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miss-choco-chips · 3 years

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The red that won’t wash away

"You don't have to", he assures, like he always does.

You don't have to fight for me, you already did when you stood up to your mom to get her to agree to our sleepovers.

You don't have to protect me, you already do whenever you hold my hands as we walk through town, go to class, cross the street. Even when the danger is a stranger's stare, and even when I'm past the point where I give a fuck about them.

You don't have to save me, you already do whenever you smile.

"I want to, though. And it's my choice", he replies, earnest and sure of himself like he so rarely is these days. And Alex knows him well enough to understand the undertones;

It's my choice, and I already have so few of those, with my mom micromanaging everything I do.

It's my choice, like it was when we became friends in kindergarten and I decided we'd be together forever.

It's my choice, loving you is always my choice.

“I’ll be fine. We'll be fine”, he promises, like the last nail in a coffin.

OR- Lighthouseraiders on Tiktok asked for new fanfic for his characters, and I'm not above briving them to give me more content, so this happened. Enjoy this childhood friends to lovers/soulmate au <3 Careful, it's angsty.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They met in kindergarten, like they are the protagonist of the most cliched, overused movie trope to ever be filmed. It’s a little disgusting, and he would disprove it even happening with every fiber of his being to save himself the embarrassment if this was about literally anyone else. But, how could he deny the best moment of his life? How could he ever complain about getting to meet Morgan, even if the circumstances were so seemingly corny?

Besides, he’ll console himself in the future, it wasn’t that bad. Not completely a Hallmark movie, where everything is sweet and happy. Technically, his day had been going quite awfully, before that moment that changed his life.

He was relatively new, at the daycare. But even though no one knew just who his mom was, what his family did, the dark power flowing through his veins thicker than blood… Even when nobody knew, it didn’t stop the suspicious stares, the perfectly audible whispers, the fingers pointing at his eye catching hair. The rejection, from his teachers and peers both. But, to be fair, Alex didn’t really care. He hadn’t, back in his first day when he sat, alone and ignored, at the farthest corner, to work with his glitter glue and colorful crayons on his own thing, never mind what the teacher had asked; and he certainly didn’t mind now, absorbed as he was watching the news.

The classroom was considerably emptier than usual, since most kids stayed at home during big fights like this, when S tier villains went out to play and legions upon legions of superheroes were sent to stop them. And, for those kids whose parents couldn’t afford to keep them home, a tv was provided, so they could stay tuned in into whatever fate befell their city.

But, unlike the hysterical teacher or scared kids, Alex wasn’t watching out of fear. Or rather, he didn’t fear for the city, but the villain. Because no matter how many of those fights he watched, seeing people doing their damned best to kill his mom never got easier.

“Lady Nightfall is so badass, isn’t she?” a voice, surprisingly close for someone that didn’t get approached by others often, startled him bad enough he instinctively looked away from the screen.

The kid, sitting… way too close to him, was the one that had joined their class just last week. Morris? Margo? Something like that.

“She… is?” he instantly hated how unsure he sounded, how it was more a question than an affirmation of what he knew to be true, that his mom kicked ass. But this… social situation had caught him off guard.

“The heroes don’t stand a chance”, the other kid continues to say, his own eyes on the screen. They are sitting a few tables away from the rest of the class, so he doesn’t need to whisper to stay unheard. Alex privately thinks whispers wouldn’t suit him, anyways. “Which sucks, because it means mom is gonna be pissy later.”

“Your mother?”

Morris (Mason?) jumped a little, as if he just thought about the words leaving his mouth and realized he made a mistake. He looked at Alex, straight to his eyes, maintaining visual contact like no other outside of his family ever did.

He had nice, green-brownish eyes. Alex had no idea why he thinks so, but he does.

“Oh… Mom said no one was supposed to know. You can keep a secret, right?”

Well… seeing how his own mother was also on tv at the moment, dressed head to toe in black and dropkicking who he guessed was Marco’s (Micah’s?) mom…

“I can”, he confirms, careful to not make any promises. On the off chance his mother needed the information, he wouldn’t keep it from her, after all.

“Cool. You’re great, I don’t know why everyone seems so scared of you. We are best friends now! Oh, I’m Morgan by the way. I can tell you didn’t remember that. It’s okay, though, don’t worry about it” his smile dims a little, and he breaks eye contact to look at the screen again, not reacting in any way to the visual of his mom’s body ricocheting off a building”, I know I’m pretty forgettable.”

Alex wants to say something to comfort him (something about this lively kid being upset not sitting right with him), but at that moment, something happens on the live footage that catches his attention. Another three A tier heroes had arrived at the scene, and even though mom would probably be fine, he can't help but flinch a little when he sees one of the heroes actually land a punch. He watches in silence as she crashes into a building.

"Oh...Are you okay? Do you know someone who works there?"

Alex knows better than to be completely honest, but… he's also a scared five year old watching ten superpowered beings trying to catch and imprison his mom.

"My… mother. She's… on the area."

Then, something happened. Something completely unexpected, that would have stolen his breath away, even without the implications he hadn't yet noticed; the touch of pudgy, warm, slightly sticky (they had oranges as a snack twenty minutes ago) fingers grazing oh so carefully over his knuckles.

The touch startled him so badly, he almost fell off his chair. People didn't just casually touch strangers, not when the chance of accidentally grazing your soulmate and being marked without realizing was too high to ignore. It wasn't taboo per say, but… it just didn't happen.

And yet, Alex didn't snatch his hand away. He didn't growl at Morgan, who was too busy saying something along the lines of 'it'll be okay' and 'I'm sure my mom will make sure the civilians make it out safe' , didn't snap at him for his reckless touch and order him to leave, to find another table and a new best friend.

He couldn't. Because Morgan's fingers moved away then, slightly, still touching him but moving upwards to pat at his wrist in a comforting gesture. Leaving behind spots of red, vibrant like fresh paint, warm like recently spilled blood, the color painting imperfect dots over his otherwise white knuckles.

His… his soulmate. The first person to approach him, to claim (not ask, but decide) that they were now best friends, not caring about Alex's aura of danger, the rumors going around about him, his generally unpleasant disposition. To try and comfort him, despite him not even remembering his name. To hold eye contact, hold his hand, hold his soul.

And as Morgan raised his hand a little to gesticulate (somehow, not realizing the way he had just shifted Alex's entire world on its axis, none the wiser about the way Alex's center of gravity was no longer anchored to the center of the earth, but to him), he caught a flash of electric blue, powerful, bright, like lightning striking the sea, but instead of the ocean, collision occurred at his fingertips.

"...and when mom comes to pick me up, I can ask her about the civilians on sight during her fight, maybe she can find your mom for us. And we can ask them if we can hang out after daycare! Mom will probably be a little stressed, since it seems like she's gonna lose this fight and at least three of her friends got seriously injured,but maybe your mom is cool with us hanging at your place…. I mean, if you want to. It's just… we're best friends, and I never had one of those before, so I'm not sure/"

"Soulmates", Alex finally gathers enough wits to himself to intervene. His hand (also sticky with orange juice, slightly shaky, probably cold to the touch) reaches out to Morgan's, carefully turning it over so his now colorful fingertips are visible. Alex’s right hand, with spots of red; Morgan’s left one, touched by blue. And then their eyes meet again, and even though Morgan looks just as shocked as he feels, the smile that brightens his face is enough to lay all his worries to rest. It'll be okay. They'll be okay. "We are soulmates", he repeats, more sure of himself now.

They are still holding hands. He notices this because Morgan tightens his grip, fingers touching knuckles, soulmarks meeting in a way that sends sparks down his spine.

"Soulmates AND best friends", he remarks. And though they just met (just found each other), Alex can't dispute it. “We’ll be fine”, he promises, and Alex can only nod in response.

Their mothers meeting each other later that day is less like a Hallmark movie, which is good for Alex's future street rep, but less so for his nerves at the time. Both ladies had arrived at the daycare at almost the same minute, tired after the recent battle (that Lady Nightfall won, of course), to pick up their sons. They are the last still there, all their classmates long gone, but neither had minded the extra alone time. They had taken the chance to get to know the other, asking the important questions like favorite color and aquatic animal, as they worked on their drawings.

Thankfully, even though his mom seemed suspicious, Morgan's didn't look like she recognized Nikolasa Createur as her enemy, S tier villainess Lady Nightfall. Thank God.

Mrs Elena Contenu, truthfully, didn't look like she was thinking much of meeting her son's soulmate at all. She exchanged the expected pleasantries with Alex's mom, smiling tersely and giving shallow words of excitement over the lucky, early find. She just took her kid the first chance she got and left, barely even looking at either her son or his Soulmate.

