chadillacboseman

[chadillacboseman]

I was tagged by @ellswips and @socially-awkward-skeleton . So what if I'm four days late??

A little Gemma @bihanspookies and Eli (me) piece from an AU that Nati has inspired me to write.

(As a technokinetic mutant, Eli is able to manipulate machines/technology.)

[chadillacboseman]

some mk11 oc intro pages made forever ago (passage of time AHHH) the blank OC templates I made will be posted later

in order!

Kate - @kateofthebd

Alex - @chadillacboseman

Echo - @roofgeese

Alora - @bihanspookies

Siris - me

Nightrider - @advanced-imbecile-art

[chadillacboseman]

Oh no the assholes are back!! :((

Jesse: @chadillacboseman

Danny: @elligatorrex

[chadillacboseman]

Me watching everyone tag me in their wip Wednesday knowing good and goddamn well I don't have jack shit to post

[chadillacboseman]

tagged by @imogenkol and @ellswips this week, thank you both <3

Shadow Dance only has a few chapters left in it (most of it only outlined) so I figured why not share a bit of the opening to the engagement fic coming for the ship that is always on my mind as of late. If you are actually a cod canon enjoyer, as a heads up, this takes place during the final scene in MW2 during the bar scene in Chicago. This is still quite rough, and written in Price pov, so things may still change:

Sitting in the dimly lit corner booth of the back alley Chicago bar, he leans back, one arm stretched over the top of the seat, sharing a clandestine drink with one of his oldest and most trusted friends – Ironic, considering she was CIA. The music drips from the speakers, the low buzz emitting from the neon around them catching on the hairs of his arms like static. Lifting his glass to his lips, he sips as his enigmatic gaze is riveted to the scene across the length of the bar from him, watching his boys – and her – play darts like they were back home at the pub. All smiles, laughing as her head tosses back at one of Soap’s off color jokes. Something coiled in his belly, warm and alive, fending off the liquor’s bite and replacing it with a soft, fluttering creature that only seemed to nestle its way into him when she was around. The hard man with the rich, caramel center that drowned and tenaciously bound around her. Clinging, claggy. Proprietorial.

“Got something on your mind, John?” Kate asks, swallowing down her sip of bourbon with nary a hiss. Resting back in her seat, she crosses her arms over her chest, looking at him dryly.

There’s no hiding his ulterior motives from Laswell, the only other person who can read him like a children’s picture book that’s more visual than text (sub or otherwise) is Rory, and he’s not entirely sure whether that’s something he should consider himself lucky for in this case. 

“What makes you say tha’?” He shifts his shoulders against the worn vinyl of the backrest, an irritating squeak coming from it that fractures his resolve momentarily, his brows beginning to furrow.

“You’re staring.”

He forgets himself sometimes when it comes to Rory. For all his love of control, maintaining a steel trap of a mind, concocting plans and machinations, he always seems to be blindsided by the woman who’s been at his side for the last five years. It still surprises him how she can turn him into a fool with a look, a word, a smile. Melting him like butter in the heat of her sun-bright love and her radiant desire.

“Observin’.”

“Potato, patahto.”

An imperceptible little curl at the corner of his mouth, one tucked beneath the bristled whiskers of his mustache, barely sneaks by unnoticed as his eyes flicker over to Rory once more, her lilting giggle dancing over to him along the waves of bluesy guitar that carries it like a life raft. She is warmth personified, glowing in the haloed amber light of dimmed sconces and neon liquor signs, the blues and pinks shining in her hair like she’s some sort of goddamn fairy. An ethereal being that his calloused hands have no right to touch and yet still she opens like a flower to him as if he were the spring that chased away the nip of frost keeping her bud sealed shut. He realizes then that he’s never seen her in a light that doesn't suit her. From rise to set, the shadow of night, the pallid luminescence of moonlight, the beaming desert sun, firelight, and everything in between, the woman herself seems to glow from her core like the molten center of the earth and he’s desperate to feel that benevolence on his skin. 

