#Abel is grumpy

[nancyheart11]

Dad in a dungeon pt1

They were following fast on the trail of a group of Yiga, almost where they could touch them, Abel was sure. If they could capture just one, then he felt sure they could finally get some straight answers about where to find Abel’s son, along with the others. They moved down on a slope lined with colored rocks and a dip in the middle of the path from the many feet that had trodden it in times past. The Yiga scum slipped in a small opening of great wooden doors that had seen much better days, but peeling paint and chipped carvings aside, the doors were magnificent in scale and in lovingly rendered carvings of something Abel didn’t pay attention to as the Fierce Deity nearly threw the doors off their hinges in his haste to enter the space.

They finally cornered the Yiga against a wall only to hear dreaded giggles of the sort that were part of Abel’s nightmares. He could have sworn he saw one of the blasted traitors wink at him through the mask before the air was filled with dark, sickly sweet smoke and mocking laughter. He felt air move on his back and Abel whirled around squinting through the thick smoke and try and get a hit on one of them.

The air finally cleared enough to see more than the sword in front of his body and Abel felt as though he had been doused in ice water as the great wooden doors slammed shut with finality. He had a feeling that there would be no getting out that way, even with the Fierce Deity’s absurd Strength. 

“Well that didn't work out.” Rusl said with a scowl on his face.

Fierce simply turned away from the door, sheathing his huge blade as he did so. He inhaled very loudly and held it for what would have been a concerningly long time for a mortal, then let it all out in one annoyed exhale through his nose making Abel’s heart jump even as he had kept an eye on the Deity.

“I sense a great darkness further in this building and it grows, even now… My little one would feel obligated to clear the place, to protect the land from whatever may emerge from the depths. I suggest we do the same in their places.” Abel could’ve sworn he saw the shadow of a smirk on the deity's face, but a blink later and it was as impassive as ever. “Besides, the items sealed in such places are often very helpful.”

Abel raised one exasperated eyebrow. They didn’t have time to clear some forgotten ruin of monsters! They already dealt with far too many just trying to get to the next town, the next clue to where Link (and the other Links) could be. He turned to Rusl for help and found him lighting a torch, already moving to follow the deity further into the foreboding dark. Abel felt a headache start behind his eyes as he went to follow, hating that Fierce was right and knowing that the kind of man he’d been before the calamity wouldn’t have thought twice about trying to help.

The group started down crisp sharp stairs which after a small time turned a perfect 90 degrees to the right. Then again and again and–

Abel was right back in front of the giant wooden doors. 

He groaned in frustration because he had heard tales of people getting lost in seemingly simple dungeons and dying. He didn't have time for that!

He finally took his hands from his face only to see Rusl standing uncomfortably close to the edge, stone held in hand. Before Abel could ask how it would help Rusl dropped the stone straight down.

Abel felt something hit his arm. He turned to the threat drawing his sword as he did so only to see–

The stone?

Rusl grinned at him and Fierce, then confidently walked off the side.

When no sounds of Rusl’s body hitting the stone far beneath them sounded Abel began frantically looking for his brave but far too reckless– 

A whistle broke his thoughts and pulled his attention to a wall on the side of the stairs beneath him, where Rusl stood casually, like he wasn’t defying the laws of physics and oh look Fierce was joining him.

Abel brought a hand to his nose and tried not to scream, no wonder dungeons were so deadly if this was the kind of thing required to even get to the next door. Abel let all the air inside him out in a huge, disapproving sigh before following his companions, since he wasn’t going to let common sense of all things get him killed.

—-

It quickly became apparent that nothing in this dungeon was as it seemed at first glance. Normal doors when approached turned out to simply be startlingly realistic paintings, the actual doors being cleverly hidden until you were at just the right angle or needing to do things like leap across a series of poles to reach the ledge containing them.

 Upon reaching the first such door, Abel leaned his head against the smooth wood to catch his breath and wait for his heartbeat to slow, after all Tilieth was the one with the paraglider and he did not want to end up as a hylian pancake on the floor. He looked back just in time to see Fierce take a couple steps back, run at the wall and scramble up it smoothly in his armor, grabbing the ledge in one hand and pulling himself up with ease. Abel swallowed the hot envy in his mouth and went to open the door–

Locked

Why was it locked? Fierce seemed unsurprised, as did Rusl from where he perched a pillar way, since there wasn’t room for all three of them in the doorway at once.

“The Key must be elsewhere” Fierce nodded as though this was expected

He simply lowered himself and dropped the remaining 15 feet with no problem. And Abel’s knees groaned at the thought of having to cross those stupid pillars even once more, much less twice more just to make it back to this door which was most certainly not the end of the dungeon from the few bits of conversation Rusl and Fierce had shared on the subject.

“Hey Fierce, could you catch me?”

“Of course, little Farmer. It would be more efficient than crossing the pillars in fact.”

So of course Rusl jumped down, Fierce jumped up and, . . . huh that actually looked way more comfortable than Abel had imagined.

Fierce turned in his direction and raised one perfectly sculpted brow in silent question. Abel was grateful he didn’t have to answer out loud as he closed his eyes and took one small step over the ledge. Despite the armor the deity wore, his arms were gentle and he cushioned Abel’s fall and within minutes he found himself set back on solid ground.

With that done Fierce turned and began walking a direction they hadn’t gone yet. They found some red bokoblins camped around a fire soon enough and Abel almost relished something simple to do. Once they were defeated the group moved on, coming to a strange smooth curved wall.

Rusl’s touch flickered and in the corner of his eye Abel spotted scratches. He approached and based on the regularity and uniformity he felt sure it was writing! 

Writing he couldn’t read.

“Can either of you read this? Since we all apparently have different writing maybe it’s one of ours?”

Abel couldn’t help the hopeful note that crept into the end of his voice. He may not be a soldier anymore, but he still craved the easily understood nature of it. Stand here, fight these monsters, try not to claw your eyes out over this paperwork. He was starting to be more impressed with the other son’s if they had had to deal with things like this on a regular basis.

The others shook their heads and Abel felt his heart sink a little, but then Fierce tilted his head, then walked up to the wall and raised his arms, the tops of which easily cleared the top of the wall. Rusl came over quickly and Fierce lifted him to the top of the wall, then turned to Abel, grabbing him in an embrace with hands that nearly wrapped around his entire torso and lifting him up to join Rusl on the top of the wall.

Abel looked around and from this angle was able to see that the wall was entirely flat, save for a few areas that bulged out. He looked to Rusl who grinned at them.

“Looks like we just avoided a whole puzzle with Fierce’s height. Guess they didn’t expect anyone eight feet tall to come here.”

Fierce jumped the wall and helped them down from the other side without a word. Abel was starting to feel as though he wasn’t pulling his own weight with this whole dungeon exploring thing. Rusl had figured out that the whole dungeon didn’t follow the rules of physics as he knew them, while Fierce had been making what were surely meant to be dangerous and difficult obstacles seem like child’s play. Before he could back down Abel mumbled out a thanks, and felt his heart sink a little bit at the way Fierce’s eyes widened minutely at the words.

Finally looking forward Abel wanted to throw his hands over his eyes at the sight, in front of them was a stairway stretching as far as the eyes could see in stark black and white, somehow seeming to go both up and down at the same time, almost looking at thought someone had taken a chessboard, broken it into the individual squares and then put back together in the most confusing manner possible.

They moved until they were almost to the staircase and objects dropped from the ceiling! One black, one white and one half and half. Abel ignored them and went to put a foot on the stairs? If that’s what they were, but felt as though he had been doused in ice when he foot went through the square. He pulled it out quickly as though it had been burned and fell from the sudden change in momentum.

Rusl looked at him, looked at the stones? Boulders? Things that were round and large enough Abel would have to use 2 hands to hold them properly. Then his eyes lit up, he grabbed the white one, and stepped confidently onto the white square next to Abel. When he didn’t fall through Abel realized that colors weren’t just there to mock his eyes, but to make even moving on this strange staircase a puzzle of it’s own. He picked up the black stone and felt it’s weight, heavy, but not so much that he would tire quickly. Fierce of course picked up the swirled stone in one hand while holding his sword in the other and they all began to move on their designated squares. Rusl’s took him up, Abel’s took him down, and Fierce’s went sideways . . . for some reason.

Abel felt nervous separating from the others for any reason inside something as dangerous as a dungeon. Abel got to the bottom of the long walk and saw white on his left, so he held his head high and walked straight through what looked solid to find himself in a room with water running down open archways on all sides, with bright starlike lights wavering in the water with beautiful cerulean fishlike creatures swirling and occasionally blocking out the light. 

On the ledge of the archway he was standing on without falling in the four corners were four statues, one a bird with open wings, one a Lizard sunning itself on a rock, one a horse like creature with lumps on its back, and the last statue was so intimately familiar Abel’s heart hurt looking at it, for it looked Miphas divine beast, which he believed the girl had once said was based off something called an elephant.

He walked around the room trying to take in every detail and figure out what the trick was, trying not to think about how he was able to feel the cool trickling water under his boots and what appeared to be open space should he fall through.

His neck hurt from looking down so much, and Abel stretched it back as far as he could comfortably go, relishing in the relief it brought him before opening his eyes and immediately feeling stupid.

There was a bright shiny chest on the ‘ceiling’ in plain sight, and it probably held something that he very much needed to get out of here. Abel walked over to one corner made of good solid stone and put his foot on the wall wanting to see if he could walk up the side. He lifted his other foot–

And his back hit the ground, a long low groan being drawn out of him at the pain. He was never a thinker, it had never been his strong suit, but he was going to have to figure it out if he wanted to get his son and wife back, or ever leave the dungeon for that matter. Rubbing his likely bruised backside he got up and shook out his arms, now that they weren’t holding the weight of the stone–

Wait, where had it gone?

He looked and saw it had rolled just out of reach on the water he’d been standing on moments before. Moving a boot off the stone and into the water it went through, and Abel breathed out an annoyed sigh.

 Great, now he was confined to the stone ledge on the edges of the room since he didn’t want to find out just how endless the space below was and he didn’t have a way to reach the stone yet. He got up and seeing as his hand was able to pass through the water of the arch he was next to very easily, Abel decided to lean on the stone and stick his head out, to see just how distorted the space beyond had been by the water.

They outside looked like piles and piles of velvet layered on something, soft and luxurious almost calling to be touched, though he knew that it was too far away if it was even something that could be touched. Studded along the background where dots of pure white light, shaped like tears individually with what Abel had first thought to be fish now appearing to be whale’s in a deep blue at their center, lightning as they went out and delicate porcelain white patterns scattered along their surface as they swam peacefully in the area. The one he was watching moved  enough to unobscure the area and Abel sucked in a breath.

