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prettyinlimegreenboots · 4 years ago

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Hey there! Could you maybe do toasted marshmallows, bonfire, and see your breath in the air as as prompt for whoever? If not that's totally fine. Your stuff is all really good and brightens my day all the time! I'm so excited that you have that masterlist now! Have a great night!

Drinking is mentioned.

The sun peeked through the trees as a light breeze swept through the yard. Race gazed up at the old house he and Spot had purchased a couple of years ago. They had spent the morning raking leaves, only for their dog, Spud, to jump in them and make a mess. And now it was time to sit, relax, and enjoy the gorgeous day.

October was here and it was the perfect day for a bonfire in the yard. With mugs of hot apple cider, Race sat in a lounge chair while Spot got to work building the fire. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I mean it’s not hard to catch some leaves on fire before putting some wood on top.” Spot grinned. “Besides, unlike you, I did a few years of Scouts and the number one rule of Scouts is Be Prepared!”

Race chuckled. “Just get the fire started, Spottie. I need my heater over here to keep me warm. And your apple cider is getting cold.”

They both waited several seconds with baited breath before the leaves caught fire along with several sticks that were thrown in the fire pit. “Ha, in your face Racetrack. Doubting my skills.”

“Alright, my Mr mighty fire builder, come over here and keep me warm.” Race opened his arms for Spot to crawl into his lap as he nestled his head into Spot’s warm chest. “We should roast marshmallows.”

Spot chuckled. “That sounds like a plan. Let the fire die down some and we can do that. Is there anything else we need to do today?”

“Nope. Chili is simmering on the stove, fire built, Spud’s down for the count. Kat and Jack said they might stop by later along with Blink, Mush, Albert and Finch.” Race sighed in contentment.

Taking a sip of his apple cider, Spot nodded. “Sounds like a solid Saturday afternoon.”

They both watch Spud wiggle next to them in the grass with a laugh before hearing a car door slam. Spud was on his feet barking heading to the front of the house before either of them could move.

They waited for whoever had arrived to make their appearance. In the meantime, Spot leaned down and kissed Race. “Happy autumn, snookums.”

“It’s been a pretty spectacular day, huh?” Race grinned, seeing his brother and Kat walk around the corner of the house with Spud at their heels.

“Hey you two.” Jack yelled, as Spud took something from Kat’s hand and went to lay down. “Yard looks good.”

Spot gave him a look. “Thanks but you’re rewarding the dog that messed it up this morning.”

“In what way?” Kat gave him a look, sitting in one of the chairs around the fire pit.

Race watched Spud chew on the rawhide that the two had brought him before looking at the happy couple. “We were raking leaves and mister decided to run through them and make a mess. It’s a good thing we love him.”

“Awww he probably didn’t mean to.” Kat reached over and gave him belly rubs.

Spot and Race both chuckled, shaking their heads at how spoiled their dog is by friends and family. “What have you guys been up to?”

“She made me clean bathrooms today.” Jack cried dramatically, giving his wife a look. “Other than that we went to the farmer’s market before coming here.”

Race patted Jack’s shoulder sympathetically. “I feel your pain, Jackie. Spottie makes me clean the bathrooms too.”

“Would you rather wash floors or dust?” Kat gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. “You complain when I make you wash dishes or vacuum. You’re pitching in around the house, somehow - laundry, vacuum, dusting, or bathrooms. Pick your poison.”

Spot gave Race a look. “Don’t give me that look - you’re in the same boat as your brother. Pick your poison.”

Kat held her arm up for a high five as Spot obliged. Jack and Race looked at their spouses. “I believe we’ve been set up.”

“Way to go Captain Obvious.” Spot grinned at his beloved before looking at Jack and Kat. “Pleasure doing business with you Kat!”

They heard more car doors close as Jack looked at the two. “Expecting more people?”

“As our house usually is, it was an open invite. We texted you two but I may have let it slip to Albert and Blink as well.” Race grinned, watching the two walk around the corner of the house with their better halves. “Hey guys! We have chili simmering on the stove and s’more stuff for later.”

Greetings and hugs were exchanged before everyone got cozy around the fire, which Spot had put another two logs on. Race tilted his head back and blew air from his mouth grinning. “Hey I can see my breath.”

“How old are you again?” Albert asked, giving his best friend a look.

Race stuck out his tongue and laughed. “Today, I’m 6 but on a normal day, 25.”

