “Drink”, he said gently, nodding toward the glass. “And let me take a look at your lip”.

You hesitated for a moment but then reached for the glass, taking a small sip. Jack knelt in front of you, opening the first aid kit and carefully taking out some antiseptic wipes. He met your eyes for a brief second, silently asking for permission before he gently dabbed the cut on your lip.

You winced slightly, but the pain was dulled by the tenderness in his actions.

"Sorry", Jack muttered softly. “I just want to make sure it doesn’t get worse”.

You nodded, grateful for his care despite the situation. For the first time in what felt like hours, you allowed yourself to relax, knowing that, at least for tonight, you didn’t have to handle this alone.

As Jack continued to clean up the cut, his brow furrowed with concentration, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. He had stepped in without hesitation, protected you without a second thought. And now, as he knelt there, carefully tending to your injuries, you realized just how much you needed that.

Jack continued his careful work, his hands steady as he cleaned the small wound on your lip. Despite the roughness of the situation, his touch was gentle, his eyes focused on making sure you were okay. You watched him, feeling a mix of emotions—gratitude, relief, and something else, something softer that you couldn’t quite name.

Once he finished, Jack stood and tossed the used antiseptic wipe into the trash, his movements deliberate, almost as if he was trying to keep his own emotions in check. He turned back to you, running a hand through his hair, the tension from earlier still etched into his features.

“You’ll be alright”, he said quietly, though it sounded more like he was reassuring himself than you. “But I’ll stay up, just in case”.

You looked up at him, surprised by his offer. “You don’t have to do that, Jack. You’ve already done more than enough”.

Jack shook his head. “I’m not going to sleep knowing he might come back”. His voice was firm but kind, leaving no room for argument.

You gave a small nod, feeling a weight lift slightly from your chest knowing that, for tonight, you weren’t alone. “Thank you”, you whispered, your voice filled with more emotion than you expected.

Jack gave you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his expression softening. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that. No one should”.

The weight of his words hung in the air for a moment, and you could feel the tension between you shift again. Jack wasn’t just saying these things out of obligation—there was something deeper, something protective and genuine. You’d always known him to be a bit gruff, a little distant, but tonight, you were seeing a different side of him. A side that cared, even when he didn’t say it outright.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

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[lemotmo]

Some of the questions that you all get 😅😅. Bless all of you who have to deal with this stuff.

Q. I don't understand why Oliver feels like he can't talk about Tommy/Lou? He's been brought up to him a few times and you can see that he clearly wants to talk about him but won't let himself. It's part of Buck's story. He can and should talk about him. Ryan being present shouldn't have mattered. Tommy is part of Buck's story and Oliver should get to talk about him.

A. Oliver didn't edit his response because Ryan was there. Oliver didn't want or need to talk about Tommy. The Tommy topic has been handled pretty consistently by both Tim and Oliver in recent interviews. They're talking AROUND him instead of ABOUT him. And they both quickly shifted their focus to other things. Tim made it about Eddie, for obvious reasons, and Oliver shifted to talking about how poorly Buck is handling the Gerard situation because I think that's what's ultimately going to lead to them parting ways. That's clearly a deliberate choice. They're not talking about him because there's nothing to say. He isn't the point of anything happening within the storyline. They have to talk around him because the plot point that Tommy was serving has not yet been resolved on screen. But I'm guessing his part is finished and closed by the end of episode 2 at the latest. If he was sticking around for any length of time both Oliver and Tim could have said that we would see their relationship continue to grow. That's a very simple answer to give. It doesn't require any additional details but would at least let the audience know that their relationship was going to get some kind of focus. Instead they both just said it was still at the early stages and no real time has passed from last season to this season. Then Oliver flat out said they don't yet know what a relationship 'could or would' look like. But Ryan telling the interviewer that Buck and Eddie will be leaning on each other is the biggest tell. If the Tommy relationship was a priority of any kind they would be having Buck lean on him not Eddie.

