#someone even set off firecrackers

[casualavocados]

caught some (upside-down) reflections of the ring of fire eclipse in my camera, including a moment of totality!

#it was so fucking cool #we woke up early and drove 3 hours south to watch it #there were a ton of people at the place we stopped at with their camp chairs out parked on the side of the road #got to share lots of pictures eith strangers.. #it was lovely. humanity is wonderful #thousands of people coming together for the same few minutes to watch nature work it's magic!! #when totality occurred everyone cheered and clapped and it echoed all down the road #someone even set off firecrackers #what a wonderful thing to experience!! #on our way home now~~ #*mine #space

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Urban Cowboy - Jake Seresin x Reader

pairing: Jake Seresin x f! reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v, mildly mean!dom Jake, teasing, jealous Jake

word count: 3.2k

The sounds of some 80s pop song echoed throughout the Hard Deck, a cheap colourful strobe light flashed around the room, its rainbow coloured beams striking random bargoers as they began to dance along to whatever was playing. It was new idea your aunt had come up with - doing theme nights at the bar once a month as a way to freshen things up and breathe new life into the military bar scene. 

Since you moved here four months ago, you’d gotten familiar with the regulars - there was Bradley Bradshaw, a man far older than he looked, with a penchant for comandeering the piano if the bar needed livening up, Natasha Trace, who had a fiery personality and often kept the other guys in their place, especially when the beers were flowing and they started flirting with unsuspecting patrons, Robert Floyd, the shy backseater who was always polite, tipped well and seemed to be the permanent designated driver on nights out, Reuben Fitch, who stood about a foot taller than you, and always had a witty comeback on hand, just in case, Mickey Garcia, who was sweet, but could talk anyone’s ear off about Star Trek, and Javy Machado, resident score keeper and pool table champion. 

Leading the group, was your Aunt Penny’s boyfriend, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. He often would come in, finding a table at the back of the room for his squad before abandoning them to spend the evening at the bar, chatting your aunt up and offering up any excuse to come behind the bar and sneak a hand to her hip or steal a squeeze of her rear. It was sweet the way your aunt and Pete were loved up, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. 

This afternoon, Pete came in at four o’clock sharp, just as he promised to help set up. As he hung a couple of decorations you and your aunt had managed to find online, he turned to you and smiled, watching as you prepped the theme night’s cocktail menu.

“I forgot to tell you, another one of my guys is going to be here tonight. He’s been off training at a different base for the last few months, just landed in this morning. You’ll like him. He’s a firecracker.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying he’s a cocky asshole?”

“I wouldn’t say asshole. He’s just very…confident. I think you’ll like him though.”

“Are you talking about Jake?” Penny piped up as she looked at Pete, watching as he climbed up the step ladder to hang another decoration from the ceiling.

“Yeah, don’t you think they’d hit it off?”

“I think she might hit him.”

“What? No way. Jake’s not that bad.”

Penny scoffed and shook her head, laughing. Holding her hands up in surrender, she walked away, retreating back to the bar to begin making sure all the key ingredients to your drink menu were where they needed to be. You continued to stuff the evening’s special menus into their plastic protective sleeves, shaking your head at Pete’s attempts to try and set you up with someone from his squad. It wasn’t the first time, you’d been on a date with Bradley once before, but found the age gap was too great between the two of you, with Bradley in complete agreement that you were much better suited as friends than lovers, and on a date with Reuben, who, despite efforts between the two of you, there was no chemistry shared there. 

As five o’clock approached, you hurried into the back stockroom to change into your themed outfit for the night, pulling your hair out of the velcro rollers that Penny had helped you wrap your hair up into, creating the perfect 80s voluminous curl that would make even Christie Brinkley jealous. Your tight fitting Daisy Duke style shorts accentuated your curves, hugging your thighs and hips in all the right places, your crisp white button down shirt tied just under your bra, showing off your tanned, soft midsection. A pair of mid-sized silver hoop earrings hung from your earlobes to complete the look. Your aunt’s stash of Aqua-Net hairspray was all you needed to finish it off, stepping out the back door to shake your curls out and spray them with enough hairspray to ensure they wouldn’t budge for the night. 

You reentered the bar to find Pete’s friends piling in, the other regular patrons all trickling in and getting comfortable as they came through, turning the bar into a sea of cheesy fake mustaches and 80s style Hawaiian shirts, brightly coloured polos and coordinating Bermuda shorts, wigs and legwarmers. The evening was quickly livening up, and you got to work behind the bar with your aunt, pulling pints and mixing drinks, firing off orders left right and center as the bar filled with partygoers. 

An hour into the night, Bradley approached the bar, his aviator sunglasses perched atop his chocolate coloured curls, his loud, brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt buttoned just enough to allow a few sparing curls of chest hair to peek out from the top. He leaned against the bar, smiling at you, his mustache neatly combed to closer resemble a style from the 80s. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was trying to emulate Tom Selleck. You’d seen pictures of Bradley’s dad and Pete from back in the 80s, and recognized the shirt anywhere. It was clear Bradley was dressed identically to his father, and you had to admire the dedication he had to the theme. 

“What can I get you, Bradshaw?”

“Hi dollface, I’ll take a Budweiser. And a chance to take you for a spin later?”

“We’ve done this before, Bradley,” you laughed as you cracked the top off the beer bottle and slid it across the counter to him. Bradley shook his head as he sipped the frothy liquid, grinning as he set the bottle down on the counter.

“I didn’t mean you. I’m practicing. I can’t be dressed like this and not use some kind of weird 80s shit to impress a girl, right? I’m just…using you for practice. Did it work?”

“Bradley, why don’t you, I don’t know, just, be yourself?” 

“Because tonight I’m not myself. I’m some single 39 year old in the 80s trying to get a date, apparently.”

“Well then, gag me with a spoon, that was gnarly. Try a different line. One that doesn’t begin with “dollface”?”

“Got it, thanks!”

You watched as Bradley sauntered away to go try his luck with a pretty blonde over by the jukebox. You smirked to yourself as you heard Bradley start singing along to Madonna, carrying the tune with an impressive baritone that you weren’t expecting. You knew he could sing, but singing Madonna was a whole new side to him. Turning your back for a moment, you began fixing a drink for yourself, mixing together the ingredients for a Shirley Temple. You looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man approach the bar counter, his hair slicked back, and a blonde mustache that made poor Bradley’s look unimpressive rested on his upper lip. The most stunning pair of bright green eyes looked at you, and a set of perfectly straight, whitened teeth fresh out of a Colgate commercial flashed a smile at you.

“Hi Darlin’, I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

“Sure thing,” You nodded, trying hard not to audibly gulp at the adonis of a man standing in front of you. 

“Are you new ‘round here?” he drawled, “I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

“Uh, within the last four months, yeah.” you nodded as you finished pulling a pint of draught for him, the frothy head of the beer perfectly resting in the glass. 

“Oh! That’ll explain it. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service, m’am.” He winked, and you felt yourself melt a little at the sight of this human embodiment of a Ken doll flirting with you. 

“You’re Jake?”

“Depends who’s askin’, Honey.” His accent was thick and heavy, something straight out of those reruns of The Andy Griffiths Show that your mom made you watch when you were a child.

“I’m Penny’s niece,” you nodded, giving him your name and laughing softly as your cheeks blushed, “I moved down here to help her out with things around here while I try to figure some life things out.”

“I see,” he smirked, sipping his beer, the foam brushing against his mustache as he set the glass down. “And does that list of things you’re figuring out include finding a strong, charming, handsome Southern boy?”

“It might, do you know any?” You quipped, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your own drink, pretending to feign disinterest in the handsome stranger before you.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“That so, hun? Who? Do I know him?”

“Not yet, but I think he sure would like to know you, Darlin’.”

You shook your head, your curls bouncing as you started to laugh, unable to control yourself. Jake was as bold as he was handsome, and you were suddenly realizing what Pete was referring to when he said that Jake was confident. He practically exuded a cocksure confidence from every pore in his body. And while that would normally repulse you and send you heading for the hills, with Jake, it felt different. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, his magnetic charms and graces pulling you in, and your inhibitions wearing down. However, you also knew how to deal with men like this - he was in need of an ego check, and you were just the person for the job. 

“Is that right? Well, you tell your little Southern-fried wannabe cowboy of a friend that if he’s interested, he’s going to have to stick around the bar all night. I promised Aunt Penny I’d help her make sure this night went smoothly, and I don’t need a knockoff Dukes of Hazzard cast member distracting me.” 

“Wannabe cowboy?” Jake gasped in feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically as he slipped into an even thicker accent than earlier, “Now Darlin’, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re breakin’ my heart over here. One thing I ain’t is a wannabe cowboy. You know, I used to ride in rodeos as a kid? Was one of the best there was for under 15 year olds, ‘til I decided to join the Navy instead.”

“Oh, so you’re like, a real cowboy then,” you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“S’pose you could say that. Only one real way to find out, ain’t there?”

“Take you to a farm and watch you wrangle cattle on horseback?” you retorted sarcastically.

“You’re funny, I like that.”

“I bet you do.” 

Jake leaned in across the bar, a smirk forming on his lips as he looked at you, his bright green eyes fixated on your lips as you spoke. His long eyelashes fluttered at you as he eyed you up, practically undressing you with his imagination. You grinned as you gestured to the sign behind you, reading that if you disrespect a lady, you owe everyone a round. 

“Watch it, Lieutenant. If you’re not careful, I’ll go ring that bell and you’ll learn a very expensive lesson.”

“Oh, Darlin’, I can guarantee, I ain’t gonna learn anything from it. I’m just dumb enough to do it again. Can’t help myself around a pretty girl like yourself.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you laughed at his relentless attempt. You knew the only reason he persisted was because you were teasing him, but at the same time, you didn’t mind the attention he was giving you. He wasn’t as tall as Bradley, or as broad shouldered, but he was built like a linebacker, with a solid frame and the accent alone was enough to drive you crazy.

It was almost 11 when Jake stopped you again, this time, outside of the stockroom when you’d disappeared back there for more maraschino cherries and pineapple juice. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, causing his pastel-coloured polo shirt to bulge around his biceps. His lips curled up in that annoyingly perfect smile once again as he stood in your path.

“Hey, Honey, need a hand with that?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you shrugged it off, shaking your head as you smirked at him, “You often follow girls into storage rooms?”

“Only the ones worth following.”

“Wow, Lieutenant, with a response like that, it’s a wonder you don’t have a trail of broken hearts following you around.”

“What is your issue, anyway? You got a thing against blondes? Pilots?”

“Please,” you smirked, shaking your head, “I went on a date with Rooster. He’s a pilot.”

“Is it ‘cause I’m from Texas?”

“No, it’s because you’re probably the most arrogant prick I’ve ever had the displeasure of coming across, actually. God, it’s like you think all you have to do is flash that stupid handsome smile and I’ll throw myself at you.”

Jake’s face fell slightly as he raised an eyebrow at you. You could tell he wasn’t used to having a girl put him in his place like this, but his crestfallen gaze was quickly replaced by that shit-eating grin he seemed to never go without sporting. 

“Honey, you’re real pretty when you get mean like that.”

“You’re impossible,” you sighed in exasperation.

“But you love it, don’t you?” 

Jake closed the gap between the two of you as he spoke, taking a couple steps closer to you. You bit your lip as you hesitated, thinking about the consequences that might follow if you acted on your desires. 

Fuck it. 

Your hands gripped the fabric of his polo shirt, pulling him down to your height as you crashed your lips into his passionately. You kissed a slow, hot trail up to his ear, a breathy moan escaping your lips as he put his hands on your hips to bring you in as close as possible, his body heat radiating on to you. 

“You gonna show me just how good you are, Cowboy?”

“Yes, m’am. I reckon I could show you a better time than any other man in here.”

Jake’s hand slipped down your curves, reaching around to cup your ass cheeks as he hoisted you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around your waist. You quickly discarded the cherries and juice that were in your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Jake’s lips worked their way along your neck, wet, fervent kisses that made your body squirm with pleasure, your arousal growing and burning in your stomach with each second. 

“Back door?” He murmured against your neck, his hands keeping a firm hold of your ass.

“Two steps behind me, to the left,” you panted, nodding your head as he sucked on your skin. 

It was unseasonably warm for May, the humidity hanging in the air as you left the air conditioned building. Jake pushed you up against the wall, using it as leverage as he quickly reached down to undo your shorts and wiggled them out of the way. He ran two of his thick fingers along the outside of your lace underwear, stroking the dampened fabric as he smirked to himself.

“Someone’s eager, aren’t ya, Darlin’?”

“Just shut up and fuck me, ok?”

“Now, that any way to ask for it?”

A wicked grin appeared on his face as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, stroking at your clit with a feather light touch, just enough to make you whine for more. 

“Jake, I swear to fuck, if you don’t take me right now.”

“Shhh, Sugar, don’t want anyone to hear, do ya? Unless you get off on getting caught,” He purred as he coaxed his fingertips inside of your dripping entrance, pumping them into you with precision.

You tossed your head backwards as Jake thrusted his fingers further into you, each movement harder and faster than before. The determined look in his eye alone was almost enough to send you over the edge. This man was hell-bent on making you orgasm, and he was on the right track to get you there within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, s-so close, Jake,” you keened, your fingers gripping his thick blonde hair as he brought you to your climax.

“That’s it, Sugar. Look at you, you’re a mess and I ain’t even started on you yet.”

“J-Jake, please,” you whimpered, coming undone as he fucked his fingers into you at a breakneck pace.

“Speak up, sweetheart, can’t hear ya.”