His mom, by contrast, was ecstatic. Promising to plan as many play dates as he wanted to have with Morgan (all of them), asking how he felt (like he belonged), exclaiming just how lucky they were, to find each other so soon (he knew).

The next morning, when he gets extra early to daycare and finds Morgan already waiting for him at what he's already dubbed as 'their spot', his left hand unconsciously rises to touch the vibrant soulmark. A small, innocent act that would evolve into his only obvious tell.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Years pass in a flash, and suddenly they are nine years old, laying side by side on the floor of Alex's room, speaking in whispers as to not wake his family up. Their mothers had given up (Morgan's with less grace) on keeping them apart for longer than a day or two at a time, so sleepovers were so common that it was easier to find clothes in each other's closet, and the extra place was always set at the table.

"Your mom is really nice", Morgan mumbled into the darkness of the room.

Usually, Alex would just humm in agreement and continue with his favorite pastime (play with Morgan's soul-marked fingers), but something about his best friend's voice called to his attention. He turned his face to the side to look at him.

"Why do you say so?"

Morgan takes a while to answer, eyes lost into the void of Alex's black roof. His hand goes slack against Alex's, and it's immediately an awful sensation.

"You are so lucky your family is made of civilians. Mom wants me to start my hero training. Says my brother Lucas was already a good fighter by the time he was my age, and that me and Lucy shouldn't keep postponing it."

Ignoring the bit about his family (Alex had never found the right time to break it to Morgan that his mom was an S tier villain who kicked his mom's ass on the regular, that his sisters weren't too far off, and that even if his dad was powerless, he was still a B tier just by dirty politician grace; his own status as villain in training? Taboo subject, never to be broached), Alex raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Isn't Lucy like seven?"

"Mom thinks it's good to start her young. I disagree, and Mama is on my side too, but Mom's word is final when it's about powers. You know how she gets about mine; hates that we're not sure about what it is yet. Sometimes I don't know how Mama has the patience to deal with her. Even being Soulmates shouldn't justify being a bitch and expecting your other half to just accept it, it doesn't matter whether you are a romantic or platonic couple". For the first time that night, Morgan tilted his head to look back at Alex. His eyes were so open, so honest, they never failed to make him feel guilty about lying. Especially when he said, so earnest; "I would never treat you like that, nor let anyone else do. I'll become the strongest hero to protect you".

Alex's heart gave a twist, but not the good kind. He never liked when Morgan said it, because it sounded less than a promise and more like a sacrifice waiting to happen. Not for the first time, he mentally cursed Elena Contenu. To hell with her and her tendency of making her children believe that their lives were interchangeable, that having powers meant they should always put random strangers first. And because Lucas was too indoctrinated into her ways, and Lucy too young to understand them, Morgan got all the backlash, as the only one tentatively questioning it.

(He dreams about going to their house, late at night, while Morgan sleeps on his bed. He dreams he finds Elena awake, doing something awful in the basement, something twisted enough to justify beating her until she can't move, breaking her jaw so that she can't continue to berate Morgan, crushing under his feet the hands she uses to hit Morgan when she trains him.

His dreams don't scare him any more. Not when his soulmark looks like blood on his knuckles.)

"You don't have to", he assures, like he always does.

You don't have to fight for me, you already did when you stood up to your mom to get her to agree to our sleepovers.

You don't have to save me, you already do whenever you smile.

"I want to, though. And it's my choice", he replies, earnest and sure of himself like he so rarely is these days. And Alex knows him well enough to understand the undertones;

It's my choice, and I already have so few of those, with my mom micromanaging everything I do.

It's my choice, like it was when we became friends in kindergarten and I decided we'd be together forever.

It's my choice, loving you is always my choice.

“I’ll be fine. We'll be fine”, he promises, like the last nail in a coffin.

Alex lets it go, doesn't fight Morgan's sacrificial impulse like he wants to. Just holds his hand tighter and falls asleep like that, golden eyes on green ones, the quiet of the night blanketing them with it's empty promise of safety.

The next morning, after Morgan left with his mom for his and his sister's formal training, he goes to his mother. It's early, she's still looking sadly at her now empty cup ('Blood of my enemies', she'd said if asked. Dad says she just drinks that because she can't stomach actual coffee), but her eyes focus on him when he approaches, warm and inviting. He can't help but marvel at the fact that she, the S tier villain, is hundreds of times a better mother than the A class hero currently beating her sense of justice into her children.

"I want to start training. I'm going to become the strongest S tier ever", he promises, because if the darkness of the night isn't enough to keep Morgan safe, he'll shape his own until it serves that noble purpose.

The fact that A and S tier villains get to fight the A class heroes (meaning, there's a chance he might get to punch Elena Contenu in the face someday), is just a plus.

Mom and dad look at each other, silently communicating. They are a team, regardless of the fact that mom has powers and he doesn't; it's never one of them making the decisions for both, like Elena and Marie. He wonders if it's because they are platonic soulmates, and Morgan's mothers are romantic. Wonders what he and Morgan are, and can't deny the flash of fear coasting through him. Hopes they are romantic, while living in fear of what that distinction could do to their bond. He had long since decided to keep it platonic until Morgan showed signs of wanting the opposite.

But still, he wonders.

"Are you sure, baby? You are still so young… and becoming an S tier isn't as easy as I make it look."

Alex clenches his hands, remembering how Morgan's had trembled that morning when they said goodbye, and he nods once, decisively.

Mom sighs, but her fond smile lets him know she understands.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Morgan is eleven when he finds out what his true power is. So is Alex. It should be a joyous occasion, but in reality, it was pretty much one of the most traumatic events he thinks he'll ever experience.

His experience goes something like this:

Mom says it's normal to feel like that after a first kill. It'll become easier as he rises up in the tiers, human life barely above ants to an S villain. But it's not that. And he can't explain it to her, deep into a panic attack in the bathroom.

It was an accident (he was out training with his mom when he caught sight of the spy, and it was a reflex to jump and bury his knife in his chest), but he doesn't regret killing the C tier hero. Absorbing his powers (and oh God, what a wonderful Gift he has, the things he could do with this-) wasn't all that weird, either. Like learning you suddenly know a weird word you are sure you never learned in school, but instead of vocabulary it's the ability to fly.

What actually got to him was the moment he looked down to his own hands, finding them covered in blood, so thoroughly soaked he couldn't even spot his soulmark. And then, he'd rushed back home, desperate to clean himself up and reassure himself it was still there… just to stand by his sink, hyperventilating while staring at the blood, scared beyond belief. Because, what if he wiped himself clean of both blood and soulmark? What if he lost his right (his privilege ) to Morgan after taking a life? What if he wasn't worthy any more?

His hand was warm, but not the kind it felt when Morgan held it. Scorching hot, like it was melting his skin and meat, until there was nothing but bones, no soulmark in sight, leaving himself barren from the love he never truly believed he deserved.

During his long overdue meltdown by the sink, he kind of heard someone calling his name, fingers skimming over his shoulders as if trying to not startle him. He knew that voice, something in him begging to answer it, but he felt like he was underwater, and making his eyes leave his blood soaked hands was just plain impossible.

He was still trying to see his soulmark under the blood.

After what felt like hours but was probably minutes at most, a new voice broke through the haze he was lost into. And this time, his body obeyed the siren's call and he reluctantly turned to look.

Morgan.

It was always Morgan.

Distantly, he knew he should be panicking, worried at the sight he made and what Morgan would think of it. But he caught a glimpse of his mother, hovering by the doorframe, and knew she was the one to bring his soulmate to him; and thus, had probably already taken care of doling an appropriately believable excuse.

"Hey", Morgan whispered, smiling kindly, worry badly buried behind the barrier of warmth in his eyes. "Your mom said you aren't doing so hot. Something about a stray cat having an accident and you trying to help?"

Thank God for his mom. Unable to speak, he just nodded. Morgan's smile deepened, and he carefully grabbed Alex's hands in his, uncaring about the blood now staining both of them. Alex felt his panic grow when he noticed the red covering his normally blue fingertips.

Still feeling his throat too full with emotions to speak, he made a strangled, hurt sound.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. Let me clean us both up, okay? It'll be fine. We’ll be fine."

Something in Alex still rebelled violently against the idea of water on his skin, of red flowing down the sink, of his soulmark lost with it. But it was Morgan asking, and for him, Alex would sign his own soul away; this was no different.

Carefully, sweetly, Morgan guided both their hands under the still flowing water. Calloused, bruised hands (Alex wasn't lost into his own head enough to forgo internally cursing Elena) softly rubbing his, fingers scrubbing at the almost completely dry blood until it started coming off. Alex closed his eyes, unable to look. Crazy as it sounded, if this was the moment when he lost Morgan, he didn't want to look.