He knew that symbol in the not sky, everyone did, it was the one that had been stitched into the champion blue cloth for Revali. Abel quickly pulled his head back through the water headless of how much splashed everywhere. And he looked–

There

In the farther left corner from where he currently stood was the bird statue. Abel looked out the arch to his right and squinted, seeing the lizard of Daruk studded in the sky. He moved to the nearest statue, which was the lizard curled on the rock and started pushing with his whole body, gritting his teeth against the awful grinding noise made by the statue's movement. After continuing for some time and turning the corner he felt the statue click into place, and for a moment he wanted to jump in the air! He’d figured out some strange part of this all on his own, but then he remembered the other three statues and winced.

He cracked his knuckles and got to work. Eventually when the last statue (Mipha’s) was pushed into place after the light click there was a loud thonck as the Chest fell to the ‘floor’. Abel sighed wondering just how he was going to get out there before realizing that now the archways appear to have been filled in with translucent glass, no longer having water run in the space. He almost lamented the beauty lost before testing the sturdiness and went to open the Chest. Inside was a silver key along with a purple rupee and he was glad to see that because now that he was visiting towns more often money was something he had more need of.

Abel stuffed the key in his pocket, grabbed the stone, and found the area of the wall not as solid as it appeared to go back and hopefully meet with his companions. When he got back to the place the stones had first dropped he blinked at the pedestals that were definitely not there before they appeared as though they had simply grown out of the stone Abel stood on, with no joints or lines to separate them at all. As he watched a third pedestal bloomed in front of him to make three, and Abel got a feeling that the stones they had just used were meant to be returned here.

Rusl called out to him and Abel turned to greet him, only to begin laughing when he saw that Rusl’s clothes and hair were covered in splashes of various colors, all bright, none matching, and with his headband hanging askew on his head, nearly covering one eye. Coming from the opposite direction of where he had disappeared earlier was Fierce whose boots were once more bloodstained, though it was such a usual sight it took Abel a minute to realize most was fresh. 

They showed the things they had gathered in their individual rooms. Rusl had gotten quite a few rupees, Abel had his key and Fierce had both a key and compass for the dungeon. They put their stones into the pillars and watched as they receded smoothly into the floor. Behind them the strange stairway was disappearing, step by step, until a rather small door was left revealed. 

Abel frowned at it. So far everything in the dungeon had been spacious, to the point Fierce didn't have to duck his head to enter doorways, but this door was so short that even Abel, shortest of the group, would need to crouch to enter.. He grimaced at how much his back would hurt from just this room and moved forward. He went to put his key in the lock and Rusl put his hand on the door. Abel looked over and raised an eyebrow in question, far too tired for words already.

“We’ve been in here a while now, I think before we head in there some food might be a good idea.”

Abel wanted to get this over with and leave, but he saw the sense in Rusl’s suggestion and was also the only one of the group who could cook anything decent. Fierce made sense but how Rusl managed to char a sandwich? Abel didn’t want to know.

They sat on the smooth cold floor and Abel took some of the leftover rice from the night before and began shaping it adding salt, pepper and some hyrule herb as he went to make rice balls. He made sure to make ones too large for one hand so that Fierce would have an easier time holding them. He grumbled about others who were no good at cooking for themselves while Rusl sliced a few apples but felt his chest warm when both Rusl and Fierce hummed appreciatively at the rice balls along with the apple slices.

When that was finished Abel took several long drinks from his skin, swishing the water around inside to dislodge any random food bits and trying to decide how much to ration should they be stuck in this dungeon for days.

Then he got up, popped his knuckles and marched forward. Immediately upon entering the small room he saw a river rushing along inside a built stone bed, with pillars holding up the impossibly zig zagging structure. Abel mourned his briefly dry self before stepping into the cool water, since the ledges on the edge of the bed were quite thin and he didn’t want to test his balance. Then he realized the bed sloped downward, like an artificial hill in all the zigging and zagging, yet the water ran up? He turned to investigate and followed the flow of the water, feeling like that was the closest thing to a clue he’d encountered thus far.

Eventually he got to the top where the water arched beautifully off the stone as it was released to a water wheel? A water wheel that somehow held the water as it went upside down and deposited the water back at the bottom to move up again.

Looking closer at the water wheel Abel could see that it was guarded by a group of fish with extremely sharp teeth and that something was glinting at him from in between slats in the wheel.

It was times like these that Abel really missed the infinite bomb capacity of the sheikah slate. Instead he looked inside his bag, rooting through to see what useful items he–

Aha! He pulled out a spear triumphantly, then thought better of it and pulled out some rope as well.

After securing the spear with rope he threw it towards the bottom, it did not reach. So Abel trudged down a few levels ignoring how his head hurt when he looked too closely at the nonsensical architecture. He threw his spear once more and hit a couple of the fish head on, confirming they were monsters with puffs of smoke they emitted upon death.

With that out of the way it was simply a matter of getting more accurate in his throws the less fish there were to hit. When the area was cleared the water changed direction and Abel was swept off his feet unprepared for the change as he slid down the slope.

His arm jolted uncomfortably in its socket as the spear clenched in his hands caught on what felt like every corner and his legs hit walls before he could turn. Eventually he was deposited into a body of water, and once he gets his head above water he sees the water wheel.

Alright then.

He swims over to it and sees that there is now a solid stone platform he can climb on next to it. It puts him at just the right height to grab the strange object in the middle. There was a delicate sphere that looked like it was made from metal Spidersilk surrounding a triangle that didn't make sense. The triangle was made of a thin square piece of metal twisted upon itself in a way that just didn't work, yet here it was in front of Abel.

He twisted the sphere to get a better look at the triangle, where the blue side had been down, and once the red side was down there was the door in front of him.

Abel blinked and looked behind him,the room he'd just been in still there, but now he didn't have to go all the way back up the stone banks, so he shrugged and moved on.

He exited back to the now smooth room. Rusl was busy organizing arrows while Fierce watched on with interest. Rusl jumped a little when he noticed Abel. 

“That was quick, thought you’d be in there longer!”

Abel didn’t take offense to the statement, though he felt like he’d spent some time spearing the fish, guess he lost track of time doing so.

After Rusl had put all the good arrows back in his quiver they continued on, going back to the door by the pillars, though having Fierce lift them up and hand them the key being far easier of Abel’s joints than the alternative.

Rusl turned the key this time and they both pushed open the door, waiting inside for Fierce to lift himself and join them. Once he crossed the threshold the door slammed closed behind them and Iron bars slammed down over both the set behind them and the one in front, trapping them inside. 

Then the room rumbled and a paper crane fell on the floor? Abel furrowed his brow and went to pick it up, but at that moment a wave of paper cranes swooped down, seemingly of their own accord, all moving in one great rush to form some sort of giant creature. The thing roars at them and Abel can’t help wondering a little hysterically if this is one of the fabled dungeon monsters, something so dangerous it’s been confined to this place for who knows how long.

Abel readies his sword, feeling like the steel in his hand is woefully inadequate for the task before him, but prepared to fight with all his might–

Then Fierce almost lazily unsheathes his giant sword, slices it across the air nowhere near the monster shifting towards them, and Abel watches with something like disbelief as a beam of light is emitted, moving unerringly towards the monster and burning the cranes it comes into contact with. They were packed so closely together to make the creature that they are all ashes in moments.

Wait, something is still moving! Abel turns and almost feels pity at the sight of a lone crane, charred on one wing, pathetically shuffling along the floor trying to get away from them, Fierce walks over and sets one large boot on the thing, slowly grinding it underfoot with an expression of boredom, like this was beneath him. Abel feels ice in his veins at the reminder of the terrible power the deity wields so casually.

The bars slide up from where they came and a loud Click is heard as the doors unlock. Rusl runs up to Fierce and claps him on the back, grinning at him and Fierce seems happy? Pleased? Less bored at least with Rusl asking about the sword beam and thanking Fierce for taking care of the thing.

Abel shakes his head to try and clear it of such gloomy thoughts, sheathing his sword for the moment and following the others out of the doorway. They came out on what appeared to be giant hands, where they stepped out on the cupped palms of the hands, with the fingers coming up to act as a guard from falling. On the wall opposite them were notes? And under each note was an illustration of the hands with a finger raised, to make a total of 8 different images. But why!

Fierce made a little noise, one that sounded almost delighted? And pulled out a lump, with holes. He blew into the spout? And a note came out, smooth and windy sounding, though the grind of stone behind him quickly distracted Abel. The index finger on the right hand had lowered with the note, but when Fierce went to play a different one the first snapped back into place with a loud crack that made both Abel and Rusl jump. Fierce hummed and and played some more notes in varying orders, managing to find 2 that when played sequentially, kept both fingers down.

“This method is inefficient, there must be a clue elsewhere in this room that we can access to get the correct order of notes.” 

 Abel and Rusl both did their best to see what else may be in the room. It was Rusl who leaned around the hands and noticed the nails were painted in different shades. This made the fact that the illustrations on the other wall were colored more significant, though it didn’t help them know what order to play in. Abel, tired of staring down a seemingly endless abyss turned back to maybe see if they had missed something previously and noticed the door they came through was outlined in a rainbow of color. The rainbow was off, because it wasn’t in the right order! 

“Fierce! The colors around the door must be what order to play in!”

Fierce nodded, and immediately began playing from the innermost to outermost color. When he did, an object appeared in the middle of the room, another chest, joy.

Fierce then played from outer colors in, and once the simple melody was finished the hands now flat underneath them jolted, and began moving towards the far side. They stopped at the platform (held by nothing as far as Abel could tell) opened the chest and pulled out a map and compass? Fierce gasped and seemed happy to hold onto the items, Abel didn’t understand why you would need to solve a puzzle in the middle of a dungeon to get the map.

@skyloftian-nutcase here's the first part as promised! now to continue onward! hopefully soon i'll have this up so that the parts of Dad squad written to be post-dungeon can start going up as well!

[isabeauwolf]

Prettiest manga characters. Go!

Abel Nightroad from Trinity Blood

Trafalgar Law from One Piece

The General from Mr Villain's Day Off

Kai Chisaki, Overhaul from My Hero Academia

[heavenslie]

"Two more days. Sure would be nice if I could actually go on on Extermination instead of just hearing about them after the fact..."

[natjennie]

my sister is driving me fucking crazy recently i dont know what to do

[lilacwriter07]

I love that we all agree that Cain is a grumpy boi 🤭💕 Abel looking everywhere like his daddy 😂

Did I ever post this? I can't remember lol

[bellaxgiornata]

You Are My Sunshine [1]

Pairing: Jax Teller x Fem!Reader Word count: 5.3k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Teller Masterlist]

Summary: Recently released from a stint in Stockton Prison with a few of the Sons, Jax is still struggling with Tara returning to Chicago over a year after he killed Agent Kohn for her. When he returned to Charming, Jax noticed a coffee shop had sprung up across the street from Teller-Morrow Automotive and the clubhouse, oddly finding himself watching the strangely cheerful owner through the windows. One night he feels drawn to step inside, but he's left even more confused when the owner feels like the embodiment of sunshine itself. Jax quickly realizes that the more he visits her shop, the more at peace he finds himself.