Your head started to spin as he pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he slammed his hips forwards, shoving his thick cock inside of you, causing you to cry out in ecstasy at the sudden fullness. Trying to be quiet, you secretly thanked your lucky stars that the sounds of Your Love by The Outfield blared throughout the club. Just as the chorus picked up, Jake rocked his hips forwards again, fucking himself into you with enough force to make you feel as though he might blow your back out right then and there.

“That’s it, Sugar, takin’ me so well,” Jake smirked, “What was that you said about bein’ a wannabe cowboy? Bet those other boys can’t fuck you like this, now can they?”

You were practically rendered speechless by Jake’s precise, rhythmic thrusts into your cunt, his masculine grunting and teasing proving enough to throw you back over the edge once again. Your legs began to shake and shudder while he bucked his hips up into you, his eyes full of lust and hunger as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a low, pornographic moan out of Jake. 

Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging on it as you threw your head back, you screamed out his name, louder than you intended. You lost your ability to hold yourself together as Jake’s thrusts became sloppier, his own orgasm following close behind yours. 

“Fuck, am I good?” He groaned, his eyes pleading for permission.

“On the pill, you’re good,” you panted, nodding quickly as Jake let himself go inside of you, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer as he repeated it over and over, praising you.

“Now, how ‘bout letting a strong, handsome Southern boy take you out on a date so he don’t feel so bad about fucking you until you can’t walk a couple hours after meetin’ ya?” He grinned as he readjusted himself and pulled his clothes back up. 

“I think I can fit you into my schedule, on one condition.”

“Mhmm? What’s that?”

“Next time, you come wearing a cowboy hat.”

“Deal, Sugar, I’ll even let you wear it.” 

#jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick imagine #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman fic #jake hangman seresin fic #hangman #top gun: maverick fic #jake seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #lt. jake seresin x reader #lt. jake seresin x you #lt. jake seresin #jake seresin smut #jake hangman seresin smut #lt jake seresin smut #hangman smut #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you

[amourdyke]

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ✷ 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐄

pjo fanfiction 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✷ your father wouldn’t approve of how my mother raised me but i do i think i do, and you’re an all-american girl i guess i couldn’t help trying to be your best american girl ✷ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ooc clarisse, aphrodite’s daughter reader, fake dating, angst and pining

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

The words escaped her mouth before she could fully comprehend what was happening. Big bad Clarisse La Rue with a temper to mimic boiling water and the fight skills to ward off teasing has finally been a victim to it irredeemably as lies slipped past her lips spontaneously, unthinking.

“You had a girlfriend this whole time and none of us knew? Yeah, right, Clarisse, you’re full of shit”

“She used to date a Hephaestus chick, alright? Didn’t want anyone pointing out the whole history repeating itself trope of Aphrodite and Ares” A part of her is proud of her trope, a child of Apollo worthy storyline invented last minute, it seemed to not occur to her the way specifics would bite her in the ass until her sibling’s eyes sparkled mischievously, pointing towards the other end of the bonfire at a female figure she had not seen before, though apparently the only one who seemed to match characteristics.

“You mean to say you’re dating angel face over there?”

Your eyes caught hers for the first time in that moment, setting ablaze something at the pit of her stomach that had seemed to lay dormant far too long, hence the beginning of the relentless conversation she found herself in in the first place. “Yeah, that’s her, my girl” she concurs, taking a sip of her drink and staring off into your figure like a predator.

You first met Tori before you were claimed. She would sneak into the Hermes cabin to give you midnight kisses and hide freshly made jewellery she forged instead of armour under your pillow for surprises, adorning your neck in both purple bruises and metal chains, her own special claim on you. Until your mother showed face. It burned you to remember how she spoke, as though not knowing you, like Aphrodite you must be your mother’s daughter. A cheater, she meant. You still dreamed that your only claim was Tori’s kisses and necklaces on days like these where you watched her by the bonfire avoid your every glimpse.

And then someone’s grip is on your arm.

“I wonder what could the most infamous child of Ares possibly want with me” She raises her eyebrows at the nickname from you, someone she had not acknowledged nor recognized before today though the opposite could clearly not be said, the beginning of a smirk ghosting over her features.

“Is that what I am?”

“Don’t play dumb, Clarisse, it’s not your best look, you know exactly what you are, it’s your charm, that is if you’re into the whole bully chic thing”

“I need a favour from you” She wastes no time and you scoff in response, your eyes still seeking out Tori, anxiously hoping she does not see any of this interaction as to not play out scenarios in her head. Clarisse takes none of it. She grabs you by the chin, in a firm yet surprisingly careful hold and forces you to face her, wide brown eyes with a beauty you hadn’t quite recollected before seeing its warm specks up close like firecrackers trapped behind her irises. You shake off the thought and cross your arms.

“Why would I do you any favours? I bet you don’t even know my name, hell, I bet you don’t even know who I am in general–”

“You’re my girlfriend”

“I beg your pardon?” You nearly choke and Clarisse laughs.

“I’ve been watching you. You’ve been staring at that raven haired Hephaestus girl for the last forty minutes uninterrupted while I can quite easily point out at least six girls who have been drooling to get your attention in the last sixty and you haven’t even spared them a pity glance, so I’m going to guess that’s your ex?”

“What does that have to do with anything besides the fact you’re apparently a fucking stalker?”

“Feisty, angel face” She snarks “I need a girlfriend to get some people off my back for awhile and you apparently want your ex back, so why don’t you use that tiny love focused brain of yours and think for two seconds what makes someone temporarily lose their senses and say, get back together with their ex?”

“You want me to use you to make Tori jealous?”

“Do you really have anything to lose?”

You watch her train, that’s your first date, and it starts off as uninteresting as you guessed it would be. Until she’s flexing a little too much, and you’re catching on, of course, but it’s working, because you’re suddenly focused, mouth agape as she lifts up her shirt exposing her perfectly sculpted abdomen to clean sweat off her forehead with the orange cloth.

“Having fun gawking?” She teases.

“Isn’t that what you brought me here for?”

Clarisse twists her spear around in the air and finally settles it behind her flexed arms, moving towards you as she looks around the training grounds for something, eyes sparkling at the sight of a similar weapon to hers “You know how to fight, angel face?”

“I’m a demigod, Clarisse” She feigns fright at your words before rolling her eyes and moves to throw the spare spear towards you, which you take in hands overwhelmed. She steps back and motions you forward which for whatever reason you comply, before you know it her breath is hot on your neck, a whisper: “Your little ex is watching”

She wasn’t entirely truthful. Tori was there, but she barely spared you a glance. Clarisse’s siblings however watched her every move, and she was preparing a spectacle. Positioning herself behind you, hands on your waist as to fix your stance, she dismissed the way her fingers seemed to physically burn at the sensation of your skin desperately seeking out to touch you more and focused on pointing your aim at the dummy before you. It strikes him right in the heart first try and falls backwards on itself. You’re beaming. Clarisse’s chest squeezes. She forgets to let go of your love handles until you turn around.

“You look pretty when you’re deadly” She casually lets out, a sigh.

“Did Tori see your hands on me?” You look around, an attempt at casually catching your exes eye. You miss the way Clarisse frowns when she agrees nonchalantly. One of her siblings winks, she thinks to herself this was too much trouble.

“Okay I think that’s enough performing for a day”

“You’ll hurt me this way, princess. Can’t stand me that much? I don’t get it, did I dunk one of your friends on the toilet or something?”

“I don’t understand”

“Playing dumb isn’t your look either” Clarisse mimics your first encounter as she stares daggers at you. She looks like she could see right through your soul and it sends shivers down your spine.

“You really don’t remember me, huh?” You scoff, and Clarisse is furrowing her brows and attempting to dive into her memory but you’re quicker to refresh it “My first year here I was like a lost and kicked puppy. And you were the girl who killed the monster who nearly killed me and actually killed my satyr protector. I guess it was just another day for you but it was my worst nightmare and you were a fucking knight in shining armor, I thought so anyways. I followed you around for months, and what does it say that you didn’t even know my name until two days ago? You are probably the one most self centered person I have ever met and I was a stupid little girl with a crush who thought you could save me while you actively terrorised everyone who was nice to you. Including me. And you don’t even remember taunting me, because it was just another fucking wednesday. So maybe I’m not enthusiastic about playing your girlfriend for longer than I have to”

It suddenly dawns on her, the memory of you. You looked different now, she guessed those were some perks of growing up as an Aphrodite kid but staring at your face, hurt expression, made the resemblance uncanny. To the one person she regretted hurting. She had just lost a fight and you had ran after her for comfort, but Ares had seen it. So there was nothing you could say. She wanted someone to hurt like she was hurting as though it would take her own pain away. She lost the fucking fight because she looked for you in the audience as she was winning. Affection made her weak. She made you pay for it.

“You called me a stupid girl who doesn’t know when to leave people alone and that’s why no one could stand me. Ring a bell?” You turned around to leave when Clarisse was silent. She surprised herself when she spoke up.

“Well let me teach you to hate me less!” She called out, running her hand through her curls frantically “We can’t do this if you don’t stand the sight of me, my siblings won’t buy it, your ex girlfriend who knows you certainly won’t either. Let’s go out and talk and maybe you’ll like something about me, I don’t know”

“Why does it matter so much to you that you have a girlfriend? Why do your siblings care? Answer me this and I might go with you”

“Fucking Gods, you’re insufferable” She mutters “Because I’m tired of being the one with no life, okay? All I have is training, and everyone knows that and I hate when they start worrying so I need anything to ward it off and I guess relationship maybe screams reason to live and not dying to be a war martyr so this is what I got, okay? It’s stupid, but it’s what I got”

“Alright”

“Alright?”

“I’ll try to like you, Clarisse”

She leads you to the forest in the middle of the night as to not alert anyone. The moon is full and it lights up her face in a way that softens her usually rough features. It is strange how your hands meet eachothers halfway in a hold until you reach your destination, a lake surrounded by flowers. You’re taking off your clothes, stripping into underwear before Clarisse could even fully process it, her eyes widening at the sight of your unbuttoning jeans reaching your calves, then the floor.

“Aren’t you coming?” You say as you stumble into the water. She watches you, the same way she had at the bonfire, and feels guilt pool at her throat for the way she gazed at your body. Clarisse wants to put a word to her feeling and all that comes to mind is hungry. She feels hungry. Like she could bite into your skin and tarnish its softness, like she needs to.

She takes off her clothes as well, skin still hot despite the cold air embracing her suddenly. You watch her too, she notices. Though she can’t pinpoint the look in your eye as she walks into the lake and heads towards you, stopping until your chests barely touch. There’s unusual heavy breathing from the both of you, hypnotised. You’re sure you won’t speak of it tomorrow.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m trying to find things to like about you, work with me here”

“I like red. Like blood”

“Like love” Clarisse doesn’t bother to reply to your argument, but it makes a part of her shake. War and romance unfortunately have too many things in common, she notes to herself.

“My turn. Why do you want your ex back?”

“Because she was good to me. She was kind and soft and she liked me. I miss feeling like someone cares like that”

“Aren’t you Aphrodite’s daughter? Doesn’t that sound a little like the bare minimum? She’s good to you? She’s kind? Didn’t she stop being those things when it ended?”

“You don’t know anything about relationships, Clarisse, you’ve never had one. I’m difficult, I’m a cheater’s kid, I’m–”

“You’re beautiful. Breathtaking, like your mom. Maybe that’s the only thing you got from her. You can aim. You’re strong. You’re apparently vengeful at least towards me which in my books is an attractive quality, you’re witty and you get little crinkles around your eyes when you laugh. I’m going to guess you didn’t cheat on that ex of yours so you’re not an asshole, for sure not a cheater. You give people chances when they don’t deserve it. I’m not quite following what could be so damn difficult about you”

You stay silent for awhile. Thinking. She hates herself for not knowing what it is that you think, and regrets saying so many things in your quietness. Then you whisper something she doesn’t catch and she asks you to say it again and in clear noise it sounds as shocking as it did when she first thought to have tricked her ears: “You never had a relationship, have you ever been kissed?”

Clarisse shakes her head no.

“Can I kiss you?” You correct yourself as you lean in, placing a curl behind her ear “Just in case we need to do this in front of your siblings or Tori, so we’re ready”

“Right” Clarisse mumbles as her hands snake her way around your waist pulling your body closer to fully press against hers “Just in case” she finishes whispering before her lips finds yours. There’s more desire than you both thought there would be. It’s desperate. Messy. Tongues clashing and chests heaving. She wants to taste you forever. She thinks she’s screwed.

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #dior goodjohn #percy jackson fanfiction

[lfghughes]

Firecracker ft. Trevor

a/n: a cute little meet the family request I got. for all my angsty people though get ready because i have an angsty trevor coming up

“Are you nervous?” You asked and almost immediately Trevors attention snapped towards you. He was currently driving you both to your parents house where you would be spending the extended weekend with them and most of your family for a fourth of July get together. “No, I’m fine. Why?” Oh he was definitely nervous even if he wanted to play it off like he wasn’t. “You’ve been tapping your fingers on the wheel, you never do that.” 

“It’s just a longer car drive than I’m used to.” This coming from the boy who spent a good chunk of his year on the road and in plane rides that were longer than this. But you weren’t going to push it and point that out. You knew that meeting your whole family for the first time was going to be nerve wracking even if he wanted to pretend like it wasn’t. Before you two came here he had confided in you that this was his first time really doing this with someone which was sweet in a way but your family especially the kids were going to give him a run for his money.

The minute you two walked through the front door it was pure chaos. All your little cousins were running around, chasing each other. The adults were all huddled in the kitchen getting some meal ready and immediately the room erupted with cheers when they finally noticed you two walking in amidst the chaos. “Oh here’s the boyfriend we’ve heard all about.” Your mom gushed as she walked over hugging Trevor right away. Good thing he was a people person because she has no concept of personal space.