Five or so minutes later, he heard the faucet being closed, and the feeling of a warm, fluffy towel drying him off. It was done. He still refused to see.

Then, a hand patting softly at his head made him open his eyes in surprise. Morgan was there (like he always was), in front of him, left hand holding his right one, the other combing through his short, silvery blond hair.

"There you are, look at 'em beautiful eyes", his friend's smile broadened. His fingers (the marked ones, Alex knew without looking), tapped playfully at his knuckles, one of Morgan's favorite ways of showing affection.

There was no way he'd be this calm if Alex's (irrational) fears were realized, so he breathed in deeply and risked a look down.

Red had never looked so good in his knuckles. Blood had nothing on the rush he got at the confirmation that he still had this .

"All cleaned up", Morgan cheered a little, still obviously soft for Alex's benefit. He was always so soft, and here, holding a murderer's hand, it didn't felt right . But he also refused to let go. "I didn't know you were so scared of blood, dude. You've cleaned up my scraps and bruises before."

Alex's eyes found Morgan's again. He could lie and save face, but there were already enough secrets between them.

"I'm not. I just… blood on the mark. That got me. Like it would get lost in it, and when I cleaned it up, the mark would be gone."

Morgan hummed a little, hand in his hair reaching down to softly rub his shoulder.

"You silly head. That's a red that won't wash away. Our bond is stronger than blood or water. And even if it did happen, I would just touch you again, in a less problematic place."

Through storms and death, I'll find you and choose you, is what Morgan is saying. Alex is not ashamed to admit he cried a little.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Morgan’s first experience with his powers was, by contrast, quieter. He didn’t panic like Alex, didn’t beg his mama (not Mom, never Mom, because Elena could barely even claim that title, she sure as hell wouldn’t act like it) to bring his soulmate to him, like a plush toy to hug until his worries went away. He also didn’t hide it, like Alex, who had since killed two other heroes and gained their gifts (strength and speed). The only thing in common they had, was that neither had turned twelve yet, even though Morgan’s happenstance occurred a few months after Alex’s. And blood; there was blood involved in both.

Except, in Morgan’s case, the blood was his.

It went something like this:

Two am wasn’t a time to receive visits, by civilian nor villain standards. So when he heard the doorbell ringing, Alex simply turned in bed, deciding to ignore the sound and let someone else in the family deal with whoever it was. Chances were it was some villain friend of Mom, hurt after a fight and seeking refuge with them. It wouldn’t be the first time.

So he was utterly unprepared for his big brother Zachary knocking on his open door to get his attention. His heightened senses giving him advanced notice, he pointed to the ground, mouthing ‘Morgan’ soundlessly, before seeimingly returning to his own bed.

Alex didn’t stay to check; by the time Zach had cleared his doorway, he was already tearing down the stairs, flight powers aiding him a little in not falling into his face.

There, sitting on the couch by the fireplace, was Morgan. Alex’s mother was sitting by his side, holding him in a half hug, and he could vaguely hear his dad puttering around in the kitchen.

They both looked up when he entered the living room, steps all but careful, as he stumbled and tripped his way over. Occupying his other side, he almost knocked mom away as he threw both arms around his friend, a concerned whine leaving his mouth at the new bruises and scrapes all over his skin.

“Bad training session?” he tried to guess, completely ignoring as his mother got up, probably in search of their first aid kit.

Morgan shook his head, going weightless in Alex’s arms, letting him hold his body up. A weary sight left his mouth, and his eyes refused to meet Alex’s, lost instead in the flickering flames.

“We found out what my power is”, he whispers, like it’ll become true if he speaks up but could be denied in silence.

Alex waits with bated breath, tightening his arms around him. He’d lived in fear for years of this moment, because depending on just how ‘useful’ Morgan’s gift would be, his mom would choose to use it more or less. And more meant bruises, broken bones and danger. He had secretly prayed for him to be powerless, even if it’d mean something tantamount to exile in his family of heroes, because he’d rather have a sad Morgan than a dead one (though both were revolting to imagine).

“The more people I save”, he finally confesses, after a few seconds of silence, “the stronger I become”.

It… wasn’t so bad, Alex doesn’t say. Because, theoretically, Morgan could help some old ladies cross the road or put out a few fires, and then he’d be strong enough to finally kick his mother’s ass (or so he dreamed, at least).

Morgan, without looking at him, seemed to still be able to guess his expression, because he laughed mirthlessly.

“I know what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t work like that. We tested it. It’s only valid if, by saving someone, I have to be sacrificing myself. Meaning, if I don’t get hurt in the process, or lose something, or suffer in some way, then it’s not good; and if I ignore someone in danger, I lose a bit of power”. He laughs again, pained (Alex wonders just how badly he is bruised under his tattered t-shirt. “You can guess how mom took it.”

This was… worse than horrible. This was a nightmare scenario. Alex yearned to break something in his hands, yell, and destroy. Something to vent the rage coursing through his veins at the mere idea of Morgan’s mother’s victorious smile.

“She’s probably still celebrating,” Morgan keeps going, none the wiser to Alex’s internal storm. “A son whose powers are directly proportional to how good of a hero he is. I can already imagine how my training is going to go, moving forward.”

Alex had never been an overly emotional kid, but he felt like crying from pure, undultured rage. What a new experience.

Still, Morgan was so serene (or dissociating way too hard), it felt wrong to react in any outwardly way.

“Mama and Lucy are the only ones who didn’t like my power. Everyone else, grandpa and grandma, my aunts and uncles, my cousins… they are all so proud. Everyone, except them”, he confesses again, like it's some terrible secret, like his best mother and sister being worried about him wasn’t the expected norm and instead a crime against humanity.

‘I’ll show them a crime against humanity, if I ever find them while out as a villain’ , he swears to himself, seething. He’s still a C tier, but climbing through the ranks didn’t seem as insurmountable as the idea of letting Morgan return home later.

The kettle whistles in the kitchen, and he hears his father’s steps as he goes to prepare tea. Mom is still rummaging through the bathroom, searching for that kit; it’s taking her way too long to find it, but she has super hearing, so she was probably shamelessly eavesdropping and needs the extra time to compose herself and not run into the night, intent into making Morgan a half orphan.

“I’m… so sorry, Morgan”, he finally blurts out, in lieu of better, more comforting words. Years after their first meeting, and words were still not his strong suit. Still, he had to try, for him.

“It’s okay, Alex. I’ll be okay”, he promises, eyes finally leaving the fire and searching for Alex’s. They look red, like he’d recently cried, but just as warm as ever. “ We’ll be okay.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The next couple of years pass like a blur. There’s some foggy moments, like his training, the many heroes he’s killed as he expands his arsenal of powers, day to day shit like school and stuff. And there’s some that are crystal clear, like Morgan’s smiles growing more strained with every weekly training session his mom subjects him to (where he has to suffer, and gain a small bit of strength in exchange), or his untamed joy with the birth of his new baby sister (though Alex privately thinks someone ought to stop Elena from getting more kids, Jesus Christ), or the handmade knitted gloves he gifts Alex with one Christmas morning (‘So your soulmark never gets stained and scares you again’, he says, shrugging like he didn’t just make Alex the happiest teen ever again ).

And then, there’s The Moment. The one that changed everything. The one Alex both wishes to forget, and is begrudgingly happy it occured. Because, even though it was born from tragedy previously unthinkable, it did serve the purpose of finally, finally getting Mogan away from home.

He just regrets it came at the price of Lucy’s life.

The trip to the hospital had been a blur, not because he wasn’t paying attention, but from how fast he was running (now fifteen years old and an A tier villain, he probably had claimed all types of physical powers in existence as his). He remembers getting the room number from a scared nurse and bursting through the door. He remembers Marie crying in a corner, holding toddler-aged Cindy in her arms. He remembers the glaring absence of Elena and Lucas.

But most of all, he remembers Morgan’s silent tears, as he sits in the hospital bed, more bandages than person, staring emptily at nothing while they flow down his cheeks. Oh, how he wishes he could forget that. He can delete someone from existence with a single punch, but he’s utterly helpless in the face of Morgan’s suffering.

Softer than his mad dash to the hospital, he approaches the bed. Carefully to not aggravate any injuries, he sits by his side on the bed.

His right hand is covered in bandages as well, so he grabs the left one. It’s mostly okay, and his blue fingertips contrast shockingly against the white of the sterilized room.

He’s still thinking about what to say, when Morgan speaks. His voice is raspy, from damage or from screaming too much, he doesn’t know. Either option makes him sick.

