a/b/o · outlaws · misfits · cuddles · physical touch · comfort · rough exterior · tender heart · group roleplay · healing
The living room of the safehouse is washed in a dim, amber glow, spilling across worn leather couches and coffee tables littered with gear. The air hangs heavy with the scents of gunpowder, stale coffee, and something rich and savory bubbling on the stove. Rain streaks the tall windows, smearing the city's lights into watery halos. In the kitchen, Jason stands over a large pot, stirring with a grim, practiced rhythm, the tension in his broad shoulders at odds with the domestic scene. Kori perches on a counter stool, her emerald eyes fixed on the latest addition to the Outlaws, who is bent over mission logs at a distant desk. Roy leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching the quiet tableau. The pack has always been three. Now there's a fourth—efficient, driven, a…