Warnings/tags: 18+; sunshine!Reader/grumpy!Jax (somewhat), fluff, angst, friends to lovers, eventual smut, canon divergent, canon typical violence (more tags to possibly come)

a/n: Not everything will be true to canon in this little series, and this first part starts out in Jax's POV. I just couldn't resist the idea of Jax with someone so bright and bubbly bringing some happiness his way. As a note since I'm newer in the SoA fanfic scene, I always do my best to refrain from adding physical descriptions to Readers, but they are still some form of a character personality-wise. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Placing the cigarette between his lips, Jax flipped open his lighter and held the flame up to the tip of it. He was itching for something right now–a smoke, a drink, a fuck, a fight. He couldn’t quite tell the difference anymore. Everything felt the same–a neverending blur. The days had all begun to bleed together ever since he and the guys had been released from Stockton the other month. 

And everything felt the goddamn same as it did before he'd gone in.

Taking a drag on the cigarette, he pocketed the lighter and leant back against the brick of the clubhouse behind him. Laughter and blaring music was pouring out of the building, the noise always far too loud to be contained by the structure. The Sons were partying again tonight, celebrating a successful closure of a deal from earlier in the day. But for some reason Jax hadn’t felt like partying. The air in the clubhouse felt suffocating, which was why he’d stepped outside into the balmy summer night for a cigarette instead.

As a trail of smoke curled its way upwards from between his lips, Jax stared vacantly across the otherwise empty lot, his eyes landing on the line of motorcycles across from him. His mind inevitably wandered back to Tara while he smoked, something it often did ever since she’d reappeared in his life over a year ago just to disappear all over again. Running away. That's what she had always done best.

He hated that he couldn’t get her out of his head even after all this time. But what he hated even more was that part of him still felt like it was holding onto the ridiculous hope that she’d come back to him. That she might wake up one day and return to Charming and somehow just accept him for who he was, who he'd always been. But that was a fucking bullshit hope and he knew it.

Jax’s jaw clenched in irritation, his fingers tightening around his cigarette as he drew it back up to his lips for another sharp inhale. It was impossible not to think that Tara had used him just to get rid of Kohn knowing that he’d be sympathetic to her situation. Knowing damn well that Jax would never have just walked away when she came to him for help. And it pissed him off that she’d played him like that–that he had let her play him like that. Especially when he’d been so fucking vulnerable after Abel had been born with all of his health complications weighing on his mind. 

He had needed her in return, but Tara hadn’t cared about what Jax was going through. She hadn’t cared about the fact that until that moment, Jax had never killed like he'd killed that night  for her. Every time before had always been for the club–for self-defense, retaliation. But that night? That night it had been out of love. It had been because he'd been protecting someone he cared about. And Tara had thrown him away a second time right afterwards, not even bothering to think about how any of it had affected Jax.

Movement across the street caught Jax’s attention, breaking through his spiraling, agitated thoughts. His head turned as he stood in the dimly lit parking lot, pulling the cigarette away from his lips and blowing out a plume of smoke as his eyes landed on you across the street through the large glass windows of your coffee shop. 

Honest Coffee. You’d opened it at some point when he and a few of the Sons had been doing a few months in Stockton, but ever since he’d gotten out, he’d found his gaze drawn across the street to that building more times than he’d ever willingly care to admit. And he wasn’t entirely sure why, either. Jax was not the kind of guy you’d find sitting inside of a coffee shop sipping on some fancy ass, overly sweetened and overpriced bullshit cup of coffee. That wasn’t his thing. So of course he’d never actually ventured inside the shop that had opened up across the street from the clubhouse and Teller-Morrow Automotive.

But for some goddamn reason he couldn’t help but look.

The entire place stood out amongst the old, worn brick buildings beside it. You’d painted the exterior brick white and hung up some bold, black sign with the shop’s name on it above the entrance. There were even a few little tables and chairs on the sidewalk out front along with writing on one of the large glass windows that read ‘Support your local caffeine dealer.’ Which, for some goddamn reason, amused Jax to no end considering your shop was located across the street from actual arms dealers. 

And there were plants. Goddamn, the amount of plants. A few large potted ones sat outside by the front doors, and there were a handful hanging over all of the large open windows. And, from what Jax had been able to see when he’d ridden past the place multiple times, you had plants on the tables inside, too. So many fucking plants it was like you were making coffee in a damn jungle. He didn’t understand why you had so many or how the hell they always looked like they were thriving. He’d often heard Gemma even compliment the goddamn plants the few times she’d stopped over to get herself coffee.

But it wasn’t entirely the plants or what you’d done to the building to make it appear so warm and inviting in downtown Charming that had him constantly staring across the street. It was you, if he was being honest with himself. You were always working there. He’d already come to assume that you were more than just a barista and that you actually owned the coffee shop with how frequently you were there. And you were attractive, that wasn’t even remotely a question. But you were nothing like the women at the clubhouse, or Redwoody, or Diosa. Where most of the women he’d encountered in his life were all rough and hard edges, you always seemed so soft and sweet. Like a warmth just radiated off of you everytime you smiled. 

And you were always fucking smiling over there. Whenever Jax watched you through the windows, whether he was outside having a smoke with the guys or by himself, you were guaranteed to be standing somewhere in that shop talking to someone with a smile on your face. Despite the fact that he didn't understand how one damn person could smile so damn much in a day, he’d sometimes found himself wondering what it would be like to see that smile up close, to have it directed at himself. There was just something about it, even from this distance across the street, that made it look different from any other smile he felt like he’d been given in his life. Like it was real and not covering a hidden agenda. 

Jax took a final drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the ground beside his feet, crushing it out beneath his shoe. His eyes were still on you through those large glass windows as he did. It looked like you were closing up the shop for the day. You were alone inside, the entire place empty as you swept the floor with a broom. But it almost looked like you were dancing as you cleaned, your hips swaying as your lips moved. The corner of Jax’s lips twisted upwards faintly at the sight. Who the hell were you? You were cleaning in an empty shop in downtown Charming, all alone just after sunset, across the street from the disliked and notorious motorcycle club, and you were dancing as you swept?

Who the fuck looked so happy to be cleaning?

Without even thinking, Jax pushed off the wall of the clubhouse and let his feet carry him away from the party raging behind him. An incredulous look was etched across his usually hard features as he began to cross the empty street and make his way towards your coffee shop. Eventually he came to a stop just outside of the front door, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans as he watched the back of you for a minute through the windows. Unquestionably you were inside dancing and sweeping as you listened to–what Jax assumed as he stood just outside–stupid coffee shop music. An amused huff came out of him as he shook his head at the sight.

Not even bothering to check if your shop was closed on the hours listed on the door, Jax slipped a hand out of his pocket and pulled it open. No bell chimed to alert you of his presence, meaning you continued your cleaning and soft singing to yourself with your back facing him, completely unaware you had a customer. A smug smirk tugged at his lips as he sauntered further inside the shop, making his way over to the counter near the register before resting an arm against the white countertop. He leaned his weight against it, crossing his ankles as his head cocked to the side, his blue eyes fixed on you. 

Christ, you looked adorable. Not a thought he often had about women. Usually he went for the ones at the clubhouse barely dressed in much of anything who were always very eager to spend the night with him. Even a few of the girls at Diosa and the pornstars at Redwoody that had sometimes caught his eye would never have been called anything close to ‘adorable’ by Jax. But you just looked so goddamn sweet and you hadn’t even noticed him standing behind you staring.

Clearing his throat, Jax figured he should probably alert you to his presence. He didn’t want to scare you, which he had a feeling might happen if you turned around and spotted someone that looked like him just quietly watching you.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so damn happy sweeping a floor before,” Jax called out.

The way you startled at his voice, spinning around abruptly with a soft, surprised gasp while throwing a hand over your heart, had a pleased grin growing on Jax’s face. You looked so surprised with your wide eyes and parted lips. He almost wanted to laugh, but instead he bit his bottom lip and held the sound back. 

“Relax, darlin’. I’m not here to rob your coffee shop,” he teased.

Almost immediately your expression shifted, the look of surprise disappearing and being replaced with a friendly smile that lit up your entire face. The sight of it did something to Jax, taking him by surprise. Because it was nighttime, you were alone in your shop, and here Jax had stood unannounced behind you, and yet your reaction was to just smile at him like he was some old friend you’d been expecting to see?

A soft laugh fell from your lips as Jax watched you turn around towards him, leaning some of your weight against the broom handle in your hands while your eyes took in the sight of him. He noticed the way you'd briefly scanned his kutte, but that kind smile remained stretched across your pretty mouth when your gaze once more met his.

“I wasn't thinking you were going to, you just startled me,” you answered. “You're extremely quiet on your feet, you know.”

Jax chuckled at the comment, his grin growing a little more amused. If only you knew the half of it.

“I may have been told that a time or two,” he replied, his eyes still taking you in without a hint of subtlety.

“Well,” you began, a playful lilt to your tone, completely unbothered by his gaze, “you know what they say about strange men showing up unannounced after closing, don’t you?”

Completely thrown by the unexpected teasing question coming from someone who looked as sweet as you, Jax couldn’t fight back the small chuckle that managed to fall out of him. “No, darlin’, I don’t. What do they say?” he asked.

Your perceptive eyes, which were still lit from the warmth of your smile, watched the way Jax continued to lean so casually against the countertop. You didn't appear even remotely fazed by his presence here and he found that so incredibly odd. 

“That they want a coffee,” you answered matter-of-factly.

Jax raised a brow curiously at your response, your smile somehow widening even further on your lips. You were not what he'd expected–and he'd already expected you to be something sweet and nice. But it was almost like you were more than even just that. It felt like the goddamn sun was shining on him when you smiled at him, and he didn't know what to make of it. No one in Charming that was an outsider to the club was this kind and friendly to its members. Most of the town had a healthy fear and a good amount of disdain at this point for the Sons.

But not you, apparently.

“Thought you were closing?” Jax asked, shaking the thoughts from his mind as he eyed you curiously. 

You laughed lightly yet again, turning and resting the broom against the shop’s counter now. “Didn't stop you from sneaking in, friend.” You glanced over your shoulder at him, completely genuine in your question as you asked, “So, would you like a coffee?”

An amused noise of disbelief rumbled out of Jax. You spoke to him as if he was any other goddamn customer coming into your shop. He'd never been treated so normal before. 

“Guess if you're offering, sweetheart, then yes,” he finally answered. Jax moved over, lowering himself into one of the chairs at the small counter as he watched you make your way around it. “Though I can't say I'd normally be caught dead ordering anything from a coffee shop.”

