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lila-lou · 2 days

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✨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.

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

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @cheynovak @ookidoki @deans-spinster-witch @n-o-p-e-never @riah1606 @stoneyggirl2 @saintnourah @ladysparkles78

#jensen ackles #jack durfy x y/n #jack durfy x you #jack durfy x reader #jack durfy #buddy games

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dawnthefluffyduck · 9 months

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hey that's not supposed to be out there (uploaded wrong version at first haha whoops)

#not supposed to be that color either #i wonder who that belongs to #i had a very vague meaning for this in mind but saying it would spoil the fun #christ this took me forever #i wanted to do a quick project to give myself a break from my final #but accidentally made an entirely new kind of nightmare #BUT i can proudly say that i am very proud of this despite how long it took me #alrighty this blog is all about tracking progress so my thought on this;#it's not really as energetic as i had hoped to make it so i think that's the biggest technical issue i have with this #i'll try to get back to doing more gestures soon as a way to help with that #i think my shadows are a bit confusing too #i'm looking at it now and his glasses kinda taper off into the void of his fur bc i didnt mark the shadow along the left of his ear #but the thought of digging back through layers to fix it and blending that mess in is giving me a headache so i'm content with leaving it #i think i learned a lot about light and reflections though #my shadows aren't the greatest but i had so much fun rendering the glasses #and the glow of the soul pushed me to think about bounce light a lot more #figuring out how to make the colors look like they were glowing was a whole separate issue #i did it in the last big ralsei drawing i did but not nearly to this extent #i won't be doing something this large for a while after this but i'll keep trying to work on the things i didn't like about this #i think i'm gonna start putting my self-crit in the tags from now on #it really does bulk up the posts and it's hard to scroll past #i like reflecting on my work like this though #i've been able to draw a lot more since i've started doing it because it helps me create specific goals for myself #lets me keep pushing myself while still having fun with my art #ralsei #deltarune #deltarune fanart

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princekirijo · 7 months

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Baking is fun but so tiring

#def needed it though this is a good tired #i made cupcakes and scones (british scones) :]#they're for my mam! cause its mothers day tomorrow here #it took me forever though ive been baking since 11 (with breaks)#im so slow 💀 i very rarely bake though so ig its to be expected #ngl first time making scones and i kinda nailed it #i had so much fun though #i should def bake more often it helps me take my mind off things

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parkinglothater · 2 years

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just me alone in my room against the horrors

#renee rambles in the tags #the worst thing abt bei.g friends with 2 men exclusively is i cant have an enotional breakdown without serious fall out #theyre just not used to dealing with emotions gently #so now its me alone #anxious about the bugs in my bed #zack asleep without saying goodnight #seth lost his mind at me and i told him i went to bed hours ago #i just barely made it into my room #bam cockroach right there by the door #there was one in my jewerly box this morning #and another on my bed this evening #and i just want to go to sleep i literally am so tired #so mentally exhausted from crying all day #but i cant get into my bed i cant #i took all my stuffed animals off of it #and im moving them to my bfs place #bc im so afraid theyre gonna get full of bugs #and then ill judt have bugs forever wherever i go #or be forced to get rid of all my beloved stuffies from the past 20 years #its like im just #so tired of being so anxious in my own home #stfu renee

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rosicheeks · 2 years

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13. Do you get jealous easily?

45. How many people did you kiss in 2012/2013?

81. Who are five people you find attractive?

13. I like to think no. But when it actually comes down to it……. Yes 😂

45. 0 - I didn’t have my first kiss until 2018 🥰

81. BrooOoOoOoo do you mean like celebs or mutuals? Cause I’m way too shy to call out my mutuals that I’m crushing on 🫣

Celebs are even hard…. I guess the random top 5 people that come to mind. (Some animated cause I live in fantasy worlds 99.9999% of the time)

