#but i really like this au and want an excuse to try and expand on it

[a-twisted-sideblog]

Okay, so I'm gonna quickly summarize the dream this AU is based on before I get into the actual AU, so that way anyone who isn't interested in this sort of thing doesn't have to read it.

The main character (who I don't remember anything about other than their existence) buys a book from an old library that's going out of business, goes home, accidently ends up summoning a demon, demon goes on a rant about their job and ends up shoving their duty onto main character before leaving.

Main character goes on a walk to clear their head, gets kidnapped, their kidnapper attempts to sacrifice them to summon a demon, main character fights back and accidentally kills the kidnapper, then the demon gets summoned. And that was the point where I woke up.

Now, I'm adding my actual idea for the au under the read more, because knowing me I'll go on a rant and it might get long.

So, obviously this takes place in a world where it's believed to be just humans and magic is a thing of fiction. Yuu (who is obviously the main character in this) heard that an old library nearby is being shutdown and that the owner is selling the books. They decide to go see if there's anything that interests them and, alongside some of the books they would have expected, they find a book that's different from the rest.

Other than the fact that its cover didn't have any sort of title, the writing in the book didn't look like a real language and the pages had a bunch of different symbols that were strange.

Yuu asks the owner about it and they mention that someone just left it in the return section one day and they figured they might as well keep it since it's a library. The owner offers it to Yuu for free, saying "no one would pay for a book like that" and "it's just picking up dust with me" and Yuu agrees because who doesn't like free stuff?

So after that, Yuu takes the strange book and a couple of other books that they bought home with them, putting them on the counter so that they remember to put them away later. Of course they do forget at first, but they remember later when they go back to the kitchen for a drink and see the books.

Yuu accidentally knocks the strange book off the counter and onto the floor, and when they go to pick it up, it suddenly starts glowing. And before they have much of a chance to react, the room goes dark before there's a sudden flash of light, which they cover their eyes to stop themselves from getting blinded.

When they open their eyes, they see a weird bird man who introduces himself as Crowley, says he's a demon, and goes on a bit of rant about how someone or something is trying to force open rifts between the demon realm and human realm to bring destruction to the human realm, which if they succeed will end up destroying both. He says that, despite it being his job to stop things like that from happening, demons aren't supposed to interfere in the human world to that extent unless they're specifically summoned to do so. Then he puts the book in Yuu's hands, telling them it's their job to stop the world from getting destroyed because the book chose them, wishes them luck, and leaves while completely ignoring their protests and questions.

After that, Yuu leaves the house to go on an evening walk to get some fresh air, pretty sure that what happened wasn't actually real because why would that have actually happened?

But then they get kidnapped by someone who wants to sacrifice them to summon demons. And when they wake up, tied down to make sure they don't run, they desperately hope for a way out, only opening their eyes when they feel the ropes suddenly disappear.

And what do they see, but the same book from earlier?

Now, feeling even more freaked out than they were earlier, Yuu picks up the book and leaves the room they were in to start looking for a way out.

Unfortunately, they end up in the room where their kidnapper has just about finished preparing the summoning ritual. The last thing they need? The sacrifice of a human soul.

Of course, they don't have the jump on Yuu like they did earlier, allowing Yuu the opportunity to fight back.

One thing leads to another and Yuu ends up accidentally killing the kidnapper, leaving Yuu frozen in shock as their kidnapper's blood drips onto the summoning circle.

Even if they didn't notice it glowing, they definitely noticed the way that the room seemed to darken and how all the heat in the room seemed to disappear.

They absolutely noticed the two figures that began to form in the summoning circle.

[strangerstilinski]

𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩

summary: steve is plagued by bad dreams. one night, he needs a little help finding his way back. [3.8k]

content warnings: roommate!steve, hurt/comfort, night terrors/ptsd, panic attack?, copious amounts of pining, could actually be either canon compliant or au depending on how you want to interpret his nightmares, this was mostly just an excuse to write sad cuddles with stevie

a/n: no, this most certainly has not been sitting in my drafts for the last 9 months. what are you talking ab-? ok, yeah, it definitely has. but i finally got my shit together! everybody cheer! [p.s. mar ily to the actual ends of the earth thank u for proofing this for me]

as always, please reblog if you enjoy! xx (if you're feelin really crazy, you could even say smth nice)

dividers by @strangergraphics

It's a knock against your bedroom door that wakes you. A quiet rap of knuckles on wood so soft that you nearly fall back asleep after convincing yourself you must've dreamt the noise entirely— until it sounds again.

A soft grumble of confusion escapes you as you push your weight onto your forearm to sit up in bed, using the knuckles of one hand to rub sleep from your eyes and squinting toward your bedroom door in confusion; fighting to focus the way that the faint light coming in through your bedroom window illuminates the hallway through the crack in the door. The familiarity of the shadowy figure slowly solidifies under your hazy gaze.

“Steve?” You call out in question, voice a little hoarse from disuse.

“Yeah.”

His voice is quiet on the other side of the door, the sound more of a breathy exhale than a word, really. You run your fingers through sleep-mussed hair as you try to focus on the clock on the bedside table. Your brain can barely comprehend the early hour, even as the clock clicks quietly, the last number flipping as one minute gives way to the next. It takes a few seconds, but your eyes begin to adjust to the dark rather quickly and it's with newly awakened attention that you turn toward the door again.

“You can come in.” You call out softly, your words slightly less scratchy with sleep now that your drowsiness has begun to bleed away and the quiet night around you comes more and more into focus.

The door creaks open a little further after a moment and you find Steve there in the dark. His chest is heaving, his lungs expanding and deflating rapidly beneath his ribs. The sound of his quick breaths is loud in the silence, bare feet shuffling against the hardwood in the hallway as he continues to stand just outside the door.

You wait, but he makes no move to enter. He looks so meek like this. His sharper edges have been softened and shrunken by the weight of his anxiety. The threadbare tshirt that's stretched across his shoulders hangs loose around his neck. You can see the crooked line of scattered moles you love so much decorating the line of his throat and eventually disappearing beneath the fabric, though the cotton sags enough to reveal a bit of the hair below his collarbones.

It all makes him appear smaller, somehow. Like a man so much younger than he is. Like a boy standing in the dark outside of his parent's bedroom, patiently awaiting comfort.

“Sorry. For wakin' you up.” Steve manages quietly, his words clipped.

The full-blown panic attack he'd been on the brink of moments before in the privacy of his own bedroom had receded, but just barely. The world around him still shifted in and out of focus, a buzzing sort of white noise filling his ears like cotton.

He glances up at you— Where you've pushed up onto your elbow to squint at him in the dark, your face baring the faint imprint of creases from your pillowcase. Steve spares a fleeting thought to how lovely you look like this, sleep-induced wrinkles on your cheeks and heavy lidded eyes. But he's only granted a moment to admire the sight before the heavy pounding of his heart in his ears forces his gaze to drop to the floorboards again.

With difficulty, he swallows past the lump lodged in his throat, pinching his eyes shut for a moment when a discarded pair of jeans on your bedroom floor look just a bit too much like a thick, crawling vine making its way toward him in the dark.

“No! No, it's okay,” You're reassuring him in a rush, “What's wrong?”

“I, uh.. I-I need your help.” His admission comes out a little like it causes him physical pain to say it out loud. His fingers shake as they comb through the sweaty hair that's flopped down over his forehead in sleep, pushing it back from his face, though a few stubborn strands immediately break free and curl over his brow again.

“Okay,” You readjust yourself on the mattress, pushing yourself to sit up a little straighter, crossing your legs beneath the blankets while you watch him in confusion, “Y'can come in.” You repeat softly.

“I just-” Steve pants, voice hoarse with the way his labored breaths have dried out his throat, “I-”

“Steve?” Your skin has begun to prickle with that itch that tells you something isn't right, but lingering drowsiness fogs your brain just enough that the severity of it hasn't quite sunken in.

His gaze flicks once again to the rumpled pile of denim on your bedroom floor, one pant-leg outstretched in his direction, and the longer he keeps his eyes trained on it, the more the shape of it melts into the dark vines from his nightmare. He blinks, just once, and he swears the thing fucking moves. He thinks it might be crawling its way across the scuffed floorboards, toward him-

Steve's panicked breathing picks up, and your own heart ticks a little faster with worry. You watch as Steve's hand meets the trim around your doorway, his long fingers curling tight around the wood as he tries to steady his wobbly legs.

He makes an awful sound, like he's suffocating. He's nearly gasping for air, choking on the words as he pushes them out, “I- I can't-”

The blankets that cover your lap have already been tossed haphazardly to the side as you stumble from the bed in a rush. You're reaching out for him even as your mind struggles to comprehend what's wrong — why it is that he seems to be panicking.

“Hey, hey, you're okay,” You soothe as gently as you can manage, doing your best to push your own anxieties down to focus on the man in front of you. “Steve-”

His cheeks are warm beneath your palms as your hands find either side of his face, thumbs dragging soft over the apples of his cheeks while your fingertips tangle lightly in the tufts of hair that curl out from behind his ears. The ragged breaths rushing past his lips fall over your face when you guide his gaze up from the floor to meet your own, his dry lips parted and quivering with every exhale.

“It's okay, you're okay.” Your words don't come out nearly as firm as you want, one of your hands leaving his cheek to drag over his sweaty forehead. 

Your fingertips smooth over the furrowed line of his eyebrow before falling back to his cheek and finally settling over the column of his throat. His racing pulse thumps soft against your hand, a barely-there fluttering like a hummingbird's wings flapping beneath his skin.

Steve reaches up. His sweaty palm grips your wrist so tight it aches while his head tips a little farther into your touch. He lets out a shaky breath once he makes it just one small step through the doorway.

“What is it? What d'you need my help with?” You ask, voice a little airy with concern.

His chest continues to rise and fall with quick, shallow breaths, and with the help of the soft glow of the streetlight outside your window, you manage to catch the longing glance that he casts to the bed behind you. You're quick to guide him toward it, back peddling until you feel the cushion of the mattress against the backs of your thighs. You settle into the rumpled blankets again and tug at Steve's hand until he has little choice but to climb in after you.

“What is it? What's wrong?” You ask, words whisper-soft.

It takes a moment before his breathing has calmed enough for him to respond, the clock on the bedside table clicking quietly once more as one minute flips to the next, the sound of Steve's ragged inhales and shaky exhales drowning out the silence of the night.

“I, uh. God, it sounds so stupid now, but I-I had this dream,” Steve starts slowly. His trembling fingers prompt you to tighten your grip on the large hand still cradled in your own as he continues, “It was- Fuck, I just- It was a bad one and I-” A harsh breath is forced past his lips, “Feel like I'm still dreaming.. Even now, I feel like.. Like everything's about to flip on its side n' then the nightmare'll take over-”

Your heart cracks at the wobble in his voice, and you can't help but reach up to smooth some of the bedhead back from his face once again, “You're not, though. You're awake,” You promise softly, “You're with me, you're safe.”

“Well, to be fair, you'd probably say that in my dream too, though, right?” Steve points out with a weak laugh, muscles in his jaw tense as he gives a self-deprecating shake of his head.

The dim light pouring in from outside catches the sharp line of his jaw, casts a pretty glow over his long lashes when his downcast eyes focus on the mess of blankets surrounding the two of you. In any normal situation, you'd be ecstatic to have Steve in your bed. But tonight, in the presence of his distress, that elation is decidedly overcome by something more akin to sorrow.

“Yeah, I guess I probably would,” You laugh quietly, though it's a joyless sounding thing, “What can I do then? How can I help?”

“I dunno, I just- I.. Didn't wanna be alone, I guess.” His voice is quiet, embarrassed maybe, and it only makes that urge to pull him into your arms that much stronger.

“You never have to be alone.” You tell him. And you mean it.

“Right,” Steve nods once, adam's apple bobbing in his throat when he swallows, “Thanks.”

You want to help. God, you ache to help — but you have no idea where to start.

“How.. How do you usually bring yourself back after you wake up? When you are alone?”

“Sometimes I, uh, I count my fingers-” His voice is scratchy as he speaks.

He brings one of his hands in the narrow space between you with a small, playful waggle of his fingers. But both of your gazes fall to the slight tremble of his hand, and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“-I read somewhere once, 'm pretty sure, that if you're dreaming, the number of fingers? On your hand? It'll be off.” His words come out choppy, unsure. Like he's expecting you to misunderstand him.

“Off.. Like, you'll have twelve fingers or something?” You clarify carefully.

“More or less.” He shrugs like it doesn't mean much, but you know it does. “It's stupid. And I'm probably not even remembering it right-”

“It's not stupid,” You insist, continuing only a moment later when he only frowns in response, “You are not stupid, Steve Harrington.”

Steve laughs weakly, the sound dejected and harsh, “That's a first.” He jokes.

Now's not the time to get into it, not really, but his words make your stomach twist with a pained emotion you can't quite name. You find yourself needing to reassure him just once more, even if he might not believe you.

“I mean it.”

He doesn't respond to that, though his eyes shine a little at his waterline. The silence that follows feels heavy enough to smother you both. Another click sounds from your alarm clock, seemingly louder now, though you know its volume is the same as it always is.

“You.. Y're warm,” Steve whispers after a moment, tongue poking out to wet his dry lips before his eyes flick up to meet your own, “That helps, y'know? Because there's no warm or cold in.. in dreams.”

You squeeze his hand once before pushing up onto your knees and turning to prop a couple of pillows up against the headboard. You lean back into the cushion when you're done and urge him to lay with you with a small wave of your hand.

Steve only hesitates for a second before he follows your silent command, crawling forward as you fall back with a sense of familiarity. The two of you move a bit like there's a tether connecting you to one another. It's easy. Like it could just be a ordinary Thursday night, settling onto the sofa in the living room for the newest episode of Night Court. The simple normalcy of it has a shaky sigh tumbling past his lips when his head finally meets your chest, and he all-but melts into your side.

“How's this? Okay?” You ask cautiously. When Steve nods, lightly-stubbled cheek scraping against your shirt, you wrap an arm around him and take both of his hands into your smaller ones, “D'you wanna count with me?”

“Please.” Steve's response comes so quiet, so vulnerable.

You've never seen him like this. You're flooded with the overwhelming urge to protect him, to shield him away from every bad dream he's ever had, and every one that threatens to haunt him in the future. He avoids your gaze though his face is upturned toward your own, his chin dipped into his chest so he can focus on the way your joined hands fit together.

It's slow going. You fold Steve's fingers down one at a time, the two of you counting them off together beneath whispered breaths. 

He audibly sighs in relief when you finish his first hand with five fingers, and his breaths truly begin to even out as you carefully curl your palm around his knuckles and fold down finger number ten on his other hand. 

The moment you finish, Steve is grabbing one of your wrists in a gentle grip, his thumbs smoothing over your soft skin before he starts to count off the fingers on your hand as well, silently this time. He continues to calm, though it's a gradual thing. The once rapid heaving of his chest slows imperceptibly. His body relaxes more heavily into your own.

His whispered counting comes to a stop when he reaches your last finger, but he doesn't release you. You allow your free hand to card through his hair all the while, combing delicately through the silky strands, damp as they may be. Your fingertips rub over his scalp softly while he continues to toy with the fingers of your opposite hand.

“You okay?” You murmur in question after a few minutes have clicked by in the silence.

“Yeah.. Yeah, 'm fine.” Steve admits quietly, and he almost means it. He's comfortable here, in your arms — far more comfortable than he thinks he has any right to be. He narrows his eyes as he focuses determinedly on the smooth length of your fingers beneath his own, “Sorry. I just- I mean, Jesus Christ, 's fucking humiliating-”

“Would you.. Do you want to talk about the dream?” You interrupt carefully.

Steve doesn't say anything for a moment, and you're about to reassure him that doesn't need to tell you anything, but he speaks before you can.

“Usually, it's these.. Well, they're kinda bats.. But also not..?” He chuckles darkly, squeezing your hand once before loosening his grip and unfolding your fist.

He begins straightening your fingers one at a time, his thumb stroking soft along the inside of each one as he continues, “Tonight it was the vines. Sometimes.. Sometimes it's this.. This giant thing. Made up of blood and flesh, but in all the wrong ways. 'n there're these face-less, alien-looking...” He pauses like he's debating the final word, “'s just.. It's kid shit, y'know? Or, maybe horror movie shit. Just.. Monsters.”

“It doesn't sound like kid shit. It's.. It sounds terrifying. Honestly.” You acknowledge when he falls silent, your fingers still combing gently through his hair. “The bats..?” You repeat, leaving the word open in question.

“The bats..” Steve swallows, no longer counting your fingers but merely stroking the length of them idly as he speaks, “They're huge. Like, the size of a fuckin' hawk. But they've also got, like, four tails? N' I dunno if bats even have tails, normally. But they just- Just tear into you 'til you either bleed out or wake up.”

The motion of your hand running through his hair stutters, but just for a moment, “Jesus,” You pause for only a second before you have to ask, “And the vines?”

“They're.. Damn, what's the word? Sentient, kind of?” He explains in a soft rasp, “And strong as all hell. If they get ahold of you, you're not gettin away, y'know? They wrap around your limbs and you're stuck. They- they wrap around your neck and you can't fuckin' breathe.”

The air seems to catch in his chest at just the memory. A small hitch in his purposefully steady breathing that has you readjusting on the mattress to press yourself that much harder into his warmth.

“I'm sorry-” Your chin presses into the crown of his hair for a moment.

The gesture is meant to comfort him, and you hope it does, even as your nose fills with the scent of his expensive shampoo and a delicious, sleepy scent that's entirely Steve. It makes your stomach swoop familiarly, though you try to push the feeling down. 

“-That all sounds awful.” 

He swallows thickly before continuing in a quiet voice, “And it's not just me, y'know? More often than not it's the people I care about. It's Robin, or the kids, or Nance and Jonathan. It's-” 

His voice grows hoarse with emotion before he cuts off to lick at his lips, head tipping back. His wide, earnest gaze flicks up to you, his eyebrows pinched with something pained. 

“Sometimes it's you, and that's- Fuck, 's worse. So much worse than when it's just me. Christ, it's fucking scary. Having to watch any of you dying.. Bleeding out, right in front of me — and there's nothing I can do, I can only watch-”

“I know it doesn't feel like it, but they're just dreams, Steve,” You whisper carefully, “That's all they are. They can't hurt us, any of us.. And they can't hurt you.”

He nods once after giving your words a moment to sink in, stubble on his chin scratching softly against the cotton of your shirt. You ache to say more, to find the right words to magically make it all better, but you know there's no articulation that will serve as such an all-healing balm. Even if there was, he's gone this long without someone to placate him with empty, pitying promises, and the absolute last thing you want is to make him feel any smaller than he already does.

Silence falls over the room again like a weighted blanket, a contented sort of quiet that you're both grateful for. 

The rumble of a lone car cuts through the night, headlights colliding with shadows against the far wall. The glow reflects on the window as the car comes and goes, and for just a brief moment, you get a clear view of the twin beauty marks on his cheek — You have to rein in the all-encompassing urge to drag your thumb over them.