You could tell that he was still nervous as he eased himself into conversation and a part of you wished he would just be more like himself because you knew he would fit right in. “Trevor, I watched some highlights of you on YouTube, you’ve got a hell of a shot.” Now it was your dads turn and you groaned at the slight embarrassment of knowing your dad Youtubed your boyfriend. Both of you helped out in the kitchen, helping get the food ready and as some time passed you could tell he was getting more and more comfortable with the conversations.

You had known your family would have liked him but you also had known that saying those words wouldn’t have done anything to ease his nerves because how often do people hear that? All throughout lunch he talked to your family from all different types of topics and even entertained your dads talk of his sudden knowledge of hockey. After you were all done eating your little cousins all surrounded him. “Wanna play with us? We set up field hockey outside.”

Of course he couldn’t say no and you watched from the deck as he played with the kids, making them laugh as he played with them. You were so focused on watching him and how great he was with the kids that you didn’t even notice your mom sliding up next to you. “He’s a good kid. Thought we would for sure scare him off on accident but he’s fitting right in.” She laughed and you nodded your head. “Trust me, he’s just as wild as all of you. I’m hoping those kids tire him out.” You teased.

Somehow they managed to play for a good chunk of the afternoon, only stopping for dinner before he then got roped into playing some other game with them. By the end of the night when you two had finally retired back to your room you couldn’t help but laugh at how exhausted he looked. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired not even after a game.” He laughed as he flopped down into the bed. “Well buckle up, Z. You got four more days of this.”

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine

[gh0st-t0wn3]

Lmk ss edits + headcanons, Part 5 (Porty MK, Artist MK, Delivery MK)

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson either Wildfire or Firecracker

- Whenever something goes wrong he says "called it." (He did not, in fact, call it)

- Calls everyone "Dude"

- Once took Redson out to the Anti-gravity Arcade and got mad when he passed out after almost 32 hours of non-stop dancing and playing arcade games

- Tells MK that he has no fashion sense but will wear the most atrocious combination of colours and patterns himself

- Has multiple ear piercings as well as a bellybutton and tongue piercing

-  Once threw a party that got busted by the police and dispelled himself to avoid getting caught

- Has so much energy, if he's not at a party he's constantly walking around the apartment, if his legs start hurting he'll sit down for like 8 seconds before getting up and walking around again because he still has so much energy left

- Makes the dirtiest jokes known to man kind

- Makes the others do karaoke night with him. every. week.

- Will sometimes put on lipstick and kiss all over Redsons face and neck to make og MK jealous (trust me guys, please🙏)

- Absolutely HATES dark chocolate, it's too bitter for him

- Despises the claw machine games at the arcade, if he gets something and then it falls out of the claw he'll literally break the glass and just take it

- Lives on energy drinks

- Will refuse to drink any soft drinks when they run out of bubbles

- Loves those cringey alpha wolf memes

- Laughs at those firemen saving people in reverse videos and always sends them to Redson, who also laughs at them (yes it does concern MK and the others)

- Smells like sweat and cotton candy (its from flavoured vape smoke)

- Love language is Quality time (and by quality time I mean partying)

- Has a whole box of glowsticks

- "Hey, hey, hey guys, watch this!!" *fails at trick*

- Loves candy, especially hard candies

- Scams kids out of their tickets at the arcade

- Paints his nails a different colour every week, and almost always uses glow in the dark nail polish

- Tried to make his own firework show once and set three houses on fire

- Would rearrange someone's whole room just to mess with them

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to take prizes from the claw machines without having to actually play them

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson his Muse

- Would probably collect bones. It freaks the fuck out of MK and the other clones

- Will destroy any and every art piece if it doesn't turn out exactly how he envisioned it in his head

- Writes fanfiction

- Constantly covered in paint splatters, charcoal, glue, etc

- Hates baths, lives off dry shampoo

- He acts like a cat whenever he gets wet

- Takes great care of all his art supplies and will flip out if something is out of place

- Agreed to help Sandy paint his boat again the second time he was summoned but only if Sandy stopped changing what colour he wanted it to be after every new coat of paint (Sandy learnt his lesson the first time art MK was summoned)

- His advice is always "just kill them"

- Bites ankles

- Was almost arrested for vandalism (he ran away from the cops)

- Once painted a picture of Redson, who only said "this is pretty good" (it was in fact a genuine compliment, he loved it), and Artist almost killed him

- Analyzes his dreams as if he's the prophet predicting the end of the world

- Won't let anyone use his art supplies

- Growls at people

- Perfectionist

- Smells like paint fumes

- Love language is gift giving and words of affirmation

- If he's focusing on something really hard and something startles him, he'll jump in the air like a cat

- Was drawing at a park once and a bunch of kids were being annoying so he tripped one when it ran past him

- Collects concept art books from literally anything, movies, video games, TV shows, it doesn't even matter if he's played/watched them he just likes looking at the concept art

- Insomniac who 'cures' it with an unholy amount of caffeine

- Has drank paint water before, will do it again

- Extremely passive agressive

- MK yelled at him once for getting paint all over his bed

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to reach higher places when painting on walls and shit

(Had to use og MK has a base ref because the show did delivery MK dirty)

- He/They

- Gay

- Calls Redson Paprika

- Loves straws, will only ever drink something if he uses a straw (I did this as a kid)

- Is constantly listening to music while doing deliveries and has absolutely passed his destination on multiple occasions

- Surprisingly witty

- Is the only MK who knows how to cook and genuinely loves it

- Has a little bit more chub than og MK does (duplicatnation did him dirty and I will never forgive them for his design)

- Has gotten into physical fights with rude customers before and would do it again

- Absolutely HATES eating fish

-His shoe laces are never tied, the amount of orders he's ruined because he tripped on his stupid laces is insane

- If he gets bored he'll just lay on the floor and do nothing

- Has accidentally eaten dog food before

- After a long day of delivering he'll pass out for hours at a time then wake up again at like 2am

- "Not to be rude, but.." proceeds to say the most disrespectful shit you've ever heard

- Either cannot keep a secret for the life of him, or will immediately forget the secret 5 mins after being told what it is, no in-between

- Him and the other clones accidently broke into a strangers house once, and he felt really bad so he cleaned the dishes before leaving (it was on the news)

- Will @ a specific person in a group chat instead of just dming them

- Sometimes eats out of the noodles he's delivering, no one has found out yet

- Smells like noodles

- Love language is Acts of service

- If he gets into a fight with someone he is fully willing and ready to resort to biting

- Saw Monkey King eat his own hair once and almost threw up

- Sometimes if a customer is being rude while ordering over the phone he'll purposely drive slow or take a longer route so their noodles are cold when they get them (og MK has told him to stop multiple times because he's scared of Pigsy thinking he's the reason they get any bad reviews)

- Has a Spotify Playlist for every possible occasion

- Gives out really good hugs and will hug people for really long periods

- Cries when he sees sad animal videos

- Can't whistle to save his life

- Has a monkey form just like og MK, he uses his tail to hold more orders to get work done faster

#fanart #lego monkie kid #lego monkey kid fanart #lego monkie kid mk #lmk mk #lmk spicynoodles #mk clone #porty clone #porty mk #artist clone #artist mk #delivery clone #delivery mk #lmk mixtape #mixtape shipping #lmk firealpaca #firealpaca shipping #lmk hotwheels #hotwheels shipping #i literally just found out the ship name for artist/delivery mk x redson #lmk headcanon #headcanon #redesign

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

I got bored again so you get Nimona headcanons

I’m fully convinced that Bal is denser than a neutron star

He’s liked Ambrosius ever since he met him and when he was a teenager he was fully convinced those feelings were unrequited  

All the while Ambrosius was asking him out like every other week and making plans for their damn wedding 

Poor babe had to be kissed on the fucking mouth for him to even consider that Ambrosius liked him back

When he finally caught on he woke up half the institute with his realization because he literally screamed 

He got really excited and asked Ambrosius “So you love me yeah?” 

Ambrosius was out here looking for hidden cameras because no way in Hell can this man be that clueless

He let Bal believe that it was a new development because he didn’t have the heart to tell Bal that he was just slow on the uptake 

He accidentally let it slip to Nimona and she never let him live it down

The boys absolutely made breakup playlists during the movie 

Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift were their best friends during that time

When the dust had settled and they forgave each other and themselves they played the playlists and laughed about how stupid they were (and they both pretended not to notice the tears in their eyes)

I’m fully convinced that the trio has the dumbest sense of humor (which is my sense of humor) 

Bal has a bad habit of taking his arm off and leaving it in the most random places 

Whenever someone asks where his arm is he’ll say “Which one?” Or “I don’t know love where is my arm?”

At first it caught Ambrosius off guard but now he just chuckles and says “Fine be like but don't ask me for help when you can't find it later” 

Bal will normally scoff and tell him he won't (they both pretend the conversation never happened when Bal asks him to help him look for it)

One time they were watching a firework show and Nimona turned to them and said “Remind you of anything?” 

The boys just sat there not knowing if they wanted to laugh or cry so they took turns doing both 

They kept making that joke and Ambrosius threatened to call them firecracker if they kept it up

All they could say was “You act like that isn’t a sick ass nickname” 

Whenever the smallest inconvenience happens Ambrosius always says “I wish the director stabbed me that day” 

Like this man could misplace his keys and look down at the ground and say “Do me a favor come back and kill me for real please”

The first time he said that Bal spit out his coffee and all Ambrosius could say was “You’re not helping this situation hun”

Honestly, I have no clue how old Ambrosius and Bal are but if I had to guess I would say 20-26

And because they’re both really young and Nimona hasn’t matured past 14 I feel like they would have a very complex relationship with her 

They have very paternal instincts when it comes to her but they also act like older brothers 

They’ll threaten to ground her if she sets another piece of bubble gum on fire (which she laughs at) but they also aren't afraid to mess around and roughhouse with her 

Sometimes Nimona and Ambrosius will be messing around and jokingly picking on each other and the next thing Nimona knows he’s being picked up like he weighs nothing and tossed on the couch 

Whenever Nimona annoys the Hell out of Bal while he’s working Bal will just pick him up and place him outside of the lab

And there have been plenty of times when Ambrosius isn't scared to tackle his little ass to the floor 

Oh she’ll make sure they regret it because she could easily snap them both in half like a twig but sometimes it’s just fun to play fight (Ambrosius calls them her zoomies)

They’ll bicker over who actually cleans up around the house and whose turn it is to wash the dishes 

But they’re also able to have these incredibly deep conversations that go late into the night 

They’ll get into very intense fights and then five minutes later Ambrosius will walk into Nimona’s room and leave a tray of cut fruit without saying anything 

Whenever the boys are working from home Nimona will hang out with them

She jokes that she’s “blessing them with her presence” and most of the time they let it slide because she doesn’t really do anything 

She’ll bring snacks drinks games and a phone charger but she doesn’t talk a lot she just hunkers down and waits for them to be done with work

Whenever the boys ask why she does this she’ll shrug her shoulder but the truth is she finds their company incredibly comforting

#nimona 2023 #nimona movie #nimona headcanon #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #if you get the bubble gum reference I love you #if you’re Asian you know what the cut fruit means #these dorks make me happy #they're such losers #I don't think Ill ever run out of headcanons #I think this is like the fourth day in a row that I've posted about them #they're so family coded it makes me sick

[azrael08]

Hey so if you even care, once Adam and Michael begin to get intimate with each other (in whatever way you want, physical or soul-sex or otherwise) they go through a period of being MAJORLY horny because Michael had never allowed himself to indulge in human customs the way some of his siblings had, and now that he’s with someone he has a strong standing relationship with built on trust, understanding and just all around love, once they start doing it his celestial sex drive will just flip a switch and kick into overdrive. And Adam was only 19 when he went to hell and joined with Michael (and since I believe he wasn’t the type to loose his virginity at a younger age, which means if he even lost his virginity at all then it would have probably been around 16-ish and since he also doesn’t seem like the player/a lot of flings type that means he only had very limited sexual experiences) So he probably never fully let that “teenage/Young adult sex drive period of time” happen right? But then the same thing happens where he does it with not only someone he trusts and loves a whole bunch but that someone is The archangel Michael then of course his hormones are gonna get set off like a fucking firecracker. They don’t leave their shared house for days, maybe even weeks, for that period of time. Just wrapped in each other’s embrace and warmth with the blankets settled around their forms and sunlight beaming against them. With their traded pleasure going through their intwined selves, Adam’s soul and Michael’s grace. Letting their carnal animalistic and primal instincts win and take over and just give into the need to show their desperation and their eternal love to each other in any means possible, in this essay I will-

#your honour i love them #your honor they are in love #your honor I’m insane #supernatural #midam #adam milligan #michael spn #midam spn #adam spn #is it too much to ask for them to raw dog each other on screen with angelic imagery laced on top of the scene #i know Jabel would do it for free

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Mr. Rollo, how do I tell my crush I have a crush on him even though he doesn’t even know I exist and I’m too shy to approach him?

…also I think you need more sleep, you’re starting to look like a raccoon, and bae you’re not slaying that look at all

NO LEAVE HIM ALONE 😭 THE RACCOON EYES MAKE HIM CUTER (<- delusional) Rollo's voluntarily celibate/j

Like Fire, Hellfire.

"Hmph, so that is why your eyes have been wandering as of late." Rollo crossed his arms, mouth pulled back into an open frown. "You're dazed and distracted by some boy. Worse yet, it's one of those horrid mages. I can't say I approve."

You nodded sheepishly. You were doing a poor job of fighting the heat climbing to your face.

Rollo stared at you with a mixture of pity and revulsion. “If you're seeking romantic assistance, you've come to the entirely wrong person for it—especially not if you close your request off with a comment on how I present myself. I would never endorse such an endeavor to begin with."