“Mom said to save the civilians”, he mutters, anguish making his quiet voice somehow loud. Marie sobs harder from her corner. “She said… she said me and Lucy should handle it alone. It was just a burning building”, his voice breaks on his sister’s name, and he sounds so guilty when he talks about the ‘easy’ mission, like he should have somehow prevented this.

“What happened?” he prompts, when it’s obvious Morgan had started to spiral. Alex doesn’t really want to know, can put the clues together and make a pretty solid guess himself, but Morgan seems like he needs to get it all out now or he never would.

“We got separated. I went to the upper floors to get the trapped couple from under the debris, since I’m the one supposed to be in danger and get stronger from that. I thought… Lucy would be okay, downstairs and closer to the door” his voice is strained from his tears, and Alex can only imagine how much his throat must hurt, but he continues. Alex wishes he’d stop. He can’t bear seeing him in pain. But, again, this was for Morgan’s benefit, so he kept quiet as he kept going: “But then, the- the building, it collapsed entirely. And, and, me and the civilians, we were okay! Because… the furniture, and- our fall got, like, cushioned-”

He breaks down, fully, now. He’s sobbing, turning in bed to throw his badly bruised arms around Alex’s shoulders, burying his face in his neck, tears warm against the cold skin of his throat. Alex, powerful as he is, has never felt pain quite like this one.

“Morgan”, he whispers, just for him, heart breaking from the sight of his suffering soulmate and best friend. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. We’ll be-”

“It’s not okay, it’s not fine!” he shouts back, startling Alex. After the quiet whispers and soundless tears, screaming was a little shocking. Especially from how it obviously hurt Morgan’s throat. “Lucy, she… I….”

“Morgan survived, injured as he is”, came Marie’s raspy voice. Alex tilted his head a little, to look at the woman. She looked exactly like Morgan; same hair, same eyes, same anguish drowning her. He felt a pang of pity for her; even if she never managed to stand up for her son against her wife, she was the one parent that actually cared for Morgan’s wellbeing, and she was obviously suffering heavily now for her complacency. The loss of a child was… Well. Alex couldn’t imagine, but his mom had once told him it’d be the only pain strong enough to actually make her fall, and coming from an unbeatable villain, he had to imagine the absolute heartbreak it’d mean.

Still, he had little fucks to give for anyone not direclty related to him who wasn’t Morgan, so he just nodded a little to promp her to keep going (better her than Morgan), arms as tight as he dared around his injured soulmate.

“Lucy, my precious baby… She. She wasn’t so lucky. The building collapsed on top of her, and- She didn’t make it.”

Morgan moves inside the safe circle of his arms, so Alex shifts to accommodate, unwilling to let go (now, or ever- he got quite the scare when he got the call from the hospital, and the mere idea of losing Morgan was enough that he was sure to have nightmares in the immediate future).

“It’s my fault.”

“Baby-”

“Morgan…!”

“No, it is”, he shuts both of them up, mother and soulmate alike. He doesn’t raise his head from Alex’s shoulder, though. “It is. Mom says-”

“What your mother says is of no consequence, sweetie” Marie’s voice, so strained and rage-fueled when speaking of her wife, got infinitely softer on the term of endearment. “She says a lot of wrong stuff. Like when she said purple curtains would go better with our green couch, or when she decided all our children would be heroes, or half an hour ago, when she said we’ll go home soon.”

Morgan shifts again, so he can look at his mama in the corner without leaving Alex’s arms. Alex can feel a ray of hope breaking through his sadness (he had liked Lucy a lot, himself, even though Morgan was his unquestionable favorite).

“Mama?”

“We are not going home with her, baby. I– I’ll rent us a place, I have the money. You, me and Cindy. I’d take Lucas too, if he wanted to come, but I have little hope; he’s too used to following your mother’s words to the T.”

Alex could have cried from sheer relief. Finally.

Morgan, on his part, seemed conflicted. Loss still fresh in his heart, an entire life of following after his mom’s orders, the chance of being free in the wake of such a tragedy seemingly stunning him quite a bit.

Alex just held him tighter, waiting until Morgan made his decision.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

They are eighteen, and Alex is helping Morgan move to his own apartment at last. His mothers’ divorce had gone through without a hitch, the loss of their daughter apparently enough for Elena to respect her ex wife’s wishes for some space, so Morgan had gotten to live with his mama for a couple of years, without his mom’s shadow hanging menacingly over him. But the house was a little crowded, with Marie’s art projects getting into everyone’s way and Cindy’s exuberant energy filling every empty space, so Morgan had taken the executive decision to leave for someplace quieter.

He still spoke to Elena and Lucas (despite Alex’s most ardent opposition) from time to time, but they had no sway any longer over his decisions. Like his desire to someday own a building and make a life out of being a landlord, or the big ‘fuck you’ he delivered to both of them when he left his hero status to become a villain.

That conversation had been… interesting, to say the least.

“You’ll lose all your power, inconveniencing or hurting people instead of saving them!” his mother had screamed, red faced and indignant, Lucas standing threateningly behind her in silent support; it would have been scarier, had Alex not been a fully fleged S tier villain by that point, capable of murdering them both with a single stare. Not that Morgan knew; he was just ballsy enough to stand up to both A class heroes without obvious back up, because that's how he was.

“Being a D tier by myself would still be more honorable than an elite hero with either of you . I’ll be happier, as well.”

“What about your soulmate, huh? How would you keep him safe?”

Alex had blinked then, unprepared for the blatant disrespect at the mere notion that he’d need someone to protect him; Morgan had just growled something about Elena’s powers not preventing any of Marie’s grief, before he stormed out, dragging Alex with him.

Nowadays, they had more civil conversations and could be in the same room without murder intent being flung around (unless it was Alex’s, who was perpetually ready to throw down against Morgan’s family), except when the subjet of Cindy’s future hero training arose. The little girl seemed overjoyed at the idea of, quote, ‘ being a super-duper-hero like mom, and marrying the strongest-cutest hero who is gonna be my soulmat e’, unquote, and no one had the heart to tell her the cautionary tale of her late older sister, but it didn’t stop both Morgan and Marie from spitting and fuming at Elena when the subject was brought up.

But it was a problem for future them. Today, they had just finished moving the furniture around, Morgan’s couches and bed (hopefully, the bed would soon be officially theirs ; Alex was so ready to finally make his move, and turn their platonic bond into a romantic one) light enough they could handle carrying them without external help, and Alex was just clapping his glove-covered hands (those were leather, and perfect for his villain aesthetic: Morgan just kept outdoing himself) to rid them of dust, when Morgan approached him, holding Alex’s phone with a confused expression.

“Hey, Alex…?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a call from… uhm. ‘Minion #27’. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

Shit .

–.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“So you’re a villain.”

“..yes.”

“And your mom, dad and brother…?”

“Also villains. S, C and B tier, respectively.”

“And you…”

“I’m an… S tier? I, ah…”

“And you never told me?!”

Alex, sitting on the couch by Morgan's side (always Morgan’s side) hid his face in his palms, too flustered to look up.

“First, your mom was an A class hero, and I couldn’t tell you… imagine if she found out and came after my mom! And then, when you left home, you were so enthused by the idea of protecting me as a D-tier villain! I couldn’t say!”

There was silence for a few minutes. Then, fingers softly touching his knuckles, soulmark against soulmark, gentle touch asking for his attention. He was helpless to do anything but answer his call, so he let his hands fall, the right one trapped in Morgan’s hold, and looked into his eyes.

Morgan was smiling, a little incredulous and still quite shocked, but warm.

Warm like his soulmark always felt. Warm like his hand in his. Warm like the soft kiss he placed on his slack, too-shocked-to-respond lips.

He made a confused, choked sound. He wanted to ask. He wanted to make sure it was okay to hope. He wanted another kiss.

Morgan, like always, seemed to understand without words. There would be discussions in the future, clarifications needed to fully understand the facets of Alex’s life that had been hidden from Morgan until that point. So they could completely know each other.

But, for now, all that mattered was the soft promise Morgan mumbled against Alex’s (now enthusiastically reciprocating) lips.

“We’ll be fine.”

#S&D tier #S Tier/Alex #D Tier/Morgan #S tier/D tier #Alex/Morgan #Tiktok series by lighthouseraiders #SandD tier #my writing #soulmate au #childhood friends to lovers #angst #hurt comfort #soulmarks #villain falls in love with hero in training #hope you guys like it!

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carryingthebanner · 3 years

Text

NEWSIES (almost) CLOSING SHOW THOUGHTS pt.1

I am once again watching my comfort musical and recording my unsolicited thoughts on it.