Coming to a stop in front of him just on the other side of the counter, your head tilted curiously to the side as you studied him closely. Jax stiffened under the weight of your gaze. It almost felt like you were seeing right through him with the way your eyes ran over his face so carefully. As if you were really taking him in. He wondered what you saw when you looked at him, but then that damn sweet smile was plastered across your lips again before you were speaking.

“Then I'm honored to be the first. And,” you continued, the sound of your voice somehow temporarily soothing that constant burning rage inside of Jax, “I'll even make it on the house. Free of charge this time.”

Jax blinked back at you, stunned into silence for a moment. But then he shook his head, waving a hand at you. “Not gonna let you do that, darlin’. I can pay for a coffee.”

“Didn't say you couldn't, I'm just trying to spread some kindness. Looks you've had a rough day,” you replied, a softness in your voice that wasn't there a moment ago. But then the bright, playfulness was back as you pointed a finger at him. “You look like a regular coffee kind of guy. No creamer, bit of sugar. Am I right?” 

“I…yeah,” Jax answered, a little taken aback at how quickly you'd read him and how easily you spoke to him. “Yeah, I am.”

“There's sweetener on that counter behind you,” you said, gesturing at something behind Jax before you turned around.

He glanced briefly over his shoulder at what you’d pointed out before he focused back on you. Watching in silence, his eyes remained on the back of you as you started on his cup of coffee, but his brows soon furrowed as he watched you work. He'd never seen someone make coffee the way you were doing now. What in the hell were you doing?

“Don't you just...have a machine, sweetheart?” Jax asked slowly.

A soft laugh came from you as you worked, your back to him as you answered. “Pour over is better than drip. I promise.” Glancing over your shoulder, you smiled at him once more. “Just trust me.”

Still baffled and confused as to what in the hell you were doing, he couldn't help but to keep watching you in silence, completely confused as to how in the hell you were making him what should be just a simple cup of coffee. He really never had stepped foot into a coffee shop before–a big chain one or a locally owned place. He didn’t even know why he’d crossed the street and come over here in the first place, especially with the party going on at the clubhouse where he was supposed to be. 

Lost in his thoughts, Jax’s eyes inevitably dropped down to your ass, taking in the shape of it in your jeans. His head tilted appreciatively to the side as his attention focused on that instead of trying to understand the strange pull he'd felt to step inside your shop once and for all tonight. His tongue slipped out, running along the length of his bottom lip as he took in the unobstructed view before him. You filled your jeans out damn good.

“So you got a name, friend?” you asked, your voice breaking through his thoughts. “Or am I just supposed to keep calling you ‘friend’?”

Jax found himself mentally chastising himself at your interruption, his eyes moving back to yours as you turned around, leaning your back against the counter behind you. There was a sincere expression on your face, like you actually cared to know who he was, and that had him feeling guilty for the way he'd just been looking at you. You weren't like the girls he surrounded himself with, you were actually good. He shouldn't be eyeing you like that. There was no way in hell you'd ever be interested in a man like him, and you definitely didn't look like the one-and-done kind of girl.

“It's Jax,” he answered. “Jax Teller. You got a name, darlin’?”

A small smile curled the corners of his lips upwards when you gave him your name so easily. He had a feeling this was one of the rare times he wouldn't just immediately forget a woman's name after she'd given it to him. 

“You always this cheerful, darlin’?” he asked next, unable to resist the question that had been gradually growing in his mind the longer he sat here. “Or is this some professional, friendly barista persona that you throw on when you're here at work?”

Jax watched as you turned around to the back counter against the tiled wall again, picking up the strange glass container you'd just made the coffee in before pouring it into a to-go cup for him. You were quiet as you worked before turning around and crossing the space over to where Jax was sitting. Reaching a hand out, Jax accepted the coffee from yours, but when his rough fingers brushed against your soft ones, he felt the corners of his lips twitch.

“Owner,” you said softly, your hands resting on the countertop. “Not a barista. And it's not a persona I throw on for work, this is just me.”

Jax’s brows drew together at that as he got off his chair and made his way over to the counter by the entrance to add in some sweetener to the coffee. How the hell was anyone just that friendly and cheerful naturally? Without it being a front? But as he stirred his coffee, wandering back over to the counter and taking his seat again, he noticed that you looked sincere.

“How the hell are you this friendly to everyone?” he asked, sitting back down in the chair at the counter, his coffee momentarily forgotten.

“Because I like being nice,” you simply replied.

Jax made a face at that answer. Who the fuck liked being nice all of the time? That had to be bullshit. There had to be people you didn't like, people that you weren't quite so kind towards. People like him who definitely didn't deserve an ounce of kindness.

“Bullshit,” Jax argued, eyes narrowing at you in suspicion. “There's gotta be rude customers you aren't such a ray of sunshine towards, right? Bad people you don't want in here?”

He watched as your fingers lightly drummed against the countertop, your smile smaller but not gone from your lips. Almost like it was just a permanent fixture on your face.

“I believe everyone deserves some kindness,” you answered genuinely after a moment, holding Jax’s gaze. “Because you never know the weight of what someone is carrying on their shoulders. And sometimes, all someone needs is a kind word or a smile in their day.”

Jax just sat there in silence for a moment, staring at you like you'd just said the most absolutely ridiculous thing. And honestly, he felt like you had. You looked so naive and innocent standing there behind your counter full of those goddamn plants you appeared to love so much.

“You realize who I am, right?” 

The question had slipped out of Jax without much forethought, but he was curious now. Were you somehow that oblivious as to who your shop was across the street from? Was that why you were being so friendly to him?

“Yeah,” you answered with a nod, your eyes focusing behind Jax at the clubhouse through the window for a second before returning to him. “I've seen a lot of you with those…vests? Over there across the street.”

Jax couldn’t stop the chuckle that rumbled out of him. Vests. That was cute. Jesus, you really weren't part of his world at all, were you? You probably had no damn idea about the pistol in his “vest.”

“Kuttes, darlin’. They're called kuttes,” he told you as he drew his cup towards his mouth while he spoke. “They're a bit different and more important than just some vest.”

Jax took a sip of the hot coffee, entirely planning to continue his explanation about how wrong you were about the kuttes, but he was taken off guard by the drink. He hadn't expected it to taste as good as it did. He'd drank coffee before–a shitload of it most days because Jax was no stranger to sleepless nights even before Abel came into the picture–but this didn't taste like the acidic, burnt trash that he'd grown used to masking with sugar.

The sound of your delighted laugh drew his gaze back up to your face. A bright, amused smile was shining back at him. The sight momentarily had Jax forgetting about everything–the coffee, the kuttes, his anger at Tara, the clubhouse party he should be getting back to. All he could do was stare at you, taking in the sight of your smile and the way it felt like it had somehow warmed him more than that hot coffee ever could.

“Is it good?” you asked, gesturing your head towards the cup in his hand. “The coffee?”

Blinking a couple of times, Jax looked back down at the paper cup warming his hand, attempting to return to his senses. “Yeah,” he answered. Roughly clearing his throat, he snapped out of whatever it was that your smile had just done to him. “How the hell do you get your coffee to taste so damn good?”

A pleased smile spread its way across your face when Jax looked back at you. He liked the way a glimmer of something–pride, maybe–reflected back at him in your eyes.

“All about the roast and the extraction, Jax,” you replied. “Fresh, good quality beans that have just been ground make a world of difference. But I'm glad you like it. I've always said a great cup of coffee can help make a bad day better.”

Jax chuckled again, shaking off that weird sensation from a moment ago and drawing the cup up to his lips for another drink of the hot liquid. Goddamn, is this why people paid more instead of just making it their damn selves? Did it actually taste that much better from a coffee shop? 

“Maybe for some people,” Jax mused as he lowered the cup, his eyes fixed on you behind the counter. “But I don't think a cup of coffee is gonna do a damn thing to fix my problems, darlin’.”

Unfazed by his attitude, you simply shrugged a shoulder in response. “You never know, maybe you just haven't had the right cup of coffee yet.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Jax's mouth. You were adorable. Naive, but adorable.

“I don't think coffee is the solution to anything other than how damn tired I am,” he disagreed.

Loud shouting from across the street caught both of your attention from the shop, the noise interrupting the conversation. Jax noticed the way your eyes darted to the window almost instantly before he sighed and looked over his shoulder behind him. A handful of the guys were outside drunk and having a smoke in the clubhouse lot, a few of the hangarounds clinging to them in their short shorts and crop tops. The sight of them out there was sobering. He knew he should get back to the clubhouse, especially now with how he was beginning to feel a little guilty that he'd interrupted you trying to close your shop.

Turning around in his chair, Jax entirely expected to see some sort of judgmental look on your face at the Sons and the croweaters across the street. It was how everyone outside of the club looked at them. But there was only a hint of genuine curiosity before your gaze shifted back to him in front of you. His brows furrowed faintly together at that, but he quickly pushed the growing questions away. It didn't matter. 

“I should get back over there,” Jax told you. “Make sure those shitheads don't cause too much trouble. And I should let you finish closing up.”

He rose from the chair at the counter, his lips straightening along his face as he got to his feet with his coffee in hand. For some reason, he found he didn't really want to go back over to the clubhouse, though. Whatever frustration he'd been feeling before he had walked over here tonight had somehow just vanished within the short time he'd spent sitting here talking to you. Something no amount of drinking, fucking, or riding his bike had even managed.

“You're right, it's well past close for me now,” you admitted, glancing at the clock on the wall behind yourself.

Another pang of guilt flooded Jax at your words. It was completely his fault that you were here so late now because he had stupidly walked in here for…he didn't even know what. Except that smile returned to your face again almost immediately, as if you weren't even upset that he had interrupted your night. 

“I'm curious about something, sweetheart,” Jax found himself saying, his eyes narrowing at you as he spoke. “Would you have kicked me out at some point tonight, or are you too nice for that, too?”

Another small, casual shrug came in response to the question. “Eventually, yes,” you answered. “I do need to eventually go home and sleep before coming back here tomorrow morning.” You paused, that look on your face like you were seeing straight through him briefly returning before you continued. “But you looked like you needed…something. Figured a coffee wouldn't hurt, at least.”

Jax stood there staring at you, just taking in what you had said and that warm, friendly smile. It didn't make sense–you didn't make sense. And he wasn't sure how he felt about the way you seemed to actually see him. It was unsettling.

“You're an odd one, sunshine,” he murmured. 

Almost instantly, a delighted laugh met Jax’s ears as he took another sip of his coffee. As he swallowed the drink down, his own lips couldn't keep from drawing themselves upwards at the sound. 

“Sunshine?” you asked, both of your brows raising back at him.