Now's not the time.

But you do wonder what it might be like, to share a bed with Steve under more normal circumstances. What it would feel like to wake in the late hours of the night and have his head resting on the pillow beside your own. For your sheets to hold that musky, sleep-riddled scent that lingers on his skin now.

You watch Steve's full lashes flutter as he blinks, his unfocussed gaze trained on the way your fingers curl and straighten under his own ministrations, bending them this way and that as his thumb presses into the meat of your palm. Your tongue has gone heavy in your mouth with the words you long to say:

I want you.

I love you.

I'll protect you.

You push them down, tough as they are to swallow, and instead break the silence as gently as you can, “You know, you can always come in here after a bad dream. Even if it's not as bad as tonight. If this helps, then I want you to.. I don't want you to worry about waking me up or-”

“Thanks, I- Yeah, maybe.” Steve murmurs noncommittally.

“Steve,” You speak sternly. Your fingers tangle in his hair and you carefully tip his head back, his chin jutting up as he's forced to look at you. “I mean it. You're more than just my roommate. We- We're friends. I care about you. I don't mind.”

Steve swallows, hesitates. His adam's apple bobs before he nods his head in your hold slowly, “Okay.” He says finally, a weight that he didn't realize was even there suddenly lifts from his shoulders.

You allow yourself to drag your thumb lovingly over the long line of his brow, just once. A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips, “Then it's settled.”

The wonky streetlight outside your window flickers for a moment-

You probably wouldn't have even paid the momentary darkness a second thought if not for the way Steve stiffens suddenly. The flickering only lasts a second or two before it re-settles into that same dim stream of light that always illuminates your bedroom at night, but Steve lets out an audible breath of relief when it does.

Neither of you mention it, but the shakiness of that gust of air when it pushed past his lips is nearly enough to break your heart.

You watch the way his jaw flexes, your gaze drawn to the smooth expanse of his neck covered only by the long, curling ends of his hair. You can almost make out his jumping pulse at the hollow of his throat, the dark shadow twitching nearly imperceptibly as Steve forces the too-quick beat of his heart to slow once again.

You're about to ask him if he's okay, but Steve must feel it coming, because he manages to speak first.

“You should get back to sleep.” He says softly.

He releases your hand to prop himself up on an elbow, a small gap of space growing between you that feels so much larger than it is.

Your hand slips from the hair at the back of Steve's head, but you manage to grab ahold of his bicep.

“Do you wanna stay?” You find yourself asking.

“Y'sure?” Steve asks in surprise, “I mean, you.. really don't mind if I stay?” He questions cautiously, golden eyes wide and entirely too pretty, looking a little like even after all this, he can't quite believe you'd let him stick around any longer than necessary.

In lieu of responding, you slip further underneath the blankets. You roll onto your back and open your arms — a silent beckoning for him to join you.

Steve huffs a soft breath through his nose, a relieved sounding thing. The walls that he was rushing to put back up just a moment before crumble in an instant, the stiff set of his shoulders falling slack as well. He drops his head down onto the pillow beside you before draping an arm around your waist to drag you back against his chest.

You're lulled back to sleep by the soft puffs of breath he lets out against your neck and the warm weight of his body wrapped around you.

The last thing you'd ever wish for is for Steve to suffer, but you can't help finding yourself somewhat looking forward to the next time he'll crawl into bed with you — Regardless of the circumstances.

You're more than happy to be his rock.

[butterymangowrites]

distribution system

paring: cat hybrid kageyama tobio x fem reader

warnings: dub-con, smut, hybrid au, stray hybrid kageyama, social discrimination, power imbalance, domestic life, kageyama with his platinum face card, kageyama has a tail

word count: 4.2k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes. thank you for reading!

Being a stray hybrid was exhausting. Tobio thought as he wandered around a new neighborhood trying to find food after every house in the last one shooed him away.

Being a stray hybrid was exhausting. Being a bone-thin, dirty black cat hybrid was worse. 

He looked ghastly—hair long to his chest, cheeks all sunken, and without a smile on his face, Tobio looked unapproachable. Some people said he might have rabies, warning their own hybrids to stay away; he was scared of that, too, but only because he didn’t know what it actually was, just that it was fatal and humans hated it. 

Did he have rabies? He felt fine though. Tobio thought as he put his hand through the narrow opening of a trash can that was likely to have some food waste in there. After some time rummaging through, he grabbed onto a bottle; it was milk. When he shook it softly and felt some milk left inside, Tobio got his dinner. 

“You shouldn’t drink that. You will get sick.” 

A voice interrupted when he was almost done with the meal. It was a human woman in very nice clothing, the kind he saw humans in the office area wear. His previous owner also wore something like this, the male one, the one who hit him when he was drunk and angry at his wife. The wife was his favorite of the two, always patted him gently on the head and gave him nice things—snacks, toys, letting him watch TV and play with a round leather ball in their small backyard. But when he knocked over some of the flower pots, the husband forbade him from touching the ball again. 

The wife disappeared one day, so Tobio ran away. 

“Here.” The human took something out of her shoulder bag and handed it to him. “Take this.”

It was an unopened, brand new milk bottle, looking exactly the same as the one he was holding. Too late, Tobio drank all of it, spoiled as it was, it filled his belly for the night. Together with the milk, Tobio saw a banana. He wanted that.

“Sorry, this is all I have.” 

It was funny thinking back to the first time he saw you, that it was the guilt in your voice that made Tobio carefully look past his long hair at you again. Being closer in order to take the food from your hand and seeing things clearer than before, he had never seen anyone so concerned about how they didn’t have more food to give away, concerned about him. And because being a stray hybrid was exhausting, Tobio really wanted a home. 

He finally succeeded that night. He found one, after roaming around for many years…

— 

High up on a building, that was your place. It wasn’t big, but Tobio didn’t mind. He was just happy to be warm and have a roof over his head. 

Your bathroom had a tub, small but deep, he could only fit in there if he sat with his knees up. He did that while he let you wash him, at a loss on how to adjust the water temperature and not knowing which was the shampoo and which was for the body cleaning. So he just sat there in silence, not even turning the water on so he didn’t cause any problems, till you knocked and asked if he needed help. 

Your hands were smooth, slathering the body wash over his back and chest while he watched you, his now-clean hair tied up with a big claw clip. Having his field of vision expanded made Tobio feel exposed, but it was not totally a bad feeling, just a bit foreign after many years of having it down to hide his face.

“You wash,” you pointed down to his crotch, “down there by yourself, okay?”

Tobio nodded, didn’t mind. He understood you didn’t want to touch him there, you probably didn’t want to touch him anywhere, only doing it out of necessity because he was such an incompetent cat who didn’t know how to use a human's shower. He used to know, he just forgot. Tobio hoped you were not mad. 

—

It was the next day when you took him to the hybrid clinic for a check-up. He was healthy, needed to put on some weight, yes, but fine nonetheless. The doctor said the hybrid was in his early 20s and prescribed some vitamins, and just like that, the visit ended. Before you left, one of the staff suggested you buy a collar. 

“Is it necessary?” you asked before looking around the waiting area and saw that every hybrid wore one. “Okay.” 

You bought one in a random color after trying to let the feline hybrid choose and he just stared at you. He was tall, hovering over most people in the clinic. You had to tell him to crouch down so you could put the newly purchased collar on his neck. It was blue, cartoon printed. This was why making rational decisions was important. 

Next stop was the haircut. This time you handed him a magazine and tried again by letting him pick a style for himself; however, he just pointed at the first model he saw. Nothing was wrong with a mohawk, and you would have believed it was a thought-through decision if he had turned the pages of the magazine a little and at least pretended to contemplate. He did neither. 

Same with the breakfast that morning, you asked if he wanted blueberry or strawberry jam on his toast, he answered with a nod. When asked again, he pointed at the jar closest to his hand and didn’t finish the toast.

The stray you brought home—Tobio—definitely understood human language and was not mute since he was the one whispering his name to you when you asked what he was called. For some reason, he just did not make decisions. And… he hated strawberry jam.

So you rectified that, selecting two most popular styles and let him choose again. But before he could point, you said, “This is your hair, Tobio. Yours. You can choose how you want your own hair to look.” 

He listened and blinked. And for the first time in twenty hours, Tobio took his time deciding between things. He picked the style that would get his bangs cut very short, and if his swishing tail was anything to go by, he seemed to like the end result very much. Despite his head looking like a coconut with a wig on, he still looked good, all because of his face. 

The man was strikingly handsome. Without all the matted hair masking his face, his features were bare to the beholder’s eye. Dark blue eyes, sharp jawline, small perky nose, and lips—though chapped and dry—were baby pink. He was a sight for sore eyes. 

Clothes, toiletries, and extra groceries that included cat food and snacks he admitted to liking were all carried by him. It was a long walk from place to place and from the train station to yours, but Tobio didn’t allow you to take any bag out of his hands. 

It was already dark when you entered your apartment. You unpacked the groceries and officially taught him how to use the shower, learning that he was illiterate when he asked if he remembered correctly which bottle was the shampoo and which was the conditioner. He got them mixed up but was right on the body wash because it was a different brand with a different label. 

What you did was point out the difference in the words written on the bottles, but the easiest way you could think of was to place them in fixed positions, so you did just that, temporarily resolving the problem.

“Shampoo on your left, conditioner on your right,” you told him, pointing at each respectively. “But don’t wash your hair today, that would be a waste of the products the salon put on it. Unless it—stinks?”

Tobio, who was sitting on the rim of the tub, touched his hair, trying to pull it to his nose for a sniff, but it was too short. Suddenly, he turned to look at you, expectation clear in his eyes.

“You smell for me.” he bowed his head and waited. 

“Oh, no need.” You waved your hands no. “Should be okay.” 

You were not going to do it, but his head stayed down and showed no sign of coming back up. Not wanting to disappoint him, you stooped down for a quick sniff. The tip of your nose brushed against his freshly cut hair, it was soft and silky now, no trace of yesterday's dirt and grime. And it smelled so good you could have died. 

Tobio breathed out a low purr before he looked up at you again, his pupils dilated. “How was it?”

“Nice,” you replied. “No need to wash it.” 

“Okay.” His voice was small, faint. 

Out of the bathroom, you prepared dinner for two and arranged a sleeping spot at the couch in the living room as you did the night before. Your apartment was a one-bedroom, so even if you wanted him to sleep somewhere nicer, you didn’t have a better option. 

You didn’t expect to see him lying on the cold, hard floor the next morning, sleeping in the fetal position and hugging himself, pillow and blanket left on the couch. 

“Why were you on the floor?” you asked that same morning while teaching him how to make basic breakfast—a bowl of cereal for you and two slices of toast for himself, this time topped with blueberry jam. He ended up asking for more with a growling belly and round blue eyes, piercing through your heart like a sharp stalactite falling down on tender meat. The damage was so severe that you had to tell him not to seek permission for food again; it was all his to have. 

“My legs are too long.” answered Tobio. “They went over the couch arm—hurt.” 

And the cushions were probably too small for him to sleep with legs folded. Decision instantly made, you let him sleep with you on the bed from then on.

—

It was nice not having to go about people’s houses searching for food and sleep at the train station when it rained. Tobio looked out the bedroom window, sitting on the floor with his head under the curtains, his tail flicking slowly as he watched the wet street below and couldn’t help but feel grateful for the human sleeping on the bed. 

It had been one hundred and twenty two days since he had been here. 

The bed was springy; it rocked a little when he climbed back on no matter how careful he tried to be, making you stir but overall still pretty much in your deep slumber. He settled on his side, laying his head on the same pillow as you. If he were to pull you to his chest, no one would see you again. Tobio was so big now with a tremendous amount of food consumed daily. 

So much money was spent on him just to put skin, fat, and muscles on his bones, and you never once complained about the increasing expenses. He knew numbers now, and he saw them on the bills each time and noticed that you spent less on yourself. You had never gotten the blouse you said you wanted, and you ate half sometimes just to keep the leftover for the next day. He wished he could do more than just helping around with the household chores. 

“Thank you,” whispered Tobio.

He wanted so much to cuddle up to you, sink his little fangs into your skin, and touch you in the way that would get him cute noises as a reward. He liked being close to you, finding himself awake nose to nose with you more often than not and using the time before you woke to count your eyelashes. You didn’t like any of that, always pushing yourself away and hurrying up to get off the bed. 

Pouting, pouting, all he did when that happened was pout. But in his sleep, instinct took over nevertheless, he would find himself clinging to you anyway come morning, and he would pout, pout and pout…

—

This was why you never considered adopting a hybrid before you found Tobio that night. You didn’t want to feel like a scum excuse of a human being, getting so wet that you heard the squelching sound when Tobio pumped his fingers in and out of you, deep, nudging your front wall now and again, making you squirm. 

You know what many hybrids were adopted and bought for, and you didn’t want to be one of those using them for sexual pleasure, letting him help around the house was bad enough. He didn’t ask to be here, you offered. What he was doing now might just mean he got the wrong idea about what he was here for. 

“Tobio, no.” 

“I’m so hard. It hurts.” 

He propped himself up on one of his elbows, pouting while he watched his hand’s movement under your pajama shorts. “Please help.” 

“Tobio, we need to talk.”

There was no talk, Tobio flipped you to lie flat on his body, his hands tugging your shorts and underwear down before doing the same with his. When your bare core touched his, the cat hybrid moaned loudly and rubbed you frantically against his cock. 

It had never come this far, small touches here and there but never this. 

“I—don’t want—,” you gasped, “to use you.”

“Please use me. Please use me. Use me.” He pouted more, tears welling in his eyes. 

Damn those eyes to hell though you were certain Tobio himself belonged in heaven. It was these same orbs that had you ask if he wanted to come home with you, earning yourself the sweetest companion one could ever ask for. 

Coming home to see the apartment cleaned, plants watered, laundry done, nothing was left to be done but dinner because he was scared he would burn the kitchen down because there was fire involved. He was getting better at it now, you feared cooking for you might be next in his plan. Power imbalance hung in the air, but Tobio had no clue. 

“You’re not here for this.” You tried to say, turning away from his lips that grazed all over your face, trying to get to your mouth. “You are my friend.” 

“I’m yours.” 

“My—friend.” 

“Umm, yours.” he purred, so cat-like. “You own me.” 

Why did he only listen to what he wanted to hear? Not just yours, but your friend, that was what you were trying to convey. 

“You are not a thing to be owned.” 

For some reason, his eyes darkened. “Don’t be too good to me.” 

Next thing you knew, you were on all fours, ass up, face down, hands in his grip behind your back. His hot shaft spread your wetness to your clit before fooling around with your entrance. 

“Don’t—”

“Must be warm in there. Wetter, too.” the hybrid whined, claws sharpened, penetrating the skin of your hands. “Please let me get in, please please.” 

“Tobio, don’t be bad.” That was the first time you reprimanded him, and you felt him freeze. “You’re not a thing to be used, you hear me?” 

“But I’m a pet, your pet.”

“You’re not just an animal to me.” 

“But that’s what I am.” 

“You’re half human.” 

“You don’t understand.” His mouth was next to your ear when he said it. “I am more animal than human, all hybrids are.”

Following his statement was the tip of his cock threatening to push in, you had to cry out his name again to stop the deed. 

“Please. Just one dip,” he begged. “One dip and out.” 

He was so stubborn, you had never seen this side of him before, literally nonplussed as to how to handle the persistence, the negotiation, and his pitiful cries. He had never been like this, even when you told him his favorite milk was out of stock, all he did was nod and say he was happy with whatever you had. 

“Just once.” You choked out the words. “Only one dip and you’re out. You let me go, okay?” 

You made a deal. 

“Okay.” 

The head was not the problem, the thick body and base were, stretching you to the point of pain. You heard a low growl rumble in his chest as he went deep to the hilt and lingered there. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said, tremblingly. “Please don’t be mad.”

You couldn’t imagine being mad at Tobio, not even when he didn’t keep his word, pulling himself out and slamming back into you. Again and again he went, pulling at your wrists with each thrust for leverage. Your upper body was lifted from the bed from how hard he pulled, head lolling from side to side. 

“Please don’t put me back on the streets.” He bottomed out with a cry. “Keep me, keep me.” 

The wanton scream you let out was embarrassing, your pussy throbbed and clenched around his cock as he pounded on the right spot. And Tobio was a quick learner, he hammered down on it repeatedly, fucking you into the mattress until you came with a shudder, eyes rolled to the back of your head; you were glad he didn’t have to see that from where he was.

He shot out a lot of cum when he came, filling you up to the brim. One dip and out? Sure. The thing was, you weren't even mad at him. His clear blueberry eyes trained on you after he rolled you onto your back, tilting his head to one side before he bent down to give a kitten lick at your mouth. 

No, you weren’t mad at Tobio, you were mad at yourself for giving in. 

—

The leather ball he used to play with was for a sport called volleyball. Tobio saw it on TV one day and immediately pointed at it with excitement. So being a good owner as you were—allowing him to fuck and hold you close after each night, albeit not without some begging and whining first—you took him out to an open gym to play with other hybrids. 

Him having to wear a collar when going out bothered you, and when it strained his neck while he was out on the court looking up at the ball, you told him to take it off. 

“Why?” Tobio asked. Every hybrid in the gym had it on, he didn’t want to be different. 

“It’s too tight on your neck.” 

“It’s fine.” 

A round of laughter erupted from the nearby court when a rabbit hybrid fell on her face trying to get the ball. It was from the humans who sat and watched the play, one in particular seemed concerned—perhaps her owner—seeing as he stood up and told her to get back on her feet. 

“You just don’t get it.” you shook your head feebly and walked out the court back to your seat which was just a chair situated not far off the sideline. But as an afterthought, you turned around and said, “Just loosen it a bit, yeah?” 

“Okay.” 

You seemed to dislike the idea of him being an animal, but at the end of the day, he was. He loved watching birds from the window and making noises at them. He loved sleeping, and when he woke, after exerting himself with the chores until the energy ran out, it was nice to curl up on the couch for a nap. 

It was not him who didn’t get it, it was you. Tobio liked being an animal. 

So when your boss, who was one of the owners of the hybrid who played volleyball with him, approached and broached the idea of getting him on a cat food commercial you and he were working on, Tobio wanted in, even more interested when the older man said this would earn you extra money to take home after the shoot ended. 

“See? Tobio wants to.” The boss gestured his hands at him. 

“But—”

“Yes,” Tobio said, earnestly. 

“Let’s talk about the shooting date together with the team on Monday.” 

The deal was sealed. 

—

The shoot was stressful for you, seeing people coo at how cute Tobio looked in faux cat ears, some even dared coming close to scratch under his chin. Tobio liked the attention, but he didn’t like strangers touching him. He would look for you, asking for help with his impossible-to-deny eyes whenever that happened, and you would come to the rescue. 

“Aren’t cat hybrids supposed to keep to themselves?” you asked, walking ahead of him, just about five minutes more until you reached home. “How come you like people so much?” 