1. Dimitri (Anastasia)

2. Jim Hawkins (Treasure Planet)

3. Demi Lovato

4. Jason Momoa

5. Zooey Deschanel

#sooOoOoOoOoo I would like to think I don’t get jealous #but then when I think about it I’m like oooooo maybe I can be a tad jealous sometimes 😂#bro 81 took me FOREVER #I was like #uhm #who do I find attractive?#so these are just kinda random people I thought of #but I’m much more of a personality over looks person #so the thing is I’ll never truly know any of these celebs so I’m just basing it off of looks #I mean ngl I was trying to think of some artists to put cause music will always have a place in my heart #but these are the first ones that came to mind #and Demi is the only artist out of them #I mean I think Zooey might have release music too?#ngl I definitely could EASILY name 5 mutuals though 🫣#shhhhhh #my crushes get out of control sometimes hahahaha #thank you for the questions lovely 🥰#ask #ask game

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alittleemo · 3 months

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#lee’s bullshit #9/11 mention #ig that thing abt tragedies becoming palatable for jokes after 20 years thing rlly is true #been seeing way more 9/11 jokes recently and it just makes me feel sick to my stomach #like ig it makes sense not everyone lives in an area where huge numbers of the adult population work in nyc #but like it’s just crazy knowing everyone in my area has a personal connection to 9/11 and then seeing fucking. Memes abt it #it’s been such a huge looming thing in the life of everyone i know at home like no one ever talks abt it but it’s so so present to this day #like every single person I know who grew up around here knows someone who died . or was there or a block away or took the day off that day #my dad and uncle were working a few blocks away. friends dad was on a lower floor in the south tower. my grandparents saw the smoke at home #my moms hs friend was on the shanksville flight. my dad walked for miles to get out of the city.#like i know how 9/11 was used to justify so many other horrible events and it’s absolutely unacceptable what the us did bc of it #but it just makes me physically ill to see jokes about it regardless #literally too close to home I guess . I have the tags blocked but it’s even getting harder to avoid on reels and shit.#idk. my bsf and i talked abt this the other day and it’s just a bit crazy to see the jokes after everything we’ve seen #anyway sorry abt all that. ig if you read this far and we’re mutuals if you don’t mind tagging 9/11 stuff i would be forever indebted to yo

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aph-japan · 10 months

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Concept: I actually make the DouxWata A.M.V. planned around the time of my earliest KouxTai A.M.V. but it never got made because I got tied up with school for way too long

#chai holic #chai watanuki #chai doumeki #chai posts #chai personal #:') :') :').....#(I Am Not Even Mentioning The Other Stuff Since But)#(I'm still SO bummed I never got to make that one when the fan base was much more active and excited for Holic works)#(I had an outline planned and everything)#(but then)#(the later O.V.As got planned and then took forever to release)#(Sub's didnt even EXIST for a while)#(and I started this blog WHILE waiting for things in C.L.A.M.P + Holic fan bases TOO l o l)#(Original outline cant happen as effectively now because parts of it have left my memory but at least whats left in mind could still work)#(I could also add in scenes from the later O.V.As but)#(That post abt people just completely dropping off from older fan bases is def reminding me about Holic too s i g h)#(Like I still remember when it was decently popular on L.J {when compared to many other smaller ongoing fan bases I was in anyway})

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happy74827 · 2 months

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Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

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erinaeris · 3 months

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Laios Touden and the Responsibility of Power

First off, let me gush just a bit about how fucking STRONK this man is. Olympic weightlifters are dying of sheer envy and lust over this man. He is a FUCKING POWERHOUSE.

My favorite panels ever, and judging by the cropping of the second photo, Tumblr agrees.

AHEM, where was I?

Ah yes. He's not just strong and incredibly hot, my man is literally an invasive species in this dungeon. He knows every single weak spot of every monster Thistle tried to throw at him and when he finds it he just fucking RAMS HIMSELF AT THEM AND TAKES THEM DOWN.

And when he's a dwarf HE LITERALLY BENDS STEEL.

"Beat Namari at arm wrestling"? My boy, she wouldn't let you anywhere near because you'd FUCKING BREAK HER HER HAND ALONG WITH THE TABLE. (It's such a fucking shame we didn't see Senshi at least raising an (perfectly plucked except it just grows that way naturally) eyebrow in the background when he sees this. Alas, he was too distracted by his hair.)