The group laughed, while Spot nestled deeper into Race’s lap. A discussion about football started up. The local university was playing away that day so Albert and Blink had their phones out with the updates coming through.

Race stood up from the chair, gently depositing Spot in the chair before backing Kat to come with him into the house. He went to the stove and stirred the chili and gave her a look. “Will you gather the stuff for s‘mores?”

They were silent as they attended both of their tasks - him gathering stuff for chili while she found all the s‘ more stuff. “Race, how’s it going?”

“Good. We have a home visit next week and that’s the last step before we’re officially adoptive parents. Once that’s done, we can start adopting or foster.” Race grinned, as she stopped and hugged him.

“That’s so exciting. You two have been waiting for this for the last two years.” She grinned. “Are you going to foster or go right into adoption?”

Race grabbed a few bowls from the cupboard before shrugging. “I think we’re leaning toward adoption but there’s quite a waitlist for adoption so we may foster first. We have an option where we could foster and adopt if it’s a right fit.”

“I’m excited for you two. Jack and I are here if you need anything.” Kat put everything on a tray before putting it on the kitchen table.

“Thanks. We really appreciate it. Your character reference letter you did for us was more than we could’ve asked for.” Race hugged her again

She grinned, swallowing the wave of emotion that surged through her. “You’re welcome. Jack and I’ll do anything for you and Spot.”

Race nodded, grabbing the sour cream and shredded cheese from the fridge before looking at the counter. “Can you let those yahoo’s know chili is ready?”

She walked out to the wrap around porch, yelling at the ones in the yard. He heard everyone before he could see them. They gathered around, grabbing bowls and ladling them up with chili and all the fixings. Spot pulled Race close, kissing him before grinning. “This looks good. Thanks for making it.”

Shouts of gratitude and thanks were yelled as everyone headed outside. Silence fell over the group as everyone dug. “That’s the best chili I’ve had.”

“Only because you didn’t have to make it.” Race quipped, giving Mush a look. “Besides, from what I’ve heard, you’re banned from the kitchen.”

Albert and Jack both chuckled. “Not sure why you’re laughing, boys. Heard you’re not allowed in either without supervision.”

“It was a teeny tiny fire.” Jack said before putting another spoonful in his mouth.

Spot raised an eyebrow. “Then why was the fire department called?”

“They were called for precaution. Just to make sure everything was alright.” Jack argued, giving the group a look. “I’m usually on grilling duty.”

“That way the house won’t explode.” Kat broke in as the entire group busted into laughter. “But I still love you, sweetie.”

Wiping tears from his eyes, Race grinned at Spot. “I guess I’m the lucky one that both of us can hold our own in the kitchen. And he bakes too.”

Blowing on his nails before buffing them on his shirt, Spot grinned. “Did you grab the cookies for tonight?”

“No, Kat grabbed all of the s’more stuff but I’ll grab them when I bring that stuff out.” Race promised, sighing in contentment.

Spot added a couple of pieces of wood to the fire. A conversation about work and future plans was started as Race and Spot started picking bowls and heading back into the house. “Will you grab a couple of blankets while I grab the s’more stuff?”

With a nod, Spot grabbed the clear bucket of bonfire blankets, meeting Race in the kitchen with a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too Spottie.”

Heading back out, Race set the tray of s’more stuff on the little table before collapsing in a chair with a sigh. “There’s marshmallows, graham crackers, cookies, and various chocolate to make your own s’mores. The marshmallow sticks are in the bucket.”

“Thanks Race, Spot for hosting us.” Albert raised his beer bottle in thanks.

“Anytime.” Spot said grinning. “Actually, we might need your help soon.”

Albert raised an eyebrow with a grin. “Name it.”

“Race and I are thinking of putting in a garden in the back part of the property next spring. Something small to start but we might need your Rototiller to break up some of the grass and dirt.” Spot explained.

Albert nodded. “Yeah absolutely. Do you know what you want to plant?”

Albert and Finch had put in a garden over the summer and filled it with carrots, radishes, peppers, tomatoes, watermelon, and were currently growing pumpkins now. There had been many times that Albert and Finch had made dinner from the contents of their garden.

“We figured we’d start small, maybe carrots, lettuce, or radishes and go from there.” Race shrugged. “We want to be able to manage it and not have it take up every free second we have.”

Finch nodded. “Let us know when you want the rototiller and it’s yours.”

Race moved from the chair to grab a stick and a marshmallow before sitting closer to the fire. His tongue poked out of his mouth in concentration, as he slowly toasted his marshmallow for the perfect hue. “Just stick it in and burn it, Racer.”