Act 1

THE APPLAUSE

I’m already getting a lump in my throat and I’m not even 5 seconds in

How do you even cope backstage with all of that support??? I would be a sobbing, snotty nosed mess-

Not me smiling and getting chills at a black screen

Ok maybe I just don’t listen to the Overture enough but it seems faster then usual?

I literally have no clue what Jack is saying

OMG ITS ANDY AS CRUTCHIE AHHHH I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THIS FOR SUCH A LONG TIME

Crutchie really just saw his life flash before his eyes 💀

Jack and Crutchie really do have the best friendship ughh *cries*

They’re so cute I can’t

*Sings* Back to blackkk

Ok wow this harmony >>>

Y’ALL ANDY’S SINGING IS BEAUTIFUL I’M SO UPSET I WONT BE HEARING LETTER FROM THE REFUGE IN THIS

Words cannot express how in love I am with Jack and Crutchie singing Santa Fe (Prologue) together

It’s been 15 minutes and I’m still replaying this specific part someone help

TIS MUSIC TO MY EARS

(Welcome to yet another musical where I just want to stop at a happy moment and not continue the rest of the it because I’m honestly not in the best of moods today and I don’t wanna see my comfort character get beaten within inches of his life)

Finally prying my fingers away from the rewind button :( the show must go on I guess

JACK IS LITERALLY SCREAMING FOR THE NEWSBOYS TO GET UP I CANTT 💀

IS THAT AARON ALBANO?!

This is probably the rowdiest I’ve seen them act

Wait does Jack have Race’s cigar?

KATHERINE MY BELOVED

ROMEO AND JACK IM CACKLING

Small detail: Crutchie grabbing his leg to determine the weather

“I don’t need the limp to sell papes, I got personality” SLIGHTLY SASSY CRUTCHIE SUPREMACY

He definitely has a smile that spreads like butter

OK FOR A QUICK SECOND IT LOOKED LIKE CRUTCHIE WAS READY TO THROW SOME HANDS

ANDY H O W DID YOU JUST MOVE ACROSS THE STAGE THAT FAST THERE IS NO WAY-

This is very chaotic but what else did I expect from a bunch of newsboys

Andy moves by basically bouncing around the stage and my eyes can’t keep up

CHAOTIC

The immense love I have for this choreography <3

I always live for the interaction between Elmer and the Nun

unpleasant AROMA

MY HAND JUST FLEW OVER MY MOUTH THE WAY HE PUSHED CRUTCHIE-

Jack is very protective of Crutchie. He’s practically screaming at Morris right now

Noted: Corey’s Jack does a lot of yelling

I’m pretty sure the choreographer kinda let them do whatever they wanted for Carrying The Banner and it shows. They’re really going all out with the choreo and I LOVE IT.

The audience is a bunch of feral fansies, I can tell (because it takes one to know one and yes this is a call out)

“Howz it going weeeZULL”

*inhales* CRUTCHIE MY BELOVED

LES IS JUST A BABY OMG

Woah ok we got a lot of Jacobs family stans in the audience!!

It’s kinda unsettling how Morris is just suspiciously looking down at Davey from one of the towers

I’ve been in this fandom for close to a year and I still don’t know what “can’t count to 20 with his shoes on” means (can someone explain lol)

THE ACTOR PLAYING LES IS GETTING ALL THE APPLAUSE AND I JUST KNOW THAT LES WOULD’VE LOVED ALL OF THIS ATTENTION

Whenever I see a Newsie on Pulitzer’s desk my mind just goes to “Pulitzer may own the World but he don’t own us!” so yes, stand on his furniture all you want to boys

“HE’S A COMMIE!”

Nunzio’s heart rate: 📈

Pulitzer is one of those people who treats everybody else like they’re dumb and until they finally get it

“They’ll be learning a real life lesson in economics” um no these are literal kids who deserve to have the opportunity to go to a school like your own kids instead of struggling on the street because you want to be an olden day Karen

Pulitzer is really driving the villain aspect home here

Carrying The Banner is such a bop that they play it even after the song has ended. Thank you creative team.

You can tell that it’s physically painful for Jack to watch Davey sell papes

“KELLLYYYY” Surprisingly, Snyder sounds like he hates his job 💀 (well I take that back, he probably just hates the chasing part but loves the locking up poor defenseless kids for no reason other than to fuel his sadistic power trip part)

YES MEDDA DESERVES ALL THE APPLAUSE

MEDDA, OUR GRACEFUL, GLAMOROUS, ICONIC QUEEN

LES NODDED AFTER MEDDA TOLD DAVEY TO STEP OUT OF HIS WAY I AM LOSING MY MIND AT THIS-

I’m screamingg HE WAVED AT THE BOWERY BEAUTIES AFER

Medda definitely doesn’t get tired of hearing Jack’s infamous Teddy Roosevelt carriage story

“He don’t, but I do”

Jack’s one of those people who say “Stop, my *insert talent* isn’t even good!” and then when he shows it to you it’s the best thing you have ever had the pleasure of viewing

(Head)Canon: Jack hates compliments, unless it’s from a certain someone *cough* David *cough* or Katherine*

The way Medda looks at Jack after he claims it’s all “just a bunch of trees” SHE WANTS HIM TO RECOGNIZE HIS TALENT INSTEAD OF DOWNPLAYING IT OK

Her voice is so pretty-

I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS PERFORMANCE. SHE LOOKS SO HAPPY AND YOU CAN TELL SHE’S HAVING FUN

The audience

Katherine really hates Jack 😍

Every time I hear the banter between Jatherine I just wish they would’ve kept (most of) it in the cast recording

She’s really out here hurting this man’s feelings-

You can tell Jack is running out of pick up lines

OOH KATHERINE IS PISSED AT THAT LOUSY REPORTER COMMENT

Liana’s Katherine seems a lot more relentless so I don’t see her letting up on Jack anytime soon

Wait it’s Iain Young - I THOUGHT HE WAS ONLY IN TOURSIES

OK LES YOU DID NOT HAVE TO USE THAT MUCH FORCE

The audience is just one big Les fan club

THAT SLOW HEAD TURN IM SCREAMING

I love how you can tell the exact moment where Davey gets accepted as one of the Newsies :)

Jack constantly cupping the Newsies faces is the cutest thing ever <3

THE WORLD WILL KNOW IS SO FIERCE

“Will we HEAR ITTT?!” JACK IS SCREAMING AGAIN YES WE LOVE A LOUD AND BOISTEROUS JACK

“And I lost my shoe” :( hope you find it again buddy

LES IS SO FUNNY IM DYINGGG

OK WOAH JACK’S FEELINGS DEFINITELY GOT HURT BECAUSE HE DID NOT SEEM TOO EXCITED TO SEE KATHERINE

Have I mentioned how much I love Crutchie?

Writer’s Block: The Song

“No, Jack - I don’t know what to say” 🥺

Once again, Ben Fankhauser’s vocals do not disappoint

Crutchie: *INCOHERENT NOISES*

Oh look it’s a Guzman twin!

DAVID AND LES’ HUG MY HEART JUST EXPLODED

This is the most affectionate Seize The Day I’ve ever seen, I’m gonna cry-

Cue Jack cupping yet another Newsies’ face 🥺

IM APPROXIMATELY TWO SECONDS AWAY FROM HAVING MY TEARS SPILL OUT OF MY EYEBALLS

Oh, it is Aaron Albano

Corey Cott’s acting in this song >>>

Davey holding back a Newsie 💀

Davey is really the epitome of “I don’t get paid enough for this”

THE PASSION IN JACK’S SPEECH

JACK AND DAVEY RUNNING AWAY WHEN THE REAL DANCING STARTS WILL NEVER NOT MAKE ME LAUGH

I ACTUALLY WINCED THE DELANCEY BROTHERS PUNCHED DAVEY SO FAST I DIDN’T EVEN SEE THAT COMING-

LET GO OF LES YOU COWARDS

Ok Ben’s acting is top tier because I spent a whole five minutes wondering if the actor playing one of the delancey’s accidentally punched him for real or not

Some bullies just interrupted our emotional dance break, time to deal with them and then proceed to dance again 😍

Ahh yes, the fouette (?) towards the end of Seize The Day my beloved

The annoying lump in my throat will not go away :)

SOMEONE IN THE AUDIENCE IS JUMPING UP AND DOWN CHEERING FOR THE NEWSIES

Here comes the worst part

And the chaos ensues

IS IT JUST BEAT UP ON DAVEY DAY OR WHAT?