“Not all the time.” Tobio replied. “I just happened to like them today.”

“Doesn’t it bother you,” You stopped walking and turned to face him. “being treated like that?”

“Like what?” 

“They played with you with a laser pointer, Tobio. Trying to grab your tail, calling you names.” You held on to your shoulder bag as you spoke. “They didn’t respect you at all.” 

“I’m an animal.”

“This again?” 

“You have to accept that I am one and there is nothing wrong with it.” 

There was no anger in this voice, never with Tobio, only dull sadness that dimmed his usual bright eyes down a notch. 

“But you don’t agree, do you? That’s why you’re trying to change me.” 

“You missed the point.”

“And what was it?” 

When you didn’t respond instantly, he continued, “I like wearing a collar because it shows people I’m taken, taken by you, not a stray no one wants. I like that you own me.” 

“Oh Tobio—”

“Is it wrong that I love doing the housework, that I don’t care that people want to give me treats and play laser pointer with me? I know what I am and how they see me. I’m an ani—”

“I don’t care that you’re an animal, a hybrid or whatever!” you interrupted with a soft shout. “I’m saying that no matter what you are, you deserve respect,” you said. “I don’t know what you experienced that made you think you can’t pick between strawberry and blueberry jam. And they can play laser pointer with you for all I care, but they should be aware that you have a life and mind of your own and not just assume they can do it without even asking. Just because you’re fine with it doesn’t make it okay.” 

You paused to breathe. 

“And trust me those people—those people in the studio, they don’t—they don’t understand this, yet.” You closed your eyes. “After the shoot, one of them asked me if they could buy you.” 

Opening your eyes again, he was so close you had to tilt your head back to look at him. 

“I don’t want to hear anyone say that about you ever again.” 

His kiss didn’t take you by surprise. His tongue was welcome, and his moan was your guest. Tobio held your hand all the way home and didn’t let go even when the apartment door closed behind you and him, instead, he kissed you against it. Then from your mouth, he headed downwards.

“I thought I disgusted you.” he said, nipping at the soft flesh of the thigh he put on his shoulder. 

“That is crazy. Ouch! Tobio, your claws.”

It had been almost a year already since Tobio moved in, and with his typical cat behavior, your body was full of scratches, some faded, some didn’t. He had a second haircut just two months ago, the same style with his bangs cut short, resembling a coconut for a while until it grew out past the stage, and now it was just in the right length—perfect for a grab. 

He liked when you played with his hair, loved it when you pulled hard during sex. For someone who was soft spoken and had a hobby of watching birds and playing volleyball, Tobio was surprisingly perverted when it came to fucking. 

The man purred loudly when he got the taste of your soaking folds, lapping greedily at the core and dragging his wet tongue up your inner thighs, collecting every drop like it was essential for his being. 

When your hands remained by your sides, taking action too slow for his liking, Tobio searched blindly without pulling his face away from your nectar and grabbed one of them to put on his head. Automatically, you gripped a handful, hearing him groan with relief and satisfaction. 

“So good to me.” he mumbled, his thumb leisurely circling your clit. “I like you more than anything.” 

More than the milk you gave him that first night, or the banana, even the blueberry jam could not compare to you. And despite him not being brave enough to make a choice of his own haircut, he did make a choice in that moment he followed you home—he chose you. 

[thisreadswhatever]

The Chase: Part One

Pretty Sweet

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader

[wordcount]: 2.7k+

[summary]: Jax Teller is used to getting what he wants. At least that was the case before he met you.

[cw]: 18+ only minors do not interact - AU, follows some canon characters & themes but timeline is different. otherwise none yet, but stick with me, I have a smutty plan!

[authors note]: this has been really fun to write. thank you so much to this anon for requesting this idea! I plan on writing a good few parts of this.. as I am really loving writing this reader insert. if you have any ideas or suggestions on where you would like this to go, please let me know! I absolutely love getting your suggestions. I really hope you enjoy!

It had been a long sixteen hour drive. You sighed with relief as you sped past the large wooden slice, “WELCOME TO CHARMING”. You rolled your windows down, the wind blistering through your hair as you took in the warm California sun. 

You turned the music up, attempting to drown out the events replaying in your head that led you here in the first place. 

Charming wasn’t exactly on your bucket list of places to travel. Your parents had split a few years back, after your mom decided she could no longer handle the baggage that came with the Sons of Anarchy MC. Your Dad was an avid member of the Denver Charter, and she soon realised she couldn’t sit back and watch as he grew deeper into the Club. It was a quick and amicable divorce, made easier by the fact you were an only child and more than understanding of why the relationship had to end. You were old enough to see the pain your mom went through trying to make it work, and you knew that it was the best decision for them both. Your Dad on the other hand, never really got over it. 

When your mom remarried last year, he decided to leave Colorado and transferred to the SAMCRO Charter. Charming was his home now. He’d been begging you to visit him for months, and despite the fact you were genuinely pleased that he was happy, seeing him so far from home and content without his family wasn’t something you’d looked forward too. 

Charming was a small place, and from what your Dad had told you, it had never really left the seventies. Denver was the total opposite, a city full of life and people, and ever growing with new expanding chains of business. Even with the freezing winters, there was always something to do in Denver. But Charming? They barely had a population of fifteen thousand. 

You had evaded the trip for as long as you could, blaming college assignments and exams for the reason you couldn’t make the drive. Now that you’d graduated, the excuses had run thin, and it was time to visit your Dad in Charming. 

You pulled into the road of the address he had given you, entering a long unpaved driveway that ended on the outside of a dainty cabin. Your Dad’s bike was parked stagnant on the dirt. You dug your suitcase out from your trunk and walked up the wooden steps to the porch, bringing your hand to the door to knock. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, the door flung wide and your Dad lunged at you with open arms. 

“You’re finally here!”, he squealed in excitement as he grasped you into a giant bear hug.

“‘Finally’ is right. That was a serious drive, Dad.”

He took your suitcase and carried it through the entryway. “Sure is. I’m so glad you got here safely, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you settled. You hungry? I was just about to make some lunch.”

You followed him inside as you observed the interior of the quaint, dusty cabin. “I could definitely eat.” 

—

Your Dad showed you to your room and then became sidetracked from lunch, giving you a full tour of his new home and the complete low down of all things SAMCRO. He’d explained that the place was owned by the Club, but nobody ever frequented it unless they were in hiding. Your Dad was housed here for the long term, or at least until he could find something he liked better inside the Charming suburbs. 

Once he’d caught you up, he made his start on lunch. You watched as he strolled throughout the kitchen, sitting patiently at the small round dining table. 

“It’s a nice place, Dad. Not sure how I feel that you’re out here all alone though.”

“I’m barely here, kiddo. Spend most of my time down the Clubhouse.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued to make sandwiches, dropping a piece of turkey in the process. “I can’t wait for you to meet the guys, y/n. A lot more warm than the ones up in Denver. Some of them are your age too.” He placed the plate in front of you, and you grimaced at the site. Your Dad had never claimed to be a great chef. 

“Thanks.” You smiled at him politely, taking a bite and struggling to swallow down the piece of dry sandwich. “I’m sure they’re great, Dad.”

“So, how’s your mom?” 

You shrugged dismissively, unsure how to broach the uncomfortable topic of the newly weds. “She’s doing well. Mike is good to her.” 

He nodded. “That’s good. I’m really glad she’s happy.” 

It was hard to see your Dad try to be okay with the fact that your mom had moved on. The awkward silence was interrupted by his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up from the table. “Finish lunch and we can head on out. The guys are getting together at the Clubhouse tonight, you can meet them all there.”

You knew an evening with a bunch of Californian bikers was going to be inevitable during your trip. At least you could get it over with on the first night. 

“Sounds great, Dad.” 

—

You weren’t thrilled to be back in the confines of your car so soon after your long road trip, but your Dad knew better than to ask you to sit on the back of his motorcycle.

You rolled the windows down of your car as you followed his bike through the winding road from the cabin. As you re-entered Charming, you passed by locally run stores and cafes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a quiet, peaceful town. But you did know better. You knew what the Club’s presence actually meant for a small community like Charming. If SAMCRO was anything similar to the Denver Charter, the underworkings of this town would be anything but quiet and peaceful. 

You pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repairs, instantly drawn to the huge row of Harley motorcycles lined up on the inner bays.

Your Dad parked up and met you outside your car, telling you all about his new job in the garage as you walked together. He led you across the lot towards a small black door, entering into the SAMCRO clubhouse. It was impressive, a comfortable space with its own bar and lounge area. The place was full of MC memorabilia and pictures from the club’s long history. The furthest wall was centered by two large double doors that were surrounded by mugshots of the SAMCRO members. You had visited the Denver Clubhouse enough to know that room was where the decisions were made.

Your Dad introduced you one by one to several members that were there, a few of which he’d mentioned to you that afternoon. Bobby, Chibs, Trager, Juice and Opie all greeted you with open arms. They were extremely friendly and welcoming, just as your father had promised. The one your Dad called Trager seemed very pleased with your arrival, hugging you for a little too long. Your Dad managed to break the long embrace, pulling you away to start touring you around the building. 

“Don’t get too close to that one, kiddo. He’s a little out there.” 

You giggled as you nodded in agreement, “I’ll keep my distance.” 

—

You sat alongside the club’s Secretary, Bobby, on a leather bench that faced out with a view of the entire room. You observed as the Clubhouse filled with more members and women, a handful of which were old ladies. The rest of them, very clearly single. Of all the members you’d met so far, Bobby had been the easiest to talk to. He clued you in on some of the Club’s legitimate businesses, Cara Cara and Red Woody Productions. You figured that’s where most of the girls came from, retired and current porn stars. 

It was a little strange, and anyone else may have felt uneasy seeing their father in this kind of environment. But you were used to the life of girls and guns from growing up with a dad in a motorcycle club. The Denver Charter had its fair share of women in and out of their doors, but mainly just bartenders and the odd crow eater looking for a way in. These girls were more forward, scantily clothed, makeup on point, and obviously comfortable with their surroundings.  

Bobby nudged your shoulder, regaining your attention from the party happening around you. “You know your Dad talks about you constantly. He’s so happy that you’re here, kid. We all are.” 

You glanced over at your father, a huge smile forming as he collected a drink from the bar. 

“He does seem happy. Just weird seeing him away from home.” 

“You got a home here with us too now, y/n.” He placed his arm over you and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, “we’re your family as much as we are his.” 

“That’s really sweet, Bobby. Thanks.” 

He pulled his arm back as he chuckled to himself, his large stomach bellowing as he laughed. “I am pretty sweet.” 

Suddenly, the front door opened and a roar of drunken welcomes filled the clubhouse as two more members entered. The President of SAMCRO, Clay Morrow, walked in smiling ear to ear, hands held up as though he was a celebrity greeting his adoring fans. You’d heard a lot about Clay from your father, mainly that he was the initial sponsor for his transfer from Denver, and some remarks about what an ass he was. Behind him, a much younger member followed, embracing Opie as he entered. He was different from the other members, not totally clean cut, but you could at least tell he had showered. Not only was he bathed, he wasn’t harsh on the eyes either. You watched as he talked with Opie, his hands pushing his long blonde hair behind his ears as he spoke. 

“Who’s that?” You asked Bobby, your eyes never feigning from the man. 

“That’s Jax. Club’s VP.” 

As you watched him converse with Opie, he suddenly glanced your way, locking eyes with you. You quickly turned away from him and back towards Bobby. 

“He looks a little young to be Vice President”, you mumbled as you took a swig from your beer, still conscious that he was looking at you. 

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, well, he’s a Teller. His Dad was First 9 alongside Clay and Piney Winston, Ope’s pops. Jax has been SAMCRO since he came out of the womb.” 

You raised your eyebrows, glancing back over your shoulder. Jax’s attention had now been obtained by one of the Cara Cara girls. She was pulling him in by his cutte, batting her eyelashes at him as she leaned against the bar. 

Bobby watched as you observed Jax. He sipped his drink, amused by your interest. “He’s known for his way with the ladies.” 

You wanted to press Bobby further, but your Dad suddenly was stumbling over beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

“Come on over here, kid. I want you to meet my sponsor.” 

“The asshole?”, you whispered to him as you stood up from the chair.

He snickered back at you, patting you on the back. “He’s having a good day.” 

—

You were impressed by the brotherhood the Redwood Originals shared. It wasn’t unfamiliar to the Denver Charter, but the way the members of SAMCRO loved one another was palpable. You observed quietly throughout the night as they all ripped into each other with lighthearted banter and spilled beer all over the place. You were conflicted by the fact your Dad fit in so well here. It was painful to know he had chosen this life over one with you in Denver, but you still felt at peace knowing he had found a place in this family. 

He was now slumped over a leather armchair in the lounge, snoozing after one too many beers. You nudged his shoulder, trying to wake him. “I’m gonna head back to the cabin, Dad. I’ll meet you here in the morning?” 

“You sure, y/n?” He tried to stand up as he slurred, but his balance failed him, collapsing back into the seat. “I can lead you back-” 

You chuckled, placing a hand on his head as he closed his eyes, “No way are you getting on a bike in this state. I remember the way.” 

Tig overheard and slid himself beside you, placing an arm across your waist. “We’ll take care of him, sweetie. Don’t you worry. Get back safe, okay?”

You unwound from his grasp, collecting your bag from the coffee table as you searched through the contents for your keys. “Thanks Trager.”

A strange laugh left his throat as he watched you leave, before his face turned straight as a board. “Call me Tig.” 

You said your goodbyes to the members that were sober enough to communicate, and made your way to the parking lot. 

Jax Teller was sitting outside the clubhouse, journal and pencil in hand. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

He smiled boldly, in a way that perplexed you. Almost like he was happy to see you, even though you’d never met. He took the cigarette from his lips as he asked, “you’re Ralph’s kid, right?”

“I usually just go by y/n.”

He placed his pencil inside the journal and tucked it snug in his cutte, standing from the bench. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing, coming all this way to see him.”

You nodded, “had to make sure my Dad wasn’t living with some crazed psychopaths, you know?” 

He exhaled, his lips forming a perfect O as the smoke left his lips. “Pretty sure a few of those knuckleheads could pass for psychotic”, he teased. His mouth pulled into an infectious smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

Jax walked closer towards you, your bodies now inches apart. He held out an open pack of cigarettes, prompting you to take one. You shook your head, declining the offer.

 “And what about you? How’s your level of sanity?” 

Jax hesitated. “A work in progress.” 

You smiled politely as you walked past him, making your way to the car. “Anyway, I was just leaving. Was nice meeting you.” 

Jax’s brow creased in concern, “you heading to the cabin on your own?” 

You looked over your shoulder to see him pacing behind you, flicking his cigarette to the cement.

“My Dad’s not exactly in riding order.” 

“I can take you back.” 

You stopped outside your car and turned to him, scoffing at how forward he was. “I met you thirty seconds ago.”

“So?” He shrugged. 

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate.” 

“I’m not asking to get in bed with you, y/n. You can ride the Harley with me and I’ll leave the second you’re in the cabin.” 

You opened the car door, sliding into the seat. “Not gonna happen.” 

“I won’t lay a hand on ya, darlin’,” he raised his hand up, smiling, “scouts honor.” 

You pressed your lips together, suppressing yourself from giggling at his innocent gesture. “I don’t ride bikes.” You affirmed. 

Jax cocked his head at you, confused at the statement. “Denver girl’s scared of bikes?” 

Your eyes rolled at his assumption. “No offense, but I just met you. I’m not sure my safety is your concern.” You shut the car door, realising your window had been left ajar from the way there. You wanted to curse aloud that the good Californian weather enabled the opportunity to ride with the windows down.

Jax didn’t push further, nodding his head as he watched you settle into the driver's seat. “No offense taken.”

Jax leaned his head into the open window, resting his arms on the roof of the car. You turned the ignition, letting the engine roar to life. “Nice to meet you, Jax.” 

“You too, darlin’. Will I see you again?” 

You were looking directly at him, your faces parted only by the frame of the window between you. “I’m here for the week, darlin’.” 

His lips pulled from ear to ear, smiling playfully as you put the gear in reverse, forcing his hands off the car as you pulled out of the parking lot. You peaked in the rear-view mirror, finding Jax still watching you drive away into the Charming night.

back to masterlist

[luvsugu]

housemate suguru (sighs dreamily)

geto suguru x reader fluff!!!! housemate!AU </3, kinda canon divergence (as in, geto doesnt die and is happy with his best buddies), lots of domestic themes!!, will also probably expand on this idea later hehe

housemate!suguru who moves out of the bigger bedroom when you move in with him because he doesn't want you to have enough space for all your things (aka your cute trinkets n collectibles)

housemate!suguru who always asks if you want him to include your clothes in his load of laundry so that you don't have to worry about it for later. he even folds your clothes neatly into a basket so they don't get wrinky if you wanted to deal with putting them away later.

housemate!suguru who always wants to eat meals together because he enjoys your company (he'd never admit it and refuses to acknowledge the pout you point out when you once came home just before midnight and he ate by himself). eating meals together is just good for the soul!!!!!!!

housemate!suguru who does the dishes whenever you cook because he says it's only fair. he really really likes when you decide to help him out anyway or just stick around him to give him company (like sit on the counter and continuing the conversation from your shared meal)

housemate!suguru who also reassures you that you don't have to worry about any of the dishes when you want to bake (for whatever reason, whether its for the two of you or for others). THIS always makes your knees weak because!!! he's lingering around, just waiting and eagerly helping you and being a total sweetheart. he also loves taste testing!!!

housemate!suguru who cleans the apartment with you every sunday like you two are some married couple. the sun is shining!! music is playing in the background!! and you two are giggling with each other!!! he loveslovesloves having sunday resets with you because it's just so calming and it also is a way that you two bond. he's a very tidy person so he appreciates you joining him and putting in the effort to make sure you guys' home stays tidy and cozy.

housemate!suguru who (if you didn't know already) teaches you how to care for houseplants. it's a little hobby of his and he says that it makes the house look and feel more alive. that and he just enjoys the aesthetic (which goes hard for the tiktoks/vids that he's post??? this dude lives and breathes plant girl aesthetic)

housemate!suguru who pushes the cart when you two go grocery shopping so you can oogle as much as you want in the aisles. he always physically writes down stuff that he needs and, more often than not, you're the one who holds that list. it's sosososo cute seeing your thinking face when you look for stuff on the shelves. he also knows the thinking face you have for when you're trying to put things you both don't need in the cart--what doodoo excuse are you going to give him that he'll pretend to believe because he can't say no to you?

housemate!suguru who makes you carry the lightest grocery bags because you deserve no less. yes help him, but let him inflate his own ego by helping YOU (just pretend you don't see him telling his curses to help bring groceries inside). he also is the one to put things in the fridge away while you take care of all the pantry stuff. it just became routine at this point and suguru mentally giggles and kicks his feet at how domestic it is

housemate!suguru who rolls his eyes at gojo whenever gojo teases him about you, saying that "suguru's playing family with y/nnnn~" and "they always eat together, do groceries together, and even clean the apartment on sundays together!" and OF COURSE shoko is entertained because "omg? i thought you said you liked living alone?"

housemate!suguru who truly can't escape satoru and shoko, begrudgingly lets them into your guys' shared apartment after coming UNANNOUNCED!!!!! and you are of course thrilled to actually meet them and happily invite them for dinner. suguru is pouting and sulking the entire time because your "y/n and suguru" weekend plan to take a day trip to mt. fuji turned into a "y/n, suguru, satoru and shoko" weekend plan

[orbitariums]

Comfortfriend!patrick, what does Patrick do when he sees the boyfriend?

