#kelly talks trash

[dangancode]

Rain Code Chapter 0, and why its Twist F*cking Sucks.

This is going to be the start of a series I call "My Gripes with Master Detective Archives: Rain Code". Unfortunately, they are quite numerous, but I figure it's better for me to split them up rather then write one massive post complaining about it.

Because yeah, I did the writer's equivalent of a rage quit on this game, and it breaks my heart. Not only because the writing doesn't work, but because IT HAD THE POTENTIAL TO.

And what better place to start this then the Massacre on the Amaterasu Express, and why shock value is not good writing.

Spoilers for Chapter 0 of Rain Code, and also for Danganronpa 1, 2, V3, and UDG.

Right off the bat, we're introduced to five other characters besides our infamous protagonist, Yuma Kokohead. Aphex Logan, Melami Goldmine, Pucci Lavmin, Zilch Alexander, and Zange Eraser. They're introduced, provide a bit of exposition to Yuma and the player, and their dynamics seem pretty solid so far. Each of them has room to develop, there's hints that Pucci might be a love interest of sorts to Yuma, and some of even show off cool powers that definitely might come in handy in later cases. But then what happens?

They're all f*cking killed. They last twenty minutes before every single one of them, including the culprit, all die off-screen.

SO YEAH. IF YOU'RE ANYTHING AT ALL LIKE ME, YOU'RE MAD. Not upset, not devastated seeing characters you like die.

F*CKING. MAD.

What Kodaka seems to have forgotten when writing Chapter 0, is that there's a reason the deaths in the Danganronpa series work. THEY EXPLICITLY PUT THE IDEA OF MURDER INTO YOUR HEAD. From the very moment Monokuma is introduced in DR1, he says directly, without any sugarcoating, that the only way the characters can get out of permanent imprisonment is to kill someone and get away with it.

The writers don't say who will die (ignoring the whole 11037 thing), because they don't NEED TO. They know the player is smart enough to use context clues and figure out, "Hey, Sayaka and Makoto have been getting awfully chummy, chances are she's probably kicking the bucket." It makes sense, there's payoff, and the moments leading up to that are meant to build connection between the player and the characters.

WHAT PAYOFF IS THERE IN RAIN CODE CHAPTER 0'S TWIST?!

There is none, because Kodaka forgot to give us, the player, any semblance of a hint aside from the chapter's title that maaaaaybe these characters aren't gonna live much longer so try to avoid getting attached.

And no, saying "it's made by the same people who made Danganronpa so it's on you for not expecting that" does not suffice here. Even if Rain Code were established to be part of the same universe or whatnot (it's not), why didn't they give us a bit more warning?

WHAT IS THE POINT OF INTRODUCING THESE CHARACTERS IN THE FIRST PLACE IF THEY'RE ALL GONNA DIE WITHIN TWENTY MINUTES OF MEETING THEM?

The short answer is: shock value.

Take a look at Kodaka's writing, and you'll find that he adores shock value. Between the protagonist swap in V3, the divisive "it's a lie!!" ending, and a handful of deaths throughout the series (Taka, Hiyoko, Yuta Asahina), and it becomes entirely clear that payoff isn't his top priority. It's pulling the rug from under our feet, watching us land on the floor, and when we say, "WTF Kodaka?!", his response is probably, "IDK what to tell you fam, you really should've seen that coming."

No, my dude. Of course I didn't see this twist coming. Because you did a terrible job with your foreshadowing. You introduced five characters whose only purpose is to improve your marketing by showcasing a bigger cast on the game's cover art, vaguely hinted at potential development in later chapters, and then did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING WITH THEM.

As a writer, I despise shock value. Not hinting at a twist properly beforehand almost never works, and when it does, it falls in line with what we know about the story and the stakes. But by the time the stakes are set up in Rain Code, Aphex and the others are already gone, so their deaths don't really matter.

If Aphex, Melami, Pucci, Zilch and Zange didn't exist, THIS STORY WOULD'VE PANNED OUT THE EXACT SAME WAY. Nobody mentions these characters again anyway, SO WHY DO THEY EVEN EXIST?

Oh, and I've barely discussed the culprit himself, "Zilch-Alexander-but not-really-it's-just-some-unnamed-hitman-who-looks-and-sounds-exactly-like-him."

You mean to tell me that the real Zilch just happened to look EXACTLY LIKE THIS RANDOM HITMAN? A hitman who, much later in the game, is revealed to be old pals with Yomi Hellsmile, the symbolic leader of Amaterasu?

You're telling me this isn't actually a hitman, he's an insider from Amaterasu who managed to not only get out of Kanai Ward, but only left to kill four detectives, use some intricately designed train to pull off their murders, and then frame the trainee who just happened to have amnesia so his alibi is already pretty shaky?

You're telling me he got past all of the security regulations that Kanai Ward had in place preventing people from getting in or out, and instead of taking this opportunity to spread Amaterasu's influence, HE WENT STRAIGHT BACK THERE AND EXPECTED TO BE GREETED WITH OPEN ARMS?!

Are you starting to get why I have issues with this chapter?

It would've been so much simpler to say "Zilch was bribed by Amaterasu to betray the WDO". Melami or Aphex could even mention something along the lines of, "Not all detectives care about the truth. Some only care about lining their own pockets and making themselves look better in the eyes of the WDO." Which would make it easier for us to understand that detectives don't always have everyone's best interests in mind.

And if it's absolutely necessary for the sake of the plot, to fuel Yuma's desire to solve injustices and learn how to use the Mystery Labyrinth to uncover the truth, why can't it just be ONE DEATH INSTEAD OF FOUR?

I discussed this with a friend of mine on Discord, but rewriting this chapter so that only Zange dies would be incredibly easy. Zange realizes their drinks are drugged, and when everyone else falls asleep, he confronts Zilch. Of course it ends badly, and by the time the others realize he's dead, Zilch's status as the traitor becomes even more apparent. One Mystery Labyrinth later, and Swank kills Zilch for blowing cover, saying something like, "You said this would go off without a hitch." It would make Amaterasu seem more like a threat, since they're willing to go to such extreme lengths to compromise the WDO's involvement in Kanai Ward. Aphex, Melami and Pucci would all join the rest of the detective gang along with Yuma, and the story would proceed as normal.

Do you see how easy that was? I'm not trying to say this would've been better than how it actually played out, but I certainly would've enjoyed the game a bit more, at least.

Anyways, I digress. Rants are exhausting, but I definitely feel better getting all of this off my chest. Of course, you're free to agree or disagree, but I'd really prefer not to be called an egomaniac just because I disliked Kodaka's galaxy brain storytelling on this one.

Have a great rest of your day or night, I'm gonna go lay down now. :')

[flamedork]

kelly clarkson singing addicted live unlocked a whole part of my brain that kept my 10 year old self caged away. i thought she was lost to the void. the breakaway album is actually probably perfect. wow

[singlethread]

Hen, Karen, and Eddie wine night where they get drunk and read Taylor Kelly’s book and trash talk it WHEN

[macfrog]

illicit affairs

cowboy like me chapter eleven

howdy everyone it's me again 🤠 latest chapter of cowboy like me is now yours. do with it as you wish. love u all so much. see ya soon x

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: your relationship with joel is getting harder and harder to hide, especially when a surprise visit from your dad threatens to spoil your romantic weekend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is a lil hungover, gluten bagels, lots of LIES, reader and joel being horny devils, gene kelly, unprotected piv sex, sex tape, praise kink, fluff, cockwarming, angst!!! and pain!!!!, reader and joel fight, cheating....??, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 8.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist

You wake in the same position you fell asleep in just hours ago: curled up in Joel’s bed, the curve of his body safely encasing yours. His lips are still by your ear, breath gentle against your lobe. You lean over to lift your phone from the nightstand.

8:14. You’ve had less than four hours’ sleep.

Below the time there’s a text message, sent a couple hours ago.

Dad: Remember to take the trash out before you pass out kiddo. Hope you had a good night 👍

Well, that was never happening, was it? As far as your dad knows, his best friend had picked you up from Frank’s and given you a ride home. Probably walked you to the house on his steady arm, made sure you downed a glass of water before seeing you off upstairs to bed. Polite. Respectful.

Of course, your dad is blissfully unaware that, in actual fact, at 6AM you were in said best friend’s bed, pressed up against him, no clothes between you, fast asleep. Definitely not making sure the trash was out.

The bright screen burns into your eyes as you squint at the notification below his text, decorated with alarm emojis – your way of ensuring you remembered to get back before him. DAD HOME stares back at you ominously, eventually persuading you to push yourself up off the mattress, loosen Joel’s lazy hold on your waist, and slip out of bed.

Joel, still asleep, rolls across your side of the bed onto his stomach when you sit up, sighing into your pillow as you prop yourself on the edge of the bed. You sit for a minute, dumb smile wide across your lips with no one to conceal it from, staring at him. Studying every part of him in his content, sleepy state.

The sharp curve of his jawline, the flecks of gray through his beard. The soft brush of hair falling on his forehead, deep brown curling just above his eyebrows. His toned shoulder, round and strong, flexing some with the grip his arm has around your pillow. His face buried in the cotton, breathing you in.

You jump when your phone starts vibrating in your hand, pad across to the door and slip out, closing it gently behind you.

“Hello?” you whisper.

Your dad’s voice is like a foghorn in your hungover ear. “Mornin’, kiddo! Wake ya?”

You wince, clutching your forehead as the quick movement from Joel’s bed to his hallway catches up with your aching brain. “Mighta done, yeah.”

He chuckles. The car hums in the background while he talks, meaning he yells even louder to compensate. “I’m about an hour out, thought I’d bring in some breakfast. You want anythin’?”

“I’m good with whatever. You’ll be back soon?”

“Nine-thirty or so, looks like. Why?”

“Nothin’, just wondered. I’ll see you in a bit, then.”

“Hey, d’you take the trash out?”

“Uh, I can’t– You’re breakin’ up, there, Dad, I’ll see you when you get home. Alright, cool, see ya then, bye.”

You cut his babbling voice and hang up, clutching the phone to your chest, close your eyes and exhale. When you swing back into the room quietly, Joel’s still sleeping.

You slip back into your dress and pull your boots on, scanning the room for your panties. No sign of them, though, and it’s not like you got all the time in the world to search. They’re probably underneath Joel’s deadweight body, anyway.

You tiptoe over to the side of the bed and crouch, kissing his neck softly.

He stirs, hand lets go of the pillowcase and finds yours, intertwining your fingers sleepily.

“I gotta go, baby,” you whisper, running your fingers through his unkempt hair.

His voice mumbles into the cotton, deep and groggy. You catch the tail end of his sentence: “…give you a ride.”

“No,” you reply, laughing a little as you sweep hair from his forehead. “I’m good, I’ll walk. You sleep. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Text me when you’re…home…”

The words barely pass through his lips as he begins to drop off again, and you kiss his head before straightening up, grabbing your bag, and heading downstairs.

You dip into the kitchen before you go, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. You’re fucking parched. Hungover, exhausted, you roll the freezing cold bottle across your forehead. It does little to soothe the throbbing pain, but it takes the edge off of it for a few seconds before you’re slinging the bottle under your arm and searching through Joel’s cupboard.

You steal a bagel. Feels kinda hard, probably a day past its best, but it’ll do. You set off, picking at the dry bread as you walk, holding it between two fingers as you gulp at the water.

It’s the blandest walk of shame that ever happened.

Twenty minutes later and you’re pushing through your front door, fucking drenched in sweat. Your jacket’s tied around your waist, leather hot and stiff. You toss your keys on the kitchen counter and collapse into the couch, letting your heartrate settle and waiting for the room to stop pulling in and out of focus.

Your head is pounding now, your throat feels like sandpaper. Your body aches, though if you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure that’s just from the hangover.

Once you’re in a fitter state, pulse no longer beating through your eyeballs, you head upstairs and tears your clothes off to jump in the shower. You keep it on a low heat, only warm, and it soothes your skin and flushes the smell of alcohol, sweat, and Joel down the drain.

You’re back in the kitchen, hunched over the counter nursing a coffee, when your dad waltzes through the front door. You lift your towel-wrapped head from your hand and look up.

“Well, hello,” he calls. “I notice ours is the only house in the street with no tra–”

“How was your trip?” you cut in, eyes screwing shut.

“Ha. Good. Nice drive, up that way. I got us bagels. Want one?”

Sometimes it’s like some twisted fucker is sat writing this comedy into your life. He brought home bagels? After you just choked one down walking home in the blistering heat? Whatever, dude.

“Thanks,” you mutter flatly against your mug, reaching out for the paper bag he’s offering.

Your dad lifts his own bagel, takes a huge bite, then looks up at you and gives an enthusiastic thumbs up. When you bite into yours, you’re…less enthusiastic. It does taste better than the dry one you just had, though. The cream cheese helps.

“I, uh…I’ll be headin’ out again soon,” you tell him.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Staying at Anna’s tonight,” you lie, setting your coffee down. “Said we’d have a pool day.”

He nods, mouth full of food. “Sounds nice, kiddo. Nice day for a tan. Hey, uh, how was Joel?”

You almost choke on your bagel. “Wh-what?”

“Joel. He alright?”

You shrug, picking at the bread. Unable to meet your dad’s eye. “I dunno. Why don’t you ask ‘im? I don’t know how he is.”

He stares at you. Brows knit, a line between them pointing upward. “I was just wonderin’…since he…He did pick you up last night, right?”

Oh, fuck.

“Oh,” you bat a hand, tucking it back under the counter when you notice it trembling. “Oh, right. I thought you meant this morning. Yeah, he was fine. He…Yeah. Fine.”

“Uhuh,” your dad nods, eyes narrow.

You don’t have the energy or the brainpower to be convincing. Not right now. There’s alcohol still drying up in your blood, muscles still tight from that fucking hike home, and your mind isn’t even in the room with your dad right now. It’s elsewhere – wrapped up in Joel’s bedsheets with him.

“I hope you didn’t keep him up too late.”

“It was, like, 2AM or somethin’. Wasn’t so bad. He said he was up watching TV anyways. So.”

He seems to believe this – swallows it down with the last few bites of his breakfast. You continue chatting, covering over your blunder like packing dirt back into a hole in the earth, conversation drifting from how your girls night went, to how his trip was, to an awkward apology for ‘forgetting’ the trash. He won’t let that go, will he?