"B-But..."

He fixed you with a stern look. "Rather than pursue the object of your affections, I strongly encourage you to abstain. Going down the path of passion will only lead you further astray. Such ardent desires should be curbed before they spiral into something you cannot hope to control."

"Whoa, whoa, don't you think that's saying too much?" you protested. "It's not like I'm going to commit murder just because I have feelings for someone."

"You may as well. Feelings of affection may appear innocuous at first glance, even comforting. I once foolishly believed the same of magic,” he spat, his words harsh and hateful. “Look where that has gotten us.”

Love. Magic. In the end, it was all the same.

Rollo set his jaw firmly, hands balling into fists. Neatly trimmed nails bit into the flesh of his palms.

“One little thing so easily snowballs into another. Infatuation leads to absentmindedness, absentmindedness leads to emotional distress, emotional distress leads to self-destruction." He waved a hand dismissively. "Not to mention all the nonsense of—"

Rollo made a face.

"—God forbid, longing looks, which leads to finger grazing, which leads to hand holding, which leads to kissing! To entrust the most vulnerable aspects of oneself to another is…!!”

Now he looked as though he was close to dry heaving. Or exploding. Maybe both at the same time.

He caught himself, and took a deep, calming breath. “… As I was saying, it would be far better for all parties for you to stash those bothersome thoughts away. No one will be hurt if you take care to avoid initiation. Heed my words: do not be tempted to sin and vice, however drunk you are on infatuation.”

“It’s not that easy.” You clutched both hands over your trembling heart. “Every part of me aches to be with him. I can’t just bury and deny these feelings. And if he ends up with someone else because I never said anything… I think that would hurt me the most.”

“You must resist its allure,” Rollo insisted sharply. “The feeling will wear away with time, I assure you.”

Just as I turned away from magic and the misery it brings.

Your shoulders slumped, hopeful expression sagging. A firecracker, at last coming to the end of its fuse—but not yet a broken heart.

You held on, steadfast. “You weren’t helpful at all, Mr. Rollo.”

“Come now, don’t make such a long face.” He heaved a sigh. “It's plain to see that there is no saving from whatever blasted enchantment has been cast upon you. All I am able to do is impart my advice and pray that you take it into consideration."

With that, he turned away. The conversation was over.

His piece was said.

Whatever happened next was up to you.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Rollo Flamme #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #Rollo at the Writing Desk #Reader #self insert

[longbobmckenzie]

Choose Me - Roberto/MC

Summary:

Roberto just wants this Stick or Twist ceremony to be over so he can leave the villa, like he should have done the night his girl was dumped. But sometimes, things have a way of working themselves out…

Rating: Teen

Words: 2,440

Read on AO3

(or read under the cut!)

Roberto runs a hand over his weary face as he takes his seat on the bench around the fire pit. The glow of the flickering flames should give him a sense of warmth, but he’s been cold ever since a few nights earlier, when he watched his girl walk out of the villa.

Andi.

God, he was an idiot not to walk out right then and there. But the boys convinced him to give it a day or two first, to make sure his feelings were real. After all, they’ve only known each other a couple weeks, and they live in different countries, for chrissakes. He would be crazy to chase after her, wouldn’t he? Things on the outside aren’t the same as things in the villa, or so the boys said. But being without her only confirmed what he’s known all along, since the night he first laid eyes on her — she’s the one for him.

But then the girls were swept off to Casa Amor, and a new set of girls came in. The guys encouraged him to get to know them, but it didn’t feel right. None of it did. The villa lost its lustre when Andi left. Even the neon beanbag chairs and cheeky sayings posted around the place seemed to have dulled overnight. But he could hardly leave the show in the middle of Casa Amor, without saying a proper goodbye to the original girls. They’re his friends too, and Bella in particular would never forgive him if he walked before she could give him another sock in the arm or ruffle his hair.

The corners of his lips tip up just a little at the thought of that blue-haired firecracker. The two of them became fast friends, and he can’t wait to see her again. There’s never been anything romantic between them and never will be, but his Love Island experience wouldn’t be the same without her.

He just hopes she found someone in Casa Amor. He’s banking on it, actually — because if she couples up, then he’ll be single. And if he’s single, then… well, maybe, hopefully, he’ll be dumped. Either way, he’s planning to leave at the first opportunity to go find his girl, but he wants to make sure Bella’s taken care of first. He doesn’t want to risk leaving her vulnerable.

Finally, the host walks in and does her spiel, and the ceremony begins. Ozzy is the first to rise to his feet, and it comes as no surprise when he says he’s sticking with Grace. Roberto shakes his head in annoyance, making a tutting sound. It’s no secret that Ozzy had a thing for Andi, and now without her in the picture, he’s falling back on Grace, knowing how much the girl is obsessed with him. But as much as Grace has been wilfully blind to all of it, Roberto can’t help but think she deserves better. She might be coupled up with him, but she’s clearly Ozzy’s second choice.

Grace comes in alone and flings herself into his arms, and Roberto rolls his eyes as he pretends to clap along. There’s a brief moment when some doofus from Casa Amor storms in and yells at Grace about something or other, but security is quick to drag him back into the villa, leaving Grace flustered and embarrassed and Ozzy confused and not a little like he’s been made to look like a mug.

Fuckin’ deserves it.

Then Lewie gets up and makes a speech about going with the flow, which causes a few titters and giggles around the fire pit as a blue-eyed blonde steps forward from the row of Casa girls. The two of them are a perfect match, and they’ll have perfect blonde, blue-eyed babies.

And then Roberto thinks he’s dreaming, because that’s Andi walking towards him, on the arm of—wait, no. He gives his head a shake and looks at her again. The woman walking in may share the same face as his girl, but she wears her hair a little longer and wavier, her nose isn’t pierced, and her lips have a way of twisting into an ugly smirk that Andi isn’t capable of. It’s Amelia, her twin.

He lifts a curious eyebrow as he takes in the man she’s with, barely stifling the bubble of laughter that almost courses out of him. Of course Amelia would couple up with the carbon copy of Ozzy, although this guy has longer hair, a beard, and a few tattoos peeking out from under his clothing. And judging by the look on Ozzy’s face, he’s not so happy to see his dear brother. Which tracks, considering he never even told the guys that his brother is actually his twin.

The two of them exchange a few tense words before Amelia leads Marshall to an open space on the opposite side of the bench, throwing a jealous look in Flo’s direction.

And then it’s Roberto’s turn.

He wipes the moisture from his palms and takes a deep breath as he rises to his feet, gazing around at all the familiar faces. This isn’t his goodbye speech, not quite yet, but it’s still the final time he’s going to be doing one of these recouplings. He might actually miss it.

The host gives him a nod, and he clears his throat. “As you all know, the last few days have been… well.” He throws a sheepish look towards Ivy and the other two girls who were sent in to tempt them, whose names he never even bothered to learn, giving them an apologetic smile. “My mind and my heart have both been elsewhere, so I’ve been pretty poor company. I’m usually a lot of fun, I promise.”

There’s a chorus of muffled laughter around the fire pit.

“Although I’m technically coupled up with Bella—” A hard glance towards Elliot makes the other man flush “—there’s been another girl on my mind, and these last few days have given me all the clarity I need to go after what I want. I hope Bella found someone while she was away, but I have to do what’s right for myself, and that’s to stick.”

The host smiles softly. “Alright, let’s see what Bella decided to do.”

All eyes turn towards the villa. Roberto doesn’t know why his heart is pounding, but it is, until finally his partner appears — holding hands with someone else.

He lets out a sigh of relief, and a wide smile crosses his face. When she catches his eye, she beams at him, as if she’s as happy to see that he’s standing there alone as he is to see that she’s twisted to someone new.

When they reach the fire pit, she stands next to the host, but all she can look at is him, her eyes sparkling with joy and excitement — and a hint of mischievousness. He knows that look well, the look that says that she knows something he doesn’t. But what could it possibly mean?

The host asks her a few questions, and Roberto learns that the new guy’s name is Andy — which makes him chuckle a little even as a pang goes through him at the reminder of his Andi. He seems nice, and he’s looking at Bella like she hung the moon, so Roberto couldn’t be happier for her. They come over and he gives Bella one of his biggest hugs, Andy a firm handshake, and then they all sit down together.

“Turns out we both have a thing for Andis,” he whispers to Bella, making her giggle as Elliot stands up. “I’m so happy you found someone.”

“I’m so happy you didn’t,” she replies, that twinkle reappearing in her eye, though it’s replaced by a flash of worry as her mouth quivers. “I almost didn’t switch, you know. To keep you safe.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I… Bella, you know there’s no one else for me. If I can’t have Andi, then I don’t mind getting dumped.”

The worry disappears, the sparkle beaming even brighter, and she covers his hand with one of hers, giving it a squeeze as they both turn to watch Ivy cross the fire pit towards Elliot, looking like the cat who’s caught the canary.

Bella sighs. “I knew he’d switch.”

Roberto shrugs. “He kinda had to, didn’t he? Andi’s gone, so he’s single.”

She looks like she’s about to say something, only to quickly snap her mouth shut. He narrows his eyes, wondering why she’s acting funny.

The host starts speaking again, and he’s fully expecting her to end the proceedings and say her goodbyes, but what she says instead stops him in his tracks.

“Before I let you all go, I have one more surprise for you.” She looks at Elliot, then at Roberto, before turning to look towards the villa.

Roberto is bewildered. What’s going on? The rest of the boys are just as confused as he is, but the girls are all beaming at him. But what for? His palms begin to sweat, his heart pounding faster in his chest, and then he hears them.

Footsteps.

His breath catches in his throat as his eyes lock onto the space where the other girls have appeared. Is it another new Islander? Already? Or is it—

Andi. His Andi.

There she is, like a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. Her eyes meet his and they light up bright, filling the villa with vibrant colour again. The air whooshes out of his lungs, and he’s on his feet, his knees wobbling beneath him.

But then his vision blurs, starting at the edges, and his heart squeezes in his chest. Of course, she’s just a mirage. This isn’t real; none of it is. He’s sleeping, and any moment now he’ll wake up to find himself on the daybeds, having napped the afternoon away. And then he’ll have to do it all over again, going through the motions of getting ready for the evening and then watching everyone recouple while he wishes he’d walked out days earlier.

“Roberto.”

It even sounds just like her. Warm hands cup his cheeks, which he realizes are wet with his tears. A soft, gentle laugh that makes him squeeze his eyes shut, wanting to return to those blissful moments with her.

“Roberto, it’s me.”

He’s scared to open his eyes, but he does it anyway, and she’s standing in front of him, tears streaking down her own face, but she’s smiling. God, he loves her smile, and he can’t help but mirror it.

“Pinch me.”

Instead, she presses her lips to his, salty tears mixing with the sweet strawberry flavour of the lip gloss she always wears, and he crumbles. His arms slide around her waist, just as much to give himself something to lean on as to bring her closer to him.

“Is it really you?” He can still scarcely believe it, but she tastes and feels so real.

Andi nods, her eyes glowing with the happiness that he feels. “C’mon,” she says, threading her fingers through his and leading him to the bench, where Bella and Andy scooch over to make room.

The host is talking again, but Roberto doesn’t catch a word. He’s too busy staring at Andi, unable to believe his luck. She’s back. He has no idea what she’s doing there, but she’s back.

She squeezes his hand, and he snaps to attention. “She just asked us something, hun.”

He looks back over at the host. “Sorry, could you repeat…?”

The host smiles. “I have a feeling I already know the answer to this, but… as you and Andi are both single, you now have the option to couple up with each other, or to stay single and vulnerable.”

“Fuck yes!” he exclaims with a fist pump, before turning to Andi and smashing his lips against hers. She lets out a squeal before melting into it, wrapping her arms around him.

The ceremony ends, the host leaves, and one by one, the other couples wander off to do their own thing, leaving Roberto and Andi to themselves.

“How are you here?” he asks breathlessly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear and letting his hand linger. He can’t stop touching her, he hasn’t stopped touching her since she walked in.

“I wasn’t actually dumped. I was sent to Casa Amor early.”

“What?”

“I know! It was so dumb. Supposedly I got the most votes, not the least.”

Roberto smiles, his heart swelling with pride for his girl. “That tracks. Not that I’m happy about you being in Casa Amor with four new boys all to yourself.”

“It was a waste of a plot twist, really,” Andi replies with a shrug. “The guys were nice enough, but none of them were you.”

“Phew.” He wipes his forehead, laughing. “I might’ve been in trouble if they were.”

She laughs, and his heartbeat quickens. Oh, how he’s missed that sound.

“You had to know Elliot would switch, though, right? He thought you were gone. You knew you’d be left single.”

“Bella was worried about leaving you single too, but I encouraged her to switch. She deserves a romantic couple, and Andy is great.”

“He seems nice.”

“He is! But we figured, well… If Elliot left me single, and Bella left you single, then at least we’d be single together.”

“Or dumped,” he points out.

“Apparently not.” Her thumb brushes over his skin where their hands are still laced together. “I can’t believe we got to couple up.”

“I would have left for you, you know. I was ready to pack my bags tonight if I needed to.”

“Well, thankfully you don’t need to.”

“Would that have been so bad? Getting dumped?” he asks. “I would leave right now with you by my side, if it meant never getting separated again.”

She gives him a soft smile, her eyes full of tenderness. “I won’t let that happen again.”

“We still could, you know. Leave. I already know I have everything I want.” He gives her hand a squeeze for emphasis. “I don’t need the rest of it.”

Andi shakes her head. “We can’t leave.”

“Why not? Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

The corner of her mouth turns up into a smirk, and she gazes across the villa before turning back to him, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

“We can’t let Amelia win.”