With Artashi, he was smug but quiet. Think he could pull that off with shitty bf?

Is it, All knowing smirks, firm handshakes, silently staring at you, long lingering hugs, soft kisses on the cheek, complimenting you outfit (he loves seeing your ass in a tennis skirt, he can’t wait to flip it over later)?

Or is he slight more overt? Hugs where his hands run down your back and end with him grabbing your ass in public, a cheeky kiss to the neck, stroking your shoulder whilst you’re talking, hand on your thigh, if bf makes a lewd comment about you, Patrick replies with ‘I know…’ with a look from you ‘I mean I can imagine bro’.

You try to ply bf with excuses He’s just like that, we’re known each other for so long.

But it ends up in a fight, you’re in tears abd of course running to Patrick. He hates that it’s technically his fault, but he’s happy to comfort you and work hard to make you really feel his apology.

but wow, what a moment in my career... thank u for this question, i truly never thought to expand this recoverybf!/comfortfriend!patrick au outside of the walls of his apartment and yet here we are... and what a wonderful place it is to be. still based on the song i linked below and always with black reader (anyone can read it and i don't get super specific with details anyway - i just want black girls in this fandom to have something for us <3) changed it just a bit so reader's not crying because she's PISSED! and of course she just HAS to confront patrick about it.

*+. 🎧 if you got a man we could bend the rules

recoverybf!patrick + black reader — to bend the rules

contains: cheating, jealousy, slut-shaming (once bad once hot), smut!

wc: 5.1k (was supposed to be a drabble but i got carried away hehe)

even before you started "seeing" patrick — if you could call running to his studio apartment in the wee hours of the night for comfort in the form of rounds of relentless sex "seeing" him — you kept your boyfriend pretty separate from your friends. you, art, tashi and patrick were such a firm group in and of itself that it felt unnecessary and almost inappropriate to bring someone else in, even if that someone else was your boyfriend of nearly two years.

when it started getting bad with chris, you were secretly glad that you didn’t ever bring him around. your gut wrenching anxiety and reluctance when you introduced him to your friends for the first time should've been a sign. it wasn't that they were judgmental — although they were notoriously hard to impress — you just didn't feel right deep down. it didn't ever feel right to bring him around, but sometimes it was inevitable. this was one of those times.

tashi's parents were hosting a party for her birthday and to celebrate her fantastic season. you told chris about it in passing and he demanded that you should bring a date to those kinds of things because they're so "public"— as if espn would be flooding tashi's parents' backyard. you obliged because you didn't want to fight with him, but you prayed he didn't notice the way you grew more and more agitated as the day drew closer, and you obsessed over the thought of him having to interact with patrick.

it had been almost three weeks of you two hooking up behind your boyfriend's back, and it didn't take long for you to sink into a routine of it. the first time it happened, you came back home a wreck — the next few times, you didn't even think twice about it. now, it was almost as if you had to confront it head on, knowing you'd be forced to include him in your interactions with your best friends.

you were back to being a nervous wreck, flooded with guilt and shame, like you were just now realizing that what you were doing was wrong. but was it wrong? you were being mistreated, and half the time chris acted like he hated you. friends are supposed to support each other, right? and that's all patrick was doing. he was supporting you. he was just helping you. talking you through it — with his cock pushing past your folds, his lips against your ear as he ... talked you through it.

and patrick was not known for his subtlety. in fact, it was the opposite that had created that existing tension between the two of you in the first place — his intense gaze on you whenever you wore something tight, the way his jaw clicked when you even mentioned your boyfriend in passing, his touches held for an inappropriately long amount of time. you almost expected him to say something. it wouldn't be unlike him to make a sly comment about how much he appreciated chris for sharing you with him.

this worried you so much that you texted him a day before.

patrick i swear to god if you say anything tomorrow i'm gonna fucking kill you. and i will hide your body someplace no one will ever find it.

he called you right when that text went through, a grating nonchalance in his voice.

"what are you talking about?"

"you know what i'm—" you closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower: chris was in the living room nearby, "you know what i'm talking about. if you fucking say a word about me and you—"

"yn, i'm not a sadist. i'll be a good boy."

you tried to ignore the visceral reaction to the way those words sounded in his throat, grainy over the phone and so fitting with his boyish drawl. patrick wanted to laugh— he could almost hear the scowl in your voice as you replied,

"you fucking better."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

the whole ride over there, you were silent, still brooding and hoping for the worst, smoothing your hands over your tennis skirt, which you wore in homage to tashi. your boyfriend didn't say a word, as he was usually oblivious to how you felt, but that didn't stop you from gazing out the window wistfully, winding it down so you could get more air.

by the time you actually arrived, you planted a smile on your face, hoping that you could just distract yourself with the party. you were glad to use tashi's parents as a buffer for a while, chatting with them about mindless things, your boyfriend mainly driving the conversation and trying to network.

after about five minutes, you finally noticed art, patrick and tashi in the distance out of the corner of your eye, waving their hands and trying to get your attention. so as not to appear distracted, you cracked a soft smile and then returned to the conversation.

that was until you heard an all too familiar voice shouting your name over the chatter and the music. when you looked again, who but patrick was practically out of his seat, waving his hand raucously, his blue-striped shirt lifting up along with his arm to reveal the slightest shimmer of his toned stomach. that expanse of skin just above his shorts that you knew all too well — the thought of where it led made your mouth dry.

your heart dropped when tashi's parents glanced behind themselves and your boyfriend cocked his head.

"oh, looks like somebody's waiting on you," tashi's mother quipped. "we'll let you two go."

you nearly wanted to plead with them not to, but it was too late. chris took your hand and practically dragged you alongside him, when all you wanted was to stay put.

"yn!" tashi got up first, her arms flying open to wrap you in a hug. "finally you're here."

you grinned, your eyes sparkling — out of the three, tashi was who you could relate to most, and you honestly looked up to her even though she was your close friend. the two of you balanced out the loud testosterone filled energy that art and patrick created.

"happy birthday, t," you handed her your gift.

art stood up to hug you, and your boyfriend followed that order, except all he got were awkward handshakes from art and tashi. not only did they not know chris very well since you never brought him around, but they also didn't like him that much based on what you'd told them in the past.

as you stood in front of patrick, you glared at him, silently warning him that he was already doing too much.

"my favorite girl," patrick grinned. three words that were innocent enough, but also enough to cause a stir. you were glad your back was facing art and tashi, because that meant you didn't have to see the look they shared, the corners of their mouth turned up in wait.

before you could even respond, patrick had wrapped his arms around you in a hug. a hug that started at below your shoulders and then traveled down slowly, slow enough that you could feel his hands embracing your curves, like he was trying to feel every last part of you. you almost gasped when you felt the way his hands hovered just so above your ass, in a sort of game of "i'm not touching you." if you moved, or if he slid his hands just an inch down, he'd be grabbing your ass. and in that stretch of time that felt like forever, you imagined how he'd do it — how he'd push his hands up underneath your skirt and squeeze the fat of your ass in front of everyone with no shame. you almost wanted him to, but you quickly remembered where you were and who was standing right beside you.

whenever there was a line, patrick was prone to cross it. but his hands did stop, only nudging the line instead.

when he finally pulled away, clearly the one in charge of the entire interaction, your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were vibrating with anger already. you wanted to slap the shit-eating grin off his face. compared to what you two did in private, this was nothing, but in private, your boyfriend wasn't just inches away from you. he didn't stop there — one hand was still on your waist as he did a onceover of you. you knew that look in his eyes all too well. a hint of playfulness mixed with a very obvious ogling.

"wow, what a nice tennis skirt, you look like a pro. i love this outfit on you, this is very new," he said, but you knew what he wanted to say.

you flashed a tight lipped grin, choosing to take the low road,

"yours isn't. but thank you."

you stepped back, your hand on chris' shoulder as you guided him towards patrick. chris glared at patrick for just a second before he stuck his hand out. you wanted to wilt away and die when you saw that fucking smirk on patrick's face expand. the smirk you'd seen a thousand times, all with different varieties and intensities. smirking down at you slid down to your knees in front of him, your body brushing against his; smirking when you go wide-eyed at some lewd comment he'd make about your transgressions ("does he know that you like getting facials or do you only do that with me?"); smirking at your pussy when you come again after crying that you couldn't anymore, smirking when you show up to his door after saying you wouldn't anymore.

patrick gripped chris' hand firmly and they shook hands like two grown men at a business conference before chris uttered,

"patrick."

"chris! good to see you." he used his hand to playfully nudge chris on the side. "you never come out, what's that all about!"

chris chuckled,

"work is crazy."

patrick nodded, looking pensively down at the ground for a second before looking at you,

"why don't you invite your boyfriend out with us more, yn?"

you rolled your eyes,

"same reason you don't mind your business, zweig."

the night continued like that — like a game of tug of war between you and patrick, him pulling you in and you tugging back just before he could make you topple over.

while the table was yapping about something, you tried to purposefully avoid eye contact or any interaction with patrick, but you could feel the way his gaze burned into the side of your face even when you weren't talking. like he was inquiring about something. probably wondering why your boyfriend's arm has been around you the entire night. silently asking you why you allow it when you know you don't even like being touched by him for too long. at some point, he catches your eye, and he furrows his brows together slightly, biting down on his lip. you get flustered and turn away, swigging beer from the bottle.

everytime chris kissed your cheek, or showed any affection toward you— a hand on your knee, a squeeze of your arm, patrick reacted in only a way you could detect. a tick of his jaw, an eye roll, cigarette smoke blown in your direction. you pretended the smoke making contact with your cheek didn't bother you, wasn't purposeful.

drinks were flowing, the party was in full effect.

chris had one too many beers and was starting to get embarrassing.

"and this one, you know, she won't ever let me hear the end of anything," he pointed a thumb in your direction, hoping to get raucous laughter from your friends, but instead being met with meek chuckles. "just talks and talks."

patrick snorted. loudly. so loud that everyone at the table takes interest in whatever it is that he clearly has to say. he just leaned back in his chair and tossed the stub of his cigarette into the ashtray on the table.

"she's a talker, alright."

your eyes went wide as you caught the way art covered his mouth to hide a smile, and tashi glanced over at you as if to confirm that what he just said was as damning as it sounded. a silence takes over the table for just a minute, and you try to gain your composure as you feel chris' eyes flitter from you to patrick. chris leaned in just a bit, chuckling, but not because he found it funny,

"what?"

patrick looked around for a second, feigning naivety,

"oh, i just said what you said. she gets pretty loud." he let that hang in the air, which was getting stiffer by the second. then, to recover, he nodded over at art and tashi, "but we love her for it, right?"

"yeah," tashi said hurriedly.

"of course," art tried not to snicker.

when everyone had finished their drinks, patrick took it upon himself to restock. he stood behind you, commanding the attention of the table,

"i'm seeing empty cups. anyone want anything?"

"just a water," tashi replied, and patrick pointed his finger at her,

"wrong, another beer."

he took note of everyone's drink of choice, but you didn't say anything. in what could be seen as camaraderie, he placed his hands on your shoulders and bent down slightly so he was at level with your ear. he's so close to you that you can feel his breath, accented lightly with the fermented scent of heineken, against your neck.

"you need anything?" need.

what a charged word coming from the man who had been tending to your every need for the last few weeks. he tended to your "need" for hours every time. so many times tonight, you'd almost given in, nearly fucked him right there. and although his cockiness, which you had specifically asked him not to exhibit, made you angry, you still had to practice restraint. after all, it was him. your attraction to him wasn't new, but it did triple once you finally started hooking up.

you turned your head just slightly, so you met his gaze. the two of you performed this sort of intimate dance. just two friends talking in hushed tones, as if there were more to a drink than just quenching your thirst. or maybe that was what it was. you held his gaze, letting your arousal snake around your anger and suffocate it. as if you had a choice — it was an almost primal reaction to him in your space, even if you were furious with him.

"i'm okay, thanks," you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, quietly confirming the tension you were both feeling.

you didn't miss the smug satisfaction on his face and his eyes as he registered that switch that had flicked in you. it was so slight but if anyone could notice it, it was him. he pulled his bottom lip inbetween his teeth and his lips quirked up in what was almost a grin.

"c'mon, i'll get you something. tell me what you need," his voice way too smooth and quiet to just be talking about a drink.

you held his gaze just a moment longer, and then grinned,

"surprise me."

patrick smiled, finally tearing away from you and squeezing your shoulders as he stood back straight again,

"attagirl."

as he walked away, he patted chris' shoulder, too.

you cursed yourself for being obvious, but you mostly cursed patrick for doing the exact opposite of what you'd told him to do. you shouldn't even have brought it up to him to begin with, you knew how much he got off on being ornery and oppositional. maybe if you hadn't told him not to make it obvious, he might have actually allowed the night to be normal, not charged with this weird sexual tension and energy that everyone could see, including your boyfriend.

when you get home, you didn't hear the end of it. chris was shouting at you for what felt like an hour, angry at you, angry at patrick, angry at your friends, angry at the world.

"where does he get off touching you like that, huh? 'my favorite girl', are you fucking serious?"

"babe, we're friends. seriously, i've known him for years, it's nothing. patrick's just... like that."

that doesn't cut it. he's shouting at you and berating you for what feels like an hour, directing his anger at a different person every five minutes — you, patrick, art and tashi, the world. by the time it was over, you were exhausted. when were you not, with him?

the sharp hiss of the word "slut" from your boyfriend's lips rang in your ears. to your surprise, when he said it, you laughed. you were amused at the sheer irony of it all. he's not wrong. somehow, knowing that you were about to do exactly what he was accusing you of gave you a rush of power, a sense of self-righteousness. there was no guilt, not now —you were justified in your wrongdoing, and he had just proven that to you. why shouldn't you be a slut?

you were sitting behind the wheel, your jaw tight as you pulled out your phone and sent a text to the one person who you should hate right now, but who you need the most.

i'm so fucking mad at you right now.

you leaned your head back against the headrest, perking up as he responds within the minute.

yeah. wear that skirt when you get here.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

when you showed up you didn't even bother with a greeting, gliding right past him when he opened the door, leaving him there with his hand still on the doorknob.

he was taken aback for a second, frozen in place as he registered you standing in front of him defiantly with your hands on your hips. clad in that perfectly pleated white tennis skirt and short short crop top, just the way he wanted you.

“seriously patrick, i’m upset with you,” you announced, folding your arms over your chest which only accentuated your tits more — if you weren’t so focused on being defiant you’d have noticed the way his eyes trailed down to ogle your breasts.

he blinked, his mouth slightly open as he let the door close. he considered for a moment, shrugging and opening up the discussion.

“mkay… you wanna talk about it?” he pressed his lips together and pushed them to the side like he was considering something — he doesn’t give a fuck.

you glared at him, narrowing your eyes,

“yeah, actually. i told you specifically not to say anything.”

he laughs, actually laughs, tilting his head back with a wide smile,

“i didn’t!”

“you fucking may as well have!” you hissed. “he practically yelled at me for an hour when we got back, what the fuck is wrong with you? what happened to ‘i’m not a sadist, yn’? you think you’re so fucking smart.”

“okay, okay, hey. listen. i’m sorry. okay, i’m sorry. i just… god, i hate him. i wanted to make him feel like shit, that’s all. for the way he treats you he should,” he replied, finally sounding at least slightly reasonable and sincere.

“and you decided the best way to do that was to hint that me and you fuck on a weekly basis? you couldn’t emasculate him any other way? challenge him to a match with you for god’s sake,” you bleated, your expression unchanged, but your heart warming just a bit.

“ok, it wasn’t the best way to do it. it was the first thing that came up and you know how i am anyway,” he continued, and although you were still angry you understood him, you could even reason with him.

how could you not? that was just how he was anyway, how could you possibly expect him to turn it down just because your boyfriend was around? no, you couldn’t possibly ask for that.

he stepped closer to you, making you lose resolution in your once solid glare. he watched as you started to crumple, yet open up at once.

“and plus you looked so good. you don't want me to act the way i act but... you just can’t do that to me. it’s not fair,” his voice was soft and convincing, encroaching in the right way.

it sounded like all the things your boyfriend could never be. it was full of true desire and an apologetic nature that you sought out so often from the man you were supposed to love. when you were in need of that, you could find it here. that’s why it was so hard to stop.

“hmm,” you hummed, tingles running down your spine as you glanced up at him and let your arms fall down to your sides. giving up, giving in. he let his hands rest on your hips, pulling you in just slightly so he truly towered over you.

“are you still mad at me?” he looked down at you, his voice so sweet and soft and unlike how he usually was, his deep brown eyes twinkling.

you frowned, your brow quirking, but you couldn’t even fully convince yourself. like a brat you uttered,

“yes.”

chills when he started to rub his hands up and down your sides, ever so often brushing against your bare skin exposed by the crop top. he had that stupid knowing smile on his face — stupid because not only was he being presumptuous as always but because it made you melt. it reminded you that he really did value you, that he wanted to take care of you in any way he knew how.

“well, you can’t be mad at the both of us. who’s gonna do my job?” patrick asked, like a professor readily awaiting an answer from his uninterested class.

“me,” you pouted, looking away from him. amused, patrick giggled and used a finger to lift your chin, quipping,

“oh really? you wanna show me how you do it?”

"you wish, patrick," you rolled your eyes, simply unable to ignore the way his words went straight to your core.

he could tell, past the feigned annoyance, that you were imagining it, thinking of letting your fingers trail up and down against your slit while patrick looked on with watchful eyes. maybe even lighting a cigarette and leaning back to watch you and drink in all of you. so calm and cavalier, taking drag after drag from his cigarette. you imagined how he might sit there so calm and cavalier, taking in drags from his cigarette with a nonchalant expression on his face that didn't indicate any of the arousal he felt poking through his jeans. just sitting and watching you fall apart with each needy pump of your fingers pushing past your folds — the sounds of your desperate whimpers and gushing pussy squelching as your fingers work faster filling the room. if you started to close your legs, he'd lean forward and push them apart, then sit back again. he didn't blame you for it, he was thinking about it too. you both knew he was adding that onto his mental checklist.

"hmm, i do," his fingers gripped your chin and he squeezed it gently, his deep brown eyes pouring over yours so gently, filled with so much love and appreciation. you could burst. "hey, if you're so mad at me, why'd you show up in your tennis skirt like i told you to?"

he asked this question while letting his hands smooth down over your body, reminiscent of the way he hugged you earlier in front of your boyfriend. he stopped just above your ass, his hands hovering there while he awaited your answer like it was a green light.