But it’s short-lived. Soon, you both fall into silence, and the air between you feels muggy. Thick with lies and secrecy. Things you can’t say – I wanted a McDonald’s, but Joel wouldn’t budge, then I caught him watching Grey’s Anatomy, did you know he’s only slept with ten – I mean nine people?

Your dad glances up a few times, studies your face. You hide behind your bagel, guilt and shame across your cheeks like a wine stain. But he only smiles pleasantly, until he’s throwing the last bite into his mouth and rubbing his hands together, announcing he’s going for a shower.

“I’ll take your bag to your room,” you crumble the paper wrapped inside your fist, toss it across to him, “I gotta pack anyways.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” he says, patting your back as you pass him.

You don’t look back when you lift the leather straps of his bag and lug it upstairs.

It drops from your clutches with a thud at the foot of his bed. And then you’re quite literally skipping through to your own room, grabbing a black tote from your closet and blindly tossing clothes into it. A spare t-shirt, underwear, socks. Who gives a fuck what you pack? You’re going to Joel’s – the clothes will probably last five minutes on your body before you’re peeling them off again.

One thing you do take time picking is your bikini, opting for a red strappy one. Your old roommate once told you it made you look like you were in an episode of Baywatch. Which, y’know, seems like Joel’s kinda thing.

Your dad’s stood by his bed, hair damp from his shower, unpacking his bag when you emerge from your room.

“That you leaving your old man?” he asks with a tut, folding a t-shirt onto the mattress in front of him.

You wander through, sweet smile on your face, and kiss his cheek. “See ya tomorrow.”

“Have fun, honey.”

And then you’re gone. Straight back to Joel’s.

You’ve been away a couple hours, if that, but when you wander up his driveway, he’s not home. He keeps a spare key under a plant by his door, so you let yourself in. Sink back into his couch, throw on an old episode of Love Island while you wait. Twenty minutes later, his truck pulls up and he shoulders the door open, grocery bags in his arms.

“Hi, baby,” he says, leaning down to kiss your head as he passes.

You switch the TV off and follow him through to the kitchen to help him unpack, rocking into his side as you empty the bags with a giggle.

“He ask?”

You shake your head, chewing on a Twizzler.

“Nothin’? Really?”

“Didn’t really give him time to,” you reply. “Had breakfast, grabbed my stuff, left. And I parked a couple streets away, just on the off-chance.”

Joel looks down at you with a hesitant smile on his lips. He steals the Twizzler from between your teeth and puts it in his own mouth.

“Dick,” you mumble, and he chuckles quietly.

“You know, darlin’…all this lyin’, covering our tracks, I…”

“Joel,” you lean into him, standing on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “I don’t care. There’s nowhere else in the world I wanna be. Just with you. He’ll find somethin’ to do, you know he will.”

He gazes at you for a few seconds, eyes flitting back and forth between yours. You lean your head back and his arm snakes around your waist, squeezing you into his side.

“Trouble,” he mutters, taking a six-pack of beer over to the fridge.

----------

The summer sun blazes down over Joel’s backyard, and the pair of you spend the afternoon by his pool, keeping cool by having a dip every now and then. The red bikini is, as it turns out, a hit: Joel can’t keep his eyes – or his hands – off you, anytime you push up off your lounge chair and slink over to the pool edge, slipping in beside him.

You lock your arms around his neck, legs lazily draped over his hips as he floats you both through the water, and turn your head to the sky; eyes shut, the inside of your lids bright red with the sun screaming down through them. Joel idly kisses your chest, lips curving around your collarbones.

“I like this,” you say, looking down at him. Droplets run down the ends of his dark hair, beads of water rolling down his temples. “I could get used to it.”

“Wish we could,” he replies, bucking you up under his forearms. “I like it, too.”

It feels nice, if a little bit of an ache. Hearing him talk like that. Everything you two ever say, no matter how thick with sincerity, is laced with threat. Wish we could. Because you never will be able to get used to it, right? Something will always be swimming underneath you, a black shadow that disappears whenever you attempt one good glance at it.

Something always threatening to spill your secrets. Something threatening to blow everything apart.

Joel lifts a hand to cup the back of your head and pulls your lips down to meet his, moving backward until his back hits the wall of the pool. Your teeth pick up his bottom lip, tongue slips past into his mouth, and he groans, smiling into the kiss.

You begin to feel him harden under his trunks, and you grind your core against him.

“Inside?” he breathes between kisses.

“Mhm,” you whine, and he drags you out of the pool back into the house.

You spend the entire day following a pattern: eat, chill, tease, fuck. Eat, chill, tease, fuck. As the sun begins to melt behind the trees lining Joel’s backyard, you’ve spend more time on your knees, underneath, or on top of Joel than you have actually tanning.

Can you blame yourselves? Whenever you get alone time with no risk of being caught, it’s hard to keep your hands off one another. With no reason to keep quiet or hidden, you can fuck around all you want without a care in the world, right?

Right.

You order pizza, laze in the slow-dying sun to eat it, talking about nothing and everything before one of you steers the conversation and, before you know it…your bikini bottoms are pushed to the side, or otherwise torn from your body.

Eat, chill, tease, fuck. It’s too easy.

When the yard is finally drowned by dusk, Joel grabs some blankets and you spend the evening on his couch, talking some more and then deciding which movie to watch. You’ve never seen Singin’ in the Rain. Joel takes obscene offense to this fact.

“What kind of film student ain’t seen Singin’ in the Rain?”

“We actually did study it for one of my classes,” you mutter, tossing popcorn into your mouth. “Flicked through the important parts. Wasn’t my thing.”

“Well, you gotta watch the whole film. It’s a classic. Won at the Oscars ‘n everythin’.”

His enthusiasm almost makes you hold back – the way he’s sat on the edge of his seat, twisted around to chastise you properly for your ignorance of musical film. This could be the most animated you’ve ever seen him – over Gene Kelly. So, you almost bite your tongue.

Almost.

“Didn’t it…famously get nothing?”

His face sours in a heartbeat. Expression drops like a sack of bricks. He turns away from you and throws himself back into the couch, grumbling. “Alright, smartass. Watch it, and we’ll talk after.”

“I’m just sayin’, it–”

“We’ll talk. After.”

It’s still not your thing. For a multitude of reasons, but the newest one, the most difficult of all to let go: you can’t get the way Joel spoke out of your mind.

Just shut you right up, didn’t he? With three flat words, and a look in his eye that warned you not to push him. But fuck, you want to. You want to make him talk. Now.

Fifteen minutes into the film, you sit forward and swipe his phone from the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?” he asks in that monotone voice, the one he always uses whenever you’re pissing him off. Whenever you’re…getting to him.

“Bored,” you state, thumbs tapping in his passcode. You’ve been around him enough by now, studying every little move he makes, to just absorb dumb little things about him like the fact that his passcode is 0908, because those are the three numbers his thumb can reach easiest.

The phone clicks open and your eyes dance over the screen, deciding which app to load first.

Joel says your name. Just once. But it’s enough.

You angle your head in his direction. Bat your eyelashes.

“Enough. Watch the damn movie, would ya?”

Your head rolls back around to his phone. You click the photos app.

Joel curses under his breath, shaking his head and turning back to the screen. His eyes are boring into the pixels, mumbling things you’re too busy scrolling through his camera roll to listen to.

It’s mostly screenshots. Contracts, invoices, receipts. Boring Joel stuff. There’s the odd photo of his backyard, a few where the sunset rips across the tops of the trees in a fiery glow. They’re a little tilted, a little off balance. You smile at his attempt at photography.

“You gotta learn how to straighten your pictures, dude.”

“Took that for you,” he utters through a mouthful of popcorn. “Thought you’d like the sky with the trees in front, ‘n all.”

“Coulda text me it,” you say, letting him swipe through the photos to show you, each one from a slightly different angle to get more of the trees in, crop the pool out, hide the horrendous rosebush his neighbor has creeping over his fence.

He shrugs, pulling his hand away. “Musta been distracted by all the dumb stuff you send me.”

“Fine, no more funny videos. You’ve done it now, Miller.”

He chuckles and his attention turns back to the film. You’re slowly creeping further back through his pictures – measurements for something he’s building, different thicknesses of lumber propped against each other under the fluorescent light of Home Depot. And then –

You recognize the huge arching window first. Sunlight casting across a white tablecloth, polished cutlery shimmering. The velvet curtains in the background, and the made-up diners dotted around behind you and Sarah, both grinning into her phone camera.

“When did you…?”

Joel’s lips press the crown of your head. “Saw her gettin’ her phone out ‘n thought it’d be a nice picture from that angle, too.”

“Joel…” you breathe, eyes stuck on the image of your swollen cheeks, more centered in the frame than Sarah’s brown curls.

Your thumb swipes once and there’s a second photo: Sarah’s arm is lowered, she’s typing out her caption. You’re still smiling, looking over her shoulder as she selects the perfect cocktail of emojis.

She’s barely in the frame. It’s all you. Only you.

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, limp hands dropping the phone to your stomach.

“’s just a photo, baby.”

And he’s right. Or – he’d be right, if it weren’t the only two photos of a human being in his entire camera roll. The only person he deems worth taking a picture of. The only one, in amongst trees, and emails, and wooden planks. The things that make up Joel, in your mind. His work, his home, and…you.

As quick as the thought delights you, it’s already terrifying you. Thrill barging through your veins, competing with fear to shock through your system the hardest.

“Alright,” you mutter, switching to his camera app and turning the phone to aim at him, “just a photo.”

You watch on the screen as he gives you a telling glance, holds his hand up to block the lens, and says, “Baby. Will you put that–? Hey. Watch the damn movie, now.”

“No,” you reply, avoiding his palm to snap a picture of his face. You twist in your seat until you’re at a ninety-degree angle to him, your feet in his lap, pulling a cushion to swipe at his attempts to grab the phone. “No, c’mon. We gotta fill your camera roll with more ‘n just contracting stuff.”

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah.”

Your thumb swipes to video mode, hitting the bright red button and giggling when Joel’s deadpan face turns to watch you behind his phone.

“Quit – it,” he chuckles, swatting the phone from his face.

“You wanna watch a movie, maybe I wanna make one.”

His stare darkens. A smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. You hear it how he heard it seconds after, and you mirror his expression.

“Enough,” he tells you again, voice low, but it’s less of a telling as it is…a warning.

You put the phone down. Lock it, slide it across the couch to Joel. Silent. Giving him the choice.

His fingers lock around it, clicking the button to light the screen back up. He studies it for a second, deliberating, and then leans forward, setting it on the coffee table.

When you turn to look, the phone is sat on its side, screen reflecting back the image of the two of you; Joel, sat upright in the couch, and you, strewn out beside him. The oversized shirt you’re wearing has ridden up past your underwear, pooling on your stomach.

He’s staring at you. You can see it in his phone. You turn to look back, and he lifts his palm. Ball’s back in your court.

“Turn the TV off,” you mutter. You’re not fucking him with Singin’ in the Rain in the background.

He keeps his eyes on you, reaching for the remote. The screen cuts to black.

“Sure you wanna–?”

“C’mere,” you cut in, tossing the cushion and pulling him into you when he moves.

Somewhere between Joel leaning down on top of you and taking a grip of your hair in his hands, he presses the record button. The tiny ding sound shines a spotlight on you that lights your skin with nerves, a little bit of embarrassment, but…thrill. Excitement. Arousal.

Joel grinds his hips into yours and you both moan, your head falling back to allow him room to bruise your neck with his lips. His fingers knead roughly into the soft skin around your hips, pressing divots into your waist, sneaking their way up to cup your tits.

And then you’re turning, craning your neck to watch yourselves on his phone screen. Joel’s lips on your neck, his hands beneath your shirt.

He lifts his jaw for two seconds, coming up for breath and noticing your gaze.

“You wanna watch it, baby?”

You laugh in response, nodding when he turns your jaw to look at him.

In two seconds, you’re on your front, flipped by Joel’s hands. He takes your hips and lifts them, lining them with his own. You cross your arms and rest your chin atop them, watching in the reflected image as he slips his tee over his head and pulls your ass back to meet his stiff crotch.

Both of your heads are just cut out of shot. Yours at the left-hand side of the screen, and Joel’s at the top. The only recognizable traits are your hair and his beard. Those – and the sounds escaping your lips.

He wastes no time undressing you. Just lets your tee fall down your spine to your shoulders, pushes your panties to the side, and tugs his sweatpants low enough that he can comfortably slip inside you.

It’s sloppy. And quick. It barely lasts five minutes. As far as sex tapes go, it’s a pitiful attempt. But it’s hot – pretending that someone might fucking see it one day, see you and Joel, arguably doing what you do best.

And it’s even hotter seeing it from a different angle; feeling the stretch of him inside you, and watching it happen in real-time on his phone. Thinking of him rewatching it once the weekend’s over, his cock in his fist, shooting cum all over his belly.

Joel thrusts into you, pulling your ass back until you’re swallowing every inch of his cock. Your fists ball and you bite down on your arm to counter the shallow pain of him deep inside you, groaning with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he whispers from behind, slipping back only halfway and pushing in again.

You breathe a laugh, whispering, “Harder,” and he listens.

His hips crack against yours, a whimper calling from your lips, knees slipping further apart on the leather beneath you to accommodate the fucking size of him.

“Yeah? You want it harder, pretty girl?”

“Mhm,” you whine, bottom lip between your teeth.

He picks up the pace, pushing deeper every time your ass comes into contact with his hips. His skin slaps against yours, squeals of delight and pleasure cutting from your throat with each movement he makes.

Your hand slips between your legs, fingers run quick circles over your clit.

“Good girl,” he grits, “make yourself feel good, baby.”

You whine his name, forehead flat against the couch cushion as he fucks you, pleasure building between your legs like a tornado, tightening, tightening, tightening.

And then you’re being hauled up from the couch, flat against Joel’s body, cock still buried deep inside you. His hand replaces yours, his fingers on your clit, rubbing faster and harder than you think you can take.

He’s whispering in your ear like he always does. Saying everything he knows you like to hear. You’re a good girl, you’re his girl, you’re taking him so well. It’s desperate, and messy, and you know you’re both just racing to the finish line, aching for the relief that only you two know how to bring to one another.