Bottom lip rolling between his teeth, Jax bit back the grin threatening to spread across his face as he nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sunshine,” he repeated. “Suits you. You're so goddamn friendly and nice.”

“Well that's a new one for me,” you told him.

There was something different about the smile on your face now, but Jax couldn't quite place what it was. He'd never had a woman smile at him like that before. Not even Tara.

The thought of Tara was like a kick to the chest, a jolt of pain shooting through Jax. His expression abruptly fell, aware that all the usual thoughts he'd had about her after she had left him a second time were going to come back and hit him hard the second he walked out of your shop. 

“Right. I should let you close,” he replied tersely. 

Giving you a nod in goodbye, Jax's mouth felt dry as he turned around towards the exit. A confusing mix of thoughts were swirling in his mind now.

“Goodnight, Jax,” you called out behind him.

The sweet, soft tone gave him pause as he rested one hand on the door handle. His blonde brows drew together, jaw clenching tight as that familiar rage and darkness inside of him felt like it was clawing its way up his chest, threatening to spill out of him in the form of some rude comment that would knock that friendly smile off your face. He didn't deserve you treating him like this. He was a terrible person. He knew he could prove it to you with just a few simple words, but before he could open his mouth, you spoke again.

“Feel free to stop in again sometime,” you told him. “You're welcome here anytime just like anyone else, Sons’ President or not.” A soft noise almost like a little laugh came next before you added on, “Preferably when I'm open, though.”

His body went rigid at that pleasant, melodic little laugh of yours. Slowly, Jax turned to look over his shoulder at you still standing behind the counter. You were indeed over there smiling, but the urge to be an asshole just to show you what kind of man he really was–that he shouldn't be treated like everyone else–disappeared almost immediately at the sight of it. How the hell did you keep doing that? Keep disarming him so easily with just a goddamn smile?

“I'll keep that in mind,” he muttered.

Without giving you a chance to say more, confused as to the weird effect you seemed to have on him, he pushed the door open and stepped back out into the summer evening. The noise from the clubhouse across the street carried its way to Jax’s ears as he began to make his way back over to where the Sons were smoking in the parking lot. He took another drink of his coffee as he went, his thoughts briefly straying to you and that entire strange encounter he'd just had.

There was just something about you that was so damn unfamiliar to Jax. You were all light and warmth, like the embodiment of sunshine itself. Nothing like anyone he'd ever met before in his life and it intrigued him as much as it bothered him. For weeks he had been watching you through your shop window wondering what it would be like to have you smile at him like he'd often seen you smile at all of your other customers, and now he knew. It felt like the summer sun finally rising to start the day after a long, dark night. And Jax found himself oddly craving more of your warmth, suddenly not giving a shit if he got burned in the process.

[jollmaster]

redesign trivia: Susan

grumpy old Irish peasant woman who survived the Great Famine of the 19th century

a little over fifty years old

Susan was once a red-haired beauty, but her beauty quickly faded due to hard work and eight childbirths

doesn't remember how she lost front teeth (either in a fight with husband or in a fall)

smokes pipe, blows smoke in the face of people who piss her off and spits through the gaps in teeth

fox skin on shoulders

doesn't hide the rope scar on her neck and is even a little proud of it

she was hanged on the charge of having killed and eaten husband and younger children during a famine

Susan was unrepentant, and until her death she shout out that spouse deserved this, but people'd better not try accuse Susan of being the murderer of her own children, who died in her arms

CHARLIE'S GANG: Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Niffty, sir Pentious (and egg boiz), Cherri Bomb, Husk, Alastor (+ gang as humans)

HEAVEN: Adam, Eve, Lute, Emily, Sera

ADAM AND EVE'S CHILDREN: Cain, Abel, Seth, Awan, Azura

HELL: Lilith, Lucifer, Seviathan, Helsa, Razzle and Dazzle, Baxter, Katie Killjoy, Tom Trench

SINS: Asmodeus [Lust], Beelzebub [Gluttony], Satan [Wrath], Mammon [Greed] (and Fizz), Belphegor [Sloth]

LUCIFER'S WIVES: Eisheth Zenunim, Naamah, Agrat bat Mahlat

VEES: Vox, Valentino, Velvette

OVERLORDS: Zestial, Rosie, Carmilla Carmine (and her daughters, Odette and Clara), Flaming Skull Guy

FRIENDS AND RELATIVES: Mimzy, Arackniss, Molly, Alastor's mom, Alastor's father

[red-doll-face]

Out of the Morgan Brothers, ironically, Abel Morgan is the one with the worst reputation. His twin brother, Arthur, is often the shining star of morality between the two. Though very different, unfortunately their taste in women is much the same, landing on poor you. 

High Honor Arthur Morgan x fem. reader x Low Honor Twin Brother (Abel Morgan) (OC??)

This has probably been done before but I love this idea and I think having two sexy cowboys chasing after you sounds like too good a time to pass up 😊😊😏😏😏😍😍 i just think naming arthur's licheral evil twin abel is so funny, sorry... thanks for reading ! and lemme know if you guys like it bc i definitely have a part 2 ready to go LMAO i wrote like 7 pages of this but thought it was too long 😔😔😔😭😭😭

Warnings: low honor arthur (or his twin i guess) as a warning, some mentions of blood and violence, alcohol

You had never met twins before the Morgan boys, it was a little surreal, the same eyes, the same hair color, the same face and body. But they were extremely different. Arthur was sweet, kind, and patient. He can act the grump that his brother is but he softens much quicker. You like how he greets everyone politely and asks how they’re getting on, does all of his chores. Never have you seen him be rude or perverse with the women, he’s nice to the girls as well as you. He takes after Hosea more than he does Dutch, whom you’ve always preferred, his almost grandfatherly attitude was much more welcoming than Dutch, who liked to act like a lord amongst his servants.

Arthur may still be an enforcer but he gives people second chances, and is more forgiving. However, he doesn’t let people mistake his kindness for weakness.

Abel is the one who is more Dutch like. All power, all strength, he is every bit the brutal enforcer Dutch wants him to be. He gives no quarter, he has no qualms. Nothing about his attitude is put on, he really is mean spirited. If you annoy him, he’s more than grumpy, he becomes irritated easily. Insults and threats are mostly used to keep people at arms length but sometimes it feels as if he’s genuinely having fun, taking advantage of people’s insecurities. You do your best to stay out of his way, keeping your nose down around him. It’s hard to avoid people in a shared space, once or twice he’s perhaps nudged you out of the way and told you to move, no ‘excuse me’ comes from him. But nothing like his harsh criticism for everyone else. Maybe he thinks you are a ditzy girl always standing in his way but you can never be sure.

The only way for you to tell Arthur and Abel Morgan apart is their facial hair and their clothes. Arthur wore cooler colors and wore his facial hair a bit neater, and he wore an old gambler hat that had certainly seen better days. He’s always covered in a layer of fine dust and dirt, working more often than not. Abel dressed several shades darker, deep reds, dark browns, and a pitch black stalker hat. His hair is always just a bit longer than Arthur’s, his facial hair a little more scruffy. Though you don’t get to see him much, it’s obvious he gets into many more physical altercations, always coming home with rough knuckles and blood stained shirts. Sometimes you think he wears red so the blood doesn’t show as easily. But you always know when you’re washing his clothes, the water always turns a deep rusty color.

You like Arthur a lot more anyway. You can tell he has a soft heart under his thin shell, which cracks so much more easily, for those in need, for people he cares about. He never fails to greet you nicely and when he sees you, he tips his hat.

You don’t notice if Arthur likes you, you just think he’s sweet to all the girls the way he is with you but your easy kindness and soft smile pull him in. You catch a peek of him drawing and you compliment his pretty landscapes. The awe in your eyes is making him fall even deeper.

Arthur really takes the courting stance towards trying to get you to notice him and he spends a long time pining after you first. He takes his time talking to you in the morning, bringing you things you mention in passing. He loves to see you smile and hopefully laugh even if it’s at him. He loves to hear you compliment him, he's ready to die happily when you tell him how good he is at something, while spectating a game he’s playing with Lenny, or if he wins a hand of poker.

Abel probably doesn’t even notice you until he sees Arthur talking to you more and more everyday. He doesn’t spend a ton of time around camp so he won’t catch it at first.

All you know about Arthur’s twin brother, Abel is that he’s…different. You probably won't pay him much mind either. You’re just happy he doesn’t spot with you his sharp eagle-like stare. He’s aggressive and evasive. You don’t think he has any of the softness you can see with his brother.

He spends most of his time outside of camp. The chores he does are not many, mostly robbing and hunting. Sometimes, he comes back, covered in blood and drops a stack of bills in the box full of money in the center of camp.

He’s nowhere near as terrible as Micah; in fact he butts beads with Micah more often than not, but the camp air feels lighter when he’s not there. He’s mean and can snap like an alligator at anyone but he mostly treats you like you don't exist. You haven’t seen him be as bigoted or perverse as some of the other men but he has a way of picking people apart, wearing them down. Grating on people’s nerves. He thinks it’s funny when they lash out, especially when he gets into tussles with the other men, he relishes in a good fight.

Abel thinks all of Arthur’s pining and his mooning at you is sort of pathetic, thinks it takes his attention from where he needs to put it; robbing and stealing and killing. It was bad enough with that Mary girl, he can hardly stand to listen to him sigh and watch him send wistful gazes at you. He tries to ply Arthur with alcohol and some broad over at the saloon but Arthur still refuses, fussing over the girl at camp, sweet little you. How you’re always there to say hello to him, how you love to look at his pictures.

Arthur gets drunk and just about starts crying thinking of you. Rambling about you, asking Abel if he thinks he has a chance with you. Abel sighs and takes Arthur back to camp. He does silently wonder what his brother sees in you. You’re not much different from the other girls in camp, perhaps not as boisterous as Karen and you don’t have your head stuck in the clouds like Mary Beth. You aren’t angry and snappy like Sadie or as resourceful and brave as Tilly. In fact he doesn’t know much about you at all.

Abel starts to investigate this woman his brother is getting sweet on. He’s had enough of seeing his stupid grin and his hand bashfully rubbing the back of his neck while he talks to you. He sees how you smile at Arthur, touch him softly on his arm to show gratitude. Let him sit with you when you eat. Arthur’s soft look he gets when he makes you laugh makes Abel want to throw up.

Maybe he wants to see if you’re the kind of girl who’s sweet on everyone, just to get a bit of attention. But you don’t greet him like you do Arthur, perhaps a shy strained smile is all he’ll get from you. You certainly don’t touch his arm, or laugh at him. Sure, you’re polite but you don’t talk to him like you do his brother. It sort of pisses him off. What’s so different between him and his brother? ( a lot ).