At first I thought Les was screaming “Let me go!” and “No, please!” but no, it’s Crutchie and he got slapped right after he said that :(

Crutchie’s screams are here to haunt my dreams (for the umpteenth time)

YES CRUTCHIE PUT UP A FIGHT

WAIT I AM JUST NOW REALIZING THAT DAVEY TRIED TO SAVE CRUTCHIE BUT COULDNT

THE WAY THEY KNOCKED HIM ON THE GROUND HAS GOT TO BE THE MOST BRUTAL BEAT DOWN I’VE SEEN so I’m going to cover my eyes for the rest of this because I know what happens and I do not like it :)

I HATE THAT I OPENED MY EYES BECAUSE THEYRE DRAGGING HIM AWAY ON HIS BAD LEGG AND I JUST UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Who knew a fictional character could make me hurt this bad :/

I feel like Jack is in denial

Sometimes escapism isn’t exactly a healthy coping mechanism, Jack (oh look I’m calling myself out too)

Wait I think Corey might be tearing up ahhhhh

Oh would you look at the time it’s pretty late so I might do a pt.2 later

#tw: caps #my thoughts #my ramblings #newsies #fansies #theatre kid #musical theatre #broadway #newsies forever

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magic-is-something-we-create · 2 years

Note

Heyo! I recently stumbled across your writeblr and your WIPs all sound super interesting!!

This is super random, but your mash-up pitch for Firekeepers just reminded me that The Search For WondLa even existed, and that I used to really like that book. Makes me sad that I think I donated my copy. That book was cool as hell.

Anyways, I'm super interested in a lot of your WIPs, and your mash-up pitches are really good too!! (I struggle comparing my own writing to things, so I don't have any for my books. I always worry that it's not a good enough comparison or it sounds too self-gradizing, even tho I know it's not.)

~Morrigan 🗡 (@memento-morri-writes)

Hi!!! Thank you so much, I'm glad you like them!!!

WondLa was one of my favorite series bridging middle and high school, and I'm always happy to remind people it exists!! The illustrations in there were one of the reasons I started getting more serious about art, and man, I don't know if you ever used the ebook version, but it had a whole soundscape!! Of the aliens and frogs and forests!! It blew my entire mind as a kid, and still kind of does to this day <3

And no lie, I struggle with blend pitches a lot. I've probably changed the ones on my pinned post six times since I made it. A nice shortcut I've kind of found is figuring out the major inspirations (e.g. with the Millennium Saga, Red Rising opened my eyes to what someone could do with both description and action, voice-wise; A:tLA inspired me a lot with the base of the elemental magic system the MCs use, and influenced a lot of the message/tone I'm aiming for; and WondLa has some particularly similar reveals that get into TMS spoiler territory, and also inspired me to get more Funky with my creatures and peoples all around <3)

If you want to know more about Firebreathers and the rest of the series, I'll be reblogging the intros sometime today!! I just recently finished the draft for the second book, and I'll be starting the third sometime in the next month or so :D

#a&a #talking with: morrigan #<3<3<3 #wondla my beloved #whimsical scifi at its finest

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clockwork-sparrow · 3 years

Text

Trust Fall

The road to hell is paved with good intentions Parts: 1 [2] 3 4 5 6 Epilogue

2 - Burden of Love

~20+ years ago. Garlemald.

Uncle Morris fails to show up the next day, and the next, and the next. Minerva, however, is there like clockwork, waiting by the tree to escort Florus home after he waits in vain for someone who’s not coming. For the first week they don’t talk at all. She simply walks behind him at a distance, her mere presence enough to ward off any would-be bullies or gawkers. Florus still isn’t sure what to make of her, but he’s glad that he doesn’t have to deal with anyone else.

By the second week, he stops waiting for Uncle Morris. All it takes is a quick exchange of eye contact and then, they wordlessly fall into position, her in the back and him at the front. Eventually, she begins to recount childhood stories of her and his dad, rambling one-way conversations that mostly serve to fill the air. Florus quietly enjoys listening to her speak and how she never asks him any questions. There’s no pressure on him to respond. It’s just Minerva and old, silly tales of a Garlemald before magitek.

“Sometimes, we would compete to see who could gather the most firewood. He’d always find more, but that was because he’d snap the branches right off of the trees. Hah, those poor trees,” Minerva says to Florus’s back. She smiles slightly, a wrinkle forming beneath her eye. “...things were tough, but our families stuck together through thick and thin. We knew who we could rely on.”

On another day, she tells him of a time when his father climbed up a tree and couldn’t get down. She tried packing snow around the base in an attempt to build him stairs but, by the time she had formed three, immaculate steps, he had slipped and fell face first into her ‘art.’ Minerva chuckles to herself and trails off, noticing that they’ve already reached their destination. She pauses as Florus unlocks the door and steps halfway in. Minerva stands at her usual distance, watching. Waiting. Eventually, Florus timidly waves her goodbye and she returns the gesture, leaving with a small smile on her face.

Every day and every week, little things begin to build up. The gap between them shrinks until it no longer looks like she’s a bodyguard trailing after her mark. They don’t hold hands or lock eyes, but at least they walk side-by-side now. Despite never saying a word, Florus strikes Minerva as a particularly observant and sweet child.

By the end of the sixth week, Minerva decides to take a chance. She looks off into the cold sky and searches for the right words to say.

“Florus, you get picked on at school, don’t you?”

The kid goes stiff and doesn’t respond. She glances down at him.

“Saying nothing or doing nothing is a choice as well,” she continues, voice gentle but firm. “Yet there are times when conflict is unavoidable.”

She knows that he’s listening from the way his breathing speeds up. Even silence can be telling.

“When that happens, wouldn’t you rather be the one to support, instead of being supported? To take initiative and fend not only for yourself, but for others as well?” Minerva inhales sharply, as if cut, as she involuntarily recalls her darkest hour. Although it’s been eight years since the incident, the memories are still razor-sharp in her mind. She blinks slowly and wrests control away from emotion.

Meanwhile, Florus dips his head forward. Her words resonate with him, for despite his dad’s best efforts to shelter him from the world, he’s painfully aware of his place within it. There’s a separation between ‘us’ and ‘them,’ of what’s normal and what’s not. He’s always been an outsider here, living in a skeleton littered with hints of something richer and warmer once present, but since hollowed out and left wanting. Sometimes his dad talks about it with such yearning and acceptance, but always, always with a smile.

Florus has never felt more like a burden than he does right now. He chooses to do nothing and allows fear to be an excuse - but excuses don’t change reality and don’t remove the shame. Minerva stops walking and he does as well. She similarly appears to be struggling with something in her heart.

“...You can’t please everyone. Sometimes, you have to make difficult choices,” Minerva flatly states, the sound of creasing leather hinting at clenched fists. “But in the end, that’s what life is. A chain of choices to do nothing or something. If I must, then I will always strive to make the ones I love happy.”

Snow crunches underfoot as Minerva shifts her weight to one side, eyes cast down at the sleet covered roads. She steadily pulls her stare back up to Florus who, to her surprise, is staring right back at her. Although he continues to remain silent, she recognizes something flickering behind his eyes. Guilt and determination mirrors between them.

#ff14 rp #Florus Jen Celsus #Minerva Dus Celsus

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somedayonbroadway · 3 years

Note

hii it’s me again and im obsessed with the nerve au- i was wondering if you could do a sprace version, please?

Hi, love! Of course I can! Sorry, this is so late :)

Characters

Racetrack Higgins (@racer) — Vee

Spot Conlon (@kingofbrooklyn) — Ian

Jack Kelly — Tommy

Albert DaSilva (@redhotal) — Sydney

Kid Blink (@ublinked) — Ty

JoJo De La Guerra — Wes

Crutchie Morris — Liv

Oscar Morris — JP

Katherine Pulitzer — Hacker Kween

Okay so…

Race is a foster kid. For most of his life, the poor boy did his best to fade into the background, to be the perfect, adoptable child. He avoids risks, he keeps to himself and the few friends he has. He doesn’t want to lose a spot at the table. He doesn’t want to put himself out there. After all, his parents were everything he wasn’t. They’d had him young. They took risks. They went on adventures. And one day, they never came back.

Even after Race is placed in a good foster home, even after he meets his foster brothers and mother and feels like he’s part of a family, he’s still scared to step outside of his bubble of comfort even though his brothers were a bit more social. Race was adopted right before he started high school. He was fourteen. Jack was fifteen and Specs was seventeen.

Three years later, they were hit by a drunk driver. Specs didn’t make it.

Race’s senior year wasn’t quite the same after that.

Race wants to travel. He wants to go to culinary school in Italy. So he applies. And he gets in. But he doesn’t accept the application. He’s terrified to leave Medda and Jack alone without Spencer. The pain hasn’t quite faded yet.