And you cum, hard, fighting against his hold in a desperate attempt to fall flat against the couch. Joel keeps you upright, fingers slowing on your aching cunt as you clench and squeeze his cock, your orgasm ripping through your body.

He lets go of you, settling you on all fours in front of him before he pulls out, spilling all over your back.

You sink lower, ass still in the air, tits pressed against the cool leather of the couch as his warm cum slowly trickles down your spine.

Joel groans, a deep, guttural groan, still holding his cock between your ass cheeks as he stills, watching every rope of cum coating your back.

You catch your breath, panting mixed with laughing, and turn, rolling over and staring up at him. He leans back over, grabs the phone, and stops recording.

“Fuck…” you breathe.

“Fuck,” Joel agrees.

You laugh again, the last of your energy going into taking his shoulder and pulling him down against your body as he examines the footage. Tender kisses along his neck, dipping between his collarbones, listening to the grunts and groans from the speaker by your ear.

“Jesus, darlin’,” Joel breathes, eyes never leaving the screen. “We’re a fuckin’ mess.”

Your head tilts back with laughter, and Joel’s lips ghost across your throat. “We are not,” you finally reply, taking hold of the phone and scrolling quickly through the video. “I liked that part,” you turn it to show him your bodies held to one another by Joel’s strong arms.

“Yeah?” he asks behind a chuckle. Then he takes the phone from your hands, locks it, and tosses it to the other side of the couch, pulling you up into his arms until you’re sat on his lap, noses brushing against one another. “I liked all of it.”

“I like all of you,” you say, and he presses his lips to yours.

Joel kisses you gently, running his hands under your shirt and across your back, still covered in his release. He presses you closer to his body, almost painfully, as if the cotton of your shirt, the skin of your bodies, the cages of ribs inside are all keeping you too far apart from him.

You pull your jaw from his, run two delicate fingers across his lips.

“Don’t go fallin’ in love, cowboy,” you whisper.

----------

Joel carries you to his room just after midnight – sun-kissed, chlorine-coated, fucked-out, exhausted. He slips into bed behind you, curling his body around your frame, and, when his leg lifts to slot between yours, your hand stops it.

“No?” he asks, head lifting.

“Don’t want your thigh,” you mumble.

“How come?”

“Want you to…want somethin’ else.”

Joel understands without another word. He kisses your shoulder once, then takes your hips in both hands and pulls your ass to his front. You feel him pull the elastic of his underwear, stroke himself a couple times, and then push his tip in.

You gasp when he enters you – half-hard, slow, but even still. You’ll never get used to the feeling of him filling you, of his body connecting with yours, of him knowing and feeling you this intimately. Knowing and feeling you more intimately than anyone in your life ever has. Ever will, maybe.

When you’re full of him, he steadies. You scoot your hips back a little, and he growls in your ear.

“Careful, pretty girl.”

“Just gettin’ comfy,” you sleepily sing, almost teasingly.

He snakes one arm under your neck, cradling your head in the crook of his elbow. The other lies lazily over your waist. A satisfied sigh runs from his lips past your ear. He sounds and feels the most relaxed you’ve ever known him to be.

And you wish you could say the same.

Your eyes close over, heavy and tired, but you don’t fall asleep as quick as Joel. Something’s tugging at your heart. Something solid, that drags it down to the bottom of your stomach, and pools like ice water there. Something that nips at your lungs, stealing breath from you whenever you think too hard about it.

Something you’ve been patting down, stamping out with your foot every time the flame relights. And suddenly it feels as though the entire room just caught fire from under you.

Sheer exhaustion sends you off to sleep, with dreams of conversations and confessions you’re sure would never happen. Could never happen.

Should. Never. Happen.

----------

Warm water pours down over you, soaking your hair and chasing down your shoulders, your arms, past your breasts and over your stomach. You grab some more of the shampoo you’d stolen from Sarah’s bathroom and lather it up, covering your hair in it and drowning yourself under the water again.

Joel’s bathroom is one of three in his house; Sarah’s is slightly roomier, and the guest bathroom has the best water pressure, but you don’t care. Something inside you goes wild knowing you’re naked and washing in Joel Miller’s shower, even though you two have been fooling around for almost a month now.

You’re busy relishing over how perfect the last couple of days have been, wondering what breakfast Joel’s cooking up downstairs when the bathroom door bursts open.

“Hey,” he says, pulling on the shower door. “Out.”

“Huh?” you reply, eyes screwed shut, hair covered in soapy bubbles.

“I said get out. He’s here. Your damn dad’s here.”

Joel reaches around you and hands you a towel as he pulls you out of the cubicle and quickly wrings your hair for you. In a daze, you throw his tee over your shoulders and take his hand, following him out of the shower room and across his bedroom to the closet.

He turns you, hands tight on your shoulders, and ushers you inside.

“What’s he doin–?”

“I got a leaking pipe. He was passin’ by, dropped in to take a look. You stay here, do not make a sound, you hear?”

He closes over the slatted door gently, and you peer through the wood with narrow eyes. You hear footsteps approaching, your dad’s unmistakable chortle as the bedroom door is pushed open again and Joel shows him to the leaking pipe.

“Somewhere under there,” he mutters, hands resting on his knees to point to the space underneath his sink. “Had a look myself, tried some stuff, but it ain’t for fixin’.”

“Let’s have a look,” your dad bends down, groaning when his bad knees reach the tile. He’s almost shoulder deep under Joel’s cabinet, flashlight on, when Joel steals a glance in your direction.

He shakes his head, holding a hand up. Stay quiet.

He gives the room a quick scan, frantic eyes searching for any evidence of your being there. He swivels on the spot, twisting behind himself, noticing your cell on the nightstand at the same time you do.

Joel leans back, feet still rooted to the carpet, and fishes the phone between two fingers, slipping it into his back pocket. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“Ah!” your dad exclaims, and Joel shoots straight back around. “It’s your trap.”

“Is that right? I had a look at it.”

“Mhm. Is your eyesight failin’? Look at this, son.” Your dad’s hand reaches blindly behind him into his toolbox and grabs a wrench. “Just the joint’s loose.”

Joel grumbles in response.

You hear the squeak of metal as your dad tightens the pipe and then the clank of his wrench being thrown back into his toolbox. With maximum effort – thanks to his bad joints – he straightens back up alongside Joel, who thanks him.

“Better be the last of my issues.”

“Ha! So little faith in me, ol’ boy. Anyway. I’ll get out of your hair. That’s a mighty good smell comin’ from your kitchen, don’t wanna hold you back from enjoying it.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” Joel says, and you can see him trying to usher your dad out.

But your dad, though you love him, is kinda fuckin’ annoying.

“Anyone special?”

“Huh?”

“You, cookin’? Naw. ‘s gotta be for someone good. Anyone comin’ over for a breakfast date? A…receptionist from a plant hire, perhaps?”

Joel’s eyes squint as he looks your dad up and down, taking his bottom lip under his teeth. “Nope,” he grumbles after a beat, with one shake of his head.

Your dad laughs a little, and then looks to something behind Joel’s back.

“Nice hat,” he scoffs, pointing a finger.

Joel doesn’t reply for a few seconds. You know he’s having the same realization you’re having: your cowgirl hat is hooked over the corner of his headboard.

He laughs. Nervously. Though maybe only you can hear that.

“Yeah, uh…yeah.”

“Looks a hell of a lot like a hat my daughter has.”

“Yeah?” Joel asks, sensing the same accusatory tone you do. Your forehead falls into your palm, hearing the almost pissed-off tone in which he asks, “And what would your daughter’s hat be doin’ in my bedroom?”

For fuck’s sake, Joel. Subtle, much?

“No, no,” your dad’s almost protesting, “I ain’t meanin’…” He sighs. “You know what I meant. Alright, I’m gone. I’m outta your hair.”

His boots recede down the hallway, then downstairs. Your breath doesn’t come back until you hear his car door slam shut, and the tires drive off.

When Joel pulls the closet door back, you’re still stood, towel in your hair, head in your hands. You can’t even look at him.

He doesn’t say anything like you expect him to. No, Sorry, baby, I didn’t know he was comin’. No, Come get breakfast, I’ll make it up to you.

He just wanders off back downstairs, leaving you to get dressed by yourself.

When you enter the kitchen, he’s plating up pancakes and drizzling them in syrup just the way you like. You pass him and run a hand over his shoulder blades, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch.

When you sit at the table, he puts the plate down in front of you. Silently. Then sits across from you.

You watch his every move. He picks up his knife and fork, and begins cutting into his own breakfast. Staring down at the plate. Then out of the kitchen window to the backyard. Then back to the plate.

You give his calf a light kick under the table, and his eyes lift, but only to your plate.

“You gonna eat?” he asks. Toneless. Less emotion than he talked to your dad with.

Without a word, you pick up your cutlery and start on your own pancakes, though your appetite suddenly disappears.

He made them with banana – your favorite – but the way he’s being with you right now, they taste sour and dry. You chew your way through as much as you can until you’re staring him down, desperate for him to –

“Would you just say somethin’?”

He looks up. Finally looks you in the eye. “What?”

“Say something. Get mad. Yell at me or something, I dunno.”

“Why would I yell at you?” He plants his fork into a scrap of pancake and drags his knife alongside it.

“I mean, you seem pretty mad right now.”

“I ain’t gonna yell at you.”

“But you are mad?”

Joel doesn’t reply. He leans to one side, fishes in his back pocket for something, then slides your cell across the wooden table toward you. He nods down at it, and you click to unlock it.

Dad: Hey, I’m heading over to Joel’s to check something out for him. Wanna meet me there?

Dad: If your slumber party’s over, that is

He sent them an hour ago. If you’d fucking looked, you’d have known.

“Fuck…” you whisper.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, jaw chewing, “fuck.”

“He didn’t– I mean, he didn’t see me, though. Right?”

“He saw your hat.”

You lean back in your chair, cutlery clattering against your plate. “He didn’t know it was mine.” A smile forms on your lips, you can’t help it, but it quickly vanishes when Joel’s tone doesn’t shift. Not even a note.

“And how do I know he ain’t drive by your car on his way?”

“Aw, c’mon, man, I’m parked, like, four streets away.”

Joel shakes his head, eyebrows arched. “You’re unbelievable,” he whispers.

“Uh, okay. Thanks. Jeez.” You fold your arms and glare out to the backyard, face beginning to heat. Eyes beginning to sting. Joel’s never like this with you. Never mad, never disappointed. Never makes you feel like a kid being told off.

“I mean, your bikini’s hangin’ up out there,” he points his fork toward the backyard, “and ain’t your bag sat in my hallway? How in the hell he didn’t see that, I have no idea.”

“But he obviously didn’t, so what’s the big deal? It’s only a black tote, it could’ve been anyone’s.”

“The big deal is that he could’ve seen it, baby! And it’s not just anyone’s, is it? It’s his daughter’s.”

And the thing is – he’s not even wrong. You can’t argue back much, ‘cause you know as well as he does that everything he’s saying is true. It’s valid. Your dad would’ve walked right by that bag – twice. The same bag he saw you hook over your shoulder right before you kissed his cheek and skipped out of his room.

This whole time, you’ve been dancing on a knife edge. Waiting to be caught. You came too close this time, and Joel tells you as much.

“Alright, well, what do you want me to do? I can’t go back in time and move the damn bag. I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t fucking mean to let him see–”

“That’s not the point,” he interjects, which is another thing Joel rarely does.

This whole argument is something Joel – something you rarely do. The two of you. The last time you saw him this animated, this angry over something, it was Arthur Kennedy eyeing you up at the barbecue. And even that – that wasn’t directed at you. He wasn’t mad at you.

“Then what’s your point?” you ask, hands slapping down on the table.

“My point is – how many times are we gonna come within touching distance of someone finding out about this? If it wasn’t Hank almost finding us upstairs, it was your dad waltzing right in while I had you fuckin��– while I was…” He sighs, and then throws his cutlery down onto his plate.

Your head drops, thinking back to the seconds of panic between your dad opening your front door and him seeing you two, an awkward, guilty distance apart. Your shorts under the couch. Your wet on Joel’s fingers.

Joel’s kitchen table blurs in and out of focus, tears swimming across your eyes. You rapidly blink them away, but they’re forming quicker than you can rid yourself of them. When he speaks again, you can’t look at him.

“Look,” he runs an almost trembling hand through his hair, rising from the table, “I gotta go. I got some things I need to do today.”

You stand to height opposite him. “You…gotta go? Right now?”

“Yes, darlin’. I got work stuff to see to.”

“Right. Sure.” You lift your plate, turning away, and hear him sigh.

“I’ll only be a couple hours. We’ll talk more when I’m back.”

You spin then, pursing your lips. “So, I’m to wait here for you? That what you’re sayin’?”

Joel’s already picking up his keys. “No…If you wanna go, you can go. Just…if you wanna talk, then stay. We’ll talk.”

You look up at him, no more words coming to the surface to say. He moves a lock of hair from your face, and heads for the door.

Wait here for him. What a fuckin’ joke.

Still, that’s exactly what you do.

You throw yourself down on his couch, flick on his TV. Put on another episode of Love Island. Think over which boy you’d pick, then decide it’d be none of them, and wonder why the hell you’re watching it in the first place.

You wander upstairs to his room. Sift through the shirts hanging in his closet – all different variations and prints of flannel because it’s Joel fucking Miller. Pull the sleeves to your nose, breathe in the smell of him. The sweet, sandalwood smell that wraps over you like a warm blanket; comforting, calming. Fix the pillows on his bed, punch out the lumps where you lay huddled against him last night, his body against – and inside – yours.

You feel hot with anger. Frustration. A little bit of guilt. It sits heavy on your head, drips down to your stomach, swirls around and mixes with the anxiety already in there. If he’d just come home, you could argue it out. Force whatever he really wants to say out of his mouth. Say a few things of your own back to him.

You never fight. It’s the one thing – you never fight. You bicker, you toss back and forth. You piss him off and he shuts you up with his words, or his lips, or with more. But you never really fight.

It’s like something’s different. As if something’s changed, right from under your feet.

Joel comes home two hours later. Lets the door shudder closed behind him, sighs as he kicks his boots off. You’re still upstairs in his room, perched on his side of the bed reading some stupid book on Alcatraz you found in a drawer.

“Baby?” he calls, and you don’t reply. You’ve little right to be as mad as you are, but he can search for you for a minute as reparation for walking out earlier.