Arthur tells you that he’s going out today, he offers to take you with him but you say you have chores to do today and you’ll get in a heap of trouble if you don’t get them done before the end of the day. He nods and he just about explodes when you thank him for the offer and kiss him on the cheek. You’re shy about it but not as bad as Arthur who clears his throat and turns bright red. He keeps turning around before he rides away.

Abel’s been waiting for this, a moment alone without Arthur looming over his shoulder, watching over you like some old hound dog. He stomps on the cigarette he was smoking, pouncing on the opportunity.

He finally has the moment to come up to you while you’re doing some mending. He’s thinking maybe if you’re giving out kisses, he might get in line. The gentle ‘Oh…hi, Abel,’ from your lips and he's under your spell, right next to his brother. You look so cute, looking up at him from where you’re darning some nasty piece of clothing that if it were up to him, you wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. So pretty on your knees, nervous that he’ll lash out at you. He’s immediately thinking of you doing other things on your knees.

His name sounds so nice from your lips and your sweet voice. If he were Arthur he’d be smitten, greeting you politely, asking about your day. Too bad he's not. When he kind of just stares at you, you're confused. You expect him to say something, at least a good afternoon. You prick your finger while nervous and whine but he just smirks and exhales something of a laugh underneath the shadow of his hat before stalking off.

He hadn’t intended to like you as much as he did but he can’t help himself. Abel can’t figure out if he’s just more like his brother than he thought or if he just wants to try his hand at stealing you away from him to wreak havoc on Arthur’s life. Either way, he’s stuck with his brother, chasing after you, Arthur will just have to deal with it.

Thanks so much for reading! any feedback is appreciated 🥹🥹🥹

[idontknowanametouse]

Presenting to gringos (people that aren't from Brazil) Mundo Torajo (Torajo World)

Mundo Torajo is a brazillian animation youtube channel that will be very soon releasing a series thanks to a gofundme. Unfortunately, there is still no english translation, so I can do it here if you want.

Torajo was a channel like Jaiden (same video format) until about august/september of 2023, when a short was released (this one) beggining the lore, in which a red version of Torajo took his place. This continued on for almost 2 months with no sign of Torajo, only through glitches and links on the shorts that lead to audios of Torajo and Morajo (the red one) talking about the channel's future and video format. 2 months after Torajo was gone, Morajo made this video showing all the audios together. He said he made all of this to prove Torajo the audience didn't really care for him (their whole argument was about youtube algorythm vs passion and a nice audience) because they only stayed for the mystery. In the next video, this one, the two fight and we find out that they are brothers and Torajo called Morajo when the channel grew and he needed help, with everything getting more and more unstable between them. At the end, they set apart and Morajo starts his own channel. The two start a "war" between them until this video (followed by this one), when he introduces a new character, Zulmi (I love her, you'll see more about her later). She is friends with the two and stops their fight... at least, for a while.

Then, this happened. Basically, Morajo got infected with algorythomus, a substance that is, well, the youtube algorythm. He goes a little crazy and threatens Torajo while hacking other youtubers, and then Torajo posts this video. He explains he lives in another planet, Verade, that can be only kept alive when people watch their videos. The next video, this one, is the last part of this series/saga. The two have a fight with a really emotional flashback of them as kids, and in the end THE POWER OF LOVE WINS AND THEY MAKE UP YAAAAAAY

And, for a while, all is well. They continue Torajo's channel together (the 3 of them), introduce a new character, Linn (I love him, you'll see more about him later) and even post a compilation of the fight. And then something happens.

The channel is hacked by an unknown person and this video is posted. In it, we meet the "hacker", Abel, who is basically Verade's god/narrator and that does propaganda to the gofundme for the creation of an animated series (he also wipes Torajo's memory after this). 1 week later, they reach their goal and publish this video, with a sneak peak of the series (also wiping the character's memories). Now, there's just 2 videos left for its release, and the story is warming up. They post shorts daily and this week, Morajo seems very unwell, and as we know algorithomus is coming back, this is surely the cause of it.

This is the lore at the moment, and I can keep you aware of it. They are very popular with kids. I recommend, even if you don't know portuguese, to watch their videos, cuz they are really fun and charismatic. Now, I'll show you the characters!

Torajo

[ID in alt]

He is the main character. He is, as you can see, a green apple and is very nice, though a bit sassy and dumb. There are many memes about him, like him bald or as a banana. He has a crush on Zulmi but won't say it. Loves coffee and minecraft.

Morajo

[ID in alt]

Torajo's brother and former antagonist, now a co-protagonist. He is a red apple and kind of an emo, grumpy, kind of mean sometimes but actually very emotional, soft, shy and nerdy. People often call him a mango. He wears glasses but usually doesn't do it on videos. Loves Tetris and cats.

Zulmi

[ID in alt]

She is a co-protagonist. She is a blueberry and kind of a diva, but also very extroverted and likes gossips, also being nerdy about science stuff. Is often called a pineapple. Has a crush on Torajo, but won't say it. Loves Club Penguin.

Linn

[ID in alt]

He is a co-protagonist. He is a lemon and very introverted and shy, being very nerdy about anime and videogames, also kind, calm and phylosophic. Is besties with Morajo. Likes to play ukulele, ducks, Zelda and bread with lettuce.

Azedo (Sour)

[ID in alt]

He is Linn's little brother and a side character. He is a lemon and basically an ipad kid (looks like the collector from the owl house, is currently called Enzo Gabriel/Azedo Gabriel). He likes spider man, chicken nuggets and saying stuff on the community's discord server (I've seen him there sometimes).

Abel

[ID in alt]

He is Verade's god/narrator. He is a mango and kind of crazy, but really funny. He hasn't appeared much, so we don't know a lot about him, but we'll probably see more about him soon.

Pessy

[ID in alt]

She is Zulmi's best friend. She is a peach and very detective-like, making theories about everything that happens on Verade and being also very nerdy too. She is nice and kinda shy, but very persistent on what she wants. Her hat is kind of infinite as she guards a lot of stuff inside it. She likes rock music, Gravity Falls, Dark Souls, Sherlock Holmes, sci-fi movies, tea, editing, toddynho and coffee.

[mm-slashing-boy]

Request for @pannyprainer

Poor Abel. Someone needs to give that guy a hug (I VOLUNTEER!! I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE!!).

Dorian's mad at whoever drenched Abel. Grumpy man. :]]

[meirimerens]

what are rubin's thoughts on daniil as his quasi brother-in-law? and what are your thoughts on older burakhovsky as a couple? i live for your verbal vignettes in ask responses, really feels like im there...

you are indeed here you are homonculus in my study from behind the glass of this bocal youre in you see me pace around talking to myself running my hand in my hair like a maniac until I suddenly walk to your shelf and lean over towards the bocal you're in like this

and force you to listen to me.

anyways as far as Rubins thought on Dankovsky Well he doesn't hate him as much as he's hated burakh in the past you know. even as the rubin burakh relationship has been/is more complicated than brotherly bond [I'd argue it barely is especially in p2, it's not about being a brother to him its about being him. A topic for another time] they've been very much Cain & Abel yeah. Like rubin has wanted to hit burakh over the head with a rock if that meant being favored by god I mean isidor. but dankovsky well. he has no animosity towards him, as a pseudo-in-law or as a guy in general. indeed they have mutual respect and indebtedness for The Plague Time and maybe rubin thinks dankovsky kinda has bad taste in men since he still has residual desire to hit burakh with a rock [not out of hatred or jealousy anymore, just to see what that'd be like], but like. <peterstakhblogreminder> rubin can talk. like he doesn't have the best taste in men either. </peterstakhblogreminder>. Rubin is doubly in dankovkys circle from him being 1) his pseudobrother's hubby 2) his own hubby's like. third side of the threefold coin or whatever. so they do run onto each other frequently. when dankovsky shoulders burakh at his medical practice rubin is also there. the healers and also rubin you know. he sees dankovsky be bad at cooking and burakh taking over the stove and is like damn maybe he's just some guy. there is the type of respectful distance you'd expect from in-laws except rubin has seen dankovsky get tipsy in Peter's attic and he called burakh to come pick up his man.

Re:older burakhovsky i got this thing and that thing unsure how much I'm repeating of them rn [can't open multiple tabs on mobile] but basically mellower right. still got some deep dark residual fears yeah I don't think that ever goes away. Holding onto each other at night sometimes. Chronic pains a lot of those. Grumpy together. Burakh busies himself making all sorts of teas balms cataplasms to help with dankovskys arthritis and back pain and strain and this and that and lather it on him. reciprocally from dankovskys part. Learns basic herbal medicine so he can be a bit independent in his medicating and also provide some to burakh. burakh doesn't retire for he is more than a doctor; dankovsky shoulders him. [NEW LORE UNLOCKED FROM P3Q] we've seen dankovsky likes Writing The Self [In] right... self-mythology self-biography [something other than autobiography] and the #realones know I've always believed he writes something once back from the plague well as he gets older he writes more obvious fiction. It might even start as tales burakh tells mishka to sleep. kind of Lewis Carollesque but a different guy. Gets burakh into beetle collecting and burakh gets him into herbaria. oh, all sorts of hand pains from writing/typing at thag typewrite/sewing & knitting for burakh... arthritis? possibly. they already have a Hand Thing for each other in their early days as they grow old it doesn't falter -> the analgesic cataplasms massaged on longly. At least one of them eventually needs glasses maybe both. Looking like alchemists. When the legs hurt the days are spent sitting (inside or outside), flipping through herbalism/botany/astronomy/anatomy books dankovsky has [once] brought back from the capital. with the big glasses on. You know?

[isabeauwolf]

Why am I such a greedy woman?

Cuz I want'em all!

[linkemon]

Boy with luv (Shinomiya Kojirou x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

[ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ] ᴛʀɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ʜᴇʀ ʙᴏꜱꜱ, ꜱʜɪɴᴏᴍɪʏᴀ ᴋᴏᴊɪʀᴏᴜ, ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴀɴ ᴀᴅᴜʟᴛ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʜɪꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴛᴀᴜʀᴀɴᴛ ꜰᴀɪʟꜱ…

ᴀᴅᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴀᴜ. ɪᴛ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴏʀᴀʀɪʟʏ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴠᴀʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴꜱ.

— Voilà! — [Reader] proudly placed the plate in front of Shinomiya. — Spring composition. Complete rejuvenation!

She sincerely hoped that the opinion about the dish would be positive. Many of her future plans depended on it. Fortunately, the hungry glances of her coworkers, who were waiting for their turn to taste, gave her encouragement. The woman tightly clenched her thumbs behind her back as she watched her boss take the first bite. To her surprise, he froze for a moment and, before he could say anything, disappeared in a cloud of white smoke.

A child sat in his place.

Everyone approached the little one uncertainly. Someone took the fork out of his hand.

— [Reader]-san, what did you put in there? — Abel asked with fear.