But I mentioned responsibility, didn't I? Strength is power in the dungeon, and we all knows what comes with great power. And Laios is, in fact, very responsible with that power!

(Futther examples under the cut, wee bit spoilers for anime watchers)

This scene lives rent-free in my head forever, because of two things: Thistle suddenly realizing just what the hell he's up against,

And Laios breaking Thistle's arm.

Now, I think Laios didn't mean to actually break his arm here, he's just half-blind and dizzy and knows he has to restrain Thistle or it will all go to shit. So that's what he does. The move you see above is a restraining hold. The point is that the person pinned down can't struggle much because the position of the arm presses the suprascapular nerve, so it hurts a lot, but unless they're held that way for too long they'll be fine.

But Thistle is TINY and elves are generally fine-boned. I think Laios really did just underestimate his strength.

And the moment the dragons aren't an IMMEDIATE THREAT anymore?

Laios heals him. Thistle's a better mage than him by miles, he could have done it himself. But no. Laios does it. He was too rough, too careless with his strength, and he immediately backtracked, fixed what he broke, and continued with more mindfullness.

And these are just the examples that stuck in my mind the most. And it happens often enough that the team isn't even fucking surprised! Laios' strength would 100% scare people who only saw him in a barfight and didn't know anything else about him. Hell, the other adventurers they meet fucking quiver before this guy who just took down a monster they had nightmares about in one blow, up until he opens his mouth and they relax. You put more malevolent software in that sort of hardware and he'd be the next Shadow Governor.

But Laios is Laios. He's a gentle soul at heart (a Great Pyrenese, specifically, the gentlest souls ever unless you're out for their flock) and he is VERY CAREFUL with his strength, ESPECIALLY around his team. Chilchuck, who is literally half his size and underfed to boot, can smack Laios as much as he wants with ZERO fear because Laios is aware he can hurt Chilchuck by literally tripping over him, so he just stays still and lets Chilchuck smack at him. I'd be surprised if he ever managed to leave a bruise. Chilchuck has to aim at Laios' weak spot (back of the knee here) just to get Laios to notice him!

But because I have some experience with marital arts and close combat, I think the fight with Shuro exemplifies my point so fucking well! Laios is HURT here, he's living every autistic person's worst nightmare.

And he HOLDS BACK. His restraint is fucking IMMACULATE.

Shuro is fucking lucky Laios still liked him when he started talking shit, because he would have broken his spine otherwise. Laios doesn't even take the fight seriously! He starts with a fucking SLAP.

Shuro retaliates with an actual punch (that does nothing but piss him off)

Laios wobbles. Shuro HITS THE DIRT.

And this is the part where he realizes just how outside his weight category he is. Shuro definitely has technique on his side, but that means jackshit when you need ten blows to to even bruise your opponent, but one hit from them will leave you drinking through a straw for a week. For a second there, Shuro thought he was in ACTUAL DANGER.

But instead of finishing the job, Laios tries to talk him down, which just sets him off again. Man was at his fucking LIMIT, and it snapped. Self-preservation who?

And the best part is? Shuro is throwing all his strength behind his punches and Laios just takes them, but Laios? He mostly pushed Shuro around!

They're mostly grappling here, precisely because Laios is very conscious his friend is pretty fragile right now.

And when he does have enough?

Shuro is flat on the ground again, and Laios has a black eye and a bloody nose. He sits down and five minutes later he's ready to go! Like yes, Shuro was at a low point here, but he's been mowing through monsters at only a bit slower pace than Laios' party. He's no weakling regardless. And Laios had to HOLD BACK SO HE WOULDN'T HURT HIM. And it's so obvious that Maizuru takes one look at the two of them and leaves them to their toussling.

When I saw her reaction I had to scroll back and take another look, because I was sure she would intervene! But she doesn't! She is aware of Laios' strength, she has to be, and she doesn't lift a finger to help her precious charge. She knows the big dog he's wrestling with knows to watch his strength.

And that's my whole point: my boi is STRONK AF! And he is very aware of his strength, and how he could hurt the people around him is he wasn't careful, so he is ALWAYS CAREFUL. He has deeply internalized the fact that to have strength is to be careful with it, to use it in service of people rather than to hurt them (possibly from his dad). He is going to SUCH a good king! He's not going to like the job but by GOD he will do it really well.