“You’re off the clock, John. You’re allowed to have your eyes on her. I’m certainly not going to hold it against you.” Laswell glances back behind her at the rest of the 141 taking a moment of reprieve from a war that was ready to build to yet another crescendo. “You’re a lucky man.” She turns back to face him and smirks, tilting her head to look up at him from under her brow. “Let’s just hope you don’t screw it up.”

His brow knits together, creasing all the lines in his face, deep set and weathered, but the smirk remains. “Certainly not my intent.”

“Judging by the way you’re looking at her, I assume you’ve got a whole other intent in mind.”

Scratching at the side of his nose, shifting in his seat, he crawls his arms forward across the table and lowers his voice conspiratorially. A secret shared between friends. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout askin’ her to marry me.”

“Really?” Laswell sat forward in her seat as well, ready to insert herself in the juicy gossip.

“‘S a long time comin’.” He’s willing to concede that fact. Most men would have dropped to their knees and crawled on hand and foot to catch themselves a woman like her. However, most men weren’t also restricted by arbitrary military laws, ones that he had already skirted around this long, keeping what they had as a secret. But, as with all things, eventually the truth will out. “You know I’m not the romantic type, not gonna say she’s the one, but…” His head tilts sharply, underlining the unspoken implication.

“It feels right.”

Nodding, John collects the condensation lined tumbler in his paw and rubs the pad of his thumb through one of the rivulets that slide down the glass and his mind drifts to the image of the curve of Rory's lower back and the way it meandered into the rounded line of her hips as sweat drops traveled the course down to the swell of that perfect, pert little arse. “Don’t wanna lose that one, Kate,” he says, using the glass in his hand to direct attention towards the subject of the conversation. “Not ever.”

“So you’re finally putting a ring on it.”

“Yeah, s’pose I am.” Sighing, he pulls the beanie off his head and brushes his hand through his hair roughly. “You and Sam, how’d you go about it?”

“Are you asking me for relationship advice?” Brow cocked, Laswell’s eyes narrow as she stares at him, ready to make him sweat.

“Maybe.”

“This goes a little beyond a work friendship, John. Thought we had rules about mixing business and personal.”

He meets her look with an entirely flat reaction, except for the dry ice burn of his eyes from beneath the shadow created by his heavy brow, but she remains unfazed by him and sighs. “Well, to be honest, it was Sam who asked me to marry her.”

“Huh…” He takes another sip of his drink and swallows heavily, feeling it stick in his throat. “Wasn’t expectin’ tha’.”

“She was insistent about it too. Sat me down at one of the tables at her restaurant, made me my favorite meal that wasn’t on the menu, and then got down on one knee. Couldn’t say no to that. She knows the way to my heart. Just… keep it simple.”

“Yeah, don't want to do somethin’ over the top. Romcom shite aint my thing, and Rory wouldn't want to be Love Actually'd. Not her style either.”

“You know her better than anyone else. Just ask her.”

“Just ask her?" He questions, brows lifting comically as he scoffs at the mockery of a command. "Easier said than done. Need to make sure it's right for her.”

“You're making it harder than it needs to be.”

“Maybe I am. Only fittin’ though, considerin’ that's how she was before we got caught up in all this together.”

A low hum purrs in Laswell's throat. “Smart woman.”

John's eyes flashed dangerously at the jab. “Still got ‘er though, didn’ I?”

“Smart woman with a soft spot that you take full advantage of.”

Across the bar, Rory turns, looking at him from over the rim of her glass as she takes a drink, smiling as she swallows. Her eyes glimmer like large reflecting pools, the light sparkling in their dazzling depths the color of the finest whiskey and oak leaves in summer. Unlike his that seem bottomless, a yawning chasm like the Marianas Trench that grows deeper and darker the farther one goes, her gaze is bewitching, a doorway into a heart that needs to be gently cradled and a mind that needs to be tenderly stroked and reminded that there are those worth relying on (even if he doesn’t always merit that honor, but fuck if he doesn’t try).