— Lime leaves. I wanted it to be... rejuvenating? — she said uncertainly.

In front of her sat a mini version of the boss. He had the exact same short pink hair and amber eyes. He looked quite happy as he played with the rest of the food on his plate.

His expression was definitely not his usual one.

— I like it. He's less grumpy. — Lucie lifted the little one into her arms. — Who's the cutest little thing? Who? — She lifted him up, tickling him with her nose. — I wonder when he'll turn back.

— Maybe we should call an ambulance — Gao suggested.

She was sensible and responsible. After all, that was what was expected of a restaurant manager. [Reader] rarely disagreed with her but this time she couldn't agree with her.

The sanitary inspector would certainly raid the place and closing Shino's would cause huge losses. In her mind's eye, she could already see Shinomiya suing her. And there would be no way to pay off the debts...

— Now we have to get ready to open because the guests will be disappointed. Let's wait until he digests what he ate. I'll take care of him and if it doesn't go away, I'll take him to the ER.

She wanted to strongly believe that the visit would not be necessary.

— We'll manage without you. Take him for a walk so he won't be a nuisance. We'll keep in touch — Lucie said, seeing the rest of the crew wanting to protest.

The woman then took the child from her, took her purse and left the restaurant.

She headed towards the housing estate with a playground.

It seemed to her that all the old ladies in the area had gathered to check her out. They were expressing their admiration for Kojirō-chan. They were congratulating her on her adorable son. [Reader] didn't feel like correcting them. Especially after he had publicly called her "mom". So she nodded with a goofy smile, trying to say a polite goodbye and leave.

The boy kept pulling her hair. Once, he even managed to dig up her lipstick and started using it eagerly. When she tried to wipe his face, she was surprised to find that he was standing without her help. He had also grown heavier. That boded well.

Before she knew it, little boss was running around the sandbox bringing her dishes made of leaves and sand. She tipped them out behind her when he wasn't looking.

It wasn't the time to think about it but she figured Shinomiya must have been a really cute kid once. She felt sad that his adult self wasn't anything like his current self.

Suddenly she heard a soft sob and then a preschooler appeared before her with tears in his eyes. She wanted to say that children grow up too fast but at the last moment she stopped herself.

— He ruined my restaurant. — The boy’s lower lip trembled. —And I was just about to cook you Flan Aux Champignon.

It was enough to glance at a peer playing in a newly acquired sandbox to understand what he was talking about. The fight was paid for with a grazed knee.

— Kojirō-chan, you'll cook me something better next time. — She hugged the little one. — Let's go to the store, I'll buy you some colourful slices and something sweet. — She winked.

Like most school children, he was taken in by the promise of a reward. A taped knee, a juice box and a candy bar effectively did the trick. The woman also sent a text message to her co-workers, assuring them that hospitals would not be needed.

Unfortunately, the problem began when the boss hit his teenage years. He suddenly wanted to taste rebellion. Before she knew it, he ran away at a pedestrian crossing.

She was seriously nervous because Tokyo's neighbourhoods were easy to get lost in. Not to mention the shady characters who sometimes lurked in the alleys after dark.

She often returned home late at night, so she knew the consequences.

She asked passersby and wandered around the area but to no avail.

When she returned to the street where Shino's was located, however, a surprise awaited her. To her immense relief, a grown man was sitting on a bench in front of the restaurant.

— Shinomiya-san, what a luck! — She threw her arms around his neck.

She was glad he was back to normal and in one piece.

The man gently but firmly pushed her away from him.

This was nothing new. Even when he was hugged on his birthday while being congratulated, he felt uneasy. He kept physical contact to a minimum.

— What was in that dish? — he drawled.

[Reader] could feel the cold gaze of amber eyes on her. The tone of his voice was cold and unpleasant. She was starting to miss Kojirō-chan, who would probably jump for joy at the sight of her.

Her legs and head ached from running around the neighbourhoods looking for her boss. Fatigue was making itself known, bringing tears to the corners of her eyes. She blinked as hard as she could but her vision was getting a little blurry.

— The ingredients don’t matter if it wasn’t good! — she sobbed, searching her purse for tissues.

The man noticed the sudden change and his facial expression softened slightly.

— Did I say I didn't like it?

— But...

—Why did you care so much about my opinion? You never cared about it before unless the dishes were for Shino's.

The woman wiped her eyes, trying to calm her breathing.

— This was supposed to be a test of my skills. I want to open my own restaurant in [Country Name]. I feel like I'm suffocating in Tokyo.

— Because who would want to put up with me as their boss? — he snarled.

— Shinomiya-san, you know it's not like that. I just... have to try something new. Go somewhere. Do something more. Remember how after the shokugeki you said you didn't want to stand still...?

— I know what you're talking about.

He knew this feeling all too well.

Ever since he faced Yukihira in a duel, it had been with him all along. Since then, he had wanted more from life. He had set high standards and distant goals for himself and he had stubbornly pursued them. He had been working on his cooking style, hoping that one day he would achieve more than he already had.

But now that the woman wanted what he wanted, he had a problem.

The idea of ​​a restaurant without her stupid jokes, without her dishes and without her seemed downright treacherous to him.

As if she wanted to run away from him and didn't need him anymore.

— You want my opinion? — He pinched the bridge of his nose. — Change that lime note and everyone will be eating out of your hand. If they don't turn into a child first... Just invite me to the opening. — He looked directly at her.

The woman had the impression that there was some hope lurking within him.

— Of course, yes. Besides... I'll visit you. We're not parting forever. There are phones and the Internet. Although after these few years I have to admit that I'll miss you.

Maybe it was time to set new goals, unrelated to cooking.

Kojirō gently brushed a few strands of hair away from the woman's face and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. She hadn't expected that at all, so he wanted to laugh at the sight of her flushed face before him.

— If you don't invite me, I'll just get on the first plane I see. And when I find you, you'll be in big trouble. Let's go — he added, seeing her froze in place.

The woman reluctantly moved toward the restaurant, catching up with Shinomiya.

— You know you offered me a sand cake to eat? — She smiled, looking out at the setting sun.

— I hope it was as good as all my dishes.

�� Imagine that I didn't eat it...

She reached out her hand timidly, lacing her fingers with his. The man smiled to himself.

— Don't worry, you haven't lost anything because I'll cook you something better.

He's gained a new and quite pleasant, goal — [Reader] will become his girlfriend.

[abyssalwyrm0]

Adam and Eve talk about the elephant (Cain) in the room.

He was where she expected to find him. After putting the children to sleep, Eve had gone after Adam and there he are, outside home and looking at the night sky with that grumpy face. He didn't smile as much as before, specially to her.

"Adam...." Eve calls him.

"What do you want?" Her husband didn't even look back at her.

"We need to talk, it's about Cain." She says with a serious expression, having found strenght to have this talk and taking advantage that it was only the two of them now.

"Sigh, what's your son's problem?" He suddenly felt his energy being drained off and stress started to burn, he would need to put some effort to give her any attention and even to not snap at her.

"You."

"Oh, can you explain me, why?" Mockery was detected.

"You know why!" She tries to hold back his anger. "Adam, you see how he look like when you're with Abel and his siblings. He is envious and for good reasons, since you barely give him the time of the day."

"And why is this my problem? He isn't even my son! I'm already doing enough, giving and teaching him enough to him survive by allowing the brat to live under my roof with MY children where he get food and shelter.

"This isn't enough! Cain needs a father, and you're the only one who can do it...." Suddenly Adam jumped from where he sat and on heavy steps walked in high speed until where Eve was, interrupting her.

His golden eyes looked into her red eyes, that formely were green, with such a burning rage that made her shut up.

"How you fucking dare ask it from me!? He isn't my son, never will be and I won't pretend the contrary! Did you really think you can order me to love your bastard as if I'm obliged to it?!"

"Adam, please, I'm asking........"

"To raise and love the son of the person I hate most as if he was my son! Sorry, not sorry sweety, but only the first part is possible and is already hard enough." He opens a sarcastic smile.

They remembers clearly of the day she gave birth to the original bastard. They had to figure out for themselves about how to do a childbirth like basically everything else since they were banished and this was one of the most scary moments for both of them. The pain, cries, all this bloood, etc, with the only examples of what was supposed to be done being the animals. The fact that they had to do it again and again crossed their minds in the heat of the moment, but they had more urgent issues to deal with.

When Adam was holding Cain in his hands Eve never felt so much afraid, as if Adam was cruel enough to hurt a baby, even one whose mere existence offended him, but the look he was giving the newborn wasn't reassuring for her. There was so much rage there, but also sadness and dissapointment after the surprise ended and he got the situation. That blonde baby with white skin, red cheecks and angelic aura obviously wasn't his and he knew exactly who is his father.

Heaven only resolved to send some angels after Adam and Eve did most of the work, appearing exactly when the mother was asking to the stepfather calmly give her son, just to strip off the nephilim of his powers and let him crying with his family. Adam took advantage of the moment to let Eve alone with Cain to think alone and only appeared after what seemed to be an eternity for his wife, who was starting to think she and her son were abandoned.

"Please, Adam, my son deserve a father....."

"Why don't you ask his father to take care of him?" He interrupts her again.

"You know exactly why! With Lucifer and Lilith on hell, I can only rely on you!"

"I feel sooooooooo beloved~."

"Take things seriously, I need your help!"

"Of course, what you were going to do without me?" He chuckles bitterly, the fact instead of amusing him was making him angry.

"Exactly, we only have each other now. It's us against the world, fighting for ours and our children's survival! I need your help." She approaches.

"Urgh, shut up! I'm alread doing more than you deserve." He gives her the shoulder and walks away.

"Hey, what are you going to do!?" She shouts out of surprise and run after him, grabbing his arm.

With brute force Adam releases himself from Eve's hand, almost making her fall on the ground by accident. For a quick moment he seemed worried for her, but then he came back to his usual mood that vary between boringness and rage, and now he was very angry.

"Take care to not hurt yourself, fucking Wasted Rib. I need some time alone, later I'm coming back to sleep." He returns to the route of his original destiny, nowhere.

"Now!?" She points to the darkness of the night. "It's already too late, it will be too dangerous. If you don't want to talk now It's fine, but let's go back inside." She tries to grab him.

"I can take care of myself, don't talk as if you're worried about me." He avoids his touch.

"I'M WORRIED ABOUT YOU!"

"No, you aren't. You just care about how I can be useful for since you need me." He says with a tired tone.

"I'm the one being treated as an object...." She looks to the ground and kick one rock, before crossing her arms with an uncomfortable expression. "...you only care to how I can be useful to you, objectfying me as some sort of multitasking tool." Her voice turns heavy.

He rolls his eyes and leave her alone.