After seeing the acceptance letter, Race sets it aside before school and goes online instead, stalking a boy online that he’s had a crush on for years. Oscar Delancey. Jack thinks he’s a jerk. Race thinks he’s misunderstood.

That’s when his best friend FaceTimes him. Albert DaSilva has been Race’s best friend since he was first taken into Medda’s place and he is always looking for some extra attention. Race doesn’t mind so much, but sometimes it can get exhausting.

Albert tells Race to stop stalking Oscar on Instagram and, instead, sign up to watch Albert play Nerve, an online game where people get dared and have to perform those dares for their “watchers” for money and fame. Race scoffs at the game and tells Albert that it sounds ridiculous before he leaves for school.

Jack drives him. Race tries to tell him about Italy, but he chickens out. Instead, he goes to school where Albert gets his first dare.

Race’s other friends, Crutchie and JoJo record Albert on his own phone as he runs across the football field during a rally, buck naked. To no one's surprise Albert is suspended later that day. Despite this, while out for milkshakes after school, Albert informs Race that he will still be playing Nerve in hopes of becoming famous.

Jack, who meets the other kids at the restaurant, tells Albert he’s being ridiculous. This causes Albert to turn the tables on Race and tell him he could never be a player on Nerve and then all of his friends vote on a date for him with Jack being the only no. They dare him to talk to Oscar, a simple task that will just push him slightly out of his comfort zone. Race chickens out.

So Albert does it for him, only for Oscar to tell him that he’s not interested in Race. Race stands and storms out and Jack stops Albert from following him, telling him that he just hurt his little brother and better think about what he’s doing next time before Jack decides to punch in the nose.

Race rushes back home where he finds that he never closed the Nerve window on his computer. He watches the video on his screen where he finds out the rules of the game. There’s only three:

1. all dares must be recorded on the player's phone

2. any earned money will be revoked if a player fails or bails on a dare

3. "snitches get stitches."

It’s sketchy as hell but Race has a point to prove. When the question comes up “Watcher or Player,” against all of the boy’s instincts, he makes a decision. Player.

Race is running down the stairs when Jack gets home. He has his first dare. He needs Jack to drive him to Jacobi’s Diner. Jack does, because Race asked him to. That doesn’t stop Jack from giving Race a lecture on how stupid he’s being. Still, Race is determined to prove he isn’t a coward.

His dare is to kiss a stranger for five seconds. Jack records it for him as they eventually find someone reading a book that Specs had read to him once when he was going through an insomnia spell. To The Lighthouse. Race kisses the other boy for a lot longer than he had to and eventually stumbles away says “thank you!” and runs back to Jack.

Jack tells him that he needs to quit now after Race gets one hundred dollars for playing the game. Race almost concedes before he hears someone singing. The boy he’d just kissed walks over to him and sings to him, asking him to run away with him.

Jack realizes it’s a dare and tries to pull Race up and out of the diner, but the boy sits with them and tells him that some kid brought him that book and told him to sit and wait. Jack comments that it sounds like he responds well to puppy commands and starts calling him Spot. Spot doesn’t correct him.

Another dare comes. The watchers want Race and Spot to run away together, run away to the center of the city. Jack tries to stop them. But Race didn’t know how much he was longing for an adventure until that moment.

Race rides with Spot on his motorcycle to a very expensive store in the center of Manhattan where Spot goes in before him and Race is dared to try on a very expensive suit that he looked very good in. He changes on camera. Jack watches him, terrified to look away as he tries to follow him and stop him from getting himself killed. Apparently some kid died in Santa Fe playing Nerve.

Race doesn’t listen to his warnings and continues to take dares with Spot until they are dared to leave the store after their clothes have been stolen. Race says he won’t shoplift, but Spot is insistent. So Race comes up with a compromise.

They run out of the store in nothing but their underwear. Their watchers get a kick out of it. One of them even buys them the clothes they tried on, letting them keep them.

Jack decides he’s watched for long enough and calls someone for help. A dear friend of his. Okay, it’s his girlfriend, and maybe she’s a little older than him, but hey, who’s keeping track? He asks her for access to the dark web and she reluctantly gives it to him. When he has access, he finds all he can on Spot, previously known as Sean Conlon, a kid who played the game in Santa Fe.

He doesn’t seem like an upstanding citizen.

Albert is trying his best to get into the top ten, to win the whole game, but his watchers won’t give him any real dares. He’s out with Crutchie and JoJo when they find out that Race is playing the game. Albert is shocked and a bit jealous at how fast Race is moving up in the game.

Becoming a pair in this game, Race is dared to get a tattoo of Spot’s choosing and, though terrified of getting a tattoo at the wrath of his mother, accepts the dare and lets Spot calm him down with some music while he gets the thing, to later find out that it’s a lighthouse, for To The Lighthouse. After Race manages to complete this dare, the watchers move forward with a dare for Spot. He has to get to sixty miles per hour on his motorcycle while blindfolded.

Race almost bails on him because of it, because he’s terrified, but Spot manages to convince him to help and Race guides him while they get to sixty in five minutes. They barely make it and then they almost crash, and then they kiss, feeling invincible.

Jack can hardly watch, fearing his little brother might die and then his mother calls, asking why the hell money is being deposited into Race’s account and where it’s coming from, so Jack has to deal with that while he’s still trying to look for his brother.

Spot takes Race to a carousel. They mess around on it while Race tells Spot about Specs, about how Specs was fearless, about how Specs pushed him to do things he would’ve never done otherwise. Spot tells him it’s a shame he never met him. He thinks they would’ve gotten along. Race agrees with him before Albert tries calling him.

Albert has been at a party with the rest of their friends. They’re all watching Race play Nerve live on a big screen. He sees Race reject his call. He hears Race call him annoying, frustrating, attention demanding. It hurts. And everyone else gets to hear it too.

Spot suggests they go to the party that Albert’s at to show everyone that he’s not who they thought, to show people that he got a tattoo and his own opinions. However, when they get there, they find that Albert has bailed on a dare after the watchers found out he was scared of heights. He nearly fell from a ladder suspended above ten stories.

He’s pissed that his best friend wasn’t there to talk him out of it. This sparks an argument between Race and Albert. Race eventually tells Albert to sign up and watch him from now on if he wants to know where he is. Then he accepts his next dare, to finish Albert’s. He walks across the ladder only to be met with his big brother who tells him that Spot set him up, that he took a dare to get him to the party to fight with Albert. Race shoves him away and finds Spot, demanding to know if that’s true.

Spot pulls him into the elevator and tries to explain. But Race won’t let him. He’s had enough. He runs out of the building. He finds a cop and tries to tell him about Nerve. He needs someone to shut it down. But he gets distracted by a call from his mother, telling him that everything they had was gone, that their savings had been drained and photos were showing up on her and Jack’s social media page that shouldn’t be. Before Race can respond, he’s knocked out cold by a player who has been around the whole time, someone Race suspected Spot knew.

When he wakes up, he finds himself in a metal cage with the words “Snitches get Stitches” scrawled out on the walls. A computer lights up and tells Race that he is now their prisoner. A prisoner of the game. A flash of Jack comes across the screen. Then one of Albert. Terrified, Race tries to break out only for Spot to show up and pick the lock for him.

Spot explains to Race that he’s a prisoner of Nerve too and that the watchers control his whole life, and not just that, they control his family’s life. His sisters and his mother too. The only money they get is money the watchers give them after they messed with his mom’s job and his sisters’ futures have been destroyed. He explains that they’re going to give Race an impossible dare and that they sent Spot here after him to finish it for him if he can’t.

Down the hall, muffled voices are heard and Race walks into a new room to find Jack and Albert tied up and gagged on chairs and a gun sitting in between them. He’s dared to choose who lives and who dies.

Race is obviously scared and refuses to choose, trying to bail, but Spot stops him, telling him that if he bails, he’ll be a prisoner until the game comes around again. He has to win to get out. So Race takes the gun and aims it at his own head, causing the watchers to tell him to stop. They need someone to control. So Race stops and Spot unties the other boys and helps them out finding a secluded parking lot to drop them off before he rushes off to complete his next dare, trying to make sure he was the one in the finals with Race instead of Blink, the other boy who he was made prisoner with after going to the cops when their friend died playing the game.

Spot takes the same dare that got his friend killed, hanging one handed from a construction crane. He manages to do it, putting himself in the finals.

Jack, Race and Albert pull together and form a plan, calling some backup in and going to The Cloud, a place Katherine often hangs out. He asks her and her hacker friends to try and gain control of the boys controlling the game and she does. Jack takes Albert there after Albert makes a call at a pay phone. They try to hack the game while Jack gets a call from his panicking mother whom he tells to meet him at The Cloud.