Roberto’s head tilts back as he laughs. All his doubts immediately vanish — he’s not dreaming. This is real. This girl who he’s grown to know and—yes—even love is really back.

#litg #litg ff #litg fanfic #litg fanfiction #longbob writes #litg roberto #stick or twist fix-it

[ramcharantitties]

Diwali

Summary: First Diwali of you and ram.

"Why are you still in your clothes?" A voice boomed from the door, and by the tone, it was a very angry wife of mine. Although I wanted to cross question her, "why don't you take them off?", I knew better and did not utter a word. Maybe we'll do that later tonight anyways. I jumped off the chair in a second and scurried to the bathroom, towel in hand. It's Diwali today. From four in the morning, we have set the fairy lights, spotting dragon flies, then packed the sweets y/n made in the past two days, deep cleaned our house, went to market for last moment shopping, and decorated our house with diya and rangoli. The amount of tea cups lining the sink said enough about our hardwork today. It was around 4 in the evening now, and y/n needed me to get bathed soon so I can go to the temple for an early Pooja, as she sets up the Pooja at our home.

The bath was shivering and cold- November not letting us breath with warmth. Stepping out of the bath, a red kurta and white dhoti with a red lining on it caught my eye. Someone did Diwali shopping for me. And it's shy to say, but the warmth she gives deter a hundred Novembers.

Quickly getting ready, I combed my hair. The red on my cheeks matched one of my clothes, and it was visible in the mirror, hope my wife doesn't catch it. It was almost 4:30, and I knew that if I don't leave now, it's going to be a screaming match. Finding y/n, I saw her in her homely saree with wet hair tied in a towel lock, carrying everything needed to the Pooja in our home. "Get ready first, I'll help you with this when I come back".

She turned around to my voice, the golden skin from sandalwood shining with the golden mangalsutra in orange sunlight. A tint of pink on her cheeks too when she checked me out, up and down. I had to turn around and leave, so she didn't catch me blushing.

It was almost the muhrat of Pooja when I stepped in our home. The sun has started to set and the area was lit up by blinking fairy lights. Blasts of firecrackers were easily heard throughout. I saw our home with white and yellow alternate lights too. Upon entering, Y/n was nowhere to be found near the Pooja, but it was all set and decorated.

Looking for y/n, I realised that I haven't given her Diwali gift- a blue chiffon saree I picked out for her, and that it's our first Diwali together. I called out for her, as she made her way out from our room in a pink saree. Her hair was open and air drying. It was given to her by her family, and she has already worn this twice now.

"Why aren't you wearing anything new?" I led her into the room again opening the side of the cupboard which was reserved for my official clothes. "This is new" she muttered, putting Kohl lines in her eyes. I pulled out the transparent bag which held a beautiful blue saree, laced with white embroidery and deep red design. Her brown eyes caught the sight of it, a breath caught in her throat. She looked expectantly at me. A smile from me was enough for her to pull it from me and rush inside.

About 15 minutes later, y/n came out looking like an apsara. The baby blue insinuated her already pink face. She twirled around giggling. "Do I look good?" I nodded, leaning on the bed frame. It felt good, to see her happy. The childish joy in her eyes and soft smile on her lips. Gazing at her lovingly, it took me a while to realize she wasn't smiling anymore. "We are getting late for Pooja!"

The Pooja went well. We sat down after it, tired from running around the house all day. Busy eating home made sweets, I almost lost the soft touches of her on the saree, her fingertips barely touching the design. She looked content. And that was enough for me to remember how our first Diwali went.

......,...........................

tagging- @budugu @thewinchestergirl1208 @rambheemlove @ramayantika @bishh-kanya @chaanv @nyotamalfoy @obsessedtoafault @phoenix666stuff @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @cursedcursives @hopelessdemonic @nerdreader @bitchy-bi-trash @vijayasena

#ghungru #ram charan #rrr #rrr movie #desi tag #ram x reader #fanfic #ram x wife!reader #rambheem #rrr tarak charan

[fanartandfanfiction]

Hogwarts Legacy Modern AU texting

Garreth: I need you to say you were with me

MC: Ok

Garreth: You’re not even going to ask?

MC: Nope

Garreth: But what if I’d murdered someone and you just provided an alibi?

MC: Did you murder someone?

Garreth: No, I hid firecrackers in the headmasters office and set them off when he was taking a nap

MC: no you didn’t, you were with me 😉

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #fanfic #hogwarts legacy modern au #hogwarts legacy texting #garreth weasley

[merakiui]

How do you think Floyd would steal away Jade’s darling (either because he’s genuinely interested or is jealous of his brother)? I always find it interesting that you write Jade as someone cunning and going to great lengths for Floyd’s darling to come willingly to him without anyone noticing that he’s trying to steal them away.

Or would Floyd ask to share?

Ideally, Floyd would want to share! He's used to sharing everything with Jade, so if that's an option then he will definitely take advantage of it. But in the event that it isn't an option—let's say you and Jade are in an arranged marriage as per Mr. Leech's wishes. It's no secret that Floyd would inherit the family business and that Jade, as polite and amiable as ever, would be married off to foster normal connections while his firecracker of a brother would handle the dirty work.

There's a certain forbidden appeal to you that has Floyd interested. You're Jade's in every possible way; the wedding band on your finger is physical proof of that, and yet he really wants you for himself as well. Perhaps it's because Floyd's never truly thought about love and marriage in the way his parents and Jade have. Perhaps it's because they believe he's better suited to the family business that he thinks it'd be nice to at least have someone at his side. While both he and Jade are strong and smart in their own rights, it's always been known that Floyd was more of the brawn and Jade was the brains of their operation. Floyd rarely sees his brother now, what with his cushy, rule-abiding office job and how he seems to drift further from the shadows of the family. It's really annoying. Floyd misses getting to spend time with his brother! He misses the mischief they'd get up to when it was just them. So for the longest time, Floyd doesn't really like you or the fact that you're Jade's or the fact that you get to see Jade more than Floyd does.

He'll drop by unannounced all the time. At first it was to see Jade so that he could convince him to stop being so weirdly uptight, but Jade's not home during the day. You're his cute house-spouse, so you're always home. Floyd lazes around while he waits, gladly accepting your hospitality and all of the yummy snacks you prepare for him. At some point he gets attached to this treatment and this comfortable lifestyle. Jade has it nice here. Floyd wants in, too.

He won't make any complicated plans about how to take you away. If anything, he's more like what his surname implies: a leech. orz Floyd pushes himself into your home to spend time with you while Jade's out, and since he's the head of the family business there aren't really any set hours or deadlines he has to follow. So Floyd's free to do whatever he wants, whenever he feels like. You're always so sweet to him. He can see why Jade warmed up to you. Floyd's used to sharing everything with Jade, so he doesn't think twice about that when he treats you like you're his lover. Jade should be fine with it because they've always shared, so there won't be any problems.

And even if there were issues, it's nothing they can't settle. Sharing is caring, after all! They've lived with this saying their entire lives.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 39/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Cal and Mulder carefully explore the forest beyond the retaining wall, keeping a safe distance from anything man made in the hopes of avoiding detection. The earth is slightly raised in an area roughly the size of a city block, and they locate three cleverly disguised ventilation systems adjacent to three even more cleverly disguised doors in the ground around the perimeter of the mound, suggesting the existence of a subterranean structure beneath it. 

The main entrance, concealed behind the retaining wall, appears to be nothing more than a vestibule containing a desk and an elevator, though they do not risk drawing close enough to discern whether the desk is occupied. Every now and then someone will emerge from the vestibule to smoke a cigarette or sit in the sun, then scan the badge clipped to their lapel to gain entry back inside. 

The men are hunkered down behind a fallen log, watching the door and working out their options. 

“The front door seems like a non-starter,” Mulder says, chewing on his thumbnail.

Cal shakes his head.

“All the other doors open from the inside.”

Two men in lab coats emerge from the vestibule, laughing and digging in their pockets. They walk to the outer edge of the parking lot and sit on a rock as one of the men lights his colleague’s cigarette, and then his own. 

“Psst,” Cal signals to Mulder before moving closer to the men, who are talking and laughing so loudly they are unlikely to hear the rustle of footfalls in the forest behind them. 

“...said I’d take this week off but I totally spaced on even asking so now she’s pissed at me,” the bulkier of the two men says. 

“She’ll get over it,” his companion says derisively. “And if you were off this week you would have missed the return of the redhead.”

“Right?” the bulky man says, jabbing the other with his elbow. “And here we thought we’d never get to lay eyes on that little firecracker again.”

“There is a god after all.”

The men erupt into a burst of laughter and Mulder looks at Cal. His jaw is set, his nostrils flaring. 

“You know they changed her file to termination, right?” The smaller man says. “Today or tomorrow, I think.”

Mulder’s heart sinks. What if they’re already too late?

“What a fucking waste,” the bulky man says, throwing his cigarette on the ground and grinding it into the pavement with his heel. “If she’s up for termination anyway, you think they’d give me ten minutes alone with her?”

Mulder clenches his fists as the men laugh again at their own cruelty. 

“Shit, I’d take five,” the smaller one says. “She’s so tiny, I bet she’s tight as fu—”

Crack crack. 

Mulder jumps and his ears begin to ring loudly. The two men slump over, one falling backwards across the rock and the other falling forward onto the ground beside it. He smells the sulfuric funk of gunpowder and looks over at Cal to find him with his weapon still in hand, the muzzle pointing in the direction of the fallen men. 

There isn’t time for admonishment; what’s done is done. Now that their presence is sure to be known, all they can do is act as quickly as possible. 

“Get the badges,” Cal says, already standing up. 

His entire demeanor has shifted, the square of his shoulders confident as he emerges from the edge of the forest and tugs the ID badge off the smaller man’s lab coat. Mulder jogs to catch up with him, and as he rolls the bulky man over to locate his badge, Cal kicks the smaller man in the ribs and mutters something in Spanish that Mulder can’t decipher.  

Mulder readies his weapon as they cross quickly to the vestibule and scan one of the badges on a reader beside the glass doors. The doors slide open and a blast of temperature-controlled air pushes down on them as they enter and find a man standing behind the desk with a phone to his ear. The man looks up sharply and opens his mouth to speak. 

Crack.

Mulder looks down at the smoking gun in his own hands, surprised. Cal has already moved on to calling the elevator, and when Mulder steps behind the desk to hang up the phone he sees a small bank of screens displaying the feed from several security cameras. He quickly scans them, looking for Scully, but they appear to be mostly hallways or exit and entry points. On one of the screens, four men with long guns are boarding the elevator on another floor. 

“Stairs,” Mulder says, indicating a door behind the desk as he drags the body of the man he shot out of the way. 

Before following Cal into the stairwell, he smashes the handle of his gun against each of the small screens, rendering them useless. They clamber down the stairs and through the first available door, which deposits them into one end of a long, vacant hallway. 

“Start clearing rooms,” Mulder instructs him, and they cling to opposite sides of the hall, scanning their pilfered badges and flinging doors open one by one. 

The first room Mulder looks into is a lab of some kind, full of computers, microscopes, and a large centrifuge. The second looks like a hospital room. 

Crack.

He looks over his shoulder to see Cal lowering his gun and moving to the next room. The shriek of a fire alarm sounds off, and red lights begin flashing overhead. Behind them, the elevator dings to announce its impending arrival. 

“Incoming,” he calls across the hall, ducking into an open doorway as Cal does the same. 

The two men make eye contact, and Mulder holds up four fingers, then points two towards Cal and two towards himself. Divide and conquer. Cal nods once. 

The elevator doors slide open, and Cal counts down 3, 2, 1 on his fingers before they simultaneously lean through the doorways and open fire. 

Crack crack crack. Crack. Crack crack crack crack.

Gunfire rings out against the persistent blare of the fire alarm. Mulder ducks back to take cover before popping out again, and the four men are quickly reduced to two, and then one, and then zero. He looks across the hall, relieved to see Cal still standing, though the floor is littered with chunks of drywall and flecks of blood in addition to the lifeless bodies of the four men. 

“You okay?” he asks breathlessly, and Cal nods. 

Mulder drops the magazine on his weapon and counts five rounds remaining. 

“Let’s go,” Cal says, and they continue down the hall until they come to a four-way intersection. In all three directions, the halls are lined with closed doors and look nearly identical. “Should we split up?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You check down that way, I’ll check this way, and we’ll meet back here,” he says, gesturing with his weapon down the hall to their left and then the one straight ahead. 

Cal goes left, and Mulder continues on straight, opening doors to rooms full of filing cabinets, more hospital rooms, and others that are filled with banks of computers and industrial size printers. He clears each room, and then clears the hallway before stepping back out, slowly working his way down. When he pushes open the door to the next room, he hears a gasp and a whimper. 

“I’m armed,” he announces, scanning the room with his eyes. “Come forward with your hands up.”

The room is dim, but the flashing of the light on the fire alarm illuminates it in little bursts. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” a tiny voice says, and he follows the sound to a desk in the corner, beneath which he can see a person curled in the fetal position. 

“Come out with your hands up,” he repeats, and a middle aged woman wriggles out from beneath the desk and then slowly stands. She holds her trembling hands up beside her head, her eyes pinned to the floor. “I’m looking for Dana Scully, or Dana Rose,” he says sternly. “Where is she?”

The woman shakes her head. 

“I don’t know. I just work on documents, I don’t see anyone. I swear, I don’t know anything. Please, don’t hurt me,” she blubbers. 

Mulder considers his options. She doesn’t appear to be a threat. 

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says, and she flashes her eyes up to him for just a split second. “Tell me how to get out of here without being seen and I’ll let you go.”

She looks up at him again, zeroing in on the gun in his hand. 