“Hey…” he whispers when he pushes the door open, spotting you with the book resting on your thighs. “Alcatraz, huh?”

“It ain’t that good,” you huff, slamming it shut and sliding it across the nightstand.

He breathes a Hmph, then sweeps around the bed. Like he’s scared to make a sound. Like he’s trying not to be noticed. When he reaches you, he sinks into the mattress at your feet, elbow resting on your knees.

“We gotta talk.”

Do I want to hear this? you ask him with your eyes.

He sucks a deep, unsteady breath in, and his brows furrow. He sighs again.

And you know what he’s about to say.

“This…We’ve pushed this too far, now. We’re way beyond reining this in.”

You stare at his lips. Waiting for them to offer something more. When they fall silent, your gaze trails up the shape of his nose, curving around his brows and then finally falling onto his eyes. They reveal all you need to know.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. You’re not serious, right? Joel.”

“Kid, I…”

“No. What? Because of a bag?”

“Not because of a bag.” He looks you in the eye and shakes his head, whispers your name., then, “…because of the lying.”

“It’s never been a problem up until now.”

“It’s never been as bad as now. You ain’t been home in almost two days. Your dad has no idea where you are.”

“I’m not in danger, Joel.”

“You think he’d be happy? If he knew where you were really at right now? Knew you’d lied to his face this entire weekend?”

You sink back against the headboard, defeated. Desperately trying to find another way through what he’s saying. “What, then? What do we do? Come clean?”

He almost fucking laughs. Plays it off by pushing the air from his cheeks. “No. I don’t think we should…No.”

You shrug. “Then, tell me. Just fucking say it.”

Joel shakes his head, holds his hands out. “You’re lookin’ at me like I’m breakin’ this off outta the blue, baby. Like it’s comin’ outta left field.”

“So you’re breaking it off?”

“No, I’m– It’s not– I don’t…” He sighs, fingers pressing into his eyes.

You stand up, towering over him, silhouetted by the window behind you. “Just – fucking – say it. End it. I’ll go.”

“That’s not what I’m tryna do, kid.”

“What are you tryna do, then? There are two of us in this, Joel. You’ve been lying just as much as I have.”

“You don’t think I know that?” he hisses, standing up until you’re chest to chest, inches apart from one another. “Jesus, kid. I’m checking myself every fuckin’ conversation I have with your dad. Makin’ sure nothin’ I say will clue him in. Makin’ sure I don’t accidentally let slip what the hell’s been goin’ on!”

“I’ve been doin’ the same!” you yell back. “It ain’t just you, Joel, but that doesn’t seem to mean nothin’ to you!”

“Mean nothin’,” he repeats with a laugh, turning away and running his hands through his hair. “You don’t mean nothin’ to me? That what you think?”

“What else am I supposed to take from this, asshole? That you’re fuckin’ in love with me?”

He falls silent. His lips pull into a frown. He backs off.

Downstairs, his phone starts ringing. He glances to the doorway, shifts between his feet.

“You don’t get to do this, you know,” your voice trembles, “you don’t get to pull me in and then just drop me when it becomes inconvenient. Once you’re done with me.”

“Don’t.” Joel’s voice cuts like glass. “Don’t.”

You step back. Stare him down, try to make him say something. Try to make him do something. Your hands are on his biceps, eyes boring into his, swelling with tears you’re trying desperately to hold back.

Nothing. Not a word.

“I can’t read your mind anymore…” you whisper.

Joel takes a deep breath, his eyes flicker across your lips just for a second. He looks sad, eyes glassy, lines around his eyes where his eyebrows meet. But they tell you nothing.

His phone’s still ringing out, echoing through the silent house like an alarm bell.

You look at him blankly now. “Phone’s ringin’, Joel.”

He says nothing back, just looks at you from under his low brows.

You back out of his bedroom, shaking your head and stumbling a little over thin air. You’re staring at each other; you, trying to work out who the man is standing in front of you, and Joel, trying to plead with you to hear him out.

When you reach the threshold, you turn as if to run.

“Darlin’, come back. Hey.”

He follows you into the hallway and you feel his hand around your wrist. You whip it to your chest and turn to face him.

“Darlin’? Not your darlin’ anymore, am I? ’m just some girl you were fucking for a month.”

“C’mon, now, you know that’s not true.”

You lead downstairs, shoes thudding as you go. Joel’s right behind you, trying any combination of words to slow you down, make you look at him, stop for five seconds.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, your arm swoops down to grab your bag, and as you straighten up, Joel’s ringtone cuts and his machine beeps.

“Hey, Joel,” a woman’s voice fills the space between you both. Your head whips around to stare at the machine.

“It’s Lois. I was just callin’ to…to check in. It was really nice seein’ you today. Give me a call when you can, okay?”

The voicemail cuts and the two of you are plunged back into silence. Silence, save for the heaving of your breath. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart ready to burst through it. You haven’t taken your eyes off of the machine, red light blinking menacingly.

Joel lifts his hands. “That is not…It’s not what it sounds like…” he says, slowly, calmly. Quiet. Like you’ve never heard him speak before. Not We’re about to be caught quiet. Not even Quit arguin’ back quiet.

This is desperate quiet. And desperate’s not something you’ve ever heard pass Joel’s lips.

Your whole body is shaking, and you’re not sure whether it’s from adrenaline, or fear, or hurt, or pain. It takes most of the life inside you just for your lungs to open and close. You can’t fucking look at him. You can’t – fuck, you can’t even look in his direction.

You turn slowly toward the front door. You unlock it in a daze, and pull on the handle. The heat from outside hits you like you’ve opened an oven door.

“Baby…” Joel whispers.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Joel.”

----------

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[djdangerlove]

It would be so funny if after their first little lover’s spat (that in the grand scheme of things is so unserious but Buck spirals about it), Buck gifts Tommy Taylor Kelly’s book with a little sticky note inside on chapter 6 that reads: This is what you’re in for. She’s talking about me. :/ But then Tommy shows up at the loft because “mmm so that’s not how my opinion works- you can’t just tell me to read some trash book and judge you for it”.

[mymindcreatedthis]

Gaming (18+)

Sam Kerr x Tobin Heath x Reader

Word count: 2,757

Summary: Tobin, Reader and Sam do a gaming tournament. They are forced to strip down to their sports bras and boxers as the A/C in the hotel is broken. Reader gets distracted with the sight of Sam and Tobin in their sports bra’s and boxers, she can’t help herself and starts to get handsy and starts to distract them.

Warning: Smut, Teasing, Unprotected sex, 2 girls, blow job, throat pie, Creampies, rough sex, squirting, Both Sam and Tobin receiving, R Dom, Anal stuff

*Y/n's pov*

USWNT, Australia, England and Ireland are all staying in the same hotel. The girls from all the teams hang out when we have the day off. We all had the next 3 days off to get settled.

We've all been gaming out and going out and exploring the city. We are currently out and walking around in the city. I was walking in the back with Sam and Tobin.

"Have you played the new modern warfare?" Tobin asks Sam.

"Obviously, who hasn't." Sam says in her Australian accent.

"Oh yeah? How good are you?" Tobin asks.

"Pretty damn good." Sam says.

"Define good." Tobin says.

I laugh as Tobin and Sam turn into nerds and talk about the game and brag to each other about how good they are.

"I bet you are trash." Sam says.

"No, I'm sure you are the one who's trash." Tobin says.

"Okay okay, fine. Later on we are going back to my room and we are

Gonna settle this debate once and for all... 1v1." Sam says.

"Bring it on Kerr. You're going down." Tobin says.

"Yeah okay Heath. Let's see what you got, be prepared to lose." Sam says.

"They still haven't fixed the A/C yet." I randomly say directing the conversation to a new topic.

"No they haven't fixed it yet. We keep opening up the windows." Tobin says.

"So what have you guys been doing since the A/c is out?" I ask.

"We've just been wearing out sports bras and underwear." Sam says.

I nod, Sam nudges me. "Why don't you join us later? We can do a little tournament." Sam says.

I nod and smile. "Sure, I'm down to join you guys."

They both smile at me. We continue exploring the city, we decide to stop and get lunch. As we are eating we make small talk, I snap back to reality when I hear my name.

"What?" I ask.

"I have a question for you?" Alex Morgan asks.

I nod and gesture for her to continue and ask her question.

"Is it true?....." Alex leans in a bit and lowers her voice. "That you are intersex?" She whispers.

I blush darkly at the question. The girls look at me curious to know the answer. "U-Um yes, it's true."

"How big are you?" Kelly O'Hara asks.

"I don't know. I've never measure myself before." I say.

I'm quiet the rest of lunch. The girls try to include me on conversations but I let them know that I'm not interested with only one word answers.

We finish lunch and continue to explore the city. Tobin and Sam are walking in the back with me behind everyone.

"Hey I'm sorry about Kelly. Sometimes she blurts things out without thinking." Tobin says.

I nod, Sam nudges my arm. "Besides you have a dick.... So what?"

"That's what people don't understand. People hear that I have a dick and think that I'm transgender but I'm not. I'm intersex, I was born with a dick." I say speaking what's been known my mind.

I knew they had the thought of me being trans in the back of the mind and I felt that it had to be said to make sure they understand that I'm not.

"I think it's dope you have a dick." Sam says.

I smile. "Thanks."

Tobin leans in. "From the looks of it your bulge looks big."

I blush darkly. "Yeah I don't know how big I am but if I were to guess I'd say 10-12 inches."

"Fuck really?" Sam asks.

"Yeah." I reply.

We finish exploring the city and decide to head back to the hotel. We go inside, we head back to Sam's room. Sam gets her key card and steals her roommates key card.

*Sam's pov*

We get back to the hotel. I get Caitlin's key card, she gets the hint on what's about to happen and gives me her key card. She smiles and winks at me.

Me, Y/n and Tobin go up to my room. I unlock the door and we go inside. I take off my shoes and the other 2 do as well.

"Like I said we've just neem lounging around in our sports bras and underwear so if you get hot then yeah." I say.

They nod, I open the window to get a little bit of a breeze in the room. I turn on the Xbox and tv and grab the three controllers. Y/n and I lay on one bed and Tobin lays on the other bed.

I get the game started and start messing with the settings. We get to the main lobby and we begin to get hot cause of the weather and it was extremely hot in the room.

We take off our shorts and shirts and toss them to the side leaving us in our sports bras and Boxers.

We lay back down in the beds and begin playing the little tournament. Y/n wins the first game, the second game all three of us are tied. I kill them both and end up winning the second game.

Tobin and Y/n begin to get mad as we continue playing. I giggle at them getting frustrated. After 6 games Y/n gives up, she won 5 of the 6 and she stops playing.

*Y/n's pov*

I sit on the bed behind Sam, I couldn't help but stare at her ass. I bite my lip and rub my dick over my underwear as I continue to stare at Sam's ass. Sam was still playing against Tobin.

I smirk as I get an idea, I take off my boxers and toss them to the side. I stroke my throbbing dick, I get up off the bed and stand in front of Sam but off to the side so she can still see the screen.

I stroke my dick, Sam sees this and smirks. She takes my dick in her mouth, I moan as she slowly bobs her head not taking her eyes off the game.

"S-Shit." I moan. The tip of my dick hitting the back of her throat.

Tobin looks over at us and smirks when she sees what's going on. Her and Sam continue playing the game I moan and run my fingers through her hair as she continues to give me head.

After 5 more minutes, I tap Sam's head. I take my dick out of her mouth and walk over to Tobin. Tobin takes my dick in her and starts bobbing her head.

I moan in pleasure. Tobin hums against my dick and bobs her head a bit faster, after 5 more minutes of an amazing blow job I feel that all to familiar feeling in my balls.

"T-Toby baby I'm close." I moan in pleasure.

Throat pie:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load in her mouth. Tobin chokes and gags a bit as I cum in her mouth. She swallows my load, she sucks me dry getting the rest of my cum and swallows it. I moan and take my dick out of her mouth and go back over to Sam.

They were on their 7th game already, I sit on the bed behind Sam. I sit on the back of her legs and gently rub her ass, my boner pokes and rubs against her ass.

Sam moans and looks back at me. "Someone's excited."

I rub Sam from behind over her underwear, she moans as I do this.

"Fuck baby, you're so wet." I moan.

"A-All for you." Sam moans.

I slide Sam's boxers down her legs and tosses them to the side. I run my dick through her folds getting my dick wet. Sam moans as I do this.

I slowly slide my dick inside her. We both moan as her walls immediately clench around my dick.

"Ah so tight and warm." I moan.

I let Sam get use to my size. "Tell me when to move."

Sam takes a moment to adjust to my size. "M-Move."

I smirk, I spread her ass cheeks as I thrust in and out of her. "F-Fuck." I moan.

I pick up the pace. Sam moans and tries to focus on the game, as I fuck her. "Fuck, right there Y/n." Sam moans.

I hover over her, I put my hands on both sides of her and thrust into her fast and hard. Sam moans loudly as I thrust in and out of her harder and faster.

"Yes....Fill....Me.....Up." Sam moans.

Sam continues playing the game as I thrust in and out of her fast and hard. Sam screams my name.

"FUCK Y/N RIGHT THERE!" Sam shouts.

I go faster and harder. 5 more minutes go by and I feel my balls tighten. "S-Sam, I'm gonna cum."

"Me too, Don't stop." Sam moans.

Creampie #1:

After one last thrust I bust my load deep inside Sam. Sam moans and cums all over my dick. We both moan as I shoot ropes of cum inside her and paint her walls white.

I help Sam ride out her high, I slowly pull out of Sam. My thick cum oozes out of her and oozes onto the bed.

I smirk, I walk over to Heath. I get in the bed behind her, I slide her boxers down her legs and toss them off to the side.

I rub my dick through Tobins folds, Sam's cum still on my dick. Tobin moans, I slide my dick inside her.

"Shit Toby, you're so tight and wet." I moan.

"I thought you felt big in my mouth. You feel even bigger deep inside me." Tobin moans.

I let her get used to my size. "Tell me when to move baby."

Tobin takes a moment to adjust to my size. "M-Move."

I thrust in and out of her slowly. Me and Tobin both moan as I move back and forth inside her.

"Faster." Tobin moans.

I go faster and faster. I moan in pleasure as I thrust in and out of her.