"i was already wearing it..." you trail off, unable to keep steady in your resolve, and he knows he’s got you.

“yeah, you’re full of shit,” patrick laughed. you felt his breath on your face, coming in heavy huffs of laughter as he leaned in.

the tip of his nose bumped against yours, his lips fanning over your own. you felt him smile against your lips as his hands drifted down and underneath the hem of your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass with his rough, worked hands, just like you imagined he would. you couldn't help the way a little moan escaped your lips, finding the slightest bit of relief at last, and all from his touch. he felt it too, a peaceful sigh escaping his parted lips. he kissed you then, biting down on your bottom lip and pulling it back slightly. hints of heineken meeting the coconut vanilla lip gloss you'd slathered on before you came here.

"i wanna make it up to you," patrick murmured against your lips, pulling you in closer by the small of your back and kissing you again, obsessed with the way the gloss made his lips glisten with the memory of you.

"yeah?" you gazed up at him, fluttering your lashes in that way you knew drove him crazy— he knew you were doing it on purpose, but somehow that intention made him all the more attracted. "how?"

that was how you ended up with your legs suspended in the air, hooked around patrick's beefy arms as he fucked into you, his cock hard and thick and rigid, twitching constantly at the sound of your moans.

"fuck, you're so fucking hot. i'm so- fuck - i'm sorry, baby," he stammered just slightly dropping that guise of cockiness for you. there's no need, you forgave him the second he bullied his gorging tip inside of you and rewarded you with that miraculous stretching feeling, a key fit snug inside a lock. you might've forgiven him even before that, when he spat on your pussy and placed a wet kiss on it before positioning his cock at your entrance.

your breath was caught in your throat, all you could feel was your body — your legs stretching back towards your head, your breasts jiggling in tandem with patrick's thrusts, sweat prickling the surface of your soft skin, your pussy getting fed with cock, stretching and molding his own and sending sensations up to your lower abdomen. you couldn't think.

" you forgive me? not mad at me anymore?" patrick asked, and usually his voice was dripping with immodesty, but this time it was ladled with desire — he wanted to hear you say the words. he was full of shit, and sometimes a dickhead, but he wasn't just some archetype. you had been friends first, and he wanted you to know that he gave a fuck.

"mm-mm," you shook your head, your eyes clenched shut. you brought your hand up to your lip to bite down on it, but patrick shook his head and swiped your hand away.

"no, no, no, none of that. i wanna hear those moans, i wanna hear how good i'm making that pussy feel," he pants, hinging on something similar to desperation.

you whimper and it trails off into a loud crash of a moan as his tip hits just right, you feel like you can feel the outline of him inside you. he moans too, readjusting so it feels like he's power fucking you, his hips gliding back and forth at a new speed, previously undiscovered, so fast and hard and yet smooth that your eyes are rolling back in your head before crashing shut again, and your mouth is open but no sound is coming out. then, at once, a raucous moan that didn't even sound like it could come out of you — not you, so soft and sweet and innocent and wet, mush under his touch.

patrick can't believe it, can hardly stomach looking down because he knows the sight of your wetness glistening on his cock, practically soaking him, will make him come in five seconds tops. he spares a glance anyway, his stomach flipping. he laughs incredulously, glancing down,

"you're so fucking wet, my god — cock just slides right in, i don't even need to — fuck — fucking try. imma make you mad all the time if this is how wet it gets you."

just a moment later he's yapping again, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't bring you closer and closer to the edge.

"tell me. tell me that you're – shit – that you're not mad at me anymore. open your eyes, want you to look at me when you say it. want those pretty eyes looking at me while you take my shit."

you shake your head furiously, forcing your eyes open even if they are low-lidded,

"n-not mad at you anymore. i forgive you, i forgive you, just fuck me, please!"

you'll be embarrassed at how easily you give in later on, but right now you wrap your arms around his back and pull him in closer to you.

patrick chuckles, astonished at just how fucking horny you could be,

"god, you're fucking easy. just need a little dick to get your head screwed on straight, fix that fucking attitude. need it from me. all you need's a little dick to be a good little slut again, yeah?"

and you barely realize it, but you're blubbering and nodding as he drives his dick deeper into you, forcing you to sink your teeth into the flesh of his prominent bicep. digging deep into you like forgiveness could be found in the warmth of your pussy.

it doesn't take long before you're bent over and he's letting the tennis skirt flutter ever so slightly over your ass, groaning as his thrusts cause the skirt to jostle around and expose more of your ass, which bounces back each time he cracks his thighs against you. he's easing in and out of your pussy and his hand has found a home in the arch of your back. nothing has ever looked so appealing to him before— twice he paused and just let you work him, fucking back onto him, while he zoned out and just admired the magic happening before his eyes. you work hard, and he's in disbelief at how much you make an honest job out of fucking back on his cock. sweat dripping down his forehead, his eyebrows raised slightly, mouth dropped just so. he's in a lull, completely in awe. when he comes, he aims it onto your ass, bending down immediately to lick it up and clean up his mess, his tongue flirting with your asshole in the process.

after the whole ordeal, he'll tell you to leave your skirt here, and sends you home in a pair of his sweats.

you don't ask why, you just watch the snapchat video he sends you not too long after of him jerking off onto it, his cum spilling out and dripping onto it, blending in with the soft white fabric. you wish you were disgusted, but it makes your mouth practically water, makes your pussy throb.

as he drills into you from behind and whispers nasty, beautiful things into your ear, you realize "slut" sounds so much better coming out of patrick's mouth than your boyfriend's.

[chubs-deuce]

Something that I hate that ppl do when it comes to hating on Chalastor is saying “Alastor is aroace and Charlie is in a relationship with Vaggie! You’re being disrespectful to both of them!” Even when you explain that’s it’s merely a harmless AU, they still get soooo upset.

Which first off, Alastor is actually ace, not aroace, Amir literally said that himself, and second, just cuz Charlie is with Vaggie doesn’t mean other people are going to ship them, cuz Charlie is bisexual! And thirdly, being ace or aro or both is a spectrum. It’s a wide range of things, not everyone is going to be repulsed. Yeah canon show Alastor maybe repulsed by sex and romance but that’s what AUs are for! They are there for others to expand and change things as they see fit.

Like I think Chaggie is a cute canon ship, but I find Charlie and Alastor and even RadioRose far more appealing and adorable, and especially when it comes to the fanart. Like the fanart! Every piece of Chalastor and RadioRose fanart I have seen is just *chef kiss* ✨perfection✨ seriously your art of Chalastor has got to be my favorite fanart I’ve seen of them, everything is just so beautiful 😭🥹 also I’m a huge sucker for Dad!Alastor

Before I dig into this response any further I'd like to thank you for the high praise of my art, but I'd also like to point out that I don't exactly appreciate the negative tone you're bringing into my inbox here and would like to kindly remind you that my asks are not a confession booth for fandom salt... ^^"

I understand that it can be really frustrating to deal with that kind of stuff, but I feel like a lot of this belongs more in dms than in an ask box that gets responded to publicly...

Fuck knows I have my own not-so-nice opinions about some things certain people in fandoms do, especially considering the nigh constant harrassment some ships are under by other sub-groups of the fanbase, but I vent that shit privately with friends where it won't kick any beehives into a tizzy along the way... It also imo just reflects on the rest of the ship community a bit better to not make big public stinks over some faceless douchebags on the internet with too much time to waste ^^".

(Yes this is an open invitation to just dm me with fandom salt like this if you need to unload some, I'll happily indulge you there! But I really would prefer keeping fandom salt out of my asks and in turn out of my public posts lmao)

Ultimately I'm a strong believer of ship and let ship and I am also of the opinion that if you need to put down another ship to enjoy your own you're not doing the shipping thing right.

Indulging in romantic and/or sexual fantasies about fictional characters is meant to be fun! We're all just sitting in our own little corner making our dolls kiss after all.

Unfortunately, I think a lot of people in this modern era of fandom spaces keep forgetting that. For many, shipping is a competition for bragging rights (i.e. canonicity), a form of activism or for yet again others it can be an excuse to mask bully urges and habits as exerting moral superiority (hence the constant, hypocrisy-filled barbs at people not "respecting" their canon sexualities)

Depending on which one you're dealing with, you may get genuine confusion at your shipping preferences since they approach shipping with a completely different mindset (i.e. shipping for canoncity and/or aesthetics over the narrative potential and/or writing quality) or people intentionally trying to bait you into a defensive response.

Sometimes you can argue someone out of their frustration about your lack of "respect" for canon by explaining that what you do doesn't affect canon in the slightest, nor do you even want or need it to - maybe even giving your reasons for shipping something! But that only works on people that are already receptive to your arguments, so you have to know who and what you're up against and if they're even worth wasting that sort of time and energy on.

I can assure you that 90% of the time the easiest option is to just block antis without giving them the grace of a response. It's usually the quickest way to get out of those types of situations lol (ignore them if they start claiming that they "won" and consider you weak or cowardly for blocking them - they just want to guilt you into unblocking so they have more free reign to keep harrassing you)

[hoverboards-and-dragons]

Eve demon design, Forbidden Fruits AU

Hazbin's style is a good excuse to really indulge in more out there ideas and I would recommend, I haven't this much fun designing a character in a while, it really got me out of comfort zone

she is shorter than Charlie, but taller than Lucifer, only barely

General idea is Eve has come to replace the tree of knowledge as the running faucet through which evil leaks into our world, the apple has taken root and grows out from her, it comes with some cool powers but it also kinda trying to eat her alive so she has to keep it from expanding to much, she stops paying attention for too long and the bark starts spreading and before she knows it she rooted to the ground and hurling up black vile

also some birth horror imagery because whats an interpretation of Eve without birth horror

Wanted to make her sinner form contrast with how Lilith had not died and received a demon form in the same way while also making both of them contrast next to Lucifer as human woman, which really just came down to giving her a nose but tell me how well it worked

She is a Morningstar however she gets so very weird if you try to treat her like royalty like, yes, theoretical she's a Queen of Hell but in spirit she's more a court jester/royal advisor

She's a dude, a bro, a dudebro even, a punk to Adam's frat and some alt to mix in with Lu and Li's musical tastes

A good partner for Adam, the devotion and tolerance of his bullshit as Lute but with the willingness to give just as much shit back without taking it all too seriously

Yes she does love Adam, she spent her entire life with him even after the apple, then they got send to different afterlives which would have been a hurtle for any relationship without Adam's extreme hatred of sinners and the exterminations while Eve still cares for all their descendants as her own children

her feelings are complicated, to say the least

[writingcold]

Hello!  Welcome to Chapter 3.1 of CD&FE.  

Pairing: Jake X Female Reader 

18+ Only! Heavy adult situations ahead.

Summary: This is an AU that starts with the release of GVF’s first EP, Black Smoke Rising, and follows along life paths over the course of twenty plus years.  Part 3.1: Another time jump, nearly two full years.  One word summary - time.

Content warnings: Language, smoking, drinking, sexual situations.  Oh so much sex in this one.  Oral, anal play, masturbation (m), talk of birth control.  

Word Count: approx. 7.5K 

Once again, a huge thank you to @edgingthedarkness and @takenbythemaddness - they really are the best.  *mwah*

CD&FE, Part 3.1, Her POV

     “Be safe,”  he said, his mouth hovering just over mine but not crossing the microspace that would land those lips to me in the way I so very wanted him to.  

     “Yeah,”  I answered, unable to hide the hitch in my chest.  “Don’t do anything stupid, please.”

      I heard them calling his name from the doors.  Time was up.  He dropped his chin and began to retreat.  A knot the size of the state seemed to appear in my chest as he took a look over his shoulder to yell back he’d be right there.  I watched as his chest expanded.  He was struggling the same as I was.  I worried bites into my bottom lip as he brought his hand to my face, the pad of his thumb crossing my lip to get me to stop. 

      “I will see this beautiful face again,”  he said, all of his heat radiating out to blast across my frame and envelop me in all of him.

      I watched him smile down a hard swallow before he turned away and disappeared into the world beyond…

~20 Months Later~

      I had been sitting in meetings all day and my legs ached with every minute.  I was no longer a team leader, having been promoted to management and editing designer.  I oversaw several teams.  I was good at my job.  I had built a reputation that was solid and had a talent that was sought out by established clients as well as new faces to our company.  Yes - our.  I had shares in this place now, and having actual stakes in the game was driving me towards goals I never thought I would ever entertain as possible.

     I would be lying if I said I didn’t date.  I would be a bold faced liar if I said I didn’t date often.  I was by no means sleeping with all of them, but it was like I had an appetite that Jake had left me with that could not be quelled.  At first, he sent random assed texts of greetings.  Almost like he didn’t know what else to say.  But what was worse was the silence that followed.  Perhaps I was trying to fill that void.  I met a lot of nice people.  I had sex with a wide variety of those people.  None of them, however, were him.  At the end of it all, my skin did not call out to any of them.  My words may have thanked them kindly, but my thoughts were always away.

      I was listening to pending fiscal needs as my eyes drifted closed.  I could still hear his sounds.  I could still feel the way he moved within me, sans condom.  I could still fucking smell him at times.  What a way to live.  To have Jake Kiszka haunting your ass at all times of the day and night.

      It was a rainy day in April.  The wind would whip against the tall windows with a crash, sending everyone in the little conference room a jolt of surprise.  I felt a notification vibrate in my phone and I thanked whatever god there was to excuse myself to handle whatever the situation could be on the other end.  Secretly, I was hoping it would be bad enough to keep me out of the rest of the meetings of the day.  I trailed into my office before I unlocked my phone, sliding behind my desk and bringing my screen to life before actually looking at the text.

      Jake.

      .

     I sat back in my chair with a heavy sigh.

     .

     Jake: If I were to fly into the city in a few days, would you be there?

     .

     Really?  My eyes roll to the back of my head.  This man’s timing was…  Goddamnit.

     .

     I returned to my meetings like a big girl and prayed that the rest of the day would go quickly.  Finally - we wrapped closer to six pm than I would’ve liked, but I was my kind, professional self, putting away all my shit and double checking my schedule for the next day before grabbing my light trench and bag and waved as I strolled out the door.  I met Patty and his professor friends for drinks and a light dinner.  It felt good to just fade into the background, letting Patty carry the conversation and just soak up his presence.  After my last run in with Jake, he had listened to me lament.  He had listened to me attempt to explain what was between me and that man.  He just teased me, but let me lean on him despite not truly understanding what the hell was wrong with his dearest friend.

      At home, I ran a bath.  Something I had not done since Jake had run one for us.  The little book of poems was still on the bath tray.

      “Claim me your safe harbor, and I will ever be faithful.”

      I sucked in a trembling breath as I dropped my robe and stepped into the heavily scented water.  I tugged the tray towards me to set my phone down.  I had wondered for weeks if that line had been a misstep on his part.  If he had not meant to say it, but in the moment, could not help it to pass through his mouth.  The corners of my lips turned down.  No.  Not a misstep.  We had shared so much - kept our words honest.  My heart constricted just as it had when he said those words.  I wanted to repeat them right back.  I wanted to whisper and shout them and sing them if I had to, for there was nothing more true than that statement.

       “Fuck,”  I sigh as I unlocked my phone to look at the message once more.

       It was almost eerie - the timing of the text.  The timing of his availability was…

      I open the text to respond, weighing my words carefully.

     .

      Y/n:  I’m leaving for vacation.

     .

      I sent it.  I set the phone back down and rested back.  There was no way he would get back –

     .

     Jake:  With a partner?

     .

      Y/n:  No. Alone.

     .

      I bit into my upper lip.  I wasn’t meaning to be evasive, but seriously.  I got nearly a month off a year, plus more time for holidays.  I treasured this time.  And yes - most of these vacations, I was fucking alone.

     .

     Jake:  Where are you going?     .

     He was about to discover something new about me and I wasn’t sure if he would like it.  Fuck.  I blew out my cheeks as I typed into the phone.

     .

     Y/n:  North.  Cottage near Duluth.  

     .

     The three little dots danced as he typed a reply.  Those dots stopped.  They started again.  Then stopped - again.

     .

     Jake: No Patrick?

     .

     Y/n: Alone means alone.  

     .

     Jake: Sounds

     .

      I grimaced at the text.  It was obviously not finished.  I waited.  The bathwater was getting cold.  I waited another five minutes before I set the phone back safely on the tray and got out with a shiver.  Just as I was wrapping my fuzzy robe around me, my phone was blaring out that ring and I let it go for nearly a full cycle before I answered.

      “Would it be rude if I said I would like to invite myself on your little getaway?”  he said after I uttered my hello.

      “Yes,”  I responded, grabbing a towel for my hair and drifting out of the bathroom.

      I grin at his laugh.  I made my way to the living room and took my spot on the couch, feet up on the coffee table.

      “Where is this cottage, if I may be so bold,”  he pressed, sounding like he was walking.

      “North of the city with a pretty view of Island Lake and just a few miles from the big water.”

      He hummed.  “Why are you going alone?”

      “I thought you wanted to join me?”

      “Tease.”

       It was my turn to laugh, and I did, feeling his smile cross through the phone.  “I discovered a few years ago that I like taking my vacations alone.  I don’t have to answer to anyone unless I want to.”

       There is silence on the other end, but I can hear him still moving at a brisk pace.  The idea of having more than a few hours with him was filtering through my brain and I could not find the words that would convey that interest.  

      “Okay, out with it.  What are you doing?”  I asked after I pulled the phone away to glare at the huffing on the other end.

       “I’m trying to make a flight.”

       “Home?”

       “You.”

        My lips parted as I inhaled sharply.  

       “I’m leaving London now.  I have a layover in Boston then into Minneapolis.”

       My gut sank.  On one hand, he was taking a chance that I would even be in town when he arrived, but on the other, he just kind of assumed I would be able to even see him - unattached.  Ouch.

       “How long do you have?”  I found myself asking, leaning forward.

       I hear him suck his breath through his teeth.  “Weeks.  We’re on break for the next month.”

      I squeezed my eyes shut.  Time.  The one thing we’ve never had.  My core whimpered at the thought of actual time.  “How does a cottage on a lake sound?  I’ve got it for ten days.”

       I heard a soft curse pass across the phone, but there was a smile attached to it.  Then there was another curse, this time it was a bit rougher.  “My flight gets in at after eleven Friday night.  When do you leave?”

       “Saturday morning,”  I said quietly, knowing right well it would be closer to midday before I’d get my packing done and head out the door.

       “I’ll be there.”

     I had taken Friday off to make sure I would pack, easing into my nearly fifteen days off.  I had Joni Mitchell playing in the background as I checked in with the family.  Patrick stopped by with lunch.  We were sitting at the kitchen table when my phone chimed with Jake’s notification.  He looked at my phone on the other side of the room and back to me as I just focused on my coffee between my fingers.

      “Work?”  he asked.

      “Why would you say that?”  I asked back, rocking from side to side on my stool.