I think the golf photos we saw are a Buck/Eddie/Tommy outing and they just happen to run into Gerard. If that is the case then that scene is going to be used exactly like all of Tommy's scenes last season were used. To highlight the difference in the way Eddie and Tommy talk to, listen to, react to and regard Buck. If the Eddie story is going where most people, including many jurnos, now think it is they need Tommy out of the way fairly quickly and the Gerard plot is the easiest way to do that. And, in spite of what his fans are currently shouting, makes perfect sense given Tommy's canon history. He's going to tell Buck to keep his mouth shut, his head down and ignore everything. Buck is not going to be capable of doing that, this is something you all would know if you had bothered to watch any of Buck's history. Even if the golf thing turns out to be something different I still think Gerard will be the reason they split. If Buddie is the plan, and that looks increasingly likely, they need Eddie and Buck in some kind of story position before Christopher returns. Given everything that has happened between Eddie and Christopher he's not going to want to keep secrets from him. So even if they aren't ready for Buddie yet they need Eddie in position to open up to Christopher about what's changed for him while he's been away. They don't have time or frankly need to drag out the Tommy part. They need that plot point closed to move forward with the bigger story.

Thank you Nonny! As always, I appreciate you dropping these asks in my inbox.

This post kinda speaks for itself, doesn't it. All of this makes perfect sense when we step back and look at all the things that have been said about BT, Buck and Eddie so far.

Whether or not the Gerrard-situation will lead to their break up, I do expect a break up to occur pretty early on as well. It will be used to propel Buck's story forward, while simultaniously influencing Eddie's story as well.

As for the details? Pffff... who knows? We'll just have to tune in, watch and hope they'll do this story justice. 🤞🤞🤞

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[naranja-301]

I HAD NO IDEA THIS COULD HAPPEN!

So many people interacting on my twitter I feel a bit overwhelmed so...HI GUYS HOW ARE YA?? XD

So like, after doing this I think in the possibility of Fiddleford interacting with some of the other Stans of a different era so...yeah.

I'm not gonna make this a long (lier btch) thing bc 1, my brain is tired and 2 out of much ideas BUT I still want to write this idea I have.

Scenario: Fidds it's feeling tired, he was working to much, even more with the appear of all this Stanleys because of the new copy machine he and Ford made. And sure, the other Stans noticed the tiredness of the farm man, specially one with a colorfull Red and purple suit. Even with all the inner toughs that are troubling the con man, he tries to offer help…at least a bit.

Fidds is on his way to his room, his hair messy and with some eyeshadowns below his eyes, he worked for a couple of days with Ford about how they can return the efect of the machine bc this one alike the photocopy cannot erase the clones via water. Ford excused this because "any time he slipped and dropped some of his coffee on the clones he made of himself the clone dropped down" but then understood that yeah, maybe that would be more convenient than just not being able to erase them when no longer needed.

while opening the door of his room he can remenber well how Stanley make his way to him, talking in a nervious voice and trembling hands how when "looking" at the machine all these clones of himself came out one be one and he had no idea how to stop it but break it, now he was out, sended be Ford to look at replacements to fix the machine and meanwhile figure out how to return all Stanleys to their era, or just get rid of them.

He lays on his bed, leaving a tired sigh, hands on his stomac looking at the ceiling.

He was about to close his eyes and get some sleep but them he hears a knock from the door, it sounds soft, almost like if the person on the other side was doubting to do it and that coughs the attentions of Fiddleford, who with a groan stands up from his bed and walks to the door, opening it and meeting with one of the Stans, the one that tried to sell him some "rip-offs", leaning on the corner of the door and looking at his side, a bit unconfortable with his hand on the neck of his shirt.

"You...eh...you ok?"

It was kind of surprising see the man that talked to him with such a confident and even a bit cocky attitude talking with him with such a low, almost wipered voice. but sure Fiddleford noticed the unconford and tension in it and he could only think than damn, sinse many time Stan felt that inconfort to even get a bit close to anyone? to feel like he could be in danger if he made a step foard and just...show he cared?

"yeah, I'm ok, just...a bit tire' is all..."

There is an akward silence after that, none of them seemed to dare to talk, one because of the insecurity and doubt of keep talking and the other because of the fatigue he felt.

Fiddleford was about to talk again when some words that that Stankey said shutted his mouth.

"Want a massage?"

"what now?"

"that if you- agh....that if you want a massage...you are here because of me isn't it?...Can I...help a bit?"

That sure is...a proposition. A massage? at the mention of the offer Fiddleford could feel even more the pain on his back and shoulders, his body craving for relaxation and rest after so much work.