"Cum....inside....me." Tobin moans.

I go faster and hard. I moan as my balls slap against her skin as I continue fucking her fast and hard. Tobin and Sam continue playing the game.

I hover over Tobin, I put a hand on each side of her. I lift up a bit and pound into her faster and faster.

"F-Fuck, Y/n right there!" Tobin shouts.

I moan loudly and pound into her faster and faster. "S-Shit. T-There's gonna be so much cum you guys will need to take a P-Plan B." I moan.

"Fine by me." Sam giggles cutely.

"Fill me up with as much cum as you can." Tobin moans.

I moan loudly and go faster and harder as I continue to pound Tobins pussy. After 10 minutes I feel my balls tighten.

"F-Fuck I'm gonna cum." I moan.

"Me too, don't stop." Tobin moans.

Creampie #2:

After a couple more thrusts I can't take it anymore. I bust my load deep inside her, Tobin moans and cums all over my dick.

I moan and help Tobin ride out her high, once we both come down from our highs I slowly pull out of her. My cum oozes out of Tobin and into the bed.

Sam and Tobin stop playing the game. Sam joins us on the bed that me and Tobin are on.

Sam lays on her back and lifts her legs above her head. Tobin sits behind her and holds Sam's legs. I slowly push my dick, both me and Sam moan.

I slowly thrust in and out of her. Tobin smirks and holds Sam's legs. I moan and continue to thrust in and out of Sam, Tobin leans down and makes out with Sam as I continue fucking her.

I moan and start rubbing my boobs as I thrust in and out of her faster. Sam moans loudly in pleasure.

"S-Shit, I'm gonna squirt." Sam moans.

I smirk and keep going. Sam squirts all over the bed, my dick and all ver my thighs. I keep going., as I pound into her harder and faster.

I start fucking her at an angle and hitting her g spot. Sam screams in pleasure, as I pound her pussy faster and harder.

After 15 more minutes I feel my balls tighten. "S-Shit I'm close."

"Me too." Sam moans.

Creampie #3:

I can't take it anymore, I bust my load deep inside her. I moan and hold onto Sam moans and cums all over my dick. We both moan as I shoot ropes of cum inside her and paint her walls white.

I moan and help Sam ride out her high, once we both come down from our highs I slowly pull out of her. Thick cum oozes out of her and drips down the edge of the bed and onto the floor.

Sam kisses me, I kiss back. Tobin and her switch places, Tobin lifts her legs. Sam helps her out and helps hold her legs above her head.

I rub my tip through Tobins folds and slide my dick inside Tobin. I moan as her walls clench around my length. We both moan in pleasure.

"Mm so tight and wet." I moan.

To slowly thrust in and out of her. I pick up the pace and go faster. Me and Tobin both moan. "F-Fuck." I moan.

My halls slap against Tobins skin as our moans fill the room. I moan loudly in pleasure, I go at an angle and pound her g spot.

"Fuck...fuck....fuck." Tobin squeaks out with each thrust. I moan loudly, I pick up the pace and go faster and faster. Tobins eyes rolling to the back of her head as I continue to fuck her brains out.

"Fuck I'm going to squirt." Tobin moans.

I go faster, Tobin squirts all over my dick, thighs and all over the sheets. I smirk, I moan and keep going.

After 20 minutes I feel my balls tighten. "Shit, I'm gonna cum." I moan.

"Me too, I'm so fucking close." Tobin moans.

Creampie #4:

After 3 more thrusts I can't take it anymore, I bust my load deep inside Tobin. Tobin moans and cums all over my dick. Me and Tobin moan as I shoot ropes of cum inside her and paint her walls white.

I help Tobin ride out her high, once we both come down from our highs I slowly pull out of her. Thick cum oozes out of Tobins pussy and oozes onto my dick, and onto the sheets and bed.

I smile and kiss Tobin. Tobin is a great kisser, Sam smiles. She grabs my hand and helps me stand up.

Sam and Tobin get in their knees Tobin smirks and spreads my ass cheeks and licks my ass. I gasp and moan, Sam licks my dick once I'm hard Sam takes my dick in her mouth.

Tobin eats my ass as Sam gives me head. I moan in pleasure and slowly thrust in and out of Sam's mouth.

"Ahhh F-Fuck." I moan.

Sam bobs her head up and down. Tobin continues eating my ass, I moan as I continue to thrust in and out of Sam's mouth as she gives me head.

After 10 minutes, I feel my balls tighten. "S-Shit I'm gonna cum."

Cumshot:

Sam bobs her head up and down faster and faster. I moan as Sam gives me head and Tobin continues to eat my ass. I can't take it anymore, I bust my load in her mouth.

Sam chokes and gags a bit as I cum in her mouth. Sam swallows my load and sucks me dry getting every last drop and swallowing it.

"F-Fuck." I moan in pleasure coming down from my high, the last of my cum oozing inside Sam's mouth.

Sam and Tobin stand back up and kiss me. I smile and kiss them back, I moan in the kiss as I taste myself on their lips.

"Fuck, you girls know how to fuck someone." I moan.

"You really know how to make a girl cum and squirt multiple times." They say.

We put our bras and boxers back on. We lay on Sam's bed, we cuddle and end up falling asleep as we turn on a random movie.

[luulapants]

Where Illinois politicians stand on Palestine

I sent a letter to Senator Tammy Duckworth today. Illinois is a solidly blue state, and I've dutifully voted blue no matter who since I started voting. Droves of people here have been writing to her and our Congressional Representatives, begging them to support a ceasefire, and all we will get back is a canned party-line response about Israel's right to "self defense" and the need to eradicate Hamas.

They are able to do this, to disregard the outrage of their constituency, because they feel certain that no matter how many letters we send, we will show up and vote for them when the time comes. They are certain their actions have no consequences, and even if they did, they would tell us that it's all our fault for failing in our democratic duty to vote.

Senator Dick Durban received about $154.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He has publicly called for ceasefire anyway. Their money was not worth a genocide.

Senator Tammy Duckworth received over $212k from Israeli lobby groups. She refuses to call for ceasefire. This was her going rate to enable genocide.

In my letter, I told her that I could not see pictures of dead Palestinian babies and turn around and vote for someone, like her, who had their blood on her hands. I told her that "vote blue" cannot extend to genocide. My ethics do not stretch this far.

14/17 representatives for the state of Illinois are Democrats. Of these, only 5 have called for ceasefire.

Jonathan Jackson: $3k from Israeli lobby groups. He has publicly called for ceasefire anyway. Their money was not worth a genocide.

Robin Kelly: $21.5k from Israeli lobby groups. She refuses to call for ceasefire. This was her going rate to enable genocide.

Delia Ramirez: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. She has publicly called for ceasefire. They knew she could not be bought.

Jesus "Chuy" Garcia: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. He has publicly called for ceasefire. They knew he could not be bought.

Mike Quigley: $43.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Sean Casten: $61.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Danny Davis: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. Yet he refuses to call for ceasefire. You can have his cowardice for free.

Raja Krishnamoorthi: $61.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Jan Schakowsky: $58.5k from Israeli lobby groups. She has publicly called for ceasefire anyway. Their money was not worth a genocide.

Brad Schneider: $54k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Bill Foster: $65.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Mike Bost is a Republican. $14.5k and obviously no ceasefire talk. He will not be moved.

Nikki Budzinski: $25.5k from Israeli lobby groups. She refuses to call for ceasefire. This was her going rate to enable genocide.

Lauren Underwood: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. She has publicly called for ceasefire. They knew she could not be bought.

Mary Miller is a Republican. $0 - they don't even have to pay her to toe the party line. She will not be moved.

Darin LaHood is a Republican. $27.5k and obviously no ceasefire talk. He will not be moved.

Eric Sorenson: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. Yet he refuses to call for ceasefire. You can have his cowardice for free.

The Republicans will be trash regardless, but we cannot let our Democrats skate by thinking there are no consequences for supporting a genocide. They are slaughtering people with your tax dollars, Americans. It's time to get serious. It's time to tell these people that they cannot have our votes for free. It's time to start talking about primary opposition and third party voting. It's time to start exercising our power as voting citizens.

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Matt Casey x reader

Casey and his wife are expecting there second child, they have been married for three years. Y/n are working at the same firehouse as Casey but she is the paramedic for Ambo 61 and partner with Brett.

Gabby Dawson is still working at firehouse 51 but as a firefighter for truck 81. Y/n and gabby used to be partners for Ambo 61, they two are best friends.

Casey are really nervous to become a father to two kids, they already has a boy who is a toddler now and they are expecting a baby girl.

When Casey and y/n were expecting there boy they wasn’t together or married, but they got together when he was born. But they used to be a couple before there boy was conceived, but work got in the way.

Casey is really nervous, and the only one that he have told is Severide and Dawson. But Y/n finds out about how Casey feel about having a second child. Y/n gets mad at Casey for not telling her and they starts to fight. Even if they both know that they want to have another baby and to give there boy a sibling.

Scared- Matt Casey

Other Characters: Kelly Severide, Gabby Dawson, Sylvie Brett

Summary: Loosely based off of the prompt above, once the fight between you and Matt break out, you almost faint, causing everyone to rush to your aid.

Warnings: Mentions vomiting/morning sickness, dehydration, loose and possible wrong medical terminology.

Y/s/n = your son’s name.

Authors note: sorry I haven’t posted in a while! It’s been crazy and I’m not doing great in any capacity, but I’ve been trying to get something out and also trying to do your requests. I hope you guys enjoy it and thank you for your patience and support! Love y’all!

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Matt have been married for three years. Despite once being in a relationship with Matt, you quickly befriended Gabby when you were her partner on 61. Now, Gabby is a firefighter under Matt and you are partnered up with Brett. Through all of the awkward moments between you and Gabby when it comes to Matt, you are still best friends. Gabby was one of your biggest supporters when you were pregnant with y/s/n. You and Matt had recently broken it off because of his alderman duties when you started getting violently sick. As your roommate and fellow paramedic, Gabby was obviously very concerned until she connected the dots.

Now, a little over three years later, you and Matt are married with a baby girl on the way. The morning sickness has definitely been the worst during this pregnancy, but Matt, Gabby, Kelly, Brett, and Stella have been nothing but supportive. As of right now, you are laying in Matt’s office with a trash can by his cot while Brett and Gabby are trying to calm you down as Matt rushes around to grab a few things. Kelly finds Matt pacing in the locker room, running his hands through his hair.

“Woah man. What’s wrong?” Kelly asks, coming to stop Matt and try to calm his best friend.

“God Sev.” Matt mutters, tears threatening to spill. “She is just so sick and I hate seeing her like this. I mean, I was talking to Gabby the other day and I don’t know.” Matt said, shaking his head and lowering himself to a seat on one of the benches.

Kelly sighed as he lowered himself to the bench beside his best friend. “You don’t have to be afraid Matt. You are already such a good husband and father. Adding one more will be a piece of cake.” Kelly soothed, patting Matt on the back.

Matt shook his head. “I never really had a father figure growing up. I’m scared I’m going to mess up and they are going to leave. Gabby tried to talk me down too and nothing…”

“Excuse me?” You croaked, leaning heavily on Brett as she helped steady you on the way to the bathroom while Gabby stayed behind to change Matt’s sheets.

“Y/n.” Matt sighed, standing slowly and coming over to you.

“No. You talked to Gabby and Kelly, but not your own wife? The mother of your TWO children!” You exclaimed, starting to shake as you began to yell.

“Baby. It’s not like that at all.” Matt plead, hands out to steady you, but you tumbled back, only being caught by Brett.

“You don’t get to be scared Matt Casey.” You whispered. “You and I are suppose to be in this together. I’m terrified every single moment since I’ve been pregnant. You know I have a fear of vomiting, yet I go through this because I love you and I love y/s/n and I want him to have a sibling.” You wept, closing your eyes as the world stared to tilt.

“Y/n!” Matt, Kelly, and Brett yelled.

You pushed back at Matt when he tried to touch you, letting Brett and Kelly lower you to the floor.

“Go get a sick bag, a water, and Gabby. Have her bring the go bag.” Brett said, feeling for your pulse.

“Shhhh. Breathe.” Kelly instructed, taking your face in his hands. “Everything will be just fine.”

“What if he leaves?” You sobbed, grabbing onto Kelly for dear life. “I need him. I’m just really hurt that he won’t talk to me but I need him.” You sobbed, not realizing that Matt was standing behind the three of you as he waited for Gabby clutching a sick bag and a bottle of water.

“Baby, no.” Matt whispered, coming to crouch in front of you, handing what he had off to Kelly. “Yeah, I’m scared and yes, I should have talked to you. But understand this: I. Am. Not. Going. Anywhere.” Matt emphasized, looking you dead in the eyes. “Both Gabby and Kelly found me in a panic and that’s why I told them. You are dealing with so much right now and I don’t want you to worry about me too.” Matt explained, wiping the tears from your face as Gabby came in with the go bag, slipping the pulse ox on your finger and the BP cuff on.

“How we doin?” Gabby asked, seeing your heart rate elevated and your oxygen levels at 95.

“Nauseous and dizzy.” You explained, leaning into Matt’s hands as he held your face.

“BP’s low.” Brett announced, grabbing the Iv kit from the bag. “I think you’ve got yourself dehydrated. I’m going to place a line.” Brett said, already prepping your arm.

Your eyes widened as you looked between all of your friends and your husband. “No way. Nope.” You said, trying to stand, but quickly falling back down into Kelly with Matt guiding your decent.

“You aren’t going anywhere. Relax.” Kelly said, squeezing your upper arms.

“Matt, please.” You begged, tears streaming down your face. You were starting to turn grey as the nausea built along with your anxiety.

“Shhh. It’s gonna be alright.” Matt soothed, kissing your forehead before turning to Kelly. “Switch with me. Let me hold her, it normally calms her down. Get the sick bag ready.” Matt instructed, quickly switching with Kelly as the man did what he was instructed to do. Matt sat with you in between his legs so that your back was pushed to his chest. He rested his chin lightly on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear. “Shhhh. It’s for the best. I’m sorry baby. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’ve got you.” Matt whispered as you began hyperventilating from the panic of the rising nausea and the impending IV.