And I will give my right arm to see a fic about the first corrupt lord/governor/courtier who attempts to misuse their authority for their own gain. Kabru's gonna have to talk Laios out of an execution.

#dungeon meshi #laios touden #delicious in dungeon

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jasmines-library · 6 months

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Hey, I love your Batfam work! Is there any chance you could do a whump/angst one of batsis being kidnapped by a villian(you can choose whoever you want) and she’s tortured for days with it being broadcasted to the Batfam while they try to track the footage. I feel kinda bad but can you do maybe some head trauma md severe burns? Maybe she has to be put in a medically included coma or smth because of the damage? Also is there any way you could include Barb and Duke along w/ the four robins? If not that’s totally cool! Sorry for the long request but I hope you have a great day!!

Anonymous Requested: batfam x batsib reader whos the youngest and newest robin and is just really goofy and doesn’t take anything seriously (ex: them blaring ��who’s the (bat)man” on the comms during patrol [that songs stuck in my head i had to mention it]) and something happens, maybe their first close encounter to death or a run in with the joker and they just become a shell of who they were and stuff

Jokes On Me

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Note: My god im so sorry this literally took me forever to write, thank you so much for being patient. I've been trying to write this all week but just couldn't sit down for long enough to finish it.

Warnings: Torture, blood, burns.

Word Count: 2.5k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

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“Y/N, turn that shit off.”

Jason grumbled at you over the coms. You had been blasting some wretched song that you’d found on the internet over and over again and it was beginning to drive him mad.

“Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’ loudly.

“Seriously.” Dick deadpanned. He had found it amusing at first, but it was now beginning to test his patience.

Agitated, you sighed and turned off the music. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Jason expressed gratefully, turning his eyes back to the road he was patrolling. The night was cool and quiet besides the odd dog walker or couple returning from an evening out. It was one of those nights where patrol would end early and he could return home to take a warm bath and read a book before turning in for the night. Or so he thought.

You were rounding the corner, humming that tune that was still stuck in your head when his laughter ricocheted across the walls. You stiffened, eyes widening and hands fumbling for your weapon as your breath hitched. No amount of turning and craning your head allowed you to catch a glimpse of the dreaded figure, and you thought for a moment that perhaps it had just been a trick of your mind, or one of your brothers playing a cruel joke on you as payback for winding them up earlier. But then you heard it again, only this time to your left. You clutched your weapon tighter, eyes scanning the area with a new found sense of urgency.

“Wing…” You whispered into the coms so quietly that you were surprised he heard it.

“What now?” He somewhat snapped.

“We have a problem.”

Dick’s heart sank through the floor, his ears pricking up and his demeanour changing completely. “Where are you? What’s the matter? He was trying to let his panic show, but you hadn’t been patrolling as a vigilante for very long, and while you were well trained, you lacked the experience to deal with something big on your own. And from your tone of voice, he could tell that you were in some deep shit.

Jason worked his legs harder to push himself to reach the direction he had seen you head off in. Albeit it seemed even his hardest wasn’t enough.

When he stepped out of the darkness, the first thing you noticed were his eyes. Wide and bright, easily mistakable for a cat’s as they flashed in the darkness; wild. Rabid. As he emerged fully with that infamous twisted grin splayed out on his face, you felt like a cornered animal; a deer in headlights. You froze, unable to move despite how your heart screamed at you to run as it pounded, trying to break free from your ribcage.

“He’s here…” A mere whisper sliding over your tongue, so fragile that you weren’t even sure if you had actually said it aloud. Jason had heard it.

“Who?”

The Joker was circling you now, dragging out his strides in lazy circles. You should have fought but in that moment all of your training had drained out of you, along with the colour in your face. He smirked, leering down upon you as you tried to keep your trembling hand still. He pouted in mockery and at your silence, Jason repeated his question to you, but you never got the chance to respond.

“Oh…Just an old friend, Jay-bird.”

“Joker.” Urging his body to move faster, Jason grit his teeth.