      “Because you’re always working,”  Pat grumbled, before looking up at me.  He turned his body towards me, his eyes holding a wicked gleam and a smile that matched.  “Who the fuck are you taking with you?  I thought you were going alone again.”

      “I was going alone,”  I replied as I moved to get the phone.  “Now, I’ll have some company.”   

      “Fun company?”

      I raised my eyebrow as I looked down at the phone.  I couldn’t help the grin that hit, nor the flush that painted itself on my cheeks.

      “Only one man that does that to you,”  Patrick said with a pair of hand slaps to the counter.  

      “Yep,”  I sighed, rereading the words that he would be at my doorstep before midnight.  

      My eyes fixed onto the time - shit.  That meant less than twelve hours.  I had butterflies all over the place and my dear friend could feel each one of them from across the room.  His eyes fucking sparkled at me.  SPARKLED.  Bastard.  

      “You’ll be careful, right?”  he said as he was getting his stuff together.  “I mean - still let me know when you’re heading out.  It’d be a shame if he killed you out on the water or in the woods or something.”

       I rolled my eyes.  That was our deal - every vacation alone, anytime I headed out to do anything, I sent him a text on my way out and he’d expect one when I was safe.  It got him though knowing I was alone in the great wide world.  Got me through, too, knowing I had some kind of safety net.

      “I think you just like taking your breaks at this time knowing that I can’t leave during this point in the term,”  he grumbled.

      “Well, if you worked in the real world like a normal grown up…”  

      I watched as he left with a hug and a wave, with a last second whorish comment to get under my skin in his playful way.  I stood before my wall of albums and picked a Beatles album before heading back to the bedroom to dig out my luggage.  There were a few delays with calls from work.  I redirected or took care of issues accordingly before getting back to my task at hand.  I did call the cottage owners to inform them that there would be a second guest, instead of just me.  I knew there would be a tiny extra cost, but honestly…  Who the fuck cared if Jake was the second guest.

       I debated just how much I wanted to take.  It was more like what I wanted to take that was tripping me up.  Alone - it would have been easy.  But now…  Did I want to take anything pretty, lacy, frilly, slutty…  I opted for simple instead.  Sort of.  Of course I had to take something little and sheer and a touch pretty.  

      I made the round of phone calls to family before tucking into putting the finishing touches on the packing and putting everything by the door to just be ready to go.  I combed through the kitchen, eating up the last few leftovers to be rid of them before tucking in with a book and a movie.  Jake had texted that he would get an uber over to the house.  My eyes kept darting over to check the time, feeling like it was reversing instead of getting closer to the midnight mark.  I was just beginning to drift, warmed through by my favorite throw blanket and lulled by the outro music of the movie when there was a knock on the door.  I tried to focus on the time that was on the phone, but it felt like my eyes were crossing with exhaustion.  How the hell had I missed a few hours when the minutes were just dragging by a few moments before? 

       The soft knock came again as I rammed my shin into the coffee table.  I blurted out a sharp curse as I tried to maintain my feet.  I grimaced, knowing that the strike would cause a mark.  I fumbled to the door, sure I looked frightening and not the sexy kitten that he was perhaps expecting.  Yeah.  Not this night, precious.  

      I opened the door to find a very tired, handsome man with a sleepy smile and a mustache.  I reached for him and he pulled me close.  What was it about him that caused me to melt and swoon and feel like all the armor that I needed to keep in place to keep me safe disappeared without hesitation or care.  His mouth brushed against mine before landing in heat and passion.  Every molecule of me was lit on fire as he wove his fingers into the back of my t-shirt to be as close to me as possible.  It was as if no time had passed from our last encounter.  

      I tugged him over the threshold to close the door and he pressed me into the wall with a groan after he set his guitar case to the side.  He gave me just enough room to look into his face, really look and take in the weariness of his eyes but the light that he harbored there.  Just for me.  I couldn’t help but to touch his face, to keep my hands on him like he would disappear if I let him go.  He seemed to be feeling it as well as his hands ghosted over my arms, my waist, my cheeks, as he planted tiny, welcoming kisses to my lips.

      He finally said a raspy ‘hello’ as he started to slide his backpack from his shoulders.  I frown at the fact that all he is carrying is said backpack and guitar case.

      “Do you not have anything else to take along?”  I asked as he tucked the pack in next to my bags.

      “Nope.  I may have to stop and get  a few things.  Most of my stuff is home already,”  he said as I took him by the hand into the living room to turn off the tv.  

      “Hungry?”  I asked as he pulled back close to him.

      “No,”  he whispered against my cheek.  “Shower and a bed sounds perfect right now.”

      I hummed against his skin as leaned back into me.  “Why don’t you go shower and I’ll meet you in bed.”

      He grinned as he pointed down the hall as if he right well did not know where he was going.  Jake might’ve only been in my home once, but those hours were spent well in my room.  I watched as he seemed to drag himself to get his pack and head where he wanted to go.  I cleaned up my nest and grabbed a couple glasses of water.  By the time I locked up and had lights out, he was standing under the spray in my bathroom.  I ducked in to brush my teeth and wash my face.  All the while, I was breathing in the smell of his soap, his shampoo.  I stripped down to just the t-shirt and undies and turned down the bed.  

      He was toweling his hair when he appeared in nothing but his boxer briefs.  I was snuggled down and drowsy as I took him in.  Soft in all the right places.  Toned in all the favorite spots.  Lord, that man’s thighs flexed as he turned back to finish out his sopping wet hair.  I might have drooled a bit at the sight before me.  He reached for his water with a ‘thanks’ when he returned.  He slid in between the sheets and reached for my frame to draw close.

      “Would you be insulted if I said I just want to make out and fall asleep with your tongue in my mouth?”  he asked with a smile.

      “Sounds dangerous,”  I quipped as I pretended to think about it.  

      I didn’t have to think too hard though, he rolled me back and invaded my space in the most tender way.  God, I loved how this man kissed me.  I loved his taste and how he touched me when he kissed me.  Yeah.  Making out and sleep sounded like a good plan.

     Waking to Jake is an otherworldly experience.  Sure, I had woken to plenty of lovers in my bed across the years.  But I had only woken to Jake once.   To look at him, lips parted to emit soft snores and his features completely relaxed is a whole different kind of pretty.  I couldn’t help but to lean in and kiss his forehead before I got up to head to the bathroom.  Relieved and teeth brushed, I was brushing my hair when I saw Jake moving in the room behind me.  There was no way he could hide the huge bone in his underwear as he walked behind me.  I watched as he hooked his thumbs into the thin fabric and walked out of them without stopping.

     “Good morning,”  I managed as he grabbed hold of my hips and ground into my bottom.  “I see someone got some good rest.”  

     “I’ve missed seeing this ass,”  he whispered into my hair.  “Look at how beautiful you are, Y/n.  Look at how beautiful you make me feel when you’re like this.”

      I watched as he drew his one hand around to the front of my hip, dragging my shirt up over my breasts in one long pass.  Shirt was discarded immediately as he wrapped one arm around my middle to nuzzle down into my neck.

      “May I fuck you this fine morning?”  he asked, sucking and lapping at whatever skin he could reach.

      “If you don’t, I’m going to leave you here during my vacation,”  I growled as he started to crouch down, tugging my panties down with him.

      My hands came to rest on the counter as he bit into my ass cheeks, soothing the marks with gentle kisses, only to bite once more.  He parted my legs with one hand and swiped my folds with the other.

      “Fuck, you’re already that wet for me?”  he asked before sliding his tongue across me for a taste.

       “Jake,”  I gasped as he lapped a second and third time.  “Just in.  Get that fucker into me now.”

       I was quick to shove everything on the counter to the side as he pulled my hips back.  His hand threaded through my hair and pressed me down to open all the way for him.  There was no question I was about to be pounded.  I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and felt the corner of my mouth curl.  He was nothing if not consistent.  I turned my eyes to the mirror to watch that man become unhinged as he slid his length into my dripping pussy.  The jaw drop, the lips pulled tight across his teeth, the fucking eyes turning into smoldering pools of lust made my core suck his cock deep within me and hold on for pure joy.  

       My body knew - he was not going to last long this first time.  I needed to soak up every second that he could give me.  His fingers were digging into my flesh in a near painful grasp as he slammed his dick in as deep as I would allow.  He was already twitching and pulsing, his breath hitched with each strike.

       “Pet that clit, baby,”  he demanded, our gaze meeting as he ground into me.  

       I struggled to get space enough to reach down, but god, the moment I touched, he swiveled in such a way that made a sound escape my throat that sent instant color to my cheeks.  He did it again and again, that same move as I jacked my hard clit off.  It didn’t take much before I was afraid my legs were going to give way and I was coming undone around him.  He let out a barrage of grunts as his thrusts became erratic.

       “Give it to me,”  he said, his voice full of strain.  “Fucking mark me.”

       I looked into those eyes and I was forcibly shoved into a realm that was not my own.  My mouth dropped open as my breath carried out every ounce of my pleasure.  I could feel my cum dripping down my thighs as he let out a near animalistic hiss.  He came hard into me, jolting my body once more into a euphoric state that held me in a grip tighter than anything I had felt before.

       He landed sloppy kisses against my spine as we slowly came down from our highs.  I felt the moment he fell from my cunt and whimpered over the loss.  He breathed out a warm laugh as I struggled to regulate my breathing under him.  

       “Damn, I almost forgot how good we are at that,”  he remarked as he reached for the drawer that held the washcloths.  

       I found it endearing that he remembered where everything was in the bathroom.  We were slow to clean up, holding on to each other with gentle touches and warm kisses.  We skated out of the house with to-go cups of coffee and bags in the car.  I snapped a picture of us at the car to send to Patrick to let him know we were on our way.  His comment, of course, was all about big dicks and wet cunts.  What a slut.

      We stopped at one of those big box outdoor sports stores so that he could get a few flannels, an actual coat because it was going to be cold on the lake, and hiking boots.  He also asked to stop at the bookstore, since he laid eyes on my few books that I was taking for quiet time.  He walked out with three titles that made my eyes roll.  Pirates, history and snooze seemed to be the topics of the day.  We got on the I-35 and took off like a shot.  Traffic was already thinned by those looking to get away from the cities, so it was an easy drive to Duluth.  We stopped for essentials at the grocery, forming a loose menu for a few days.  To see him in such a domestic setting was different.  It wasn’t that I didn’t know him, but at the same time, I really did not know anything of him being out in the actual world.  It was a strange realization to strike when looking at produce.  

      There was no hesitancy, however, in actually being with this person I could only describe as a near-stranger.  We had fucked.  We had fucked hard and passionately.  We had shared honest words of feelings.  But had we actually been out on a date - a real one where we actually dress to impress the other and pretend to eat a dinner but can’t because of the butterflies in our stomachs?  Had we shared space with nothing happening between us?

      No.

      No, we had not.  

      And yet.  Here we were about to spend ten days with no one else around.

      Ah.

      There were the butterflies;

      As if on cue.

      With the shopping done, I brought up the directions once more to follow out to Island Lake.  Jake was quiet.  I wondered if he was feeling apprehension.  Or maybe excitement.  God, I hoped he was feeling the excitement that I felt beginning to prickle and simmer in my own bones.  Turning off the interstate to the two lane highway was enough to set my skin to jumping with anticipation, but to turn off the highway to an unmarked, barely there road with snow that was still clinging to the ditch-line made me smile.  In fact, many of the evergreens were still holding tiny lines of snow frosting and ice.  It was a fading winter wonderland and it was beautiful.

       The small cottage was on the island portion of Island Lake.  We had to navigate across a one lane bridge and through some seriously dense woods, but there it was - all wood sided with cream white trim and a rich green roof.  The deck had been cleared of snow, as had the lower deck that was closer to the water’s edge.  I couldn’t hide the smile as I parked.  It was like my whole face was buzzing with electricity.

       “This is…”  Jake’s voice was hushed as he shifted in the seat.  He was leaning forward, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, eyes taking everything in.  “This is lovely.  Perfect.”

       “It’s way better than where I was this time last year.  That place - I actually left two days in it was so bad.  Should we go inside to get the lay of the land first, or should we go ahead and get our bags and drag everything in?”  I asked, rubbing my hands together as the heat of the car was already fading.

       “Why don’t we get the lay of the land first.  Everything should be fine out here,”   he said with a smile.

       “I’m hoping that it’s as pretty inside as it is on the outside,”  I replied as I pushed open my door before bracing for the cold wind that was skating through the air to greet us.

      I pulled up the cottage key on my phone that had been sent to me as Jake shivered without his coat, but patiently waited.  I quietly apologized for not having it ready ahead of time, but pushed the door open and waved him in first to get out of the cold.  To say we both froze at the entrance would be accurate.  Inside was better than the outside, wrapped in clean lines of natural wood, the softness of quilts and fuzzy blankets, and it all seemed to be something out of a damn greeting card.  

      The kitchen was not big, but functional.  There was a tiny dining room that flowed into the small living room.  Floor to ceiling windows framed the lake view while the walls were wrapped in light washed wood that held pictures and artifacts of the region.  There was a fireplace and a small tv that rounded out the comfy living space.  The bedroom sent nothing but cozy vibes through me with its king sized bed, a heavy denim quilt over the top that was lined with dusty red flannel and more than enough pillows to sink into.  The small bathroom was fine and functional.  Guess the bathroom sex at home was to be it for the vacation.  Oh well.

      We wrestled our bags and groceries in, putting everything away before falling onto the couch together.  I felt like my eyes were falling closed before I even fully settled down into the lush, cozy cushions.  Jake threaded his fingers through mine.  I looked over at him and sure enough, his eyes were shut with his head resting back on the pillows.  I felt the smile bubble up from my gut as I reached over and booped his nose before I could stop myself.  

      “Oh my god, you didn’t just,”  he grumbled, grabbing hold of me and swinging me around so that we were horizontal on the cushions.  I might’ve squeaked more than a little bit as he tickled my ribs until he wrapped around me to hold me still.  “There.  Trapped.  What’cha gonna do now, little mouse?”

      He had me totally immobilized: arms around my torso and arms, legs around my hips and thighs.  And it felt good.  Too good.  I raised up the best that I could and looked down into his playful expression.  Jake was one of those men who just had it.  He could probably be way less handsome, but still make anyone believe that they were hot shit just due to his charisma, his grit, and most of all his confidence.  He was by no means arrogant, but he knew himself, knew what he offered to anyone at any given time.  With no way to really move anything, I grinned and captured his lips in between my own.  He did not instantly let go until I started to feel myself melt into him, deepening the kiss until we were both struggling to catch our breaths.  He hummed against my cheek as I nuzzled into his neck, finally able to bring my hands up to thread into his hair.

      “Hello,”  he purred before tugging my lip into his mouth once again.  

      “I’m glad you’re here,”  I said simply.

      “I’m glad you invited me,”  he replied, tucking my hair behind my ear.  

      I laughed as I had to worm my way down his body in order to get my feet under me.  I put an over the top kiss to his exposed tummy before I pushed myself away.  I was rewarded with a groan as he tried to swipe for me once more.  

     “So, confession time,”  I said as I fixed up a glass of water.

     “That sounds ominous,”  he returned as he walked towards the kitchen.

     I paused to take a drink, my eyes on him like he was in for it.  “I’m not one of those people who have to have something to do every day of vacation.  In fact, I need a few days of just nothing.”

      His brow furrowed for a long moment, eyes turned down as if he was thinking about what I said.  “No four am wake up calls for a ten mile hike before breakfast?  No driving like an idiot at high rates of speed to not be late for a scheduled guided tour?  No…”

      “No.  Well.  At least not every day.”  I watched as he processed the words.  “Is that okay?  I mean, I don’t even have anything scoped out yet.  I was just hoping to ease into things up here.”

      I watched as his body physically relaxed.  “Sounds perfect.  Everything on tour is measured and scheduled and regulated.  Even downtime is planned and timed on a fucking calendar.”

      I blew out a breath that I was holding.  “So, tomorrow it would be all right if we just stayed in?  Read a little, cook a little?”

      “Fuck a little,”  he sighed with a devilish grin.  “I like it.”

      I dug out my little set of Bluetooth speakers and ran some music on my phone while he started to dig around the kitchen.  To watch him cook was sexy.  His eyes moved over what was available and his hands just settled into what needed to be done.  He told me to sit and start to figure out what we wanted to do on full day two - perhaps something on the water?  Wasn’t there a cute little zoo?  I accepted a rich glass of wine from him as he bent down to kiss my mouth.  

      The scene was very domestic.  There was no denying it.  It was a feeling that I could get used to all too easily with him.  I found a few things that might be interesting, more than a few art museums, of course, the big mansion run by the university, tours of all sorts…  My eyes skirted back to the man that was working to feed me and I caught him with a grin looking back at me.  

      “Is this weird?”  he asked before taking a sip of his wine.

      I shrugged.  “I don’t know about weird.  It feels like…  I don’t know.  But it’s not weird.”

     “Somehow that leaves me more confused,”  he snorted a soft laugh.  

     Huge, predatory bird sized butterflies attacked my chest as I looked across the rim of my glass at him.  Fuck.  The moment was calling for us to be actual real humans towards each other.  We were good at that.  At least in those moments after the high of sex had worn down to a simmer, and honesty was the only path that would bring a smile to either of us.

      “In trying not to sound like a professional asshole here,”  I started, feeling like I was about to jump out of my skin, “I, um…  I think this is where we get to actually know each other, yeah?  I mean, we’ve talked childhood stuff.  School stuff, too.  Family shit and friends.  But all of it was just the starting stuff.”

      “All right.  Then tell me about your job.  Let’s start there.”

      “My job?”

      “Yeah.  Makes up a lot of your time.  I have no clue what you actually do…”

      I couldn’t help the big eye pop but settled in, moving to the end of the counter to be closer to him as I tried to explain what I did.  He asked a few questions here and there - especially when I said that I was a full partner in the company.  He had not realized that I had gotten a promotion.  I explained that I was not just leading teams on projects, but actively seeking and hosting new clients, as well as having final say on the directions of projects.  Those projects were no longer just venue based.  I was working with much larger clients.  Yes.  I was doing well.  I had worked my ass off for it though.

      I slipped in behind him as he was working on the cooktop, sauteeing veggies.  I figured why not clean up as he cooks - less to do after.  I felt him take a quarter step back, just to move nearer as he was talking about the next direction of a pending album.  Although most of the tracks were already written, they were still working on an overall concept before lyrics and then stitching together the whole show to the music.  He was being vague, but that was fine.  I just honestly enjoyed hearing him talk about his process.  He was trying to describe going from these huge sonic movements to something a little bit - simpler, less amplified.  

      “Accustic, then,”  I snarked as I continued doing dishes.  