“Just because you like tasting carbon when you eat your marshmallows, doesn’t mean the rest of us do.” Race gave Jack a look. “Besides, this is how I like my s'mores .”

Spot had two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate waiting for him as he pulled his marshmallow from the fire. “Look at that beauty! Stunning work of art.”

He crafted his s’more before taking a bite and moaning in delight. “Pure Heaven, right here.”

The rest of the group made their s’mores, Jack critiquing their marshmallow toasting strategies. “If you think you can do it any better, how about you roast one youself, Jackie.”

“Maybe I will.” Jack stood up, grabbing a stick and a marshmallow before sticking it in the fire for a few seconds, waiting for it to catch fire before pulling it out and extinguishing the side by blowing on it. “Ta da!”

Spot and Race both cracked up laughing at the black, burnt marshmallow. “Any monkey could do that. It takes skill and determination to make a marshmallow as perfect as mine.”

Jack gave him a look. “Well we can’t all be as tedious as you are.”

“Thank goodness for that. There’s room for only one Racer in the world.” Albert grinned, nudging his best friend.

Race laughed, nodding. “Thanks Al.”

“We were all thinking it, I just said it.” Albert smirked.

The rest of the night was spent trading stories around the fire while toasting marshmallows, enjoying each other’s company. Laughter lit up the night like the flames. It was a great night and one that Race would look back on with nothing but fondness.

Thanks @deliciouspeachpirate for the prompt. Hope you enjoy it!!!

#newsies #newsies fan fiction #writing #ask #drabble requests #newsies drabble #drabble prompt #spot conlon x racetrack higgins #jack kelly x katherine plumber #newsies blush #redfinch newsies

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bomberqueen17 · 5 years ago

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surviving

so we made it through today too. yesterday was the turkey processing, right, where we converted live turkeys into dead turkeys. today was turkey packaging, which is self-explanatory, and I had done half of in advance in a terrible rush in precarious and exhausting conditions yesterday, so it went well. And then it was Turkey Pickup, when we convert the dead turkeys into money.

During packaging, I watched Farmkid, who had like six tantrums, and then the last one she was FREAKING OUT because she wanted to dress up in cat-themed clothes but I wouldn’t let her have just tights on in the 33-degree pouring rain, she had to wear pants, and she was in full-on mid-scream-sob about how she didn’t have any cat pants when suddenly, with tears streaming, she stopped and said “Oh wait I have kitty jeans” and then was all sunshine.

For real. She put them on, and then was sweet and cheerful and agreeable and totally forgot she’d ever been mad at me, we were all fine. I actually had earlier let her cry herself out and when I came upstairs she’d slammed her bedroom door shut. Well there’s a weird protruding latch on it, which is just at forehead level for her at present, and her father “fixed” it after she whacked her head on it by putting a large thick piece of cardboard over it and labeling it “[Farmkid]’s Head De-Bonker” and so when she slammed the door it had gone flying off. So I opened the door, noticed it was missing, and before she could scream at me, said “Oh no the Head De-Bonker! Where is it??!?!” and we urgently had to search the room to find it and replace it, and she forgot she was going to shriek at me. So anyway. Then there was a meltdown over the outfit, but it ended. After the recollection of the kitty jeans we had no more disagreements, which was weird but I’ll take it. And after a few hours of following her around, I asked if she wanted to keep reading her book, and she got excited about it and then read for like. Two hours.

I got out to the barn just in time to see the very last four turkeys get packaged. I helped precisely 0 with this. Which was fine.

After lunch my sister came indoors. She has a cold and is feeling wretched. We put her on Farmkid duty, at her request, and she had a lovely easy time of it because Farmkid had gotten sucked into reading. Also she was surrounded by people she adores, alums of the farm who came back to work and also to pay attention to her, which she loves, and that’d put anyone in a good mood. (Sister came back outside numerous times but at least she got to disappear back indoors for long periods. IDK if it helped but she was at least in a better mood than yesterday.)

So I went out and helped with turkey pickup. The way it works is people had pre-ordered turkeys and had put down a deposit and specified their approximate preferences for a size. The smallest we ever offer the concept of is 15 pounds. A bunch of people had chosen that. “Or smaller, if possible!” (Listen, people. I know a lot of you do this, you buy tiny turkeys at the grocery store. Do you want to know some bad news? Adult turkeys aren’t ten pounds. You’re buying them as babies. You’re welcome for this bit of news. Ask me about Cornish game hens sometimes. Yes they don’t even have feathers yet when they kill them, those are baby chickens.)