“There’s a hatch in Mr. Spender’s office,” she says. “Under his desk. It’ll take you down to the river.”

“Show me,” Mulder orders, and she flinches as though struck. 

He clears the hallway and gestures for her to go first, then follows her to where the hall dead-ends with a door marked “exit.” When they arrive outside the last door before the exit, she points to it and says, “In here.”

Mulder hears the crash of a door flying open and boots filing into the hallway somewhere out of sight. The woman scrambles through the exit, her sheer level of terror instilling confidence that she won’t wait around to give away his location. He scans the badge and slips through the door, quietly pulling it closed behind him. He stays close, straining to listen for the sound of footsteps over the fire alarm. He needs to find Scully and bring her back here. He hopes that Cal has had more luck. 

“Jeff, what a pleasant surprise.”

Mulder wheels around, weapon drawn, to find his father—or the man he thought was his father—seated behind the desk. 

“Where’s Scully?” he demands, stepping closer and leveling his gun on the man’s chest.

“Scully?” his father repeats, feigning ignorance. “Can’t say that I’m familiar. What brings you by, Jeff? Wanted to see what the old man does for work?”

Mulder’s blood boils as he watches the wrinkly bastard lean back in his chair and light a cigarette like he hasn’t a care in the world. 

“Cut the act,” he growls. “I know who you are.”

A sinister smile blooms on the man’s face. 

“Do you?” 

Mulder flinches when someone begins to pound on the door behind him. 

“Mr. Spender!” a voice calls out from the other side. “Permission to enter, sir?”

Mulder flicks off the safety on his gun, keeping it trained on Spender. 

“Call them off,” he says in a low voice. 

“Or what, you’ll shoot me?” Spender mocks him. “What do you think will become of you then?”

“I’d rather die trying than let you walk out of here after what you did to me and Scully,” Mulder hisses, keeping his voice low so he won’t be heard through the door. 

There is another series of desperate knocks. 

Spender sighs resignedly and slowly rises from his chair, and Mulder moves to stand behind the door, never taking the gun off him. He watches the side of Spender’s face as he opens the door and greets the men in the hallway with casual indifference. 

“How might I be of assistance, Sergeant O’Leary?”

“The building has been breached, sir. Two men, both armed,” a man barks with military precision. 

“Have the staff been evacuated?” Spender asks. 

“Yes, sir, but there were casualties.”

“Unfortunate,” Spender says blandly. “Well, no use in stirring up a ruckus down here. Post at the exits up top and wait for them to come out. They can’t very well stay underground forever.”

“Yes, sir. What about you, sir? Can we escort you up?”

“That won’t be necessary, Sergeant, I will account for myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Spender stands in the open doorway as the patter of the mens’ boots fades away. As he closes the door, he quickly pivots his body to face Mulder’s and takes one step forward. Mulder feels the press of something firm against his belly.

“You think you’re the only one with a gun, Jeff?” Spender asks derisively, his sour tobacco breath stinging Mulder’s eyes. “Diana has been looking everywhere for you. She’s worried sick.”

“Diana is a liar, and so are you,” Mulder spits at him, pressing the muzzle of his gun against the old man’s temple. 

“Diana is the only reason you’re going to walk out of here alive, son. That is if you’d be so kind as to take that gun off me.”

Mulder presses it into his crepey skin more firmly, his entire body shaking with anger. 

“Fuck. You.” 

“All right,” Spender says with a sigh. “Let me more clearly outline your options. Shoot me, and if you manage to exit this bunker without incident—which is unlikely—Agent Scully will be dead within a month.”

Mulder tries not to react to this information. 

“What did you do to her?” he growls.

“I’d be happy to answer that, however I find it difficult to think with a gun pointed at my head, which brings me to your second option. Put the gun down, and we can have a conversation.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Perhaps not, but you’re forgetting that I know your greatest weakness, Jeff. The one thing you’d be willing to die to protect.” Mulder stares into his watery blue eyes and finds nothing behind them. No empathy, no humanity, no soul. Slowly, he lowers his gun, and the old man cracks a smug little smile. “I knew you’d be reasonable, particularly when it comes to her. Set the gun on the ground, slowly.” Mulder sinks down to the floor and Spender takes one step back, keeping his own weapon trained on Mulder’s head. “And your backup too, while you’re down there. I recall that you’re partial to an ankle carry.” Mulder’s shoulders slump with defeat, and he pulls up his pant leg to remove his back up weapon and sets it on the floor as well. “Very good, son. Have a seat at my desk, won’t you? There are some things we need to discuss.”

-

Scully is on her knees at the foot of the bed, hands clasped under her chin, praying to every saint who could possibly help her. 

“Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle…” She remembers the beginning of the old-fashioned prayer, something her mother used to say, but only snippets here and there after that. “Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil …. thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls.”

No one has entered her room since last night. She’s been given no food, though she has gratefully been able to drink water from the tap in the bathroom. She’s heard footsteps and silence, and more recently shouting and gunfire. When the fire alarm started going off, she dropped to her knees and begged that she would not burn up here. That this would not be the end.  

She tries to think of the other saints her mother called on in desperate times. “St. Anthony,” she whispers. “I implore you.” 

Waiting to die is something she has experience with. She cannot help but compare the experience of waiting for disease to ravage your body beyond the point of survival, and waiting for another human being to intentionally and ruthlessly stop the clock on your life. To steal from you each of your future days, all the experiences you’ve yet to have, every joy and sorrow and celebration and heartache. 

“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

She wishes she could remember more. More of the happy moments, memories of her father and Missy. She wishes she had more time to tell Mulder about all the things he can’t recall, to tell him the story of how they found their way to one another. She thinks of Abby and Peter growing up with the knowledge that their mother went to work one day and never came home, and wonders what Cal will tell them, and what he’ll do when the Numerol runs out. There are so many things left unfinished. So many words left unsaid. 

“Oh, please, God,” she wails, her knees aching and her cheeks wet. 

The latch on the door thunks, and Scully scrambles to her feet. She looks for something, anything, to use as a weapon, but of course there is nothing; they would anticipate such things in a place like this. She backs away from the door, her fingers running over an invisible rosary, and awaits her fate. 

The door springs open and slams against the wall, and a man pivots around the corner, gun drawn. Scully instinctively brings her hands up to cover her face, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she continues to recite prayers for mercy in her head. 

“Mija?”

Slowly, she lowers her hands and opens her eyes. 

“Oh my god.”

They collide in the center of the room, her arms going around his neck while his encircle her waist. 

“Are you okay? God, Dana, I was so scared. I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

Trembling with relief, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck to breathe in the familiar smell of his sweat. He shuffles them over half a foot so he can set the gun down on the bed and then takes her face in his hands, looking into her eyes before he kisses her over and over, like he’s making up for all the days he missed. 

“Did they hurt you?” he asks, still holding her close.

She shakes her head. 

“How did you find me?”

“They sent a letter asking me to bring the kids out here—”

“The kids are here?” she interjects as her stomach drops out. 

“No, it’s just me and Mulder.”

She blinks at him as her two worlds merge into one in her mind. 

“Mulder is here?”

Cal nods. 

“We split up to look for you, but now that I found you we need to get back to him and get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay,” she says, her mind reeling. “Do you know the way?”

“Yes and no,” he says, releasing her and retrieving his gun. “I haven’t seen anybody out there in a few minutes, but that doesn’t mean we won’t run into anyone. And I don’t know what’s going on up top.”

He moves toward the door, but Scully grabs his arm to stop him and he looks back at her expectantly. 

“Let me take the gun,” she says, holding her hand out, and he throws her an incredulous look. 

“Do you know how to fire a gun, mija?” he asks, and she rolls her eyes. 

“Do you?”

Cal quirks a smile and crouches down to unstrap a second weapon from his ankle. 

“I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” he says fondly as he stands and holds the two pistols out, allowing her to select one. 

“I guess so,” she agrees, returning his smile. 

He scans the badge, and she opens the door and clears the hallway.

“Let’s go,” she whispers over her shoulder, and as they creep down the hall she can’t help but observe how odd it is to have someone who is not Mulder by her side in this way. 

-

“You should know that this was never my intention,” Spender says. 

He’s standing in front of the desk, a cigarette in one hand and a gun in the other. Mulder sits in a chair behind it, his hands laid flat on his knees, per Spender’s direction, and his jaw clenched so tightly that it’s beginning to ache. The blare of the fire alarm has become almost unnoticeable, for as long as it’s been going off, save for the dull throb above his ears that beats in time with each shrill blast. 

Mulder doesn’t respond to the man’s statement. If his goal is to engender sympathy, it’s a wasted effort. The only feeling he can summon when looking at the bastard’s corrugate face is hatred. 

“My associates ordered your execution,” Spender continues. “This was the only way to save your life, and Agent Scully’s.”

Mulder stares at him, unblinking. The old man takes a slow, deliberate drag on his cigarette, never taking his eyes off Mulder. When he speaks, smoke haphazardly curls out around his lips and nose, giving him the appearance of a dragon. 

“I’d like to propose an agreement,” he begins, but Mulder cuts him off. 

“I’m not interested in making a deal with the devil.”

There’s a heavy pause. A silent battle of wills. 

“Are you interested in seeing Agent Scully live?” Spender finally asks, and Mulder digs his fingers into his kneecaps as he resists the urge to jump over the desk and throttle him, gun be damned. 

“What do you want?” he asks flatly. 

“I want you to come work with me,” he says, his tone suggesting that this is an offer that Mulder should find appealing. “We’ll strike out on our own. You can gain access to the answers you’ve so ardently sought.”

Mulder scoffs. 

“Maybe that would have been a compelling offer before, but you seem to forget that you erased my memory,” he says bitingly. “I don’t remember what I know, I don’t remember what I saw, and I sure as shit don’t need answers to questions I can’t remember asking.”

He sees a flash of emotion in the old man’s eyes, but it’s quickly concealed. 

“Fair point,” Spender says, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Stand up, son.” Mulder hesitates, then slowly rises from the chair. “Come, let’s pay a visit to Agent Scully. Perhaps she can help you see reason.”

“Leave Scully out of this,” Mulder says urgently, desperation taking root in his chest. “Do whatever you want to me, but let her go.”

Spender gestures with his gun, and Mulder reluctantly moves toward the door. 

“That wouldn’t suffice, I’m afraid,” the old man says as he positions himself right behind Mulder, holding the gun inches from his lower back. “Please don’t take any offense, but if there’s one thing I’ve taken from this experience, it’s that there is no Mulder without Scully. You agree to work with me and you both live, or you refuse and you both die. I will do you and Agent Scully the courtesy of allowing you to decide which option suits you best.”

He prods the gun against Mulder’s lower back, urging him forward. They enter the hallway and the shriek of the fire alarm intensifies as it bounces off the high ceilings and empty walls. Mulder walks slowly, his mind racing as he tries to work out his next move. Where the fuck is Cal? 

“Just a bit further, then turn right,” the old man says as they near the place where the two halls intersect. 

Just ahead of them, from around the very corner they were about to turn, Scully steps out, gun drawn, and Mulder’s knees nearly buckle. 

-

“Stop right there.”

She stands with her feet shoulder width apart, elbows locked, upper torso pitched slightly forward. In her periphery, Cal freezes just before he turns the corner and then backs up several steps, staying hidden from view.

“Agent Scully,” the old man says in an unfitting jovial tone. “We were just on our way to your room.”

“Let him go,” Scully demands. 

Mulder, who is standing just ahead and partially in front of the smoking man, looks at her with a pained expression that makes her heart sink. 

“I’d like to,” Spender coos, stepping out just enough for her to see the gun in his hand before he lifts it to Mulder’s head. A cold slice of fear cuts through her and she feels her arms begin to tremble. “But I’m afraid that I’ll need some assurances before doing so.”

Scully hears the click of a door opening and closing, but she keeps her eyes on Spender to avoid giving Cal away. 

“What do you want?” she asks, her voice breaking though she’s trying very hard to remain calm.

“There will be time to discuss that,” the old man says, “but first I’ll need you to put down your weapon so we can have a civil conversation.”

Scully flashes her eyes over to Mulder. He looks agonized and, uncharacteristically, afraid. She asks him a question with her eyes, and he answers with a tiny bob of his head. Slowly, she bends down and sets the pistol on the floor, keeping her eyes on Spender the entire time. 

“There we are, now slide it on over,” Spender says, and she gently pushes the gun across the waxy linoleum. Spender retrieves it and points it at her, then, with a weapon in each hand, looks back and forth between Mulder and Scully. “Shall we convene in my office?” he asks. “It’s awfully loud out here. Hands up if you will, Agent Scully, then come this way.”

Scully holds her hands up near her shoulders, palms out, and slowly walks towards Mulder. She looks for some indication of what they should do, a glance or a tilt of his head, or even a reassuring nod. But he looks abjectly miserable and somehow apologetic, and she realizes that they may not make it out of here alive. 

From the corner of her eye she sees movement at the far end of the hallway, behind Spender, and she looks just as Cal steps through an open door, gun drawn, his face a mask of hatred. 

“Vaya con dios, pendejo,” he calls out, drawing Spender’s attention. 

Time seems to slow down and speed up all at once. Spender’s head whips around to look at Cal, the gun he’d been aiming at Mulder following suit. Mulder, seeing an opportunity, steps forward and slams his fist down against the old man’s other arm, attempting to knock the gun he has on Scully out of his hand. 

Crack crack crack.

A light bursts, sending shards of glass raining down, and Scully ducks and covers her head. The fire alarm continues to scream, and she holds her breath and waits for pain, or more gunfire, or the miracle she prayed for.  

“Scully.”