“Look at me. Just look at me.” Kelly said, kneeling in your line of sight. He waited until you opened your eyes to meet his own. Kelly smiled at you as he started breathing in time with Matt. “Just relax. We gotcha. We gotta do what’s best for you and the little princess, right?” Kelly said, smiling wider when you nodded. “That’s right. Just breathe. Follow us and focus on us.” Kelly instructed.

Matt noticed you starting to follow, but saw Brett going in with the needle. Matt and Kelly made eye contact as the needle pinched your skin. Kelly saw your change in color as Matt felt your gasp and then gag harshly.

“Shit. Okay, here sweetheart. Hang in there.” Kelly said, placing the bag under your chin as Matt pulled your hair back once more and held you steady around the torso.

“I’m gonna flush this, then give her some Zofran. We gotta get this under control. You cool with that and then some fluids for her Matt?” Brett asked, flushing the IV as she spoke.

“God yes. Whatever you have to do.” Matt instructed, hating how you were squirming and panting in his lap. You shook like a leaf as Matt held you on the cold tile floor.

“Gabby. Can you run and grab a blanket and a wash rag? She’s shaking like a leaf.” Kelly asked, not daring to move the sick bag too far. You were only panting right now, but you had no color to your face.

“On it!” Gabby replied, hurrying off.

“Alright. You know this might sting just a little. Then I’m gonna flush it and then run the fluids, okay?” Brett warned, speaking directly to you now. Once you nodded, Brett administered the medication and did everything else she said she would do before standing up with the bag of saline.

Gabby came running back in as Brett stood up. You were still shaking, but you felt comfortable enough to push the sick bag away. Once Gabby helped you clean your face and wiped the sweat off of your face, she wrapped the blanket around you. A silent decision was made to move you, so Kelly pulled you up and steadied you until Matt stood back up and picked you up, carrying you back into his office.

You groaned, throwing your head back. “Can someone PLEASE get me some mouth wash or my tooth brush. I can’t take this taste anymore.” You whined, shoving your face into Matt’s neck as he sat with you in his lap on his cot.

You didn’t notice Kelly depart from you guys as the lot of you left for Matt’s office. He came back in seconds later with mouth wash, your tooth brush and tooth paste, another bottle of water and another sick bag. “I figured you would want to get the taste out.” Kelly said, confused at the laughter coming from everyone else.

“Thank God. Someone with some sense.” You muttered sarcastically, making grabby hands for the items.

Matt and Gabby muttered “I beg to differ” at the same time, causing everyone to laugh. God, you couldn’t do this without them.

[shewritesfics]

Sleepovers

Pairing: Charlie Kelly/Reader

Notes: Hi! these were two separate blurbs that I kind of mixed together, let me know what you think!

1:46 A.M. 

On A Friday

You come up the stairs, leaning heavily on the rail and stumbling. Fuck, man, you were gone. A live band was playing at this bar, so you decided to go and had a little too much fun. You were humming to yourself as you climbed up the stairs, your voice bouncing through the walls and falling back on your ears. Your head was pounding as if you were still next to the speakers, ears ringing and body vibrating. You finally make it to the top and turn sharply, making your way to the end of the hall. Was it the best idea to be this drunk, this late at night? No, not by yourself, but you were far too fucked to care. A small blob is perched against your door, growing larger into view as you stumble through the hallway. It’s Charlie. 

“Charlie?”  The rasp in your voice is evident. He jolts awake, his eyes wild, and his breathing quickens. 

“Y/N! Dude! Oh my god, Frank fuckin locked me out! Again!” He’s flailing his arms around to convey how betrayed he is.  This wasn’t a super regular occurrence, but it happened now and then when Frank had ‘whores’ over. When that happened you would let Charlie crash on the couch, which he always gratefully thanked you. He’s rambling on and on now about the day they had and how he ended up in this situation, but it was all muffled in your ears. Can he not tell you’re incredibly fucked up right now? Does he not care? You’re squinting at him with dry, red eyes, trying to focus on his lips so maybe you can make out a word or two. 

“Dude- you okay?” He finally notices your body language, stopping mid-rant. You look at him, noticing his lips aren’t moving anymore, and he’s looking at you with a quizzical brow. 

You lick your lips and smile slightly. “Uhm.. what?” 

His brows furrow. “Y/N, you okay?” He talks slower now, trying to sound out each word precisely. 

“Charlie…” You reach your hand out to his shoulder and push him lightly, laughing. “I’m so fucked up right now.” 

He laughs in response, but worry is still evident on his face. Charlie hasn’t known you for awfully long, but he’s never seen you like this. Sure, you came in for a drink at Paddy’s sometimes, but you always limited yourself. This was new. He noticed your eye makeup was smudged, you used to have lipstick on but now it just seemed like a stain. Your sweatshirt was falling off your shoulders, your hair was wild, and your eyes were red. You were blinking quite slowly, your body swaying back and forth. Not that he knew much about you - even though he would rifle through your trash and sometimes read your mail - he was intrigued. You seemed loose, unfiltered. 

“Yeah- so uh- can I crash here again?” He’s playing with his hands nervously. 

“No prob, Bob.” You smiled at him and unlocked your door, leaning on it heavily while it opened. He walks in and leans on the kitchen counter, watching as you sit down on the floor and struggle with your shoes. He smiles to himself as he admires you. Your tongue sticking out while you squint at the shoelaces, plucking at the knot so hopefully it untangles itself. Your jacket falls again, and you frustratingly rip it off you. He chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You need some help?” Your head snaps up and looks at him. You grunt and wave him off, focusing back in on the laces trying a new angle. One finally lets up and you kick off one shoe, cheering to yourself. You help yourself up from the floor, walking into the kitchen, and grabbing a glass, filling it with water. Charlie is still silent, just watching you stumble around. He clears his throat and you look at him, before he points down to your feet, still having one shoe on. You groan to yourself and ignore it, chugging the glass of water. He laughs and gets down on his knees. He grabs your leg and lifts it, setting it on his thigh as he quickly loosens the laces, slipping your foot out and throwing the show to the front door. He looks up at you, smiling. 

It was silent. He’s on the floor smiling up at you with his green doe eyes. His head is tilted ever so slightly. It felt intimate. His touch was so soft. Your mouth dried up instantly, and your heartbeat quickened. He’s up again, leaning against the counter and just looking at you. 

“Quit it.” Your hand flies up and covers your face from his gaze. 

“Quit what?” He laughs. 

“Quit looking at me.” You mumble out and drink the rest of your water. His hands come up defensively and a goofy smile is on his face.  

“Alright, my bad.” He chuckles and heads over to the couch. You hold up a finger to him and put the glass in the sink, then make your way to the bedroom, grabbing him a pillow and blanket for his night on the couch. He had a specific blanket he liked, which you found endearing. Charlie is a strange man, sure, but you understood him.

–Dating– 

Sometimes Charlie was quiet at night. Usually, it was after he recapped his crazy day, ate, and had a few drinks. He would just sit and watch. It was quite endearing. He loved being around you, even if it was in silence. All that mattered was that he was with you. 

You sang. Maybe it was more of a humming depending on if you knew the words to the song or not. The second you started running around for your bedtime routine, the humming would start. Changing into the pjs, brushing hair, washing face. It made him chuckle too, whenever you would stop for a few beats, then continue right where you left off. He wasn’t sure if it was a comfort thing or not, or if you were simply trying to get the song out of your head, but he loved it. Goosebumps would take over his skin when he heard your voice bouncing off the walls. Charlie’s favorite was; Stuck In the Middle With You. Something about how your octave changed when it came to the chorus or the slight riffing you would do during an instrumental part you couldn’t voice. He couldn’t get enough of how you were so effortless around him. It struck his heart, and he was enamored with you. 

Another one of his favorite things about you was your touch. It was slow at first, a huge buildup to the first time you even hugged him; He nearly cried with joy, It was gradual, like all things, but soon it was hard for you to not touch him. Your hand on his thigh, a passing touch on his waist, your hand on his shoulder. It filled him with electricity, the skin beneath your touch growing cold as soon as you left. Charlie was a fool for you, through and through. A dumb goofy smile would rest on his face when you entered a room. His brows would relax into an unfurrowed state, his eyes would soften when he saw the smile on your face. Charlie’s absolute favorite was your scratches. You called them softies - he hated that, it sounded degrading. It was your second nature, for your hands to be consumed with something. It was particularly during movies or lying in bed. Your arm would wrap around his shoulders, starting with rubbing circles into his shoulder. Then, when you got more invested, your hand would drift up to his hair. Scratching and pulling lightly, untangling the knots from the whirlwind of his day. Then your hand would drop, resting on the high of his back, this was when he would lean forward - pretending to be so engrossed in the movie - but it was really to give you more access. This was his nirvana. When you would switch from your nails to your fingertips they would dance along his skin. Goosebumps would cover his arms, and a blush would stem from his cheeks to his ears. Your touch always seemed to render him speechless. His knees would grow weak and he would melt into your touch. 

Before bed, you would crawl in beside him. Maybe you had a book, or you would catch up to the news on your phone. Either way, one hand was always on him. He would hold you, his head laying on your mid-drift as you’re propped up leaning against the pillows and headboard. His arm would be draped around you, one leg bent on top of yours. Your arm would be behind him, scratching or drawing into his back. Charlie’s sleep always varied - to you at least. He was sneaky, pretending to fall asleep so you would start reading the book under your breath. The whisper of your words paints such a beautiful picture for him. Your yawns would get more frequent, and your breathing would get deeper. Your body would sink lower into the bed, and he knew you were about to join him. The lights would click off and you would slide lower until his head was on your chest, you kept your arm around him, still rubbing small circles into his skin. He knew when you were hanging on by a thread. Your movements would stutter, and the scratching on his back would cease for seconds at a time. You’d twitch lightly and your scratching would resume, he always tried not to giggle when he noticed. 

You mumble out, your voice lower as sleep is washing over you. “What’re you laughing at…” 

Charlie chuckled. “You just do this thing sometimes- like uh- you fall asleep in the middle of scratching me… and then you must wake up again or something- I dunno. It’s just cute is all.” His voice trails off. He gets up slowly wraps one hand under you and flips you gently, turning your back to his chest and holding you close to him. 

“Do I really do that?” A low laugh rumbles from you. Charlie moves your hair from your neck and kisses it softly, smiling at your warm skin. 

“Yeah, you really do.” He hums into your neck, causing you to giggle. "I love you." 

"I love you too, Charlie."

[dangancode]

An introduction post

Hello! My name is Kelly, and I use she/her pronouns. I made this side blog for Danganronpa and Rain Code stuff, such as reblogging fanart and posting my rewrite headcanons. If you’re looking to chat, you can find me here and on Discord (i’m tired #0644)!

[imzsuzsis-blog]

"On behalf of my family, Lando Norris, I'm asking for the full truth now!" I stood behind him while he threw himself into the bin, because sightseeing was the obligatory program today and this was the third bin he threw into. "I'm saying that I'm not pregnant with some kind of virus. You're just imagining it, I won't deny that. That I'm gay and that Ollie and I had a rough time, but we're still a couple." I smiled back at Alex and shoved the test back into my belt pouch. Don't let him see that I lied to him. "Shit, did you see Lando?" George became serious and became engaged to his girlfriend." "What were you gossiping about?" "Congratulations, man, that's a big word." "Thanks, Lando, when did you tell our little three that you were probably pregnant?" "Lando, I told you that's what you said yesterday in Swedish, you flat idiot!!!" "It's good that I'm pregnant from Ollie, but the breakup was very rough, the boys don't want to talk about it, let's sit down somewhere and celebrate the engagement."

"I'm a fool, I let the boy I love go." I twirled the racket and at least tried not to throw it, but once I almost managed to hit Logan in the face. "Ugh, I'm sorry, my thoughts wandered somewhere else." "Paul is your boyfriend, that is, the one with whom you made the news." "Logan, it's not true, you made this up and you spread or spread the rumor about me, it's not false." ,.I have no relations with the f2 field, they said that you were dating him and he was quite angry about the kiss, who did it happen to?" "Fuck you that me and Lando kissed, you fucking have nothing to do with it, you Florida bastard!!!!" I ran out in anger, laid down on the floor and could hardly breathe. Logan freaked me out, he's the gossiper, but I really can't stand it in that field. "Paul pick it up!!!!"

In front of the cattle, I was in the hotel room and I was video chatting with my girlfriend who was there with Bali Carlos's girlfriend and they say that they really like each other... They can't stand each other. Apparently, one of the queens of OnlyFans reached out to Carlos. He is already sick of this app, as are many of us in the field, especially Lando or Alex, although Lando tried it, but he thinks there are so many whores and cock-hanging him prostists up there that he deleted it, so he doesn't date here if he wants someone for himself, he also tried the apps, but they failed miserably there more than once he walked out of the date himself, the subject wanted to kidnap him and drag him out to make him a prostitute, but he was also transgender, he keeps in touch with him to this day, but unfortunately most of them were whores who only wanted Lando's money, so that's all about Tinder. "Sorry, but that was really optional." "Charles can't go without throwing up." "I'll leave you... Calm down, Lando, it will definitely be over one day, don't worry about it too much." "That's not the problem, but Kelly, you know. DR Yin said she started to worry if I didn't only have acne in the morning anymore. Now it's half past two and I've been throwing up for half the day and I don't even know how many Tokyo trash cans are full of what I had for breakfast today." "Fuck it, I'll call the ambulance then, it's bad, not only your health is important now, but the health of the people inside is even more important!!!"

In the hospital, I didn't even understand what the doctor was talking about. I looked at her, then at Charles, who was shrugging because I think he thought the same thing as me, he thought I was pregnant by him. We started pointing out that no, I am not from him, but from another boy who is younger than me. I felt that someone other than Charles would hold my shoulder and bring me heart trouble. "My mother Loki, the heartache that hit me was terrifying." ,,Lando will say hello if we already dated yesterday..." ,,Hi, I've only vomited for almost half a day, you poor trash, and you know I'm afraid that my beans will hurt. I'm about five weeks pregnant, but that's not fixed either." "Thank you, he said that he can tell you at any time that you are seven weeks old, not five." ,,MR Norris calm down, thanks for the information about you now deep air guys from outside..." I looked at him, I couldn't believe it. "Fetus, fetus?" "Tears of joy or sorrow?" "Ecstasy is more there, my little one." "Look at one there and the other there, but wait with him if it doesn't get absorbed by the twins, but it seems to me that it won't." I held my face at the news, my brain couldn't place the news, it was good and bad. "Do you hear?" "Yes, I can hear their tiny heartbeats." I wanted to go out and nyakuba fell over, but I didn't go, I took the little rest I had, I saw how he was wiping the jelly from my stomach, I stood up, took everything and went out. "Why did you send us out?" Silnetly fell to the necks with a tearful face, I couldn't say what to say, "Gemini, now the other is not willing to give up."