Dick paled. “You leave them alone.” Dick spat. It tried to be a command, but the effect was lost somewhere in transmission.

The joker pursed his lips, tilting his head as he analysed. One of his hands had found his way to your jawline and he trailed it with a cold, gloved hand. You wanted to lean away, to run and find your brother but you knew that now he had you in his grasp there was no point in even trying. “And why would I do that? They’re right in front of me. I could just…snatch them up.”

“Don’t you dare!” Dick was frightened now. “Y/N, you stay there as long as you can, okay? You fight. We’re coming, you hear?”

The Joker frowned at you. “D’you hear that? Big brother birdy coming to the rescue. How sweet.”

His grip on you tightened. “Too bad you’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”

With one swift motion, he had thrown you harshly to the side, your head colliding with the wall with a sickening crack.

The two boys skidded to a halt just a second too late. You were already gone.

Your head hurt when you woke up. Your eyes squinted against the sterile light. They did no favours to your pounding headache. With a groan, you tried to twist, to roll over and soothe the crook in your neck but instead all that happened was the jinging of a metal chain. You craned your head and spotted the thick chain that had been wrapped around your wrist, confining you to the chair. Struggling, you tugged on them, trying to free yourself only for them to rattle and scrape against your skin.

“Yeah, that’s not going anywhere, birdy.” The joker chided.

You glared at him through narrowed eyes, trying to mask the thumping of your heart. The joker grinned wildly at your frightened complexion.

“It was such a shame that Grayson and Todd didn’t get to you in time, but it was far too easy to catch you, little bird: you completely froze.” He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point. “Didn’t batsy teach you better?”

“Don’t talk about them.” You snapped.

The joker raised his hands, palms facing toward you in surrender: taunting you as if you were the one with the power in the situation. “Touchy subject I see. Too bad.”

He gestured above you to an incessantly blinking light. “Smile for the camera, you’re live.”

Babs had been monitoring the street cameras when the computer beside her flickered to life. She had been searching for any sign of you ever since Dick and Jason came flying through the grandfather clock. Everyone was on edge.

The moment the screen flashed on, her eyes perked up to watch it, alarmed. She hadn’t turned it on. And there were very few people who could bypass the caves system. So when she saw a small frame curled up in a chair she knew immediately what was up.

“Duke…” she called to the dark haired boy who was trying to help decipher your whereabouts. “Go and get B.”

It did not take long at all for everyone to gather around in the cave. Duke was fast, and everyone dropped what they were doing to race down: even Alfred had taken his leave from his duties to see.

It was almost like some sick irony because as soon as they were all there, you began to scream. A guttering, perfect scream that cut that through them like a knife: unclean and pinging into them messily again and again.

The joker had taken a knife to your left thigh, his smile dripping with malice as he watched the camera, somehow knowing that at least one of them would be watching.

Your face was contorted in pain, twisting in agony as tears rolled flatly down your cheeks from fearful eyes. Damian felt sick, his stomach churning. Jason wanted to leave. But all of them were stuck watching. Barbra was tapping away, trying to locate the signal from the video to no avail.

“I hope you’re watching this Batsy…” He moved round to trail your face with the edge of the knife. You whimpered. “I’ve got your little bird here and I must say, you need to work on their training. They were far too easy to catch.”

Bruce felt his jaw tightening and Tim had to place a hand on his arm to remind him of his place.

“Anyway I thought we would play a little game… how long can little y/n survive for. I wonder if it’ll be any longer than our very own Jason Todd.”

Jason twitched.

“I’m testing you here, Bat. Tick Tock.”

The transmission cut to black.

It seemed hopeless. Even though they had been searching for days, they were no closer to finding you. And to make matters worse, they could see you. Not long after the first transition ended did it start up again. It had been lifestreaming since then, and although they had tried to block it from their minds, it was hard to ignore. Especially when your agonised screams ricocheted throughout the halls.

You looked like hell. Dark bags occluded under your eyes and there wasn’t an inch of your skin that wasn’t marred or stained with drying blood. The burns were worse. Damian could still hear the scream you let out when the joker first brought the hot poker to your skin. It had bubbled and blistered as the skin peeled away; you had thrashed against your restraints violently. Tim was certain that they were going to get infected if they didn’t reach you soon.