She lifts her head at the sound of Mulder’s voice. He’s standing near the side of the hallway, his shirt and arms flecked with blood. The smoking man lies motionless at his feet, and when Scully steps forward she sees that the old man’s eyes are open, a single gunshot wound centered between his eyebrows. 

She looks at Mulder’s face, but he isn’t looking at the smoking man. She follows his line of sight to the end of the hallway where Cal is lying on his back, his formerly white T-shirt drenched with blood and his legs curled up toward his belly. 

She’s beside him in an instant, dropping to her knees and pressing her palm firmly over the wound on his chest. The location of it and the amount of blood already pooling beneath him on the floor tell her that his prospects aren’t good. 

“Cal,” she says tightly, tears already thickening her throat. 

His panic-stricken eyes find hers, and she touches his cheek to comfort him. 

“Did I get him?” he sputters, struggling for air. 

Scully nods and the tears break loose, streaming down her cheeks. 

“Right between the eyes. You’re a good shot,” she says, attempting a smile. 

“I told you,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking. He coughs and blood wets his lips. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it, Mija.”

She can’t bring herself to lie to him, to tell him that he’ll be okay. She leans forward and kisses his forehead, allowing her lips to linger. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says against his skin before sitting up again. “I’m sorry you got pulled into all this.”

Her hand over his chest is dark with blood. It pools in the spaces between her fingers and wets her knees. There is so much of it. 

Cal slowly shakes his head. 

“Don’t ever be sorry,” he says, then pulls in a ragged gasp. “Being your husband…” he closes his eyes briefly, then opens them again. “This has been the best two months of my life, with you and the kids. I wouldn’t take it back.”

Scully chokes out a sob. 

“You were a great husband,” she says softly, running her hand over the top of his head. “The best father.”

Cal closes his eyes and smiles. His breathing is becoming more shallow, and she can feel his heart slowing under her hand. 

“Sweet Caroline,” he sings slowly, very off-key, and then opens his eyes and looks at her. 

Scully’s face contorts. She can hardly manage to speak. 

“Bah, bah, bah,” she whispers. 

“Good times…never seemed so good,” he continues, his eyes taking longer to open again on each blink. 

“So good, so good, so good,” she rasps. 

“I’ve been inclined…to believe…they never…”

His voice fades away and his eyes lose focus. She watches as all the muscles in his body relax, and his head falls to the side.

“Oh, god,” Scully keens, digging her fingers into his chest. 

She leans over him, kissing his forehead and his cheeks. She whispers in his ear her thanks for his kindness and the love he showed her. She tells him that she’ll never forget what he did for her. 

Mulder touches her back and she looks up at him. 

“We need to go,” he says somberly. “I’m sorry.”

Scully nods, turning back to Cal one last time. She runs her fingers over his eyelids to close them, kisses him once more on the forehead, then picks up the gun lying on the floor by his hip. 

When she stands, Mulder pulls her into a brief hug, just the tiniest shred of comfort before they must continue on. She follows him into an office across the hall where there is an open hatch in the middle of the floor. 

“This way,” he says gently, encouraging her down. “Let’s get out of here.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

[bihanspookies]

The Owed Drink

Summary: Set 2 weeks after this fic, Alora reluctantly meets up with JJ after he saved her and Alex while on a mission.

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

One drink, in and out, small talk (or no talk) and then that’s it.

Alora tugs her jacket tighter around her, the drizzle of rain hitting the back of her neck as she stands right outside the bar door.

Just open it. The hell are you waiting for?

She feels annoyed at the situation, even more so at herself for allowing this to even happen. She should’ve kept a better watch while on that scrap mission with Alex, checking every nook and cranny for anything out of the ordinary,

Now here she was about to have a drink with someone she literally told last month that their little meetings were ending right then and there.

Even though this ‘someone’ did technically save her and Alex’s life.

With an aggravated sigh she takes hold of the door handle, the cold wet metal feeling oddly hot beneath her skin.

Jesus Christ Alora, pull yourself together. In and out remember?

Satisfied with the answer, she pulls the door open, the cold air blasting onto her damp self and sending a small shiver down her spine. She steps inside and immediately spots JJ, sitting at the same booth as last time with two small shot glasses already placed in front of him.

Alora feels a muscle tick under her right eye, the assumption of him making a strange feeling spread throughout her chest. She pushes it down, running her tongue over the front of her teeth as she leaves wet footprints behind when she crosses across the bar towards him.

It’s like he senses her.

He looks up and shoots her that fucking smile, waving her over and even scooting out to greet her.

“Hey, firecracker.” JJ tries hard to keep his voice steady, not wanting to show his excitement too much at the fact that she actually showed up. He nearly reaches an arm out to hug her but locks up, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops instead.

Alora gives a quick tight lipped smile back, muttering a soft ‘hey’ back and going to sit in the booth. JJ spares a quick glance at Sandy, the same bartender that’s been with him through this experience, and grins wide. He learned her name last week while he was waiting for Alora, figuring he’d ask since she’s been practically his cheerleader through this.

Sandy, with her bright red lips, smiles back and shoots two thumbs up at JJ before returning her attention back to her customers. JJ feels his heart flutter, quickly sitting down and finally taking a look at Black Dragon merc.

“I uh, ordered for you. Everclear. Like when we first met…” JJ feels incredibly embarrassed right now, not even knowing if she was the type of girl that liked when a man ordered for her. Then again she wasn’t like any kind of woman he’s met before.

The uncertainty only grows when her eyebrows raise, arms shrugging her rain jacket off to reveal her toned muscles underneath. JJ swallows, watching as they work the outer layer and drop it on the seat next to her. Alora pulls a few napkins from the dispenser, dabbing at her neck before crumpling it up and tossing it on top of the table.

“Thanks.” She grabs the glass, downs it one go and slams it back onto the table top. She smacks her lips once, gives JJ a look before…

“Alright, thanks for the drink.” She nods, clicking her nails on the tabletop and reaches for her jacket.

“Wait wait—“ JJ interjects, this time not stopping himself from reaching a hand out to her. His fingers curl around her empty glass, tapping it on the tabletop with every word he speaks for his next sentence.

"I save you from gettin' shot up and you leave after one drink?" His eyebrow quirks, looking Alora dead in the eye as her own narrow in annoyance.

“No one told you to save me.” She remarks, trying to keep her irritation at bay.

He shrugs, lips pursing a bit. “No one told you to come.” He’s pushing it, he knows, but he wants Alora to see that he is genuinely interested in getting to know her rather than just having these short meetups in hopes that he might see her again next time.

“Look…” He starts, wanting to get through to her.

“You didn’t have to save my ass JJ. Appreciate it, but,” She shrugs, grabbing her jacket.

“But you came anyway, despite not wanting to.” He adds. He studies the way her features twitch, lips moving as if they want to snap at him and eyes ready to shoot out lasers if they could.

“Listen sweetheart—“

“No, you listen.” Her voice makes him straighten up, slowly letting go of the shot glass.

“I told you last time that we wouldn’t do this. You’re right, I didn’t want to come here but I…” Alora trails off, huffing and rolling her eyes a bit. JJ patiently waits for her to continue, again with the feeling to reach out and touch her hand to offer any sort of comfort.

“You don’t. Get it.” She finishes, a softer tone in her voice. JJ breathes in deep through his nose, digging his tongue in his cheek.

“Get what? That it’s dangerous? Trust me, I know exactly what I’m getting myself into. Or what I want to get myself into.” He runs a hand down his face, briefly thinking that he needs to trim his beard when it feels more scraggly than what he’s used to.

“I know you work for Black Dragon, doll. But you ain’t like ‘em, I can tell.” He’s earnest in his voice, his hazel eyes growing a bit tender on her.

Alora lets out a short hum of a laugh, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yeah? What makes you say that?” She cocks her head to the side a bit.

“Haven’t killed me. Had plenty of chances to do so but. That and like you said, you came here to thank me despite not wanting to.” He leans forward more, poking the tip of his finger into the table.

“That already shows me you ain’t like them. Actually got a heart in you.” Her expression is unreadable, staring at JJ as his words hang in the air. He’s hoping he got her to change her mind, let her guard down a bit around him. Alora sighs through her nose, resisting the urge to show him the whites of her eyes with another roll.

“If you’re speechless then I can only take that as a sign that I’m right.” He grins a bit, letting himself get playful with her. Alora sucks her teeth lightly, not daring to allow the small flame in her belly get any bigger than what it already is.

“You’re a strange man, JJ.” Is all she says.

“And you’re pretty. Now come on, have another drink with me. Please.”

Alora finally gives in and drops back against the chair with an annoyed exhale. JJ signals to Sandy, who brings another pair of drinks and sets them on the table. She shoots him a pointed glance with a quirked eyebrow and he tries to tamp down the grin that threatens to form on his lips.

A few beats of silence pass between them and JJ clears his throat awkwardly, tracing his finger along the rim of the lowball glass in front of him. Alora downs her drink and sets the empty down on the table with more force than she’d intended, the resounding smack makes JJ jump and behind them a pool player whiffs on a shot with a curse.

“Sorry,” she mutters and JJ shrugs with a smile.

The quiet feels tangible, as if you could run a blade through it, punctuated only by the clinking of glasses and bottles and the occasional drunken patron speaking too loudly.

Across the bar, two men in a dart game finish up and Alora jerks her head toward the now free board.

“You play?” she asks and JJ’s grin widens as he makes a noncommittal gesture.

“Been a while. Do you?”

“No. Can’t be that hard,” Alora offers and he laughs.

“Alright then, tell you what. I win? You close the place down with me. You win? You leave.”

Alora ponders his offer- it’s not as if she’s chained to the booth, she can leave whenever she wants, but the idea of beating him at a game she’s never played to earn her freedom sounds like more fun.

JJ rises and she follows, the two of them making their way across the room to the dartboard. He retrieves the handful of darts from their recess in the machine and punches in their names on the scoreboard.

“So,” JJ hands her her darts and weighs his own, getting a feel for their heft, “301? ‘Round the world?”

Alora stares blankly at him and he chuckles, “You got no idea what I’m talkin’ about, do ya?”

She shoots him a glare and he puts his hands up in mock surrender, “301 is easy. We both start with 301 points, work our way down with each number we hit ‘til one of us hits zero. If ya go past, you ‘bust’.”

“Sounds easy.”

JJ selects the game mode and Alora’s name flares to life in red lighting next to her score.

“Ladies first, sweetheart,” JJ takes a seat and watches as she lines up her shot with a roll of her eyes.

The first of her darts sears through the air and hits a double 14, bringing her score down to 273. She chances a smug glance over her shoulder and JJ only smiles in return.

“Long ways to go until zero.”

Alora’s second dart hits the board outside of the ring and she swears under her breath. Behind her, JJ bites his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. Her final dart nails the inner bullseye and the board lights up to showcase her success as her score drops to 223.

“Not bad!” JJ steps past her and stands on the faded tape that marks the throwing point, “But let me show you how it’s done.”

“Maybe when I beat you, I’ll hang around anyway, let you buy me a few more drinks,” Alora is only half joking, trying to throw him off his game.

It works.

His first dart hits a 5 and his score drops pathetically to 296. Damn it. He looks back at her and swears he sees the remnants of a smirk as it fades. JJ’s second dart is better, hitting a double 18 to bring him to 260. He turns to her with raised brows and she shakes her head.

JJ’s final dart hits the outer bullseye and he whoops animatedly as the score drops to 235. A few patrons glance over at the source of the sound and JJ smiles sheepishly before making his way back to the table. Alora rises and moves to push past him; it’s a split second, he feels like he’s not even in control of his body- he brushes his fingers against her waist when she passes him and she tenses at the gesture.

“Sorry,” JJ rasps, his voice suddenly caught in his throat, “Instinct.”

Alora doesn’t chastise him, much to her own surprise. Instead she glances away quickly as the heat creeps into her face and reddens her skin. JJ takes a seat and tries to slow his hammering heart as he watches her line up her shot.

The feeling of his fingers lingers on her, makes her lose her focus as she holds the dart up at eye level. All three darts are a bust, the first two hit a 2 and a 5 and the final one hits outside the ring.

JJ’s next throws are abysmal as well.

Alora’s score is 216, JJ’s stands at 225.

Every time he passes her, JJ has to ball his fists at his sides to stop himself from touching her. He downs another shot of whiskey and glances at their scores- down to 134 and 129. He’s managed to pass her, how he has no idea, but their moment of brief contact seems to have thrown her off more than it did him.

“This might be the worst goddamn game of darts I’ve ever played in my life,” JJ offers as Alora yanks her darts from the board with a sigh of frustration.

Sandy appears at his side with another two drinks and leans in close to JJ before Alora gets back, “You better let that pretty girl win.”

JJ grins and hands her his empty glass as the pretty girl in question drops back into her seat with a huff. Her score is down to 121. JJ rises and saunters to the shooting point- he’s always had shit aim, with rifles, with darts. He lets out a breath and aims down, steadying his shaking hands.

His first two darts hit the inner bullseye and he hears Alora make a strangled sound from behind him as his score drops to 29. He glances over his shoulder and flashes her a bright, white smile as he aims the final shot. He has to focus now- a double 14 and a one. A double 10 and a 9.

JJ’s final dart hits a double 11 and he grimaces as the score drops to 7. Tough number to hit.

Alora snatches her darts from the table and nearly collides with JJ as he returns to his seat. The prospect of staying at the bar because she can’t beat him is making her seethe.

Again, she doesn’t have to stay-

She shoves the thought aside and takes aim at the board, her tongue held tightly between her teeth.

An outer bullseye.

A triple 20.

JJ sucks his teeth as her score drops to 56. The final dart hits the center bullseye and he smiles in amusement as her score settles ahead of his at just 6.

“Not bad, firecracker,” JJ grins and Alora rolls her eyes. It’s less pronounced than before, and he swears he can see the ghost of a smile play at her lips.