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Angela The episode's going to end with a callback to something we forgot to mention, which is earlier in the episode, Ryan says that he wrote Kelly the best poem ever. 

Jenna Mm hmm. 

Angela And Pam's like, Read it, please. He's like, No, it would crush you. You couldn't even handle it. And everyone's like, kind of egging him on to read it, and he won't read it. 

Jenna Mm hmm. 

Angela Well, Pam finds it in the trash, and Jim's like, What are you doing? She's like, Don't you want to hear this poem? And they start to read it. 

Jenna Yeah, they read the first two lines. 

Angela Yeah, it starts like this: Kapoor and kadesperate, he watches. He is a drifter out to sea. 

Jenna And then there's kind of a time cut. 

Angela Yeah. 

Jenna And we hear the last line of the poem. 

Angela And when the Indian Ocean calms, one speck of white remains in waters cold and Kelly Green. 

Jenna Pam is choked up. 

Angela Yeah. She's like, It's so dumb. But when he describes himself as a child lost on a life raft. And then Jim is teary! 

Jenna In his final talking head, he says, Ryan can never know. 

Angela This poem really got them. 

Jenna We had a fan question from Angela F in Saint Louis wondering if there was a full length version of Ryan's poem. Angela, I'm sorry. No. 

Angela I looked for it too. 

Jenna I know. 

Angela I was so hoping there was something in the candy bag. Anything? No. 

Jenna This is all will ever know of the poem. 

Angela Yeah. 

Jenna That moved Jim and Pam to tears. 

[maxverstepponme]

Ok i caught up what is happening. So here is some help.

We accuse kelly of being a groomer, a horrible mother, an attention seeker, hypocritical and fake activist.

Here is the response to why we accuse he of that.

She admitted to having a magical night with a teenage Max. Let me remind you that 18 being considered legal age is because of the army draft and has nothing to do with maturity. In reality, a 20 year old should be considered an adult. Anything below is a teen (literally). Let me also remind you that Max just moved out of his dads house and to monaco when he turned 18, so he was freshly on his own.

We have proof she spoke to underage fans on insta and has talked to them about her life with Max and would give them a heads up about boosting her posts.

She posted her kid naked online. That is enough to be a horrible mother, but let's continue. She left her kid to go party, and she trashed her kids' dad and spread shit about him (with the help of her underage fans), dragged her kid halfway across the world so she could have a "happy family" pic with Max. Pushed that kid onto a 22 year old not knowing how their relationship would work out. Finally, she has no regard for her kids' privacy and uses her to boost her engagement on insta.

She literally called paparazzi on herself. Do i need to say more.

Posted criticising consumerism and black friday to then literally tomorrow go on a shopping spree. Talked about the safety of children in cars (did a presentation on it) while her kid is jumping and standing on the seats of a moving cab in NYC. Talked about the environment just to than spend one of her many vacations on a yacht wearing a different bikini every day, let's not start with her selling over 200 pieces of clothing because that is so environmentally friendly and is not consumerism.

She posted about Palestine and mixed in adds in those stories. "Look at all that is happening there, but also look at my new shoes"

Let's not start with her defending racism, being xenophobic, and quite literally supporting a fascist sexist criminal as a presidential candidate in a county that she doesn't even live in. Also she literally is promoting EDs and is selling her face as natural.

And i have missed a lot of her shit.

Sent this to that bs gossip page.

.

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

All This Devastation

🩸Previous Parts Here🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, cursing, weapons (knives, guns, mentions of bombs), insults, past abuse, past SA, scared boys, pregnancy symptoms, secrets revealed, mentions of blow jobs, talks of death, attempted assault (on Blain), blood, fighting, Megan being awful, guilt, pain, hurt with no comfort (yet), driving without a license, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: mature AF

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Colson was having a surprisingly alright day after he adjusted to being away from his mate. There was a constant pull feeling as if something inside him was telling him to go home but it wasn't so strong he couldn't ignore it. It honestly felt nice to be like his old self again and to remember he truly had been a self serving and protecting badass before he met the Alpha. At work he was slightly annoyed because his roommates were still being weird and hiding in their office, and his mother was still missing from the conference table. Tim was there though, and so was Pete. So even though a few important people were missing there were new faces. It helped keep him focused on what they had to do.

“Pete!” He huffed as he set his glasses and jacket on the table when he arrived. He shouldn't enjoy the way the beta jumped but it made him smirk. He had always loved scaring the shit out of people. “Any updates?”

The beta nodded and stood up like he was making a presentation in class. “The guys I sent after her followed her back to her place where she grabbed a few bags and then over to the airport. They couldn't figure out what plane she got on but it seems like the bitch listened and got the fuck outta dodge. Good fucking riddance if you ask me.”

A knot of fear and worry that had been stuck in the omega's chest for days loosened at those words. He wouldn't have to kill her. He wouldn't have to send his mate to do it. He could actually let her escape and live her life as long as she didn't come near them again. “Fuck.” The relief was so strong it made him dizzy and warm and he had to sit down.

“You good brother? Where's your other half?” Tim worried and Col waved him off.

“He needed to rest. I'm good. Contrary to popular belief I can actually function without him.” He rolled his eyes. He wasn't trying to be a dick to the man but come on.

Tim gave him a bit of a worried look but nodded. “I know. At least you don't have to worry about him or your mom getting their own revenge now. It's a good day when the trash takes itself out if you ask me.”

They moved on to other concerns, worked through a few shipments and scheduled shit around his due date. Of course no one was dumb enough to say that was what was happening but they all knew when the boss said he might have to take some time off. There was a peace in the room he hadn't felt in too long, everyone was teasing each other and messing around. They felt like a family again without Megan sucking the energy out of the room. Everything would have been perfect if not for the cramps tightening his hips and belly. The Doc had told him to expect it occasionally as he got closer but he hadn't expected it to be so annoying.

As they were ordering lunch he felt himself break out in a sweat and his stomach rolled at the idea of food. “Boss, you look a little pale.” Tim took a seat next to him in Collette's normal spot. He didn't say it to the whole room but kept his voice low. It was nice of him not to worry the room, some of his boys would just fucking shout it.

“I'm good. Braxton Hicks shit. The Doc said it's normal. Probably just my body pissed that I came out alone.” He growled at himself and rolled his eyes. “You talk to mom recently? She's been busy since the break in. I figured she was with you but…” He trailed off.

“Nah man. I haven't seen her since she set me up to fuck with Megan. I'm sure it just brought up some shit. Or she's helping at the hospital.”

“Yeah.” Colson sighed, his mother did spend a fuck ton of her time helping out at the omega hospital. She had since Travis died. She'd never exactly been the same since losing her mate and now the omega understood why. He didn't think he could survive it. It made him even more impressed by his mother.

He sat back and rubbed at his chest, everything felt weird. He tried to clear his throat and ignore it. “Does jizz cause heartburn? What the fuck?” It was an offhanded thought he didn't mean to mutter aloud but the beta snorted a laugh.

“Not that I remember.”

Kells eyes went saucer wide as he looked up at the older man who just winked and stood up to walk away to the kitchen. “Wait what? Wait. Tim! What?” He knew damn well it wasn't his business but that look had said so much to him. He wiggled out of his chair and followed after, hip checking the counter as the other made his lunch. “The fuck you mean?” It shouldn't be bugging him and he needed to leave it alone but his world view had shifted with that one joke.

“What? I didn't think we were exactly secretive.” The beta shrugged. “Even after I left… I didn't leave them.”

Them? Them? His brain felt like dial-up. He'd spent so much time thinking something was wrong with him for loving Dom, even though he'd never thought himself homophobic. His bio dad had fucked him up early but Travis had been his example of what a man should be. A leader. A leader in a fucking thruple? “Are you and mom still…” He trailed off. He found himself lost for words when that rarely ever happened to him.

“No. It wasn't the same without him. I love her but I think… It doesn't matter.” The man shook his head and turned to hide his face. Tim looked in the fridge long enough to get control of himself before he turned back without picking anything out.

“I wish I had realized. Might have stopped the shit show my mind was for a while.” Col laughed.

“Yeah but you were kind of an idiot as a kid. No offense. I mean shit, do any of the guys sleep over at your place as much as I used to? You didn't see it because you weren't ready to. Just sucks because I think you could have turned to him for a lot.”

“You miss him. I do too. Especially lately.” His palm fell to his stomach and he rubbed over it absentmindedly. It hurt his heart that their child wouldn't know it's grandfather. Travis would have been amazing. “We've got you though. If you'll hang around.” He offered and Tim smiled. It wasn't exactly the same no but it frustrated him that he could have still had a father figure the whole time.

The beta had tried to connect after Travis died. He hadn't been working with them for about a year before and Colson had blamed him a little. In his mind if Trav had his second in command maybe he wouldn't have believed whoever called that awful night, lying about being an omega in need. They never figured out who killed him, but for a long time the boy had blamed everyone around him. It was just like Travis to pick up a call in the middle of the night and leave by himself to save someone. Of course it had been a trap but they were too late. Collette woke up alone and found a note on her bedside table saying where her mate had gone. Kells hadn't seen the man after, his mom had taken care of everything because he'd run off and hid with Mod for a month.

Eventually she tracked him down and explained that he needed to come home and take his place as boss and he hadn't looked back since. Well he had. Constantly, and he was finally realizing how much he got wrong. He'd pushed Tim away and basically everyone else.

The boss shook himself and rubbed his side, trying to massage out the pain. “I do actually have some of the guys at my place every night. Mod stays with Tom.” He tried to joke to lighten the mood.

“I wondered about that. Full house huh? Where's the kid today?” The beta was thankful to move on.

“Ugh shit. Home too. Poor kid hit his cycle. I think it's fucking with me.” Colson huffed. He wanted to crawl inside the freezer and never come out.

“Well if everyone else is home resting… maybe you should try it too? I think we can function without you. Might be good to test run this shit, make sure you can take off all the time you need. Work out who should take over while you're gone.” The man offered and Colson couldn't say he was wrong. It was probably smart to work out the kinks before he was on leave for a week or so. He didn't want to leave them for too long though.

“Yeah maybe. I figured you and Mod could handle it? I would leave it to mom but who fucking knows where she is.”

“And she'll probably want to stay close to you.”

“Pfft. You would fucking think. Starting to think she'll miss the damn de-” He stopped himself and cleared his throat. He always felt panic at the thought of what was to come. He could still barely accept he was pregnant but that his kid was coming soon? Fuck that.

“Doubt that. She's obsessed with Punk.” The beta grinned. At some point his mock insult for the baby had caught on as a nickname. It certainly fit with the way his little one made a mosh pit of his womb. It was getting less cute the more they grew.

“Fuuuuck me- yeah I might take you up on that. Can't seem to stretch out this fucking kink in my back. Maybe I should head out a little early.” Colson sighed, pulling out his phone to text his mate and their boy. He didn't want to bother their rest coming in unexpectedly.

“Yeah, let's get you in a car.” The older man was more concerned than he wanted to let on but at least he knew The Doctor was at the boss’s home. He would get Kells settled and on the road and then he'd send her a warning text.

🖤💣🖤

Blain's phone beeped and woke him from a nap and he reached out from under his blanket to check. Colson wasn't feeling well? Shite. Weren't they a little family of fucked up. He pushed himself up to text back but the moment he did he heard something else- someone was walking in their home. “Dom?” He called out. He should let him know about Kells but the Alpha didn't say anything back.

Alarm bells went off in the omega's head and his heart raced as he reached for his blade. At the same moment his palm wrapped around it his door was thrown open and his lip pulled back in a snarl. “Fuck off.”

“Oh look, someone left me a little treat. Hey Goldilocks, the bears aren't home?” It was a beta he didn't recognize, strapped with a gun and wearing a mask. After a moment the bastard pulled it off but it didn't help the boy with knowing who the hell it was. “Megan said the place would be empty but fate blessed me today.” The sick fuck actually reached for his belt and Blain felt his stomach roll. He tried to text without looking down, he tried to tell Colson not to come home. Where was Dom? Did they already get him? How the fuck had they broken in?

“Ya fink so? Why don't ya come find the fuck out. Maybe I'm jus’ right for yas, but maybe you don't make it out alive.” The kid hummed.

“I've got a score to settle anyway. Your owners killed my boss and our second.” The bastard growled and Blain couldn't help but laugh as he dropped the phone and pushed himself to kneel on the bed. He was just glad it wasn't an Alpha, this bitch could barely scent him he hoped. His heat was making his blood lust double and he felt almost as excited as he was scared.

“I'll give ya the boss. They killed him, but I was the one to do in ya second. Fucker tried the same fing you're about to and I ripped his artery out wiv my teeth. You sure you wanna try me?”

“Fuck yeah. I just won't get near your mouth don't worry. He was an idiot trying for a BJ with such a fresh virgin pussy. I won't make the same mistake.” The asshole was blocking the door and moving closer. Blain knew it wouldn't be long until he lunged.

“Wha’ next? Gonna tell me not to worry cause it won't last long? I'll bet. Last chance beta bitch. Leave my ‘ome.”

“Why? I'm not scared of your Daddy, neither of them. They'll be dead before I'm done with you. If you're really good I might even keep you for myself.”

“Oh I don't fink you should be scared of ‘em. But me? Mmm. Do you really want my cute face to be the last fing you ever see?” Of course the fucker didn't leave and Blain made sure to jump first. He lost himself in a frenzy of blood and fists and fangs. He didn't even realize the text message he had meant to send never did, it just waited on his now locked phone. No one was warned about the intruder but at least the boy could hopefully take care of one.

🖤💣🖤

Colson had stopped at a store on the way home, they'd driven past it so many times and he'd finally been drawn. By the time he got off work it was always closed but since he left early he'd been able to stop in. When he finally made it back to the Four Seasons he was carrying at least ten bags full of baby clothes. He knew Dom would complain about the prices and tease him that children are messy but he didn't care. His kid would live in style damnit.