“And who could bloody blame me?” He murmurs, not taking his eyes off his pretty Lieutenant, having a wordless conversation just through the way they exchange glances.

Huffing out a quiet laugh, Laswell pushes her glass of melted ice to the side. “She knows you're up to something.”

“She always does.”

COD taglist [opt in/out] (no pressure to interact): @aceghosts @silkcrows @devil-kindred @taciturntraveller @sukoshimikan @voltac @thedeadthree @voidika @chadillacboseman @efingart @alypink @roofgeese @g0dspeeed @simplegenius042 @strangefable @direwombat @la-grosse-patate @josephseedismyfather @statichvm @clicheantagonist @tommyarashikage @inafieldofdaisies @raresvtm @cloudofbutterflies92 @justasmolbard @finding-comfort-in-rain @cassietrn @carlosoliveiraa

[chadillacboseman]

Summary: A look at Chapter 1. This mostly sets the scene and starts to establish Kate's personality. I'm pretty happy with it ☺️

Pink clouds slither across the dusty blue sky as the sun sets on the horizon. It's that time of evening when everything in the city takes on a warm glow: the facades of the skyscrapers, the Babichev fish packing plant off in the distance, the old Nakamura mill to the west, the SmartCrops farm to the east. Even the airships displaying LED commercials for Cybernetica and Neuroware look like orange monstrosities.

There's a chill in the air that stings Kate's eyes when Ness throws the glass door to the apartment complex open. It's early March, and with the remnants of winter still lingering in the cold wind, Kate has elected to wear her striped oversized pullover tonight, even though she really wanted to wear her new flannel. Well, it's not technically new new, but new to her. She found it in the trash in the alley behind the apartment building with a hole in the elbow, which she did not fix because she thought it gave it character.

The smell of yakitori and shawarma makes her mouth water as they make their way through the crowd huddling at the food vendor carts, and for a moment, she considers asking Ness to wait up so she can buy a plate. But she is moving fast, determined to avoid running into her brother and his friends, who she believes will undoubtedly ruin Kate's special night by wanting to tag along. But Kate doesn't mind Niki, who is for all intents and purposes, her brother too. Nor does she mind his friends. They're good people.

Unfortunately, Ness's hopes of avoiding the guys are dashed because they're there, at the bottom of the stairs. She swears under her breath, and Niki, who is wearing Adidas track pants, a gray hoodie, a black backpack, and clean black and white Puma sneakers, narrows his eyes suspiciously when he sees them.

"Where are you going?" he demands.

"None of your business, suka," Ness answers before Kate can open her mouth. Once they reach the bottom of the stairs, Niki starts following them, so naturally, the boys start following him.

"Katie?" he asks sweetly, sticking his thumbs through the straps of his backpack and sidling up beside her.

"Talk to Ness," she says because the last thing she wants is to come between blood.

"Go home, Niki," says Ness.

"Are you going to the mill?"

"Of course, they are going to the mill," says Lev with a flick of his cigarette. He is wearing a black hoodie, ripped black jeans, and black and white vans. The black beanie on his head makes his wavy golden blond hair stick out oddly.

"Fuck off, both of you."

"You know they still patrol around there, right?" says Val, worriedly. Val is wearing a green denim jacket, a gray t-shirt, dark wash jeans, and black combat boots.

"Not anymore, they don't," says Ness, matter-of-factly.

"And how would you know?" says Niki.

"Because I know people."

"People from your drug deals?" Niki teases.

"Obviously, zasranets." She kicks a Styrofoam cup that has been discarded in the middle of the sidewalk. It rolls into the street and is promptly run over by a speeding car. "But just in case, you should stay home."

"I'm a faster runner than you!"

"I wouldn't want Mom to worry."