      He leaned further back into me, our backs lining up to press against each other.  He merely turned his face a fraction and was able to brush his lips against my shoulder.  I dared to look into the depths of those eyes and felt an instant wave of swoon that overtook the air in my lungs.  He pressed his mouth to mine in a fleeting kiss.  It wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t ever enough, was it?  He leaned in and I savored the taste of wine on his tongue with a deep hum in my chest.  Before I could stop myself, I reached up and around him with dripping hands, getting us both wet.  My back arched as he deepened the kiss hungrily.  He turned to pull me flush against him, shoving his tongue deep into my mouth with a husky growl.  

       Both hands landed on his ass as he blindly pushed the hot pan off the heat and turned off the burner before walking me out of the kitchen.  “I’m not so hungry for food,”  he whispered before our kiss crashed back together.  

       He pawed at my sweater, fingers tugged at the hem while I made quick work at his t-shirt.  Skin.  Hot, supple skin beneath my fingers set a wave of lust between my thighs that sent shockwaves through my entire system.  Yeah. This was what…

       Jake pulled at my leggings and I shimmied to give him a bit of assistance.  Fuck this man could kiss me like no other - setting loose a raving lunatic whose sole purpose was to be fucked silly.  Clothes were gone for both of us and he lifted me to the edge of the table.  He paused briefly as if seeing if the table was where he needed me to be.  Our eyes met with a naked fervor.  He fell to his knees before me, hooking his arms under my thighs to pry them as wide as I would allow.

       “I crave…”  he whispered as he planted a kiss on the inside of my knee.  “No one is like you.  I fucking crave you…”

       I watched, mouth hanging open as he dug his tongue into my exposed folds like a man starved.  For a long moment, I wondered if I had heard him correctly, but then… fucking magic and all thoughts turned to pixie dust as he devoured my cunt.  It was not that I had forgotten how he did this to me.  How he seemed to turn me into some kind of fluid with the consistency of jelly that he could manipulate to his whim.  It was more like how I had to deliberately forget how he did this so I could enjoy much lesser mortals trying to replicate his man’s mouth and fingers.  

       Just as I began to quiver under his touch, he turned and sunk his teeth into the flesh of my thigh.  I might’ve blurted out a curse as he laughed to catch my attention once more.  I reached for his face but he retreated just enough to keep out of touch.  The corner of his glossy lips curled up as he swiped a finger down through my folds.

       “Is it still fuck any hole?”  he whispered before placing a soothing kiss to the inflamed skin that he marked only moments before.

      I hummed as I bent over him.  He tilted his face towards mine enough that I could skate my tongue across his mouth.  He let out a pussy scented breath as I landed a kiss to his brow.

       “May I fuck any hole for you?”  I asked before plunging my tongue deep within his mouth like it was a cock - pressing in and out with a pace that made him groan.

       His hands wrapped around my thighs and gave my whole body a bounce as he struggled against my kiss.  “I’d never say no to you.  Now if I can get back to my meal,”  he whispered as I nibbled at his puffy lip.

       With a firm hand, he pushed me all the way back to lay flat on the table.  I expected him to go right in once more, but instead sat back on his heels, eyes squarely on my pussy.  He traced the lines and folds and dips and velvet of my all.  I could feel my legs begin to tremble with anticipation once more as he rested his head against my knee.  He swirled a finger at my core before dipping it down to my back entrance.  I heard a soft hum escape him as he finally began to move, leaving a trail of tiny, wet kisses against my thigh that led right to my clit once more.  He was killing me with his talents and he knew it.  I came hard but he ignored my recoil, opting to lap across all my intimate parts as I cooled.  He brushed his cum glazed fingers across my belly and found purchase as I threaded my own fingers with his to hold tight.  

       In the stillness, I heard it.  I started to sit up, but he held me down.  “Jake,”  I groaned, tipping my chin up to the ceiling.  “Just fuck me already…”

       He was sliding his hand over himself as he jacked himself while on his knees.  “Don’t wanna lose the view.”

       He leaned forward again, tongue out to send me back over the edge.  To know he was getting us both off with those hands…  fuck.  I let his hand go and he immediately returned it to my core, sliding three fingers in to coax a groan that made my whole body flush.  I was desperate to see his face, but could only catch glimpses of the curve of his cheek or his hairline as he began to become unhinged against me.   He curled his fingers as I heard his pace quicking on himself.

      “Give me one more,”  he grunted thickly against me.

      The vibration was enough to begin my withdrawal into a pause.  He sucked my engorged clit in hard, the sound sent waves of lust into my system as if lighting the wick to explode.  He was whimpering as he came and I couldn’t withhold my shot, blowing into his face and mouth and hair as my back bowed against the table.  I gasped out in whorish fashion and he laughingly joined in as he slowed his work to bring me down gently.  He returned to resting his head against the inside of my knee, allowing me to sit up but still holding fast to his hand.

      “Why did you do that?”  I asked, letting my body fold and meet our foreheads together.

      “I didn’t want to stop to get a condom,”  he answered, his breath slowly returning to normal.

      I let out a huff before I kissed his brow.  “Okay, I appreciate that you are conscientious of this, but I’m on the depo shot.  If you feel comfortable enough, you don’t have to use one of those things with me.”

      His eyes were slow to meet mine.  “It’s current?”

      “Current?”  

      He swallowed with a nod.  “Are you up to date on the dosage?”

      “Like clockwork, Jake,”  I answered.  “Afraid of getting one of your groupies-”

      The heat that flared in his eyes made me stop.  “You’re not a fucking groupie, Y/n.”

      I let out a soft breath to recollect myself.  “Okay, afraid of getting one of your ‘friends’ knocked up?”

      “Just not the time for any of that,”  he said dryly as he stood up.

      I watched him walk into the kitchen to retrieve a towel and wash his hands before returning to me.  I grimaced as I came off the table to wash up.  He collected our tossed around clothes before yanking on his ink black briefs with a smirk.  

      “Now, I’m hungry,”  he declared as he buttoned up his pants, leaving his shirt folded over the chair beside him.  “You need more wine, but stay out of the kitchen.”

      “Why can’t I help?”  I asked as he was quick to pour our wine.  

      “Get that pussy by me and it’s so distracting that I may have to do that all over again,”  he warned as he set back to work.

      “Promise?”

      He laughed across the rim of his glass.  “Promise.” 

They make me smile.  I hope you liked the first part of Chapter 3.  Let me know what you think!  Thank you for the likes and reblogs.  It means a lot.  See you next Wednesday! 😘😘

I do have a tag list here, or you can just let me know in a reply to add you. 

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[fandombead]

Sanders Sides human AU where they’re all camp counselors at some backwoods Alphabet soup upstate summer camp—

Camp Sandside

Also locally known as Camp Mindscape

C!Thomas is the newest camp director trying to keep the camp funded and running every year. He advertises and keeps in touch with people who help everything work out each year.

Logan is head of schedule and morning role call. He makes sure camp has an educational side to it, so they have something to take away. He enjoys accompanying on the nature hikes and takes their slightly older campers stargazing. You can find him usually hanging out in the camp archives and he can answer any question about its history.

He coordinates camper activities with Patton, who is the poster child for Campy Dad-Counselor™️. Patton knows every campfire song ever how to make 477 different crafts from sticks and rocks you can find in the forest. He is good at wrangling the kids and making any activity fun so everyone gets included. He’s excited to be there every day. He’s been there the longest and has dappled in every other job as needed.

Remus runs all the sport activities and Roman throws together a little theater group production for the parents at the end of the summer. Both twins help each other out for those activities depending on whose day it is. They also keep up the Canteen and craft workshop. They tell the best campfire stories. (Fun fact: they went to this camp as kids and are working here now during college)

Virgil’s shadowing Patton with first aid as a trainee nurse and handles safety protocols/checks. He’s just stressed out trying to keep everyone alive till the end of the summer. He particularly sticks around at the sport fields, lake, and obstacle course. He barely sleeps and runs on caffeine and spite. He enjoys playing guitar for the kids at campfire time. He makes sure everyone wears sunscreen, is drinking enough water, and that no one wanders off from the group.

And not least of all, Janus, who is the mental health counselor and resolves incident cases between campers. He also is someone the other camp counselors can confide in because the job is draining. He makes sure everyone is taking care of themselves and not doing too much, short-staffed as they are. Camp has run much more smoothly since they added him to their team and everyone is happier for it after getting used to the changes.

They all really enjoy the work and each other. What started as an interesting, versatile summer job that let them hangout together turned into a fun tradition they were quite invested in. Every summer is a memorable one and they look forward to it every year.

I just think it’d be a fun story setting, a series of glimpses at camp life with chapters dedicated to silly or fun happenings at the camp. For some reason all that are coming to me is chapters that sound like history event logs and just imagine it’s because the twins hijacked Logan’s documentation of them and rewrote them with more flair and drama. The Hiking Disaster of 21’. Battle at…Vine Lake (okay maybe not the name but I WILL work Vine in somewhere—maybe that’s the name of the theatre). The Kayak Wars. Surviving the Storm. Bear-ly Active.

(Actually half the chapters will be puns and you’ll know Patton had a hand at assisting the twins’ shenanigans for those retellings~)

Depending on the number of campers, they might also each be head of a cabin and in charge of 3-5 campers specifically on top of everything else that they manage to make good connections with even the most unlikely campers by the end of the summer. (I mostly thought of this just because I wanted an excuse for Logan to be head of the ‘Crofters Cabin’ bwahahaha)

I want Campy adventures!!!

Side notes expanding on the AU bc I have tons of scattered ideas:

I also had the alternative (/prequel? With a few tweaks) idea where some or all of them are campers instead and they meet at the summer camp years before they decide to work there~ ^^

I think that’d be a great story too, where they become lifelong friends in the end and grow to be glad they got sent to this weird old camp for the summer and just have a great time after getting through a few challenges. And they go back every year to see each other again.

Patton calls the campers “saplings” and other nature/tree related nicknames

Their camp shirts have a white star border in black incorporated on the front with the Camp Acronym and everyone styles theirs differently (example: Remus cut the short sleeves off of his)

I imagine they have a rival camp too that every one of them is personally invested in beating yearly, as you do in Camp media. (Alt version where it’s “light” vs “dark” sides camps)

Logan got stuck up a tree once as a kid camper and they still haven’t let him live it down. There’s a photo of it in the archives he keeps trying to get rid of but someone keeps replacing it every year. They call him Pinecone and Lookout 🤣 (Forest Watch)

Janus was someone they never expected to see again. He came to camp in their last years of being campers and joined the group through Remus and Patton. After some getting used to him (Roman and Virgil kept butting heads with him), they were tentatively friends…Roman saved him when he fell in the lake and Janus came in clutch and saved their team at the camp games! they kinda took one step back when he joined as counselor, but they worked it out eventually for good that time~

The twins have a fun rivalry they try to drag their friends into every year…even as counselors now 😂 there’s always some sort of competition going on with them, especially when they start being heads of their own cabins and take pride in their little campers destroying the other teams (but especially each others’)

I think each cabin has a little flag the campers remake every year hanging out front, featuring the animal trait and color of each counselor in charge. Tentative Ideas:

Logan’s Cabin: Team Crofter (of Discovery Cabin). Campers have dark blue bandannas/necklaces

Patton’s Cabin: Team Friendship (of Amity/Compassion Cabin). Campers have light blue bandannas/bracelets

Roman’s Cabin: Team Braveheart (of Ambition Cabin). Campers have red bandannas/necklaces

Remus’s Cabin: Team Chaos (of Endeavor/Spontaneity Cabin). Campers have green bandannas/bracelets

Virgil’s Cabin: Team Storm (of Vigilance Cabin). Campers have purple bandannas/necklaces

Janus’s Cabin: Team Serpent (of Accord/Cunning Cabin). Campers have yellow bandannas/bracelets

They collabed on these name ideas themselves~ The twins’ cabins also relate to one another.

Roman’s theme is having goals and dreams and Remus’s theme is trying ways to reach them, not giving up when it doesn’t work the first time. Together they encourage campers to find something they wanna try that’s new and going for it~

You can probably pair Virgil and Logan’s cabins + Janus and Patton’s in a similar way of their themes relating or balancing each other.

Every year you return to camp, you get a charm to add to your bracelet/necklace (typically all moved to whatever cabin color you are for the current year’s summer). Represents the overall theme of that summer, received at the end.

[loth-creatures]

Oooooohhhhh. If everyone gets stuck on Peridea, would Thrawn try to study the Lothwolfwalkers, especially now that he has a bigger sample size? Would he try to get himself or others wolfed so that they could be on a little more equal ground? Oooooooohhhhhh!!!!!

PS: I really, really, really love your Lothwolfwalkers AU, it's super cool, it's really awesome, and your art is absolutely amazing!

AAAAA THANK YOU THAT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME <3<3<3

So Thrawn isn't gonna get into turning more people into wolfwalkers. Partly bc I am done expanding the cast (I say that now). But also bc I want the wolfwalking to not get fucking colonized and stolen by the Empire. Lothal has been through enough. I've literally been making up excuses for why Ezra hasn’t accidentally wolfed any stormtroopers before they find out its contagious lmao.

HOWEVER HE DEFINITELY DOES WANT TO STUDY AND EXPERIMENT ON THEM. In fact I have several chapters planned around it. Within the Rebels time span I'm only gonna alude to the fact that Thrawn and more importantly the Emporer are very interested in the wolfwalkers and not go in depth but later on Peridea we're gonna get into it.

The Night Sisters on Peridea are also very interested in the wolfwalkers for sinister magic purposes, and Thrawn's probably like. Hey if you can catch that giant wolf and contain it, I'll tell you all about them. He's done plenty of research into Lothal’s history, though most of the wolfwalking stuff remains hidden in wolf dens the Empire never found, the Jedi Temple has some information in it. Combined with the few times watching Ezra himself, he's got a decent understanding of it, enough to inform the Sisters. Thrawn is mostly interested in Ezra’s ability to fade in and out of other dimensions including hyperspace (he learned a thing or two from the Purrgil).

They do manage to capture Ezra once or twice over the years and its a fucked up time, but Ezra is simply too powerful to contain for long. Later they will probably attack Sabine and/or Shin at some point bc they're far easier targets (and yeah more samples lol), but probably won't get very far bc Ahsoka and Ezra are a major force to be reckoned with, no one is getting kidnapped under their watch.

[amphiptere-art]

I just want to apologize to the general following. Whether you are a mutual or follower. ADHD sporadic hyperfocus is a lovely goddamn thing.

So yes, I technically stopped watching Tsams for my own health. And although I said I wasn't leaving the fandom. Without the daily uploads to keep my brain on it. It unfortunately fades.

For your little knowledge. I have something called hyperfixation. Where I will focus on a little thing a lot. This combined with my lovely ADHD. Means that that hyperfocus shifts near constantly. Without something to keep me grounded to a specific topic. There is a very high likelihood that I will move on to the next one.

Which is unfortunately happening.

The silky star cluster is still on my brain. But a lot of my other AUs aren't. A combined fact of just people not having anything to ask about them, and me not being able to come up with scenarios. Which is unfortunately causing my brain to try and latch on with anything that it can define as current and fun. This is unfortunately hurting my focus on the sulky star cluster.

If perhaps I had more of my ask blogs getting stuff, or even just a general bigger audience on the silky star cluster. Perhaps I could focus on it better. But as of right now. Well. It's not there.

What is on the forefront of my mind is Dim. Hollow Knight, And perhaps iron lung and alien worlds. Only one of these is connected to the FNAF fandom. And none of them are connected to tsams.

I am desperately attempting to focus back on Tsams. But with no roleplay asks to answer, and no role plays of my own to ask. There is nothing but the sulky star cluster keeping me attached. Which is unfortunately not a lot.

It's 4 grumpy eclipses and a single bear grumping around. There isn't really a story or narrative. It's a collection of snippets. There's a reason I don't talk about it outside of roleplay or ask scenarios. Because it's literally just a collection of scenarios.

I don't want to lose this fandom. I still love the fandom. But I cannot deny that I am fighting my instincts to just try and hold on. My sporadic hyperfocus just isn't working with me. There's no new or fun scenarios to think of. There's no responses to complete, and the sulky star cluster is only being really entertained by one person. Plus the burnout is high with the sulky star cluster. Talking for five characters that ramble?? I can only get through like maybe one or five asks before I just want to sit down and stop thinking about it. Plus the fact that I'm trying to force myself to draw and slow down.

I'm trying my guys. I am trying so hard to focus on what all of you are entertained by. That Tsams community. But I'm struggling all right.

In a desperate attempt I'm going to try and latch on to Dim and DCA centered AUs and characters. It's not exactly Tsams, But it's probably the closest I'm going to get. Characters like Blue Moon and runaway Eclipse Of course interact with these characters on The daily. That's the whole point of the RBB adventures of the cube. It's a place where you can ask those characters while still interacting on a level with Tsams. But no one's put asks into those in months. And I feel like asking for asks is intrusive.

[sparkedblaze]

*chanting quietly* modern au! modern au! modern au! modern au! (maybe some katherine stuff?)

I need everyone to remain calm as I try to work through these like 50+ asks (idk if there's actually 50, it just feels like a lot)

*

Kath in the modern au!!

I haven't thought much past the basics, so here have some stream of consciousness ideas that will come to me as I type (probably)

*

So, I don't know if/where/when I posted the basic stuff I had written for her, Sarah, Bill, and Darcy. So, here that is:

Katherine

Advocate within the gay community. They regularly picket and protest and refuse to back down even under threat of being canceled or arrested or their channels and socials being deleted. They. Don’t. Back. Down. Gay News: Joint youtube channel with Sarah, Bill, and Darcy. They each write on different news in the LGBT community, and essentially have a news cast (except it isn’t lame and boring like normal news channels. They make it fun and interesting) They do skits and challenges to deliver the news.

*

It started as just LGBT, but then it branches into more and more, because there's so much bad happening in the world, and it all needs to be talked about.

Katherine is the main point of contact if anyone wants to do like a partnership or anything, any kind of business transaction with the channel has to go through her first (it almost always goes through all four of them anyway, Katherine just likes knowing where and when everything is happening).

They start off just doing silly skits about some of the ridiculous things going on in their city. It soon expands to all of New York, then to the United States, and eventually they go international.

She, Sarah, Bill, and Darcy split the cost of rent for a two bedroom house. Could she, Bill, and Darcy have used their fathers' legacies (tbd, but they're still higher class and well off) to afford something bigger? Something flashy and telling? Yes, they could have. But, Katherine is the kind of person to want to make it on her own. She wants to blaze her own path through the world.

Katherine writes most of their stories and scripts. She's the one up late into the night at her desk with a tea (Sarah made her stop drinking coffee that late) typing away at her computer.

If you're curious, Bill and Darcy do their website and merch design (when they become popular enough for merch) and Sarah does their costuming.

Katherine meets Jack and The Gang™ when they're younger. Her father was doing some charity work at the biggest orphanage in the city, The Refuge. Katherine started writing about the experiences she'd hear from the kids. That's what made her a journalist. She would hear all these horror stories from the kids in there, and never saw anything done about it.

She was a part of their school paper with Bill and Darcy, and they became close. Even more so when Sarah and her brother joined. Sarah insisted it was because David needed extracurriculars and refused to come alone, and this was the only one they could agree on. She neglects to mention that she'd seen the redhead around and needed an excuse to talk to her.

