#jimpat

[sasreversebang]

i'll find my soul as i go home

Jim Almonds/Pat Riley

Est. word count: 35-40K

Summary: Pat Riley frequents the BDSM club near his flat; Jim Almonds runs a bakery nearby. In the wee hours when Pat is walking home, he runs into Jim and they hit it off.

"C'mere," Jim says, motioning for Pat to come closer. He scoots back in his chair, knees wide, and Pat - nearly on instinct - gets up and stands between his knees, towering over Jim's seated form. He smiles down at him, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder as Jim hooks a finger through one of Pat's belt loops.

Jim, still languidly leaning in his chair, takes his cigarette from his mouth and holds it up for Pat to lean in and take a drag. Pat does so without prompting, his heart skipping a beat at the indirect kiss. Leaning down slightly, he lets his eyes drift to Jim's face, noticing quickly how wide Jim's pupils have gotten, how pink his cheeks are.

Featuring art and concept by @noeavoiding and fic by @buckyclevens , i'll find my soul as I go home will be revealed on Friday, December 26

[noeavoiding]

I had the pleasure to provide the concept and gifset for the very first @sasreversebang work written by the lovely @buckyclevens and I'm so excited for everyone to read it!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Pat Riley enjoys frequenting the leather club near his flat. Jim Almonds runs a bakery nearby. In the wee hours of the morning when Pat is walking home and Jim is opening the bakery, he and Jim cross paths. "What is it?" Jim says. "Flour on my face?" "No— well, yeah." Pat notices quickly that Jim does have flour on his face, a dusting across his nose, a smear just under one of his eyes, now that he gets a closer look. As he lets his eyes linger, Pat makes note of two moles on Jim's left cheekbone, a couple centimeters apart, another just to the right of his nose. Pat swallows, dryly. "That wasn't… why I looked," Pat says, feeling suddenly very self conscious about what he's wearing and if he has any come drying in his hair or if he looks like he just got his face fucked kneeling on the floor of a sex club's bathroom or anything else that is equally improbable. He looks at Jim, really looks at him — putting his cigarette out on the brick wall at their backs — and opens his mouth to say something more when a timer dings from inside the bakery.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jules and I also made a playlist with mostly period accurate music to accompany the fic for anyone who wants to listen to some oldies while reading 🕺🪩

Big thanks to the SAS:RH Reverse Bang team and all the amazing people in our little community who made this possible, I'm so excited to check out all your works!! ❤️❤️

[buckyclevens]

i’ll find my soul as i go home by me aka burglarbilbo on AO3

———

"What is it?" Jim says. "Flour on my face?"

"No— well, yeah." Pat notices quickly that Jim does have flour on his face, a dusting across his nose, a smear just under one of his eyes, now that he gets a closer look. As he lets his eyes linger, Pat makes note of two moles on Jim's left cheekbone, a couple centimeters apart, another just to the right of his nose. Pat swallows, dryly.

"That wasn't… why I looked," Pat says, feeling suddenly very self conscious about what he's wearing and if he has any come drying in his hair or if he looks like he just got his face fucked kneeling on the floor of a sex club's bathroom or anything else that is equally improbable. He looks at Jim, really looks at him — putting his cigarette out on the brick wall at their backs — and opens his mouth to say something more when a timer dings from inside the bakery.

———

this is part of the @sasreversebang !!!!! this fic concept comes from @noeavoiding, who also did the amazing cover art and gifset embedded in the fic!!! please enjoy everyone and thanks for reading!!!

[spinteresting]

I got possessed and wrote a JimPat fic. 1.6k words. Grief sex

He ducks into the tent and plops down on the cot beside Jim, holding out a bottle to him. “Thanks,” Jim says as he takes it and bumps his knee into Pat’s. They sit in silence, their shoulders pressed together as they drink and drink and drink, willing the alcohol to stifle this overwhelming grief. It’s not like Jock was the first person they had lost, but something about losing him feels like losing the whole damn war.

Read on ao3.

[johntonkin]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[roseszirnheld]

So......I started another fic series! This one is all about Pat Riley and everyone loving on him 🥰

Here's the first chapter, a cute little JimPat to start us off!!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[schestokryl]

Wait I haven’t posted those silly sketches I made in summer

jimpat I drew for Midna and gender swap au because I’m a weak woman and I wanted to draw some girls

[midwrites]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: SAS: Rogue Heroes (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jim Almonds/Pat Riley Characters: Pat Riley (SAS: Rogue Heroes), Jim Almonds Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Oral Sex, Rimming, Internalized Homophobia, Period Typical Attitudes, Non-Linear Narrative, set during S01 Ep04, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD Summary:

“How can you do what we do and still read the Good Book, hm?” Jim startles at the question, his sunglasses clattering onto the cream tiled floor. It takes no time for Pat to bend and pick them up, smiling with a self-assuredness he is only beginning to learn is acceptable while bare in the company of another man. “I picked it up from where he fell,” Jim explains once his glasses are safe atop the table and his eyes have briefly lost interest in the warm body by his side. “Anything else would have been too evident, but his Bible—I just couldn’t…” “Sergeant Almonds, committing an act of insubordination!” Pat feigns a gasp, allowing himself to plop on top of Jim’s crossed legs, his naked butt brushing against Jim’s strong thighs as the chair protests their combined weight in vain. “My, oh, my! Can’t even begin to imagine what Stirling would say.”

 They are granted five days of leave after Jock Lewes’ passing. Pat doesn’t think that’s long enough to grieve—or love.