He stands in her way, so the group pauses and forms a semicircle around them. "I'll tell Mom that you're working for the Bratva. How do you think she'll feel when she finds out you're willing to share your bed with the men who killed Dad?"

Though Ness and Kate no longer live with Ness's mother, they only live a few floors down from her and regularly meet for dinner. If her mother found out about her illicit activities, she'd never be welcomed home again, and neither would Kate for being associated with her. Having family in Midway City is a commodity few can claim, and not a treasure one parts with readily.

"Fine," Ness groans, "but I won't be responsible for whatever happens to you. If you die, your ghost has to tell Mom. Not me."

She pushes him, but he lets her pass with a vindicated smile. "Fine."

They arrive at the corner store just as a loud aerial vehicle flies overhead. Kate figures it belongs to one of the factory owners since no one else in Southport could ever afford one. Lev stays outside and lights up another smoke. Val and Niki follow Ness and Kate in.

"Hi, Mr. Ivanov," Kate says to the large, balding man behind the register. A grey tabby cat sits atop the counter, purring softly into his cybernetic hand. The original one had been lost in an armed robbery last summer, which was swiftly dealt with by the Bratva since the police are useless unless you go to them wearing a fancy suit or driving a Ferrari. The Bratva even paid for his new hand - manufactured by Cybernetica, and not one of those cheap, used-up black market ones, too. But she figures that's what you're owed after paying the exorbitant protection fee.

He only grunts, his attention rapt on the TV hanging in the corner. A news segment is on. The pretty Asian news anchor says that the homicide rate is up, that polling suggests Councilman Chapman will be appointed Prime Minister, and then a clip of the young politician standing between two Watchmen, promising to increase more patrols and take back the city plays. Mr. Ivanov shakes his head, and Kate shares the sentiment.

"Katie!" calls Ness, her head poking above one of the shelves. She finds her in the alcohol aisle, holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and tequila in the other. "Which one?"

"Vodka. Get the citrus one this time."

Ness makes a gagging sound, puts both bottles back, and picks up the blue bottle of Pinnacle Citrus. Niki, who is not old enough to drink, eyes up a bottle of Jägermeister. Ness tells him to put it back because it's disgusting and tastes like licorice. Niki tells her he likes licorice. They bicker back and forth until she gives in.

In the snack aisle, bright, colorful bags of chips in more flavors than Kate could ever imagine sit fat and full on the shelves. Val picks up a bag of sour cream and onion. Kate picks up spicy sweet Doritos. Her favorite is cool ranch, but she's not sure that it would mix well with citrus-flavored vodka. As a treat for later, she picks up a pack of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. She will most likely give one to Ness.

They dump their goodies on the counter. Niki has added Funyuns, a Kit Kat bar, and a blue Gatorade. Mr. Ivanov rings it all up, gives them three white plastic bags, and tells them the price is eighty-two ninety-seven. Kate hands Ness forty-five, which she got from her tips at the Midway City Diner and for watching Mrs. Petrov's kids. Val says nothing about her paying for his snacks, and Kate doesn't bring it up because she knows that his mom just lost her job at the fish packing factory.

Ness holds out a hand for Niki's cash.

"What?" he asks innocently.

"What do you mean what? I know you have money from working on Young-Soon's car."

"I spent it."

"What?" she slaps her hand on the counter.

"I needed new shoes."

Ness looks down at the aforementioned shoes and scoffs. "And you picked those?"

Niki starts yelling at her in Russian, so Ness yells back. This goes on for a few minutes until Kate, upon seeing the annoyance on Mr. Ivanov's face, finally forks over the rest of the cash.

"Here."

"No, no, no, Katie," Ness says and hands the bills back. "You will not pay for your own drinks tonight." From the wallet she keeps in her back pocket, she retrieves more cash, which Niki eyes over her shoulder until she shoves him away from her shoulder. "Here you go, Mr. Ivanov."