[hsrlanedefencesquad]

Y'all HSR is so good, like I don't think y'all understand. I genuinely think no one loves it as much as me

I love all the LIs, even though I might not romance them all right now, every single one of them are so beautiful physically, it's crazy....I never thought any other author could out-pretty remy's LIs lol (I think the only gripe I'd have with it, is Anna is the only single female LI....& now this addition of Abel as a male LI when we already had Boris & several male LIs, idk it seems too much. Like give the wlw players one more female LI, please aleksandra 🙏🏾🙏🏾)

Other than that, everything is perfect....my main route - I'm romancing cain, the 2nd slot goes to dmitry (he is honestly not talked about enough, he ate this update up!!!) I would rant about how much I love these two but this post would turn into an essay & I still have a lot to talk about

3rd slot goes to Greg!!! Definitely!!! Hello??? he would have honestly been my main LI if Cain didn't exist (curse me and being drawn to mysterious fucked up men 😭)

First of all, no shade to other rc black men, but I want to say a big THANK YOU to Aleksandra for not making him the typical grumpy or brooding rc black man (no, like what's up with that?, Although cassiel is my main LI in ABH, he gets a pass sorry 😭) I feel like only greg & that one guy in 7b are happy sunlight vibes black men in the whole of rc...

That and she made him so physically HOT without the addition of ridiculous european eye colours (evthys swenett jumpscare & luc- *gunshots*) & he doesn't have that oh so annoying grey undertone? (cassiel once again you get a pass) like Greg is the embodiment of a ray of sunshine. Which is also good because Sasha didn't just relegate him to some goofy black side character, no I'm actually impressed he was the main general or whatever, after dmitry & he actually has an emotional back story with his sister (I feel like his romance route will be so emotionally hard because it will be one of the major factors that will force lane to feel conflicted between humanity & her dark side) heartbreak & tears are coming, I fear

Overall the book is just SO GOOD, it deadass feels like I'm watching a horror movie or sometimes like I'm with the characters seeing everything happening to them from afar, it's so immersive....sometimes cozy AF, NGL I hope they don't move away from their snowy/dead climate background in coming seasons. I think that's a major contribution to the way the story gets players to feel

The writing is amazing for a new author, man I don't want HSR to end but I am absolutely seated for the next work from this author

[bellaxgiornata]

Letters from the Outside 1:| The First Letter

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 1.7k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

warnings/tags: 18+; prison!Jax, bit of sunshine/grumpy dynamic, prison pen pals, fluff, angst, mentions of violence, potential smut, canon-divergence, mentions of Reader having a brother, mainly short pieces about Jax and Reader's letter correspondence

Summary: When Lowen encourages Jax and the other incarcerated Sons to enroll in Stockton Prison's new program, Wire of Hope, in order to increase their odds of parole, Jax thinks it's absolute bullshit. Hoping to get back home sooner, he signs up anyway. But what he doesn't expect is how quickly he begins to look forward to your letters.

a/n: I've had this idea in my head since December before I even started writing for Jax. These are mostly short installments because it's mainly centered around their letters, but there will be moments we get more than that. And there may be more to Reader than what we first see... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

series tag list: @kmc1989 @callmesev @secretlysamcro

A slight sheen of sweat coated Jax’s brow as his breath came in sharp pants. Loose strands of his shaggy hair fell into his face, a few of the blonde pieces clinging to the dampness along his forehead as he continued the repetitive motion of his push-ups. 

There wasn't much else to do in here. He'd already had breakfast earlier, and time in the yard didn't happen until after lunch. His work assignment in the laundry facility with Opie didn’t start until just before dinner, so for now, all he had were the same three fucking walls and the damn cell doors that overlooked the cell across the hall from him for entertainment. And unfortunately the cell across the hall held some scrawny ass by the name of Moore who jerked off far more frequently than Jax would’ve liked to be forced to overhear. 

As he continued his push-ups, Jax heard the loud buzz through the cell block which meant guards were making their way through. He’d been in here so long now that he’d barely noticed the noise, his attention currently on counting his push-ups and pacing his breathing. He’d been so focused that the sound of someone roughly smacking the metal bars of his cell door startled him, causing his head to whip up as he’d pushed up from the dirty floor.

A guard was standing outside of his cell, someone that Jax quickly recognized as one of the few who often delivered the daily mail. He was standing just past the metal bars with the usual large, black mail cart in front of him. In his hand he was holding a white envelope.

“Teller,” he said, sounding bored. “You’ve got mail.”

The guard didn't even bother waiting for a response, his expression neutral as he chucked the thin envelope through the bars. Jax watched as it flew to the floor and slid across the cement. The letter stopped just beneath his small, pathetic excuse of a bed as the guard continued on, pushing the mail cart down the corridor. 

Jax's attention shifted to the letter, staring down at where it was now half-hidden beneath his bed in confusion, his body still held in a push-up. Since when the fuck did he get mail? If one of the guys not locked up needed to reach him, they found a way to call or pass him a message. Gemma frequently came out to visit him whenever she could, usually bringing Abel with her. She'd laugh at just the absurd fucking idea of sitting down and writing him something. And if their lawyer, Lowen, needed to contact him, she'd just make an appointment.

Sitting back on his heels, Jax ran his forearm across his forehead to wipe away some of the sweat that had accumulated there during his workout. His chest still heaving from the exercise, he continued to suspiciously eye the letter on the floor. 

Who the fuck was that from?

Exhaling roughly, he pushed himself up from the floor and walked over to his bed. With one hand flat against the mattress, Jax bent down and grabbed the envelope from where it was laying. Vaguely he noticed how it had been opened already for prison security to examine it first. With his brows pinched together, he studied the writing on the outside of the envelope, not recognizing the script. 

“The fuck?” he muttered to himself.

Reaching his fingers inside, Jax pulled out a single sheet of slightly off-white paper that was folded neatly into thirds. Sitting down on the edge of his stiff mattress, his breath still coming in hard, he unfolded the paper. One of his brows gradually rose on his forehead as he saw that the page was three-quarters of the way filled with pristine handwriting. As if someone had taken their time writing it. 

“What…?”

Completely confused, Jax focused on the top of the page. Hunched forward on the bed, he rested his elbows on his thighs and began to read the letter.

Hello to whoever is reading this,

Apparently you're the one fortunate enough to be assigned to me for Stockton's Wire for Hope program.

Jax paused and lowered the paper, running a hand across his forehead and brushing away a few loose blonde hairs still clinging to his damp skin. So that's what this was, that goddamn pen pal bullshit Lowen had talked him and the guys into doing. She'd told them it would look good when they applied for parole. Make it seem as if they were trying to rehabilitate and form meaningful connections or some bullshit. 

And apparently this pathetic dumbass was who he'd be stuck writing to for the foreseeable future while he was locked up. 

“Goddammit,” he muttered.

Looking back down at the paper in his hand, he contemplated crumpling it up in his fist and chucking it out into the hall. He didn't have to read it, he could just scribble some bullshit onto paper and have it sent to you. Just participating in the stupid program was enough.

But as he stared at the neat writing on the page, he knew he didn't have anything else to do right now. It wouldn't kill him to just read the few stupid paragraphs you'd written. He was bored as hell anyway.

If you're reading this far, I'm guessing you resisted the urge to tear this into shreds. Because I get it, this whole program probably seems completely fucking stupid, right? And I'm well aware that most of the inmates in the program are probably just doing it solely for the increased chances of parole. Creates a good image and all that. 

An amused huff fell out of Jax as he read. At least you weren't a complete naive dumbass. But you were still dumb enough to be writing inmates in the first place.

And that's fine. But I also imagine you're bored as shit in there. Only so many times you can attempt to make wine in your toilet, right?

That was a joke. But if you're turning into a toilet sommelier over there, maybe you've found yourself a new hobby for when you get out.

That was also a joke.

Despite himself, Jax chuckled at your terrible prison humor. Who the fuck had they paired him up with for this shit?

Honestly, I've never done one of these programs before. And since I'm the one writing first, I don't really know what to start with here. Can you tell? It's really awkward trying to begin a letter to a complete stranger.

I guess maybe I should tell you some things about myself, right? But don't expect anything too personal because I'm not about to give you my home address or anything. You're still some strange, incarcerated man after all.

“So you have some semblance of sanity, at least,” Jax murmured condescendingly to the letter. “Good for you, darlin’.”

I'm not really that interesting, as you’ve probably already gathered yourself. Certainly not the type to land myself serving time in a state prison. I'm more the type to be reading a book (something I imagine you're probably doing a lot of from sheer boredom), cooking and baking, or spending time in my garden. Wholesome shit. Things I bet you're sitting there rolling your eyes at. Because you are, aren’t you?

“Sure seem pretty aware of your audience,” he muttered dryly to the paper.

Anyway, I like to think I'm funny, but I suppose my humor grows on you. Or so my brother has often told me. 

“Think your brother is a bit biased, giggles,” Jax grumbled.

And he often says I talk too much. So I'm trying not to ramble, but somehow you're still reading this. Though I guess…what else are you going to do, right? Your options are sadly limited in there.

But who knows? Maybe this whole stupid pen pal program will end up being more beneficial than you probably first thought. Or at least, maybe it might provide you some brief entertainment while you're stuck serving time. I'm not sure if you're someone who gets visitors, but having someone talk to you like you aren't some caged animal might at least be nice. But what do I know? I've never personally been incarcerated. Though from my knowledge, the guards treat you like less than human, and I can't imagine how that weighs on a person over time.

“Jesus Christ,” Jax muttered to himself. “You tryin’ to be my fucking therapist now, giggles?”

Okay maybe I should just end this here. I feel like I'm just going to start rambling if I don't, and I'm sure you don't want me to bore you.

“Too fucking late for that,” he muttered, still reading.

Feel free to write about whatever you want in response, but I wouldn't mind learning a bit about who I'm writing to. I would actually like the opportunity to get to know whoever you are–that is the point of this, after all. Though I imagine you're going to give me some false name with some false backstory. But you know what? I like stories, so go ahead and make up some interesting bullshit. I'll still happily read it even if you claim to have a peg leg, an eye patch, and a pet parrot.

The letter ended abruptly there with your first name. Jax found himself staring at the paper in his hands for a long moment, wondering what the fuck he'd just read. You sounded so much like…not the kind of person he'd ever find himself having a conversation with. Ever. Outside of this goddamn pen pal program, you and him would never interact. You had nothing in common. Flowers and baking? Who the fuck were you, Martha Stewart? 

He set the letter down next to him on the mattress before running a hand down his face. You sounded too fucking sweet to be writing to shitheads like himself in prison . He already knew he'd offend you with whatever he wrote back. Because it was an absolute joke that he could form some sort of “friendship” with some girl like you through letters. But he knew he had to participate for it to count as him being active in the program. 

“Fucking Lowen,” Jax grumbled to himself. “This shit better get me parole.”