The smallest turkey we processed yesterday was 16.7 pounds.

The largest was over 28.

The average was 22.

So anyway. You can guess how my brother in law was feeling about that. He goes through the list of the weights of the individual turkeys once they’ve been packaged, and matches an individual turkey to each person who orders-- and first pick goes to the people who signed up first. So the earlier you sign up, the closer you’re going to get to your request. People who signed up last week get basically zero preference, that’s just how it works. And then people who wound up on the waitlist get literally whatever we have left.

He decided the thing to do was offer people who’d chosen lighter turkeys a discount if they traded up to take a bigger one. People jumped on that, a bunch of the sixteen-pound-preference folks who’d been given seventeen-pounders were happy enough to take home a twenty-four pounder instead. So, good.

At the end of the day, after a whole bunch of heavy lifting, we’d successfully converted most of the turkeys the rest of the way from live turkeys into cold hard cash. This is the single biggest income day of the year on this farm, I think. Of course there’s a shitload of expenses that went into raising those turkeys, so it’s not actually that big a profit, but in terms of actual monetary intake, turkey pickup has to be pretty high up there.

We’ve got a few left over but there are some waitlist people who haven’t called back yet, and so on. We did pretty well overall.

Tomorrow I have to clean the slaughterhouse again, and Tuesday is the second turkey processing day. They’re birds someone else raised, who we just process for, and he pays us money to do it, so we figure we might as well, but man is it exhausting to contemplate right now.

I’m in bed super early and Whiskey the yurt cat is happily kneading the blankets. I’ve taken a bunch of ibuprofen and I’m ready to sleep for a long time. Whew.

We had a few solemn collective moments of reflection, today, as we contemplated people who work in commercial poultry slaughterhouses. We do this once ok twice a year, and it’s too much. We can’t imagine doing twelve-hour shifts of it year round with no bathroom breaks. Maybe remember that in your Thanksgiving reflections, to think about the people who grew your food. Not to be preachy but if you paid twenty bucks for your twelve pound turkey I would gently like to prompt you to wonder who paid the rest of what that really costs. Again, not to be gross and holier than thou, but this was hard fucking work and you literally could not pay me any amount of money to do it, I only do it for love and fun and camaraderie, and we have a great time but it’s hard fucking work and it’s only palatable because we all want to be there.

#farm life #about the author

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omgjasminesimone · 6 years ago

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Spousal Privilege Epilogue

Colt x MC

Author’s Note: In honor of hitting 100 followers (thanks followers!), a follow up to my most popular story, Spousal Privilege

Summary: Colt is out of jail, and ready to make Ellie his forever.

Rating: NSFW

Word Count: 3000

Colt walks out of the changing room, glad to be back in his own clothes after a month in jail house orange. He heads to the discharge desk, a spring in his step at his impending escape from this hellhole.

Sanchez slides a plastic bag full of Colt’s belongings across the desk. Colt opens the bag, pocketing his wallet, keys, and putting on his belt. Everything he’d had on him when he was unexpectedly arrested while leaving the burnt out remains of his father’s garage, returned at last.

Sanchez plops a stack of paperwork on the desk. “Sign these. Read it if you want, if you’re just dying to spend more time here.”

Colt skims the paperwork quickly. Conditions of his bail, instructions for the ankle monitor he’s required to wear, acknowledgement they’ve returned his property, blah blah blah, he’s just ready to get out of here. He signs his name where he’s supposed to, passing the paperwork back to his least favorite correctional officer.

Sanchez signs the paperwork as well, leaving it on the desk. “You’re free to go. For now. See you when you’re re-arrested for some other crime.”

“I won’t be back Sanchez.” Colt smirks as he stands, his chair scraping across the concrete floor. “Try not to miss me too much.”

Sanchez’ jaw clenches. “Pshh…disrespectful.” He mutters as Colt walks out the door.

Colt smiles when he steps out into the Los Angeles sun, free from bars and armed correctional officers after a long 35 days. His smile widens when he spots her.

She’s running towards him, her long braid swinging behind her. She’s wearing a simple white dress with a sweetheart neckline paired with white sneakers, and she’s beaming at him. She’s so damn beautiful. He wonders for probably the 50th time if his father is now serving as his guardian angel because if not for divine intervention he has no idea how he got so lucky with her.