Mr. Ivanov does not card them for the alcohol, but he does tell them to stay away from the old mill, their usual drinking spot, because Ana, his daughter, saw a Watchman patrolling the grounds there on her way home from school.

"I told you!" Val hisses.

"Oh, we won't go there tonight," Ness promises.

"Mm-hm. You be careful. The city is changing. You see it on the news. Those Watchmen," he says the word with disdain, "they will kill you."

"Thank you for your concern, Mr. Ivanov, but even if we were to go there, I do not think the rich men who control them will care if we drink in a building they abandoned."

Mr. Ivanov only shakes his head and mutters something in Russian. Kate thinks he called them stupid kids. She pretends to ignore it. Ness picks up the bags, and they leave.

Tagged By: @imogenkol

No Pressure Tags: @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @chadillacboseman @socially-awkward-skeleton @suga-catt @voidika @original-jade @middlechildwhoescapedthebasement @mintspider @bihanspookies @chewbokachoi @bi-force-1 @cloudofbutterflies92 @statichvm @vivilovespink @meatgrinderminefield @purgetrooperfox @jaydraw209 @likesugarandcyanide @lasersinthejungle

[chadillacboseman]

Hey fuck Noah Hanifin

[chadillacboseman]

Hotshot Valentine's Day: The Garden

@bihanspookies and I have several storyline endings for Alora and JJ, one of which is "The Happy Ending". Since it's Valentine's Day, I figured I'd post one of the stories from that ending. Art by @rcris123

Tagging a few people who may wanna post a valentine's day piece if they have it: @socially-awkward-skeleton @lilywatt @roofgeese @kateofthebd

Summary: JJ reflects on the woman he loves in the months following her departure from the Black Dragon.

---

The midday sun peeks through a few errant clouds, painting the grass of the front lawn in hues of yellow and orange. JJ uses his heels to keep the momentum of the porch swing, swaying back and forth gently as he watches Alora across the yard.

She’s wearing a flowing white dress patterned with sunflowers that billows and ripples in the gentle breeze. A large sun hat graces her head, and JJ smiles as she claps a hand to the top of it to stop the wind from snatching it. She’s bent low, a spade clutched in her hands as she moves between the rows of the garden and eliminates the weeds that have cropped up.

JJ could watch her for hours, the way her brows furrow when she spots another errant thistle that taints the rows of perfect seedlings she’s been meticulously caring for. She curls her lip into a snarl as her icy gaze falls onto one and she strikes with the spade with devastating accuracy, severing the root with a quick dig.

Still, the fighter in her comes out, even after so many months away from the Black Dragon.

Alora looks up and catches his eye, and JJ feels his breath catch as she smiles, an expression that has finally lost its foreignness on her pretty features. He loves her so much that it hurts, burning like a rolling coal fire in his chest.

‘Love you’ he mouths from the porch and Alora straightens, wiping the dirt from her hands. The sun halos her, makes her look ethereal as her auburn hair kicks up around her face from the breeze.

Alora doesn’t do ‘I love yous’, not in the realest sense of the words. She shows it, though, always doing things for JJ when she can.

He doesn’t need to hear the words to know how she feels.

Alora, satisfied with her work, drops the spade into an empty bucket and makes her way to JJ. She smiles again and he feels as if his ribs tighten around his lungs. She drops onto the porch swing next to him and he slings an arm around her shoulders on instinct, savoring the way she leans into his embrace.

For a moment, JJ’s mind wanders back to that first night at the bar. The dim lights, the way her eyes had shone beneath it. The way he’d known he needed to see her again.

“What’s on your mind, cowboy?” Alora asks softly and he snaps back to attention with a small smile.

“You.”

She gives him a playful roll of her eyes and he chuckles, planting a soft kiss on her temple. For a moment, they sit in silence as the crickets chirp out a symphony and the red-winged blackbirds sing from the distant cattails of the creek.

“You remember that night we played the dart game?” JJ asks quietly.

“You mean the night I beat you?”