His driver helped him carry more in and he was chatting with the man as they entered. He didn't notice the quiet at first until it was disturbed by a gunshot that went right by his head. The driver he'd had for over a year dropped dead next to him, his blood pooling under the bags. Kells had a thought that at least he'd been carrying the heavier shit so everything was boxed up and safe but he knew deep down it was fucked of him.

“Hey Daddy, or should I start calling you Mommy now?” A voice he'd hoped to never hear again sounded whiny and small to his hurt eardrums. When his gaze finally found the bitch he rolled his eyes and set his bags on the floor away from the stain.

“Megan. You're supposed to be in the fucking sky a million miles away from me.” He grumbled, looking around to see who else was around.

“Oh don't worry. Not everyone is dead yet. My new boys gathered them up and has them… safe.” She giggled at her own joke and Col just hoped the safe door wasn't closed. That thing could double as a panic room but he doubted she let them turn on the oxygen.

“And the entire fucking hotel?” He asked, crossing his arms. He knew he should be scared there was a gun on him but he just couldn't be frightened of her. He was too enraged.

“Fire alarm. They all came down except your personal floors. My men have your omegas and this whole place is ready to blow. Literally. So don't fuck with me Daddy, you've already pissed me off enough.” She stepped closer and his skin crawled as she took his gun and tucked it in her waistband. It was so close to her crotch he knew he couldn't sanitize it enough ever again.

“You can keep that I guess. Ew. So you thought of everything? Except that my Alpha is probably killing all of them as we speak.” And that the fire alarm went straight to the fire department and LA took that shit seriously. He wouldn't tell her that though, he knew she might want media attention, she was just that narcissistic.

Megan laughed and shook her head, walking away and setting her gun on the service counter now that she had his. “Your Alpha wasn't home. Did he not tell you? Are you already fucking that relationship up too?” She purred and his stomach dropped.

Blain. He hoped the boy was okay. He wouldn't show his worry though or his upset that his mate didn't tell him he was leaving. He could take it out of his bitch's ass later when they were all safe and sound and she was six feet under. “So what the fuck do you want Megan? This is a big move for you. Bold.”

“I am bold Daddy, you just never noticed. I could have made us rich and famous but you and Travis could never stop trying to be heros long enough to see.” She pushed herself up to sit on the counter and tried to lean back seductively. It made him sicker. He really didn't want to vomit on the rug, it was so nice. Maybe he could pull an Exorcist on her but it might get him shot. “You took out the boss of your biggest rival, I just took his place. Those boys see my vision and they love me.”

“Okay cool, so take your new boys and fuck off.”

“No, you hurt me. I want your love too.” She pouted out her faux full lips and he couldn't hold in a laugh. “And if I can't have that I'll take all your shit and I'll combine the families under me. First female Alpha leader of the biggest syndicate on the West Coast? Doesn't that just fit me perfectly?”

“Suuuure. Cause those bastards will listen to you. I know my men won't. You'll have to kill them all which means you won't have shit of mine. Fuck off Megan, you can't win this.” He tried to urge her though the want to keep her alive was shrinking more every second.

A cramp rolled through him and it was a rough one, he had to bend over to breathe through it. She must have thought he was going for his phone because she hopped off the counter and ran over. Bile rose in his throat when she reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and smashing it on the floor. It didn't matter. The alarm had gone off. It wouldn't just alert emergency but it would send one to Mod as well. “You s-should get out while you can. I don't think you get what you've done but I'm not surprised. I'm just fucking sorry I ever believed your bullshit.” He expected the slap but she used her Alpha strength and it nearly knocked him off his feet. He tasted blood and spit it out in her direction.

“We could have been something amazing. You were mine! But you had to go and be a whore just like your mommy. That should be my child but don't worry. We can fix that.” Fuck Colson was going to be sick.

When another cramp rolled through him it finally hit him what was happening. What had probably been happening since the night before. He was in labor. He was in labor trapped in the hotel, kidnapped by the bitch who assaulted him. His mate was somewhere else and his doctor might be dead. For all the fears he'd developed about his baby this hadn't even been in the realm of possibility but of fucking course it was just his luck. It didn't matter if Dom was there or not, he wouldn't let her make him doubt his love or lose the only faith he'd ever found. It felt strange after hating himself for so long but he realized he truly believed in them- both of them together. He believed in his family and he flat out refused to let her destroy that.

“I guess like father, like son. I tried to get Travis to run away with me but he was an idiot too.” She shrugged. “I'm not going to have to kill you too, am I?” Her voice went sweet as she cupped his cheek, her eyes looked truly psycho- and not in the sweet way he thought of his lover. It struck him what she just said, she admitted to killing Travis. Fuck that was it, he was going to gut this bitch.

🖤💣🖤

Dom was still stuck in some emotional turmoil that felt like the shock that had set in the day he found out his father had killed his mother and was the sole parent to his little sisters. That day he'd gone home for the first time in over two years and he did what he had to in order to save them. Everything he'd discovered when following Collette wasn't as awful as all that, not really, but it was still something that altered his family's lives forever. He was shaking as he pulled a cigarette from his lips and exhaled a drag. He was waiting outside the building he'd confronted her in. He couldn't decide if he wanted to go home alone or wait for her to make her tell his lover everything. He honestly wasn't sure he could. It was too much.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and realized he'd never turned it up after putting it on silent the night before, and as he unlocked it he was flooded with alerts. Texts from his mate, Mod, Tom, and Blain, even an influx of missed calls. “Wha’ the fuck?” He huffed, flicking the butt of the cigarette as he pressed play on the first voice mail.

“Dom, something has happened. I don't know what yet but an alarm went off at home.” Tom's voice was worried but not overly so however the next one from Mod had his heart racing in his chest.

“Fucking answer your phone Dom! What the fuck? Megan has the Four Seasons under guard. From what the cameras are catching she's got men everywhere. Civilians are locked in the vault but our people are stuck on our floors. Cols went home brother. She's got him alone.”

The Alpha didn't know what sound escaped him but it was deep and broke a part of his soul. The shock was ebbing away as rage took its place but the phone just kept fucking playing. “Dom ya wanker, I thought you was ‘ere but you ain't. Part of me is glad you ain't but… fuck you. Or maybe you already dead. I’m locked in the bloody closet but I don't think it'll ‘old long. Ones already t-tried- FUCK OFF ARSE’OLE! I’d sic a serial killer on your arse but…” Blain trailed off and his voice sounded strained. Scared. He kept pausing to sniffle. “You ain't coming aye?” There was a pounding on the door and the phone went quiet. He squeezed his own so tight he worried for a moment he broke it but no, that was just the last message. He scrolled through his texts next though he knew he needed to go home. He felt frozen. Terrified. What if they were all already gone?

C: Just wanted to let you know I'm coming home early. Feeling pretty fucked still. Get naked and ready to cuddle okay? Love you bitch

Oh, and just wait till I tell you what the hell I learned about Travis 🤯

He almost laughed at that, his lover had no fucking idea. “Fuck!” The boy screamed before nausea rolled through him so hard he couldn't help but be sick. That's how Collette found him and she took him into her arms but he knew he couldn't be held. He had to fucking move! “Megan ‘as ‘em all. We ‘ave to go.” He growled and he felt her go stiff. She was just as protective as he was.

“Go, take my car. We'll follow you. I have to get weapons first. This bitch will wish she'd never been born.” The omega huffed and he nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

“Wait, I don't bloody know ‘ow to drive.”

“Tough shit. Nut up buttercup. All you need to know is step on the fucking gas and save our boy.” While the words weren't exactly helpful they made him move. She was right, he didn't need to know what he was doing, he just needed to get home.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 🖤

Eep! The plot is plotting hard and we're close to the end! Just a little more before we move on to part two. I hope you're still enjoying it enough to follow another part! I'm really loving the dynamic of these boys, I hope you are too! 🩸🖤

[snapbackslide]

Arber Xhekaj likes to be called The Sheriff, but don't call him a goon

"I'm a player first and I think that's why I made this team," the Canadiens defenceman says.

Brendan Kelly  •  Montreal Gazette

Arber Xhekaj isn’t crazy about his nickname. In fact, he wouldn’t mind changing it.

After joining the Montreal Canadiens last season, his teammates dubbed the defenceman “Wifi”, riffing on the fact the spelling of his last name was reminiscent of one of those complex Wifi passwords you sometimes come across.

In a conversation at La Chambre Microbrasserie Sportive in Terrebonne Wednesday afternoon, Xhekaj said he’d like to revive the nickname he had when he was playing with the Kitchener Rangers in the Ontario Hockey League. Back then he was known as The Sheriff, a nod to his role as a guy not afraid to lay down the law on the ice.

“It was a nickname I had in junior when I was with Kitchener and it stayed through junior but it kind of switched up a bit here when I made it to the NHL,” said Xhekaj. “But it’s definitely a nickname I liked. I think (Wifi) is good, the people love it. But when people are calling me Mr. Wifi and they don’t know my name, that’s a bit tough. But if the fans like it, I like it.”

He was at the La Chambre in Terrebonne to help launch a promotional campaign for the chain of restaurants’ new smash burger named … The Sheriff.

Xhekaj is indeed the CH’s new sheriff, something the team had been lacking in recent years, and he isn’t afraid to drop the gloves, as he showed in this season’s first game, when he took on Toronto Maple Leafs heavyweight Ryan Reaves.

“We’re two big boys and we both play hard and he threw a couple of big hits so right after that I think I wanted to set the tone early and say ‘We’re not just going to sit there and let you run around like that,’” Xhekaj said. “Obviously, it wasn’t much of a fight. I don’t know why there’s so much talk about it.”

After the fight, which was really more of a wrestling match, ending with Xhekaj tossing Reaves into the back of the net, Reaves trash-talked the Habs tough guy.

“I don’t like getting jumped,” Reaves said. “I don’t know if I’ve really jumped anybody. If you want to fight, just ask me. I’m always around. You know where to find me.”

When those comments are mentioned to Xhekaj, he politely suggests Reaves is not telling the whole truth.

“It’s on video,” Xhekaj said. “You can see that he’s throwing the first punches of the fight. I didn’t grab him right away. I let him get up, turn around and get settled, and then we went from there.”

In his rookie season last year, Xhekaj quickly became a fan favourite, in part because of the fights, but also due to the fact fans could see that he’s more than just a pugilist — he’s also a pretty good NHL player. That season was cut short — he only played 51 games — when he suffered a shoulder injury in a fight.

For many years, the Habs often didn’t have a tough guy ready to stand up for players when they got pushed around by the opposition. It happened more than once that star goalie Carey Price would get run over with no teammates coming to his rescue.

“For any team that’s got a guy who’s willing to protect his teammates, it’s huge,” Xhekaj said. “It gives them space. It lets them play fearlessly. For me, it’s very important that I can bring that aspect to the game. When guys are going to be taking runs at our guys or doing anything stupid on the ice, in the back of their mind they have to know that I’m going to be coming for them.”

He recorded 101 penalty minutes in his rookie season, but he also showed that he’s a solid blue-liner.

“I’m not a goon, I’m a hockey player first,” Xhekaj said. “I think that’s where people get confused. They think I’m just there to fight guys. I can play the game and I have pretty good offensive upside. I’m a player first and I think that’s why I made this team.”

His younger brother Florian was drafted in the fourth round by the Canadiens this year and Xhekaj would love to see the two of them together on the same team.

“That was amazing, that was the icing on the top of the cake,” he said. “If he ends up playing with me, that would be a dream come true. We’d play on the street every day and any sport, we’d challenge each other one on one.”

Xhekaj, 22, was born and raised in Hamilton, Ont., by immigrant parents. His dad is a refugee from Kosovo who arrived in Toronto in the ’90s and ended up working as a welder in Hamilton. His mom is from the Czech Republic. He said it was his parents who instilled in him the drive to succeed, allowing him to face all kinds of adversity, including making it to the NHL even though he was never drafted. The Canadiens invited him to their training camp in 2021 and the team was impressed enough to sign him to a three-year contract worth US$2.485 million.

“It definitely comes from my parents,” Xhekaj said. “They came here with nothing. My dad came here with maybe two dollars in his pocket and started a life and created a family. He’s worked hard for everything he’s got and they always reminded us where they came from and how their life was back home, so we knew we were truly fortunate to get what we had.”

Growing up in Hamilton also influenced his outlook, he added.

“I love everything about Hamilton, but it’s a tough city, you don’t mess with guys from Hamilton,” Xhekaj said.

Whether you call him Wifi or The Sheriff, you don’t mess with Arber Xhekaj either.

[deardiary1899]

exams just ended so now i get to talk abt race (ft. Jack Kelly) again

Race is kind of a jokester. He's kinda goofy, silly even. But, I think by essence, he's a practical person and because I kin jack kelly™, he's the opposite of jack.

Jack Kelly and Racetrack Higgins look out the windows of the lodging house and they see the world, but they never look through the same window.

Jack Kelly sees a world that he can dream of, and that he can *be* in. When you're a lone boy with a dead dad and a deadline to meet everyday, every week, every month-- he feels so small. He feels so insignificant, stuck. So, when Jack Kelly sees the ever-changing streets of Manhattan, he wants to change too. So if he can't move in Manhattan, what better way to change, than at a place you can? When he looks past the buildings, the cement, and the crumpled, fishy smell pile of papers in the trash (yesterday's news), he sees a world outside New York.

Racetrack Higgins sees a world he's in, and it's a world he's always moving in. Race doesn't have time for dreams when he's pushing to sell 106 papes in the morning, only to push an extra 60 in the evening. He doesn't have time to dream when he's thinking of the best day of the best week to buy a matching pair of socks, or even one pack of biscuits that hasn't softened, or grew suspicious molds around it. He doesn't shy away from it, because he knows he can't, so he just has to accept it and live to the best way a boy his age could be-- it's hardly close to any of the more privileged kids, but he finds meaning in everything he does, and he finds so much worth in the people around him for that.

So, maybe that's why Jack always runs away. Maybe that's why Jack can't help but hide at his penthouse, drinking in the sunset, barely any regard to the buildings below him-- Santa Fe might have better ones. Maybe that's why Race is the second-in-command, because he can't run away, knowing he's still in the same world of dirty clothing, cigarettes and greedy adults. Maybe that's why he can't help but place a bet or two, because at least he should have some kind of fun while doing it.