She jumps into his arms and starts kissing him ferociously. Her legs wrap around his waist as he grips her outer thighs, returning her kiss with equal passion. It’s really been way too long. He’s certainly not going to miss the jail’s no touching rule. He presses her into the wall of the jail to better support her, deepening the kiss and cupping her right breast over her dress with his now free right hand.

She pulls away, eyes fluttering open. She blushes as he squeezes her breast. “Colt, we’re in public.”

“I know. But I can’t help myself. I want you so fucking bad Ellie.” He grounds his hips against hers, letting her feel how badly he wants her.

She unwraps her legs from around his waist and he reluctantly allows her to drop down to the ground. She gives him another kiss, chaste this time, stretching onto her tiptoes. “Later. We have to get married first.”

He raises an eyebrow. “We’re doing that today?”

She nods excitedly. “They had a cancellation and I got off the waitlist this morning! We’re so lucky Colt, the next appointment available is two months from now, which is after your trial.”

He looks towards the Heavens. ‘Thanks Pops.’ He thinks.

She intertwines their fingers, leading him to her car. “We need to head downtown to the courthouse now. We can’t miss our appointment. I brought a change of clothes for you from your place.”

“Our place now.” He corrects, squeezing her hand.

She smiles softly as she unlocks the doors, sliding into the driver’s seat. She passes him a white dress shirt and black slacks as he takes the passenger seat. She quickly peels out of the jail parking lot, merging onto the 405 South.

He changes in the car, kicking off his jeans and leaving them crumbled on the floor. She glances at his exposed ankle monitor before he shimmies into the slacks. He catches the glance. “You know I have to charge this thing? It only has 12 hours of battery life. What a piece of shit.”

“Do you shower with it on?” Ellie asks, curious. She always loves to learn new things, and this is a whole new world for her.

Colt finishes buttoning his shirt. “They told me I literally never take it off. Hey, take the next exit. We need to make a pit stop.”

“But we’re already running late!”

Colt rolls his eyes. Knowing her, she’s probably timed it so they’ll arrive at the courthouse thirty minutes early. “I need to stop by the bank. I found my Dad’s safety deposit box key in the garage. That’s what I was doing when I got arrested.”

Ellie merges to get into the exit lane. “Make it quick.” She warns.

He directs her to the bank, and jogs inside while she leaves the car idling in the parking lot. Ellie drums her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. Colt returns moments later, a thick manila envelope in hand. Ellie merges back onto the 405. “So, what was in it?” She asks after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“Cash. Important paperwork.” He pauses, riffling through the envelope. “My grandparents wedding rings conveniently.” They’re stuck in rush hour traffic, so she takes her eyes off the road to look at the simple but beautiful diamond engagement ring he’s presenting to her.

“I know we’re not doing this right. I didn’t get down on one knee and propose, and we’re not having a real wedding like you deserve, but if there’s one thing I can do right it’s putting a diamond on your finger. We might have to get it fitted.”

Ellie smiles softly as Colt tenderly slides the ring onto her finger, it fits perfectly. He kisses her knuckles gently before releasing her hand so she can drive as the traffic clears up. “All of this is right Colt. I don’t need a fancy proposal or a big expensive wedding. You’re the only thing I want. I can’t wait to marry you.”

Colt leans back in his seat, looking at her appraisingly. “Did you tell your dad?”

Ellie’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “No.” She admits. “I know what he’s going to say. I’d rather ask forgiveness than permission at this point….Did you tell your mom?”

Colt looks out the window. “No. I was afraid she’d tried to talk you out of it.” He turns to look at her, smirking. “I think she likes you more than she likes me at this point.”

“No one could talk me out of this Colt. It’s what I want.”

“I don’t know. My mom could probably make a pretty compelling argument. I think she sees a lot of her in you. And a lot of my dad in me.”

Ellie exits the freeway, almost to the courthouse now. “We’re not them. We’re our own people, with our own story.”

…

“You may now kiss the bride.” The court officiant says, after seeing that all their paperwork is in order.

Colt smiles, not a smirk for once, and grips Ellie’s neck, capturing her lips. Another bride-to-be Ellie struck up a conversation with in the waiting room (they were early, just like Colt suspected) snaps photos on Ellie’s phone.

Ellie smiles when he pulls away. He takes his grandparents’ wedding bands out of his pocket, slipping the smaller gold band onto her finger. He hands her the matching wedding band and she slips it on him.