“Yeah, yeah, the night you hustled me,” he waves a dismissive hand with a grin, “you remember when I touched your waist?”

Alora’s face heats and she looks away with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. JJ presses on, emboldened by her embarrassment.

“I remember lookin’ at that damn smile out in the street, and I told myself I wanted to see it every day for the rest of my life.”

“Stop it,” Alora tries to hold back the smile that threatens to break onto her face, but it doesn’t work. She grins widely and a youthful giggle almost fights its way past her teeth, but she clamps down on it and keeps it trapped.

“It’s true,” JJ’s eyes settle on her beautiful face, still admiring every detail just as he’d done when they’d first met, “You made me feel like a million dollars every time I saw you.”

The silence returns, but it isn’t awkward. It’s filled with the unspoken love that surges between them, tying the two of them together like a tightly-wound cord. JJ returns his gaze to the horizon, watching as dark clouds roll through the sky, deep grays illuminated with occasional flashes of lightning as they overtake the sunshine.

Alora moves with the intention to go inside before the rain hits, but JJ grabs her arm gently, returning her to the swing. The smell of rain strikes before the storm does, and JJ inhales deeply with his eyes closed.

The first few drops patter onto the lawn and a cool burst of air follows. JJ pulls Alora in closer to him, and rests his head against hers as the rain showers down in earnest, blurring the yard. In the distance, he can barely make out the shapes of the horses as they gallop for the cover of the barn.

Sometimes, these moments don’t feel real.

JJ still expects to wake up in an empty bed, still thinks that she is a fleeting thing that will disappear into the night like a shooting star. Every morning that he cracks open his eyes to find her, his heart surges with the kind of love he can barely contain.

Sometimes, he feels a little silly. The Falcons make the occasional joke at his expense, ribbing that he’s gone soft for a girl. Elliot is the biggest offender, but JJ could care less.

He has gone soft for a girl.

Jeremiah Mitchell, who could, and has killed a man with his bare hands.

He would still kill, but he’d do it for Alora. He’d burn entire cities to the ground with the Falcons at his heels if it meant she could sleep safely in his bed. The thought makes him laugh. Alora could outfight him any day, but she doesn’t have to anymore.

Instead of surviving, she can live.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Alora murmurs and JJ rubs the back of his neck with a smile.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he captures her mouth in a quick kiss and then withdraws to admire her once more, “Just thinkin’ about how much I love you.”

Alora’s eyes soften and she brushes her fingers over the back of his hand delicately before she intertwines them with his. For a moment, they sit and watch as the rain pours down in sheets, Alora leaned against JJ’s shoulder with a small smile playing at her lips.

Together, they sit in silence, enjoying the scent of rain and the gentle clap of thunder as the storm rolls in over the ranch. JJ glances over at the garden, remembering how it had once been a simple patch of black dirt. Now, seedlings have sprung to life all over it, carefully nurtured by the woman he’s lucky enough to call his.

He supposes that she’s done the same for him.

The thought makes him smile.

[chadillacboseman]

people freaking out over celebrities cheating + demanding statements to “hold them responsible” when a celebrity’s main job is to have extramarital affairs for our entertainment…would you ask a butterfly not to leave its chrysalis…

[chadillacboseman]

Sucks to see someone else living your dream.

[chadillacboseman]

ship dynamic i really like

[chadillacboseman]

The First (Not a) Date

Huge thank you to @vartoids for bringing Kate & Danny's first (not a) date to life! The colors and the lighting are so warm and cozy, and Kate & Danny look so happy!