He is about to answer when his mind stops in track because the one who is asking him for it is Stanley but not his Stanley, it would be ok to allow this "stranger" aproach to him? even if it was for something so maybe odd or maybe simple thing as a massage?

"...I think...that would be nice. Thanks Stanley"

[nicolethered]

I really glad to read this because these reporters continually calling him Daddy to his face is getting weird.

I get it, he keeps playing DILFs but there is a way to talk to him that is respectful. Ask him what draws him to that type role. Don’t just reduce his work to “Hot Dad” when we know how much he puts into every role.

[piecanl]

Do you think Tubbo would recognize the path Bad is going down, because it's one he's already walked down on?

This self-destructive behavior coming from a broken heart?

He hasn't seen Bad at his best, before the eggs got kidnapped. He's seen him a victim to grief more than a father. It's why the blue staining Bad's being isn't out of the ordinary.

But suddenly he starts carrying flowers to remind him of the love he lost, suddenly the void calls out his name even louder and suddenly Tubbo sees himself in the older demon.

And it's scary, because suddenly he sees what he has become, how it affects others.

And for the first time of many, he sees Bad walk down a road he's paved. For the first time of many, Bad is the one repeating Tubbo's mistakes.

[lunar-fey]

ohhhh my god. okay. so. my aunt does like, she buys random junk in bulk from retail wholesalers and then resells it on like, facebook marketplace and ebay and stuff. whatever. so my mom works for her. makes a flat $50 a day, regardless of the fact that shes disabled and doing hard labor for at least 8 hours a day, often 10+. and min wage here is $10 an hour but mom argued that $50 a day is still more than what she would make working the same hours at an actual job because of taxes...like girl that would be 50% taxes. you do not pay that fucking much. so thats already Bad.

but today mom shows me a video of a knife theyre gonna sell, and i watch 2 seconds and i realize its an automatic knife, and i tell her hey. thats illegal to possess in this state. let alone sell! and mom is like ohhh [aunt] knows what shes doing itll be fine.... we sell knives on there all the time she just doesnt put pictures and calls them something else on the listing to get around fb/ebays policies :)

LIKE. HELLO. THATS NOT BETTER. YOURE COMMITTING MULTIPLE CRIMES. *AS YOUR JOB.* and she was just like "its not a big deal she knows what shes doing." folks, this is the same aunt that, very illegally, paid me to sort through her clients confidential tax documents and bank records and stuff. because she works for a bank. and took the records home to sort them. i dont think she DOES know what shes doing, actually!

[beeapocalypse]

orphanage party talk. a single contained shriek over this

[voidthewanderer]

I’m just gonna

[thatone-highlighter]

Thinking about Amethyst in the Heart Of The Crystal Gems arc and in SU Future rn

[trans-estinien]

i gotta actually start cooking this paper i am imagining on how demonizing masculinity makes it harder to achieve equal rights but i dont think the internet is ready for that conversation yet

[opencommunion]

incarcerated people are shutting down Alabama prisons and asking for your solidarity

Alabama prisons are the deadliest and most crowded prisons in the US. Their violence extends to gas chamber executions and illegal organ harvesting. The Alabama Department of Corrections (ADOC) is currently facing two federal lawsuits: one for enslaving Black detainees by denying them parole and leasing out their forced labor and another for targeting strike organizers. ADOC rakes in more than $450 million annually in profits from forced labor, and that's not including the profits incarcerated people generate for private corporations such as McDonald's and Raytheon. In response to these abuses, and in particular the horrific beating of six handcuffed detainees by Lt. Edmonds at Donaldson Prison on February 22nd, the Free Alabama Movement (FAM) has organized a minimum 90-day statewide prison shutdown/work stoppage. They are calling on supporters outside the prison walls to show solidarity. If you're located in or around Alabama, show up to the protest at St. Clair Prison in Springville, AL on Saturday March 2nd. For rideshare coordination contact the Tennessee Student Solidarity Network on IG or by email: tnstudentsolidaritynetwork@gmail.com "Outside support for us starts at the prisons. That's where we need people. Come to one of the protests, show your face, and tell us that you support us. That's how we know that you support us. Outside support is the first step." - FAM

Everyone in the US, call Donaldson Prison at (205) 436-3681 and ask them to fire Lt. Edmonds for his brutal violence against incarcerated people.