He intertwines their fingers and they walk down the aisle towards the exit.

Ellie’s new friend smiles, returning her phone. “I took a lot of pictures. Hopefully some of them are good! Congratulations you two.”

“Thank you so much!” Ellie chimes. She turns to Colt. “Ready to go to our apartment?”

He’s been ready to get her home all day. But had this been a real wedding, they wouldn’t be consummating it yet. There would have been a reception, with dinner and drinks and dancing. She deserves that. “Not yet. You’re mine now, officially, forever. That calls for a celebration.”

…

Colt throws an arm around Ellie as they relax in the VIP booth of the nightclub. Neither of them is old enough to be here, but that was easily solved with a pair of fake IDs. They’ve been dancing and drinking (he double checked that his ankle monitor isn’t one of the newer ones that can detect alcohol) for hours, so now they’re content to enjoy the VIP booth he paid for with some of the safety deposit box money.

Ellie scrolls through the wedding pictures on her phone. “This is a good one.” Colt glances at the photo. They’re kissing, her diamond ring and wedding band visible since her hand is on his cheek.

“Yeah, it’s nice.” He agrees.

“I’m going to email it to my dad and tell him that we’re married.”

Colt raises a brow. “Is that the alcohol talking?”

“No, I know if I try to tell him in person he’s going to interrupt me. He’s not going to let me say what I need to say. This way is better.” She insists.

“Whatever you say Mrs. Kaneko.” He smiles. He’s never going to get sick of that. Mrs. Kaneko.

She types for several moments, and he plays with her long brown hair. “And….sent.” She sighs, as if a great weight has been lifted off of her. “Let’s go home.”

He smirks. Finally, what he’s been waiting for all night.

…

Colt unlocks the door and carries Ellie over the threshold of their one bedroom apartment in West LA. He gently puts her down, surveying the familiar apartment. Ellie loops her arms around his neck, hugging him gently. “Welcome home.”

“You’re my home.” He can’t help but reply, capturing her lips and walking her backwards into their bedroom. He gently pushes her down onto the bed, breaking their kiss. “Sorry there are no rose petals on the bed.” He unbuttons his shirt, allowing it to fall to the floor. “And no candles.” He drops his pants, climbing on top of her and supporting his weight with his arms.

“I don’t need that. I just need you.” She replies, reaching her hand into his boxers and gripping his manhood. She starts to stroke. After 35 days of celibacy, that alone is almost enough to make him cum. He quickly removes her hand from his boxers, not wanting their wedding night to end prematurely. She looks at him questionably.

“I want to take care of you first.” He explains, pulling the white dress over her head and tossing it to the floor. He freezes when he sees the lacy white lingerie she’s wearing underneath. That’s new. He feels himself becoming uncomfortably hard at this image of her, splayed out beneath him, hair fanned out on the pillow, chest softly rising and falling. The lingerie is practically see through, erotic but somehow still innocent at the same time. He almost doesn’t want to take it off of her. He commits the image to memory, gaze sweeping over her from head to toe.

She blushes at his intense gaze. “Colt?”

“You’re so beautiful Ellie. I can’t believe you’re mine.” He admits, trailing kisses over the tops of her breasts which are spilling out of the bra. Her fingers tangle in his hair as his kisses trail lower. Over her stomach, down to her inner thighs. He nips at her hip, pulling her panties down with his teeth.

“Colt….” She breathes out as he kisses between her legs. He grips her thighs, pulling her further down the bed as he licks and sucks at her most intimate area. Her back arches off the bed, her grip on his hair almost painful. His tongue delves inside her and she comes apart, seeing white until she slowly comes down from her orgasm.

She barely notices him removing his boxers, but she feels him as his hard shaft brushes her entrance. She starts to remove her bra, but Colt stops her, intertwining their fingers and pinning her hands near her head. “Don’t. I like it.” He slowly pushes into her. He groans at the feel of being inside her again. It’s been way too long. He promises himself it will never be that long again.

“Colt, faster.” Ellie mutters, eyes closing in ecstasy as he follows her instructions, pumping into her faster and harder.

“Whatever Mrs. Kaneko wants.” He promises, the headboard slamming against the wall as he thrusts more and more aggressively. She tries to match his enthusiasm, rolling her hips in time with his thrusts.

He releases one of her hands, thumb trailing down between them to press at her clit. “Ahh…Colt.” Her free hand scratches down his back, leaving scratches but she’s too far gone to apologize. Loud moans and grunts fill the room. Colt laughs when his neighbor starts banging on the wall, wanting them to quiet down.