They raise money for different things. If there's nothing big happening, they'll raise for the underfunded foster system. They raise for Palestine. They raise to help LGBT adults to move to safer states, and LGBT youths to have resources and travel to access those resources.

They have a segment at the end of every episode for happy news only. Their viewers send in some good news they got that week. About anything. Something as small as "I brushed my teeth today" or as big as "I came out to my family and it went really well"

*

This is all I can think of for now I hope you enjoy ily mwah

[scribblestatic]

Man, I am really on the roll with this lil chubby hamster-like green boy

(the tw for fat shaming should really just kinda get stapled to this au in general, but don't worry, Izuku shows out regardless)

(also, kirishima incoming! this isn't a bad thing, he's just being one of the goodest boys)

Because it takes a 40 minute ride on the subway to get to U.A., Izuku gets up and prepares for school extra early in the morning. Although he's never quite learned how to tie a proper tie, when he looks at himself in U.A.'s uniform, he immediately feels more accomplished. Like he's a better person than he actually is.

Nicely dressed up, he heads to the front door as his mom keeps calling out things he possibly forgot. When she finally stops after his confirmations, she smiles at him in a way he hasn't seen in a while.

"You look so cool right now, Izuku!" she says, tears running down her smiling face.

"Thank you..." He smiles back, balling up a fist in a lighthearted cheer, pumping it in the air softly. "I'll go give it my all."

"Of course, dear!"

She waves goodbye to him, and he heads out. He's hoping he gets there extra early. He's seen how people get when they have questions about something new or exciting. He's almost sure the school will be swarmed by reporters in a few hours...

Scratch that. They're already swarmed.

Several cars are parked along the street, and a crowd of people with microphones and cameras try to interview students before they enter U.A.'s virtually impassable barrier. Some students walk past them, excusing themselves as they enter. Others, caught up by the idea of being on TV, end up stopping and answering questions.

Izuku, already anxious and put off by the noise, ducks his head and tries to make his way through without anyone shoving a microphone in his face. He's a rather plain person, so they likely won't ask him for any opinions...

And then, he gets a mic shoved in his face, startling him.

"You there, you're a hero course student, right?" The woman asks, her eyes bright. She clearly knows the stripe and button code on U.A. uniforms. "How do you feel knowing you could have a quirkless person in your class?"

"Uhm..." He looks toward the door, and decides to do something All Might would do. He gives the woman a wobbly smile. "S-Sorry, don't want to be late."

She seems to outright ignore this, pushing further. "Do you think a quirkless student deserves to be in the hero course?"

Izuku clenches his hands on his bag, trying to keep his smile up.

"I have to go..."

"Do you think a quirkless person can become a hero?"

He really shouldn't answer. Reporters could smell weakness, and they'd keep asking him more if he answers. And yet...

If there isn't a single other person walking in who agrees with him, he at least wants there to be one.

"Uhm..." Though it's wavering, he keeps it up. "...Yes."

When she opens her mouth, he turns and bows to her.

"I...I uhm...don't want to answer anymore questions. Thank you."

Then, he turns and scurries away, nervousness practically emanating off of him. She calls out after him, but he keeps going, not stopping until he's inside the school.

Because he fled, he doesn't hear the answer from a red-headed student with spikey hair.

"As far as I know, he took the same exam as everyone else, right? So, if he got the points, then I feel like that's answer enough." The boy, Eijirou, curls his hands into fists and grins with his sharp teeth. "Being quirkless but being able to power through a test people with quirks can't... That's super manly, isn't it?!"

"Ah...I suppose that could be the case. But what if this person was accepted through covert connections?"

"Eh? What're you talking about?"

"Well..."

But the genuinely confused look on the boy's face made the interviewer decide not to expand on his assertion.

"...Never mind. You have a good day at school."

"Hehe, thanks!"

He waves at the camera crew before trotting off, eager to get started in school. Similarly, a girl with pink hair also gets questioned, and her answers are similar.

"I mean, the practical was pretty tough! I don't really care if they're quirkless or not. They got through that fight, so I'm excited to have them!"

Of course, others, especially some in the general education classes, who didn't have enough points to pass but got enough otherwise to get in, had different opinions. A few didn't say them out loud, but others complained with gusto before entering school grounds.

"I'll find a way to the hero course despite this setback. Just watch me!"

"I'm sure they'll drop out sooner or later."

"The weak will show themselves as weak whether they want to or not."

Fewer and fewer students stopped to ask questions the later it got, school getting ready to start. Eventually, they rushed past the cameras, heading inside quickly. Then, before they could follow in, the press were locked out by the U.A. Barrier.

Whatever. They'd gathered enough intel for the time being. It was time to compile it into something good instead.

--- --- ---

When Izuku entered the classroom, a few kids were already there.

One was a very pretty girl with black hair, bangs split to the side. Another was a boy with many arms and a mask covering the lower half of his face. If he recalls, he thinks he saw someone like that during the exam, but he's not completely sure.

He nods at everyone politely before scurrying to the back of the room, taking a seat in the corner. There's a boy back there with a scar on his face and hair split white and red on each side. He doesn't really look up, but Izuku bows slightly in greeting before he settles in his seat.

As more people file in, some start greeting the others more earnestly, talking and getting to know each other. It seems some of them already went to school together, like a pink girl and red-headed by do as they cheer at being in the same class.

How nice... However, Izuku hopes he won't have a similar experience. His last talk with Kacchan really didn't go very well, though he barely said anything himself. There was also that buff, speedy guy he'd like to avoid as much as possible.

Then, as if to spit in his face, Kacchan slides the door open with a slam.

Izuku startles before quickly hiding behind a school book. He really, really hopes he'll just ignore him. Maybe act like he isn't there? If the book is large enough, then maybe Kacchan won't notice him?

He waits anxiously for the book to get ripped out of his hands...but it doesn't happen. Instead, he hears the slide of a seat and the sound of something smacking a desk. When he manages to peek from behind his book, he sees Kacchan sitting at a desk near the front, his leg kicked up on its surface.

Izuku sighs anxiously. Perhaps he really didn't see him. But he does feel eyes on him.

He glances to the side. The somewhat icy person with the split hair is staring at him. But he just looks away a moment later

Okay. Right. Kacchan's in his class. Fine. He could work with that. Just as long as it doesn't get any wor--

The buff speedy guy with glasses enters, sliding the door open robotically before announcing loudly, "Good morning, fellow classmates!"

Izuku sinks right back behind his book.

His chest burns so fervently, he wonders if he forgot to take his carbimazole before he left the house. But he's pretty sure he did. He has a phone alarm to remind him when to take it, so surely it's just his nerves.

But daggom it. He really wishes something would be a bit easier in his life for once. He knows it likely won't happen, and perhaps wishing for it only makes things worse. but if he gives up, he'll just be in despair.

"Hey, what are you doing with your foot on the desk?"

"Haah? What's it to you, four-eyes?"

"You shouldn't put your shoes on any desktop! What if this doesn't end up being your seat? Don't you think this is disrespectful to your classmates?"

"No. As a matter of fact, I sure don't. Which school are ya from anyway, you two-bit extra?!"

Izuku closes his eyes quietly and wishes the day would end already.

He stays hidden behind his book until a tired voice speaks up.

"If you're gonna be this much of a disturbance on your first day, go ahead and drop out of my class."

When silence follows, Izuku finally peeks out again. He sees a scraggly man stand up from the ground, entirely cocooned in a yellow sleeping bag. He continues talking, unzipping himself from the inside.

"Hmmh...took you 8 seconds to quiet down..."

But seeing him... Black hair. Black outfit. And that pale thing around his neck...a...he's seen it before.

Wait.

A capture weapon?

Isn't this...!!

Izuku trembles excitedly. This guy's a teacher, so he clearly has to be a pro hero. If that's the case, there's only one pro Izuku knows who wears all black to conceal himself in the darkness better! If he has those yellow goggles hidden under the capture weapon, then for sure!

It'll be Eraser Head!

Isn't this perfect? Eraser Head is one of his favorite heroes! He does a lot of underground work and helps keep the public safe without immense publicity! Moreover, his quirk isn't the physical type, so when he fights, it's all raw power! While Eraser Head's quirk is powerful, it doesn't work on everyone, so he makes up for it with physical prowess and tactical might.

In other words, Eraser Head is one of the closest pro heroes to being quirkless! If he learns under him, for sure, he'll be able to be a hero in no time!

Izuku decides then and there that, no matter what, he'll do his best to listen to and obey his homeroom teacher.

So, when he pulls out a plastic wrapped school gym uniform and tells everyone to get ready, despite the fact there's an entrance ceremony and guidance counselor meeting he was supposedly going to, he doesn't doubt that this is for the greater good.

The kids all start heading out, pulling their PE uniforms from their bags and excitedly heading to the locker rooms. Izuku follows once most of them have left, Eraser Head standing tiredly at the doorway. Seeing him up close like this...it puts Izuku in a state of awe, to the point he doesn't realize he's staring.

"...Oi."

Izuku startles, snapping out of his replay of what he remembers about the underground hero. Eraser Head is staring down at him with a slight glare.

"Get going."

"Uhm-y-y-yes!"

Izuku bows quickly and scurries to get through the door. Still, he pauses and turns back around.

"U-Uhm..."

"Hmm?"

There's a hint of frustration there, so he won't be long. Izuku's eyes shut tightly as he lets out what he wanted to say.

"I-I'm a really big fan, E-E-Eraser Head! I...I look forward to you teaching me!"

He finally rushes off, holding his PE uniform tightly in his hands. Aaa, he said it! He greeted a pro hero! His teacher! His teacher! Izuku kind of wants to squeak and bounce on his feet from how excited he is!

Meanwhile, Eraser Head, Aizawa Shouta, watches as the kid rushes off to the boy's locker room. His eyebrows are slightly raised up.

It's not often he gets recognized. His other students didn't seem to give any inclination they knew who he was, though they'd eventually find out. But that kid knew immediately.

Given, he knew who he was, too. Apparently, the principal purposefully put him in his class. Something about combat prowess.

...He had a few thoughts about him. But that wasn't for now. He'd see how the kid would do after his test.

--- --- ---

Izuku decided to change in the bathroom. He had often gotten weird and degrading looks from other students when he changed in front of them. Sometimes, they'd even poke and pinch at his skin, calling him all kinds of names as they did. So, ever since elementary school, he started changing in different rooms to stay away from the others.

After putting on a thin long-sleeved shirt, he put on his uniform, then went to follow the back of the group heading to the PE grounds. Another boy, taller than him with a large but fit build, notices him and waves at him anxiously. Izuku waves back, finding comradery in not drawing much attention to themselves.

They stay toward the back quietly as Eraser Head announces that they'll be doing physical tests to evaluate their abilities while using their quirks. Of course, Izuku freezes up at that.

Agh...there's no way any of his results will be that good. After all, he's quirkless. The others can surely make their results much stronger than his.

Izuku watches as Kacchan's given a ball to throw. Unlike in middle school, they can use their quirks here. So, with a loud "DIE!!" he sends his ball flying through the air, landing far off. While he would usually be able to throw it 67 meters, it now reaches a whopping 705.2 meters!

How amazing! Of course Kacchan's that strong.

As he turns and walks back to the crowd, he looks up, eyes lighting up in recognition as their gazes lock. Immediately, Izuku clams up, bowing his head and looking away restlessly. Still, through his bangs, he can see the snide grin on Kacchan's face.

That grin only grows when Eraser Head announces in annoyance at the jolly cheering that anyone who got last would be immediately expelled.

Ah...maybe he spoke too soon when he said he was looking forward to Eraser Head teaching him. If he came last, it would all be over. How terrible...

Izuku put his hands on his cheeks and shook, trying to motivate himself.

Then, he just has to push himself and do his best. If he fails, then that's his own fault. If he succeeds, he'll be overjoyed.

[symphonic-scream]

Any haru aus? 👀

You get my first ever au

Which was just canon but. Well. I'll expand

So, it starts two years before it all. Two lonely girls meet on the roof, and slowly grow closer. Makoto was gangly, awkward, desperate to do good, be seen as capable and smart. Haru was just starting to come into herself, still small, worried her family's reputation would alter how others see her. Both had recently lost a parent

They started as friends. They were in different classes, and saw each other at lunch and after school. By November of their first year, that changed. Hands touching, sitting so close, one afternoon on the roof, they kissed

It was kept a secret. They'd eat lunch on the stairs to the roof, holding hands under a textbook. Study sessions in the far corner of the library, heads close with the excuse of trying to be quiet. Neither really called it dating at the time, but they remember that first day, know it's their anniversary

Second year comes and goes. Haru's birthday was supposed to be a happy event for them, but that's when Okumura organizes the engagement. Haru cancels their plans last minute, and when a concerned Makoto finds her on the roof the next day, crying, telling her they don't have much time left together

It's, different. Their kisses feel melancholic, as their lives darken around them. Both have their only remaining family distort right before them, and the one thing they have to hold on is, going to be ripped away

Then, Akira Kurusu moves to Tokyo, and things change

During their third year, at the start, they rarely see each other. Makoto is too busy for their lunches on the stairs, and Haru has to spend her Sundays with Sugimura. They send messages to unlisted numbers, short apologies for not being free, "I Love You"s, and hollow promises to try to hang out

Makoto awakens her Persona. Her mind feels clearer, and, her heart too. She races to the roof the day after, and holds her girlfriend tight. Makoto frees up her lunches, and secretly promises to herself that she'll do everything she can with her new powers to free Haru, even if they don't end up together. She just wants her to be happy

She's got new friends. She, doesn't tell them about Haru. It's easier to pretend they don't know each other. Haru feels torn, though. Makoto's, changed, for the better even. She's more vibrant than ever, but, when they part, Haru feels her world darken that much more

They share a room in Hawaii. For the first time, they share a bed. When they reach their room, it's a different energy than any other time they've been together. Haru giggles as Makoto tugs at her Buchimaru PJs, the slow way they inch closer on the bed

Okay I'm going to jump ahead sorry

So. Okumura has died. Haru, all alone in a big empty apartment, answers her phone shakily. Makoto's checking in on her, and, impulsively tells her she can stay with her and Sae

And. Haru moves into her room for the remainder of the year. Sae is tense about it. She scolds Makoto in front of their guest, since she can't handle having to care for two teens, and

Makoto stands up for herself here. Says she'll cover it. Get a job if she has to, if she's that serious about it, but she already cooks and cleans and does laundry. Haru softly speaks up that she can offer Sae rent money too, and eventually she does give in

She's hardly home anyways

And. God, things are so tender there. Domestic as hell. Makoto teaches Haru to cook, they share chores, and go to sleep and wake up together every day. It's, something they didn't think they'd have, so it's like a dream

The slow way Haru bleeds into Makoto's room. There's plants by the window, the sheets are slightly nicer, two of everything

Sae sits them both down and apologizes after November 20. She apologizes to Haru, then politely asks if she and Makoto can talk further. Haru almost doesn't want to leave Makoto alone out there, having heard her girlfriend slowly open up about things. But she goes to *their* room, and waits

Makoto comes out during the talk. She doesn't mention the whole dating thing, she needs Haru to feel safe enough too, but. Yeah

Things get better.

Anyways. Makoto and Haru but. Theyre gay in Persona 5

[lazinesswrites]

Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I was tagged by @auburnlaughter a little while ago; thank you! ❤

I'm doing the latest 10 fics I've posted to Ao3, oldest first, and I'll include links because... every excuse to self-promote? Everything here is Star Wars, most of it Bad Batch (from before s3, save the last two), and most of that is more or less Crosshair-centric.

Sunrise Caf (TCW post-war AU, pre-CodyWan, 1k, G)

“Do you still prefer your caf black, now that you have access to more options?” Obi-Wan asks as Cody sits down at the small kitchen table in Obi-Wan’s new apartment.

Labor of love is ours to endure (TBB s1 finale AU-CD, 4.6k, T)

Wrecker watches as Hunter talks to Crosshair about chances; watches as Omega says her piece too.

To feel your heart as it's keeping time (TBB, Batch twins, 3.3k, G)

Since Crosshair’s recent and long-awaited return to their squad, Tech has found that treating him like one would a feral tooka has been relatively successful in getting the sniper to relax around him.

Don't You Doubt (TBB, Cross & Hunter, 2.5k, T, part of a series)

Pabu is very quiet at night.

And please be there; I can barely hang on (But oh I wait 'til I break) (TBB, h/c, 3.8k, T) (this one's in Russian too!)

Crosshair didn't know they'd be here.

Mirjahaal (TBB, pre-show, 2.1k, G)

Echo doesn’t know what Crosshair’s problem is.

Breakthrough on Bracca (TBB, AU-CD, 4.6k, T)

Crosshair wakes to a face on fire and a clear mind.

Change of Heart, Change of Plans (TBB, AU-CD, 5.6k, G)

A flash of white armor in his periphery, accompanied by the sound of familiar voices – or rather, one familiar voice from multiple people – has Hunter diverting from their route, leading his siblings into a dark and dank alley, waiting for the troopers to pass.

We're Still What's Left (TBB s3e4 cont., grief, 1.7k, T)

“But… how did you escape?” Hunter asks the kid, and Crosshair figures that’s his cue, even if he’s not sure he’s quite ready for whatever awaits him out there.

Homecoming Heroes (TBB, sequel to above, 2.8k, T)

Pabu is… nice.

Thoughts and tags below the cut:

So... Patterns? I was gonna say something about fairly long sentences, but then half of them turned out to be pretty short, actually 😅

I guess I try to set the scene: Who's there, what are they doing, what's the Problem (if the characters know, yet) etc. Try to make clear what canon scene we've jumped into, when relevant (I.e. in Labor of love, which picks up towards the end of Kamino Lost, when Hunter has just said something like 'you gave us a chance Crosshair; this is yours' and Omega has said 'they're still your brothers, Crosshair. You're my brother too.', which is what Wrecker's thoughts are referring to.)

I also tend to start right in the middle of Something, especially in the more action-filled ones. This is both because I then avoid losing people to "boring" exposition or world-building or descriptions right out of the gate, and also because beginnings are Hard, so the way I typically start writing a fic (or anything, really) is to start with whatever scene I've got in mind that sparked the idea for the rest of the fic, regardless of when it actually takes place, and then build the rest around it. Or by writing notes/something like an outline if I don't have a specific scene in mind but more just a sort of general feeling or plot or theme or something I want to write about, and then expand those into text-text. This approach means I often end up explaining the things that need explaining throughout the fic, so there's no need to put it all at the beginning. And also - it's fanfic. By far most of my readers will already be familiar with the characters and general setting; I just need to make clear where and how we might deviate from that.

That's all, I think. But hey! if you got this far and you noticed something I didn't, why don't you tell me? (please be nice, though, I'm not looking for critique; just curious)

NPTs: @whimsicalmeerkat @hxad-ovxr-hxart @spacemagicandlaserswords @battlekilt