Hit the 7. Hit the fucking 7, JJ urges silently to himself.

It’s a shame the 7 and the 19 are so fucking close together.

JJ throws his head back in defeat as the 7 on the board resets into a 12. From behind him, Alora lets out a sound that he swears is a laugh and he turns to try and catch it, just barely snagging a glance at the smile as it fades from her lips.

His next two darts do nothing to help, the first one hitting outside the ring and the second managing to hit a 10 and bring him down to 2. JJ sighs in exasperation and turns back to face Alora, who’s on her feet and making her way toward him.

Maybe it’s the whiskey warming his face and clouding his mind, or maybe it’s the crushing knowledge that he’s possibly seconds from defeat.

JJ brushes his fingertips against her waist again as she passes, and this time she doesn’t tense up at the contact. He smiles and she almost returns it. She comes so painfully fucking close.

Her next dart hits the 6 and JJ feels his heart sink as the board flashes and chimes to signal her victory. Alora turns to face him, a smug look on her face as she lets her darts clatter to the table in front of him.

“I have half a mind to think you’re hustlin’ me,” JJ gestures with his glass and then empties it in one gulp, “But you won, fair and square. Guess I’ll see ya the next time I save your ass.”

Alora chews the inside of her cheek and fidgets with the fabric of her shirt for a moment as she considers him.

“Do you have any more of that outworld liquor?” she asks and his face lights up, eyes sparkling under the dim light of the bar.

“Sure as hell do,” JJ answers far too eagerly, and for a moment, she reconsiders her question. He senses the change and tries to dial it back, tamping down the excitement that has seeped into his face, “Out in the truck.”

Alora hangs by the door as JJ pays the drinks as promised, hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket and leaning against the wall. She watches him, happily chatting up Sandy as he waits for her to get back to him with his change and when she does he simply hands it back to her with that bright fucking grin of his.

The same grin that started making her stomach do flips at some point during the night.

She’s lost count of how many times she’s let out an aggravated breath through her nose or rolled her eyes but she’s sure it’s in the double digits by now, especially when she does another involuntarily. She’s annoyed but isn’t sure at what exactly: the situation, herself, or JJ. It’s probably a mix of all three.

Her jaw clenches when JJ starts making his way to her, once again flashing that captivating smile of his.

It’s definitely him. Definitely annoyed at him and that damn southern charm that exudes with every word and step he takes.

“Ready?” He says once he’s close enough, his grin now a soft smile as he looks down at her. Alora gives a short nod, zipping her jacket up and reaching out to grab onto the door handle to pull it open.

Right at the same time JJ does.

She mentally adds a tally to her secret third list- the one that’s keeping score of how many times her heart leaps into her throat from anything that JJ does. Right now, just today, it’s at four. She pulls her hand back and shoves it back into her pocket, refusing to look at him and show the pink on her cheeks.

“Sorry, darlin’.” She can hear the grin in his voice and Alora actually fights against herself to add another mark to either of her first two lists.

“S’okay.” She grumbles, his touch still prominent on her hand. JJ pulls the door open and gestures for her to go first, taking one last look at Sandy to wave goodbye and then following right behind Alora.

It’s not raining as hard as before, a light sprinkle by now but still, JJ doesn’t want to sit on the tailgate of his truck and have her get wet.

“We can uh, sit in my truck. If you’re comfortable with that.” He suggests, the door quietly closing shut behind them, separating the two of them from the rest of bar goers. Alora stares ahead, easily spotting his shiny cherry red car amongst the bleak colors of the surrounding vehicles.

“Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Great! I can bring the truck closer so you don’t have to walk.” He says, already fishing in his pocket for his keys. The action has her looking up at him, the tiniest parting of her lips not going past JJ. He allows his mind to wander, looking at her mouth for half a second longer than usual and thinking about how it would feel against his own.

“It’s just a little rain, I’m not gonna melt.” She quips, letting the corner of her lips quirk up into a smile. JJ laughs, reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

“I know.” His voice is bashful, looking between her and his truck. “Just want to be a gentleman is all.”

Now a smile fully graces her, not a big one but just enough for JJ to take it and burn it into his memory. He decides it’s something he wants to see everyday. Probably for the rest of his life.

“Gentleman, huh?” Alora repeats, her smirk getting a smidge bigger.

“That’s me, sweetheart.” He plays along, finding himself stepping a bit closer to her. His fingers twitch within his pocket, shaking and wanting to go into Alora’s to hold her hand.

She shakes her head at him, breaking eye contact and glancing at the floor. She looks back to his truck and moves her hand from within her jacket towards it.

“Let’s just go, before the rain gets worse.”

JJ agrees even though she doesn’t see it, holding his keys in his hand and ready to break into a sprint. Quickly they go through the parking lot, shoulders hunching and eyes squinting, making sure they didn’t step in any huge puddles. Normally JJ would’ve opened her door for her but right as they reached this car, it started raining a bit harder and he wanted to get inside as soon as possible.

Alora is smoothing her bangs back when JJ sits in the driver's seat, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair and shaking out water droplets. A few land on Alora, her jacket off once again and exposing her arms.

“Hey—!” She exclaims, halfway shielding her face to protect herself.

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughs, feeling a skip in his heart when he looks at her. Alora lets out a snort, shaking her head and letting out a sigh. She turns to him, her icy eyes shining like gems in the low light of the parking lot.

“So the dautho?” She murmurs, eyeing the backseats and trying to see if she can spot the familiar bottle. JJ lets out a quiet ‘ah!’ reaching behind him and shuffling his arm for the liquor. He grabs it with success, passing it off to Alora while he puts his key into the ignition, turning the heat up a bit and letting music softly play from the radio.

Alora’s just taken a swig, lips puckering a bit at the taste and burn before she gives it out to JJ. He remembers the last time he drank this, finding himself nearly kissing the ground after a few good hits. But he sucks it up, taking a smaller drink and letting the bottle rest in his lap. It’s a peaceful silence, rain pattering on the windows combined with whatever song was playing creating a calm atmosphere between them.

“We can’t meet every Saturday.” Alora speaks up, her tone low but still managing to make JJ’s chest tighten up. He thinks it’s another attempt to cut him off, to really put her foot down and say ‘no’.

“Can’t risk Kano or others recognizing pattern, I’ve already started something these past few times.”

JJ lets her words sit in his head, trying to figure out what she’s trying to say. He opens his mouth to speak but chooses instead to take another swig and then pass the alcohol to Alora. She takes it, bringing it to her lips and taking one long gulp before parting ways.

“I’m free in two weeks. Tuesday.”

His fingers flex into the material of his jeans, using it to ground himself and to keep from hollering in celebration.

“Yeah-! Okay yeah, two weeks. Tuesday.” He grins, the speed of his heart picking up significantly. Alora lets herself smile a bit, taking another sip before giving the bottle back.

“I guess it is nice to have someone on the outside.” She mumbles, letting her eyes linger on the brush of his fingers against her own as he takes the bottle.

“Can always use more friends, sweetheart.” He says softly, staring down into the liquid before drinking and remembering Sandy’s comment from a while ago. He can already feel himself getting buzzed, the nerves tingling with excitement at Alora’s statement.

She simply raises her eyebrows at JJ, a meek shrug on her shoulders. The rain is steady, still beating against the car and obscuring the surrounding area slightly.

Maybe she could use another friend.

————

Alex/JJ: @chadillacboseman

#hotshot #the Bull and the battering Ram #mk jj #OOOOOGUHOGHUGOHI!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #mk oc #mk alora

[lale-txt]

♡ DILFS DILFS DILFS: (n.sfw) pinning against the wall w/ dilf!Ace & afab!reader

a/n: requested by @spitfire-of-the-sea (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ i've teased this fic for a while and it's finally here! thank you so much for your patience and for your request. i hope the fic came out to your liking and that you enjoy the little firecracker. it was fun writing him, it's been a while!

contains: ns.fw under the cut, afab!reader (no pronouns), fingering, oral (reader receiving), dirty talk, exhibitionism (they're not getting caught), slight sub!Ace in the very end

word count: 1.3k

The way you stumble through the dimly lit hallway together is no different from when you were roughly twenty years younger and newly drunk in love. Ace’s hand feels warm in yours, a little sticky almost because he refuses to let go, instead he pulls you close into a kiss every few steps and hums against your lips. Both of you giggle and laugh so loudly that it echoes from every wall as you make your way towards your shared cabin.

He kisses down your neck sloppily, beard stubbles scratching over your skin and setting off small fireworks within you. His breath is hot against your skin and his hands roam all over your body, hungry and impatient. 

“Ace… not here… someone’s gonna see us…”

Your voice sounds less demanding than you hoped it would and from the way you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, your body speaks a whole different language. You are just so weak for him, still, after all these years, melting under his touch like ice cream in the sun. With your fingers buried in his graying hair you pull him into another kiss, gasping into each other’s mouths as the heat rises between you.

The cabin door is almost within reach when Ace takes the lead and grabs you by the hips, pushing your body against the nearest wall – being very gentle and making sure you don’t hit your head like last time. The memory of the two of you sitting abjectly in Marco’s office is still too vivid; Ace still with his pants tenting and you with your shirt half unbuttoned, breathing heavily and cheeks hot despite the head injury. Thankfully Marco didn’t ask any details, at his age he had seen enough to just know.

Ace’s lips roam from the corner of your mouth down to your neck, his broad figure hovering over you as he unwraps your hands from behind his neck to push them above your head instead, holding both of your wrists with just one hand against the wall. You shiver in excitement and buck your hips against the thigh he pushed between your legs, desperate for some friction. Ace chuckles softly, visibly enjoying how you fall apart under his touch. 

“What happened to ‘not here’, my darling?”, he whispers close to your ear while his free hand wanders all over your heated body, tracing the silhouette of it. His fingertips flutter over your skin and you groan a little in frustration from not being able to devour him right here on the spot. Your eyes wander from his handsome face with the countless freckles down to his scarred chest that you love to plaster in kisses, making the memory of almost losing him that day faint with each kiss. You lower your gaze down to his happy trail, leading to where his hard cock throbbed in his pants and pressed against your lower stomach.

“See, I would love to help you out there, but I’m a little stuck as you can tell…”, you coo and try to wriggle your wrists out of his grip, but Ace doesn’t let go just yet, instead he just puts on a mischievous grin and leans in for a kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth as if he wants to lick your adoration for him right off your tongue, almost in disbelief that he is worthy of being loved, even after all these years. 

Ace muffles your moan with another kiss when he rubs his thumb over the damp spot in your pants, pulling back only to admire your aroused face. If he wasn’t pinning you against the wall like that, your legs would have already given in and you’d be on your knees, taking him down your throat fully. But right now all you could do is watch and mewl as he unbuttons your pants and slides down his hand inside, fingertips brushing through the curls of your bush. You take a sharp breath when he starts circling your puffy clit, knowing exactly how to touch you to push you near the edge. 

“Relax, sweet thing, just relax”, he murmurs and leans his forehead against yours, watching you through long dark lashes as you chase your high underneath his calloused hand. You’re dripping wet and crave nothing more than to feel him inside, aching for him to fill you up to the brim until your mind goes blank and there’s only you and him in unison, fucking like there’s no tomorrow because being a pirate means you might as well never see dawn again. 

You tremble when Ace spreads your folds to dip into your slick heat, stealing another kiss from your lips when he adds a third finger and starts pushing in and out. You’re on your tiptoes, back arched, your whole body curved into his as he devours you, licking the pleading words falling out of your mouth from your lips. Ace knows your body inside out like a treasure map, knowing exactly how to curl his fingers to rub your sweet spot and where to bite to charm out those pretty mewls of you. 

In the heat of the moment both of you almost forgot that you’re still in the hallway, the tumultuous sound of the banquet on deck in the faint distance. Only when you hear footsteps and familiar voices approaching, your eyes flutter wide open, begging Ace to release you but at the same time pressing yourself deeper into his touch until you feel every limb tingling from fear and excitement. Ace finally lets go of your hands but keeps you pinned against the wall, his thrusts getting faster now as you dig your fingernails into his shoulders, clinging onto him as you feel your core snapping, waves of pleasure crushing over you as you come undone. 

There’s no time to recover from your high when Ace lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder, rushing down the hallway and kicking the door to your cabin open and close again once you’re inside, both of you laughing and giggling out of your breath, your bodies tingling with adrenaline and being so madly in love with each other, fooling around like you did in your twenties.

You grab Ace by the waist and pull him close, his erect cock throbbing in his pants under your palms, begging for release. His lips crash on yours as you wiggle out of your pants, kicking them aside, but instead of freeing his aching arousal, you put your hands on Ace’s shoulders and force him down on his knees. He obeys you so willingly, gazing up at you as he licks his lips. You lean against the closed door behind you with your feet apart and bury your hands in his thick hair, giving it a gentle tuck. Ace whines softly, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Hands behind your back”, you command and coat your fingers with your essences before you slip them between Ace’s lips, watching him lick them clean hungrily. You can tell that he’s excited from the way his body trembles and the tip of his cock peeks out of his half-unbuttoned pants, precum leaking into the fabric. “Now… be good for me, will you?” 

Ace’s nods, eager to please, and lets you guide his head between your thighs, where he admires your dripping cunt, spread wide for him. You sigh and let your head fall against the wooden door, eyes closed as his tongue dips into you, eating you out until you see stars and finally sink yourself down on his length, making him cum from the way your core flutters around him alone. 

The sun is almost rising again when you eventually make it to the bed, and your name echoes from every wall as Ace falls apart underneath you, fingers intertwined and hearts beating to the rhythm of the promise you gave each other a long time ago.

Forever and beyond.

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