He captures her lips as her walls tighten around him, swallowing her loud cry as she orgasms again. As soon as she lets go, he does too, pulling out of her and cuming on her stomach. Colt rolls off of her, grabbing his shirt from the floor and wiping her stomach with it.

“That…was something else.” She comments, cuddling into his side. He unclasps her bra, and she allows it to fall to the bed. His thumb circles a nipple.

“I hope you’re not tired. I’m not done with you yet.” Colt insists.

…

Colt is awoken a few hours later by the loud knocking at his door. He looks at his sleeping wife, stirring now as the banging continues. Colt rolls out of bed, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and going to the door. He looks out the eyehole, and sees what looks like a cop outside his door.

“You think it’s my parole officer?” He calls back to Ellie, opening the door.

A fist collides with his face.

Colt clutches at his nose, his hands filling with blood. “What the fuck?!” He complains, looking at the man who just stormed into his apartment.

“You son of a bitch.” The man seethes, looking at Colt with hate.

“Dad?” Ellie calls from the bedroom when she recognizes the voice.

The man, Detective Wheeler, Colt now realizes, stalks towards the bedroom. “What is wrong with you Ellie?”

Colt locks the door and slumps onto the couch in the living room, tilting his head back to try to stem the bleeding.

“Wait, Dad,…let me get dressed first!” Ellie shouts, slamming the bedroom door just before her father can get there. Detective Wheeler glares at him anew after hearing that. Colt grimaces. This is definitely not how he wanted meeting Ellie’s father to go.

Moments later, the bedroom door opens and Ellie steps out, wearing the white dress again. “What are you doing here Dad?”

“What are you doing here Ellie?! You’re married!? To a criminal?! And you deferred college?! I know you’re technically an adult now, but you’re definitely not acting like one.” Mr. Wheeler yells.

Ellie rolls her eyes, storming past her father and into the kitchen. She grabs an icepack out of the freezer, stalking into the living room and plopping down beside her husband on the couch. She gently removes his hands from his face so she can look at it. Her father has followed her into the living room. “I think you broke his nose.” She complains, placing the ice pack to Colt’s quickly bruising face.

Detective Wheeler’s glare does not soften. “He’ll live.”

Suddenly, someone else is banging on their door. Colt sighs and opens it again, not even bothering to check who it is. He’s pretty sure he knows.

She slaps him. Hard. “What the fuck Mom!” He clutches at the red mark he’s sure is forming on his face.

“Language!” His mother admonishes, glaring at him. “That’s for marrying that poor girl. And telling me about it via text message!” She slaps him again. “And that’s for getting arrested in the first place. I told you not to come out here. I told you to stay away from your father. You never listen Colt.”

She steps around him and into the apartment. She looks around the room and seems to quickly assess what’s going on. She walks over to Detective Wheeler. “Ellie’s Dad?” She questions. He nods. “I’m Colt’s Mom, Naomi Inoue. I’m sorry about all this. I promise you I raised him better than this.” She turns to glare at her son.

“Kyle Wheeler. And I thought I raised Ellie better than this too.” Mr. Wheeler replies.

“Colt isn’t a bad kid. I think he was just trying to impress his father. But now, I assume he’ll be trying to impress his wife so hopefully that will keep him on the straight and narrow.”

Mr. Wheeler’s fist clench at the ‘wife’ comment, in disbelief that his sweet little Ellie is now this punk’s wife.

“Mom, that reminds me.” Colt leaves the living room, retrieving the manila folder from the kitchen table. “I emptied Dad’s safety deposit box. I want to pay you back for the bail.” He meets his Mom’s dark brown eyes. “Thank you, for doing that for me.”

“I don’t want the bail money back Colt. I want you to not run, to do what you’re supposed to do. Be the man I know you can be. Then I’ll get the bail back from the courts.”

“Not all of it. They keep a certain percentage. I want to give you enough to make you whole in all this since the criminal justice system is all a big scam.” Colt catches Detective Wheeler’s offended look. “No offense.” He adds.

Naomi accepts the money Colt is offering. Then, she grips Colt’s chin, checking on his nose. She’s a nurse, so she can tell it isn’t actually broken. “You probably deserved that.” She comments.

Colt looks over at Ellie, who is sitting on the couch as her father speaks to her in angry whispers. She meets his gaze with a sad smile. “She’s worth it.”