No Pressure Tags: @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @chadillacboseman @socially-awkward-skeleton @suga-catt @voidika @original-jade @middlechildwhoescapedthebasement @mintspider @bihanspookies @chewbokachoi @bi-force-1 @cloudofbutterflies92 @statichvm @confidentandgood @vivilovespink @meatgrinderminefield @purgetrooperfox @jaydraw209 @likesugarandcyanide @apepthehero

[chadillacboseman]

I AM SORRY THIS IS ALWAYS HOW IT GOES.

i commissioned @delicateweaponjpg to bring these freaks to life in the spirit of valentine’s day, and as always, nika killed it. is this technically a snapshot from one of the weirdest, worst days of lily’s life? perhaps. however. enjoy some dysfunctional catholic on dysfunctional catholic smooching in the spirit of the holiday. thank you again, nika. 💜

tag list: @carrionsflower @queennymeria @risingsh0t @d-esmond @shellibisshe @unholymilf @florbelles @adelaidedrubman @shallow-gravy @blissfulalchemist @socially-awkward-skeleton @roofgeese @leviiackrman @loriane-elmuerto @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @belorage @simonxriley @imogenkol @strangefable @faarkas @cloudofbutterflies92 @neonshrike @poetikat @confidentandgood @voidika @direwombat @chyrstis @elligatorrex @shadowglens @tommyarashikage @chadillacboseman @teamhawkeye @moonflowcr @thedeadthree @auricfog @katsigian and @floradellamorte

[chadillacboseman]

Valentine's Day Skelly Sketch

I HAVE BEEN BLESSED WITH A SKELLY SKETCH TODAY! Thank you so, so much @socially-awkward-skeleton for gracing me with your lovely art of my little murderers on this fine Valentine's Day 💕 Kate's nose is perfect and I love Danny's little ears 😭 I will be staring at it for the rest of the day

No Pressure Tags: @roofgeese @inafieldofdaisies @cassietrn @chadillacboseman @socially-awkward-skeleton @suga-catt @voidika @original-jade @middlechildwhoescapedthebasement @mintspider @bihanspookies @chewbokachoi @bi-force-1 @cloudofbutterflies92 @statichvm @confidentandgood @vivilovespink @meatgrinderminefield @purgetrooperfox @jaydraw209 @likesugarandcyanide @apepthehero

[chadillacboseman]

Hotshot Valentine's Day: The Garden

@bihanspookies and I have several storyline endings for Alora and JJ, one of which is "The Happy Ending". Since it's Valentine's Day, I figured I'd post one of the stories from that ending. Art by @rcris123

Tagging a few people who may wanna post a valentine's day piece if they have it: @socially-awkward-skeleton @lilywatt @roofgeese @kateofthebd

Summary: JJ reflects on the woman he loves in the months following her departure from the Black Dragon.

---

The midday sun peeks through a few errant clouds, painting the grass of the front lawn in hues of yellow and orange. JJ uses his heels to keep the momentum of the porch swing, swaying back and forth gently as he watches Alora across the yard.

She’s wearing a flowing white dress patterned with sunflowers that billows and ripples in the gentle breeze. A large sun hat graces her head, and JJ smiles as she claps a hand to the top of it to stop the wind from snatching it. She’s bent low, a spade clutched in her hands as she moves between the rows of the garden and eliminates the weeds that have cropped up.

JJ could watch her for hours, the way her brows furrow when she spots another errant thistle that taints the rows of perfect seedlings she’s been meticulously caring for. She curls her lip into a snarl as her icy gaze falls onto one and she strikes with the spade with devastating accuracy, severing the root with a quick dig.

Still, the fighter in her comes out, even after so many months away from the Black Dragon.

Alora looks up and catches his eye, and JJ feels his breath catch as she smiles, an expression that has finally lost its foreignness on her pretty features. He loves her so much that it hurts, burning like a rolling coal fire in his chest.

‘Love you’ he mouths from the porch and Alora straightens, wiping the dirt from her hands. The sun halos her, makes her look ethereal as her auburn hair kicks up around her face from the breeze.

Alora doesn’t do ‘I love yous’, not in the realest sense of the words. She shows it, though, always doing things for JJ when she can.

He doesn’t need to hear the words to know how she feels.