It felt as if they had searched everywhere. Dick and Jason had even asked around to see if anyone had heard anything, going as far to talk to the Jokers closest associates in Arkham, but even if they did know, nobody said anything. Duke had even gone as far to go back to the area to use his powers to see if he could trace anything, but nothing seemed out of place; they had hit a brick wall. That was…until a small light appeared on the monitor. Babs had managed to trace the signal to a small building on the outskirts of the city.

They were suited up in minutes, making a beeline for the building. They stormed it, recklessly taking down the Joker's goons before Batman chased wildly after the Joker, his face stony and his fists burning with anger. The other four boys chased down the winding corridors, flinging open the doors until they found one that was locked. Tim wasted no time, picking the lock with ease he peeled it open. His breath hitched when he saw you.

Your face was gaunt, hanging low by your chest. Your suit was torn and there was less of it on your body than there was ripped away. You looked so fragile as your chest heaved sporadically.

Jason nearly had to take a step back. This place reminded himself too much of his own encounter with the Joker not too long ago. But he pressed forward, fighting his instincts. He had to be strong. Instead of turning back, he kneeled in front of you, whispering your name. His hand came up to cup your face. You flinched away.

“It’s okay kid. It’s us.” He tried to reassure you, but you shrank back into yourself.

“We’re so, so sorry kiddo.” Dick tried placing a gentle hand on your arm before moving to work on the cuffs around your wrists. “We’re going to get you out.”

You said nothing, just continued to stare at the black space before you, and Dami wasn’t sure if you even knew they were in front of you. But when Jason moved away from you to help remove your restraints, your fingers latched onto him and you squeaked in protest.

He sighed shakily. “Don’t worry kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian twisted from where he was guarding the door. “We need to leave.”

Dick nodded bluntly, finishing with the last of the locks. “I’m going to have to pick you up, okay sweetheart?”

You barely registered what he had said. Everything had grown numb, you nodded anyhow. Moving his arms underneath your legs and slipping one arm behind your back, Jason began to lift you. He nearly recoiled when you cried and whimpered with the way your wounds jostled as he sprinted out of the building to get you back to safety.

You were yet to say anything since you came home. You had been back a few days and your wounds were healing up nicely thanks to Alfred’s handywork, but the air was eerily silent around you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been communicating with them; you spoke to them with gestures or writing but no one was used to not hearing your voice. The stark contrast between your loud and bustling personality and you now was unsettling. No one wanted to push you too far but the manor was beginning to grow lonely.

It was one particularly rainy night when you finally spoke. You were curled up in a large armchair by the window in the library, sinking back into the plush leather as you watched the raindrops race down the glass. Jason had been watching you from afar, contemplating whether to talk to you or not when he walked over.

“What are you up to?” He asked you, making sure you knew that he was there before he spoke.

You gestured toward the window,then to the half opened book at your feet and shrugged.

“I see.” He nodded, taking a seat on the armchair opposite you. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jason wasn’t much of a talker. He knew more than anyone what you were going through, which was why it was nice just to know that he was willing to sit with you, just so you knew that he was there if you needed him. It made you feel safe. But you also couldn’t help but feel guilty, and frustrated with yourself for being in a place that made him feel as though he had to do that.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Jason had to do a second take. His heart swelled. “What for?”

You sighed. “This. When I saw him…i-i froze. If I had run then this would never have happened.”

“Shh. This isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“I promise, Kid. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You nodded, looking away from him. But then you furrowed your brows and turned back to him. “How did you do it? How did you deal with this, Jay? Every time I close my eyes he’s there.”

“I guess I don’t, really. Or sometimes it feels like I don’t. I still get scared sometimes. I still see him in my dreams. But over time it gets easier. I had people around me to help me. And so do you, kid. We’re here. We’ll always be here.”

Jason shifted to brush away a rogue tear and you leaned into his touch and then wrapped your arms tightly around his middle.

“I’m here. Always. We’ll get through this together.”

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@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

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