Naomi claps her hands once, getting everyone’s attention. “Well, now that we’re all family I think we all have a lot to talk about. Colt, put on some coffee.”

…

taglist: @brightpinkpeppercorn @choicesarehard @lovehugsandcandy @powdesiree0816 @regina-and-happiness @iplaydrake @hazah @sibella-plays-choices @eileendannie @maxwellsquidsuit

#ride or die #colt kaneko #colt x mc #choices fanfiction #choices #playchoices #choices rod

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sheruns-shelifts · 6 years ago

Text

It’s been a while

...And here’s what’s been going on.

Over this past summer, I worked my ass off for my physical therapy school application. I took anatomy and physiology at the same time, I was working in the PT clinic on campus, and I was studying for the GRE. There was a major time crunch on my hands because I wanted to apply early decision to Ohio State, where I’ve been for undergrad the past four years. My GRE test date was the last available date before that deadline, so it was an “all or nothing” kind of situation. If I didn’t get the scores I was aiming for, then I wouldn’t have time to retake it before having to submit my application, and most likely wouldn’t be accepted with low scores.

Well, turns out I wasn’t offered an interview for the early decision spots anyways, which I found out during the beginning of last semester. I was crushed, but I knew I had a second chance to get in along with the rest of the regular applicants. After I found out of my rejection, I worked hard to start on applications for other schools, and have been in the interview process for these programs since late fall.

At the same time that that was starting, I met someone. For those of you who have been following me for a long time, you know that having a relationship is something that I’ve always wanted to experience, but have had serious issues with. I didn’t kiss someone until my sophomore year of college, and that one ended with being ghosted, initiating my relapse. The second person I met, I really connected with - both vegan, athletic, yoga instructor, funny, caring, etc. I didn’t realize he was graduating early and moving across the country, and that hurt like hell because it was the first time I’d experienced something real. And I hurt again, after a shitty couple dates with someone this past fall who ended up ghosting me. And then I met someone good.

Believe it or not, it was through a dating app. We went on our first date in October, and I have never laughed or clicked with someone that easily on a first meeting. Everything felt very natural and comfortable, even kissing, which I never do on a first date. We continued to go on dates, and this past Christmas decided we were officially a couple. This is the first time that I’ve ever been in a real relationship before. The first time that I’ve been this close or vulnerable with a man. The first time that someone like him said “I love you,” and the first time that I could reply with “I love you too” without just saying it to a friend.

And then I got rejected. Not by him, but by Ohio State. I was offered an interview a little before Christmas, and until that point I was losing hope that that would even happen. I was so incredibly excited - if I was accepted, I could stay living with my current roommate of four years, someone who has come to honestly be my best friend. I could still see my other friends who were also staying for grad school. I wouldn’t have to relocate. I could stay in a city I loved. I could stay near the people I loved. That interview was last Saturday. And one week ago from today, within an hour after my interview, I was sent an email that said I was 70th on the waitlist. A spot so low that there is essentially no chance of getting one of the 50 spots for the class. It was that moment that I realized all I would be losing.

I consider myself pretty strong in my recovery, although the last few months have been hard. But situations like this remind me of just how easy it is to lose that progress. I resorted to self destruction as a way to deal with the depression and panic of that rejection, things I haven’t done in a very long time. I was beginning to come to terms with the fact that I would be attending a different university an hour away, when more news hit. I had been accepted to another university back in December, but never knew because all of their emails had gone to my junk folder without me knowing, and the deadline to accept/decline that offer was two days ago.

After a mild panic attack and some tears, I desperately called them to explain my situation, and they extended my deadline to Monday to submit the $500 deposit. However, since I missed the informational day for accepted students, I know next to nothing about their program and how it compares to my previous choice, to which I also submitted a $500 deposit. I know that I’m the kind of person that would always have the “what if” thoughts in the back of their head if I didn’t fully explore all of my options, so I put down the money, and I have a tour set up for next Friday.

I realize that in the grand scheme of things, $500 won’t matter, and it’s good to have more options, but the frustration of having to experience the anxiety over making that decision yet again is excruciating, and it’s left me physically and emotionally exhausted every damn day. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I will be leaving everything and everyone that I have grown to love, but I’m handling it (much) better than I was a few days ago.

“Sometimes the place you are used to is not the place you belong.”

#this is very long and I am sorry #save for later if you don't have a lot of time #personal #recovery #anxiety #depression #grad school

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