Alora, satisfied with her work, drops the spade into an empty bucket and makes her way to JJ. She smiles again and he feels as if his ribs tighten around his lungs. She drops onto the porch swing next to him and he slings an arm around her shoulders on instinct, savoring the way she leans into his embrace.

For a moment, JJ’s mind wanders back to that first night at the bar. The dim lights, the way her eyes had shone beneath it. The way he’d known he needed to see her again.

“What’s on your mind, cowboy?” Alora asks softly and he snaps back to attention with a small smile.

“You.”

She gives him a playful roll of her eyes and he chuckles, planting a soft kiss on her temple. For a moment, they sit in silence as the crickets chirp out a symphony and the red-winged blackbirds sing from the distant cattails of the creek.

“You remember that night we played the dart game?” JJ asks quietly.

“You mean the night I beat you?”

“Yeah, yeah, the night you hustled me,” he waves a dismissive hand with a grin, “you remember when I touched your waist?”

Alora’s face heats and she looks away with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. JJ presses on, emboldened by her embarrassment.

“I remember lookin’ at that damn smile out in the street, and I told myself I wanted to see it every day for the rest of my life.”

“Stop it,” Alora tries to hold back the smile that threatens to break onto her face, but it doesn’t work. She grins widely and a youthful giggle almost fights its way past her teeth, but she clamps down on it and keeps it trapped.

“It’s true,” JJ’s eyes settle on her beautiful face, still admiring every detail just as he’d done when they’d first met, “You made me feel like a million dollars every time I saw you.”

The silence returns, but it isn’t awkward. It’s filled with the unspoken love that surges between them, tying the two of them together like a tightly-wound cord. JJ returns his gaze to the horizon, watching as dark clouds roll through the sky, deep grays illuminated with occasional flashes of lightning as they overtake the sunshine.

Alora moves with the intention to go inside before the rain hits, but JJ grabs her arm gently, returning her to the swing. The smell of rain strikes before the storm does, and JJ inhales deeply with his eyes closed.

The first few drops patter onto the lawn and a cool burst of air follows. JJ pulls Alora in closer to him, and rests his head against hers as the rain showers down in earnest, blurring the yard. In the distance, he can barely make out the shapes of the horses as they gallop for the cover of the barn.

Sometimes, these moments don’t feel real.

JJ still expects to wake up in an empty bed, still thinks that she is a fleeting thing that will disappear into the night like a shooting star. Every morning that he cracks open his eyes to find her, his heart surges with the kind of love he can barely contain.

Sometimes, he feels a little silly. The Falcons make the occasional joke at his expense, ribbing that he’s gone soft for a girl. Elliot is the biggest offender, but JJ could care less.

He has gone soft for a girl.

Jeremiah Mitchell, who could, and has killed a man with his bare hands.

He would still kill, but he’d do it for Alora. He’d burn entire cities to the ground with the Falcons at his heels if it meant she could sleep safely in his bed. The thought makes him laugh. Alora could outfight him any day, but she doesn’t have to anymore.

Instead of surviving, she can live.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Alora murmurs and JJ rubs the back of his neck with a smile.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he captures her mouth in a quick kiss and then withdraws to admire her once more, “Just thinkin’ about how much I love you.”

Alora’s eyes soften and she brushes her fingers over the back of his hand delicately before she intertwines them with his. For a moment, they sit and watch as the rain pours down in sheets, Alora leaned against JJ’s shoulder with a small smile playing at her lips.

Together, they sit in silence, enjoying the scent of rain and the gentle clap of thunder as the storm rolls in over the ranch. JJ glances over at the garden, remembering how it had once been a simple patch of black dirt. Now, seedlings have sprung to life all over it, carefully nurtured by the woman he’s lucky enough to call his.

He supposes that she’s done the same for him.

The thought makes him smile.

[chadillacboseman]

Huh⁉️⁉️

Echo ( @roofgeese )

[chadillacboseman]

Huh⁉️⁉️

Echo ( @roofgeese )