Race goes to the finals and is given another gun. When he sees Spot across this mysterious arena, he tries to run to him, having fallen for him over the course of all of these insane events, but the watchers tell them to stop and take their marks. The first to shoot their opponent wins.

Spot tells Race to shoot him in the shoulder. Race almost complies, but shoots the ground, telling him that he can’t do this. He tries to walk away but someone from the crowd says that he’ll take the challenge instead.

Blink jumps into the arena.

Medda gets to The Cloud just in time to watch the whole thing.

The watchers vote for Blink to shoot Race. And he does.

Medda can’t fathom the fact that she’s lost another child.

But Jack just tells Katherine to blow it up as Race falls into Spot’s arms.

Spot begs him to wake up as the anonymous players phones reveal their real names and tell them their accessories to murder. Everyone begins to sign off.

Spot cries over Race, completely horrified and tries to shoot Blink before Race shoots up in his arms, telling him that he was alright, that it was all fake. So Spot hugs him and begs him to never do that again.

But he’s so happy that he’s finally free.

Race immediately calls Jack and Medda and they cry together. So Spot takes him to them.

Jack and Medda encourage Race to go to Italy and Spot and him end up in a committed relationship. Albert and Race makeup and Jack is still overprotective as ever and they heal from the loss of Specs and are able to actually love on.

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leafs-lover · 4 years

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Because Two People Got Drunk: 27

Series Masterlist

Chapter 27

Summary: You fill the team in on the pregnancy and move into your new house.

Warning: Smut, NSFW, Oral sex (male and female), swearing Word Count: 9500

“Hey babe” you mumble walking out of the bathroom and right into Fred’s chest; his arms instinctively wrap around your back. You can smell his cologne, something that use to make you melt but now the oak and blackcurrant is making your stomach do backflips. You take a deep breath and swallow feeling his heartbeat as you stand intertwined for a few minutes.

“Thought the sickness was supposed to be over by now” he whispers rubbing your back.

“It normally is. But this baby has a mind of its own” you groan against his chest.

“You should take those pills the doctor gave you” he says to you.

“It doesn’t happen every day. Since I have to take them at night I don’t know if I’ll need them the next day or not” you mumble against his chest.

His chin rests on your head before he finally speaks again “I made you toast and jam, it’s on the counter. I have to go to practice though.”

You whine thinking about him leaving, you’re wrapped in a warm embrace and you don’t want to leave. Fred chuckles slowly rubbing your back, with how you’ve been feeling you have been super cuddly and needy. He has been making jokes about you being a clingy girlfriend, but you know he secretly has been enjoying every second of it.

“Ollie is almost done making you a picture, he says it will make you feel better” he whispers, his hand softly rubbing your back.

You smile thinking of your two year olds though process, his solution to everything is a hug or a picture and they really do make everything better. “He is the best” you mumble into his sweater.

“It’s because his mom taught him to be, now let’s get some food in you” Fred grips your hand and pulls you to the kitchen.

“Mommy” you hear your son sing as he lights up seeing you. “I made you this!” he squeals standing on his chair holding his picture up. You walk over and hug him and look down at his picture that is mostly green and blue scribbles with a yellow blob in the corner.

“Wow, look at this” you say examining his art work, Fred looks down at the page trying to figure out what it is. You look at Fred through the corner of your eye, and he grins looking down at the piece of paper you’re holding. Besides the sun you are at a loss for what else is in it.

“It’s rex” Oliver points to the large blue splotch at the bottom of the page. Next he points to the green marks “he’s playing at the park.”

Rex is his stuffed T-rex, Fred bought him for his second birthday. It’s not his favourite stuffed animal that is Blue, his blue bear Fred bought him when he was only a couple months old. Oliver is basically inseparable from Blue, taking him everywhere. You have more pictures of Oliver with Blue than without; it has become his security blanket in a sense. However if he is sick or missing Fred during a road trip you will often find him curled up with Blue, and that’s because Rex has a voice box. Fred recorded a few sayings into the box, so whenever Oliver misses him he can squeeze it and hear his voice. You practically bawled when he showed it to you, now you realize you were pregnant then, and it was your hormones. But either way it is the one thing that cheers him up when he is missing his dad.

“Oh I love it Ollie” you say brushing his hair back and kissing his head. You feel tears begin to well in your eyes, and you sniffle them back, wiping them away with your other hand.

Fred chuckles seeing you do this, he has gotten pretty used to you crying over everything the past couple weeks. He pulls you both in for a hug and kisses your cheek before placing one on your son’s forehead.

“I have to go to hockey big guy” Fred says.

Oliver wraps his arms around Fred’s neck “love you daddy.”

A couple hours later you are in the doctor’s office waiting for Dr. Morris. You have stripped of most your clothes, lying on the table wrapped in the blanket. Finally a different doctor walks into the room and washes his hands, sitting on the chair beside you.

“Dr. Morris was called away, I’m Dr. Meyers, and I’ll be doing your ultrasound today if that’s okay. So how are things, how have you been?” he asks.

“I’ve been okay. Some nausea, it’s not as often as before” you explain. You continue to tell him about how your hormones have been crazy, you cried during a dog food commercial the other day, and last week you cried when you couldn’t get a McFlurry at 8am. You explain how your morning sickness was over by this point and you didn’t get irrationally emotional when you were pregnant with Oliver.

“Well every pregnancy is different, some people believe the first one is always smooth to convince women to have a second baby, and the second one ends up being significantly harder on the mom” he says putting on some gloves and chuckling. “But that’s an old myth; everything sounds like normal a pregnancy, and your blood work is normal. These are things you might have to cope with for the next few months. I’d like to tell you you’re hormones will get better, but it’s likely the opposite.”

You grumble under your breath and can feel Fred smirking beside you as the doctor begins to setup the ultrasound. You adjust on the table while the doctor shifts the screen so he can see it. Fred moves his chair closer, grabbing your hand as the doctor spreads the jelly on your stomach. He moves the wand around for the few minutes, taking some pictures and measurements but doesn’t say anything.

You start to get nervous as if something is wrong, normally by now the doctor should have said something; shown you the screen or turned on the heartbeat monitor. Time is droning on, it feels like the doctor has been quiet for hours when in reality it hasn’t even been a minute.

You can practically hear your heart beating through your chest. You turn to Fred and he shoots you a quick smile, but it does nothing to alleviate your anxiety. He shifts awkwardly in his seat, you can tell he is picking up on your nerves. The doctor continues to move the wand around your stomach. A scowl reaches his face as he opens your file, reviewing some of the notes, switching his gaze between the screen and the file.

“So everything is okay” he finally says turning the screen to show you. You take a deep breathe, exhaling in relief. He points onto the monitor “your babies are doing good. A little on the small side, likely because the nausea is preventing you from eating a lot; but nothing too concerning right now.” He turns on the fetal Doppler and the heartbeat fills the air.

You can see Fred from the corner of your eye, smiling ear to ear. Whenever a doctor turns on the heartbeat Fred immediately only focuses on that. He doesn’t even hear what you and the doctor are talking about, too fascinated by the heartbeat. You always end up filling him in all the details he missed, and this time is no different.

“You uh…you…you said babies. As in plural” you say shifting on the table, and tightly squeezing Fred’s hand. This catches his attention and his eyes snap up from the screen and lock on yours. You see some confusion cross his face, since he didn’t hear everything.

“Yes you are having twins” the doctor says pointing to two shapes on the screen. Fred’s eyes go wide as he turns his attention to the screen and looks to where the doctor is pointing. The room falls silent, the only noise is the heartbeat and your increased breathing.

“Twins” Freddie finally says softly. “Like two babies?”

“Yes” he chuckles “twins means two babies. One, two” he says pointing to the screen.

“Shut up” you say in disbelief.

“No way” Fred whispers beside you.

You bring your hands up to your face covering your eyes “are you serious?” you ask.

Fred begins stroking your arm and you hear the doctor respond “yeah” with a light chuckle. You bring your hands away from your eyes and look the monitor while the doctor continues “it’s likely that one was hiding behind the other during the last ultrasound, it happens from time to time.”

“Oh my god” you say half laughing bringing your hand up to grip Fred’s.

The doctor prints out some pictures and talks with you a little while longer. You try to focus on what he is saying, but it just becomes white noise at this point. How are you going to manage twins? The rest of the appointment becomes a blur, you hope this is the one time Fred is listening because you aren’t.

You walk out to the car hand in hand, a million thoughts running through your head. You heard him correctly, he said twins.

When you reach the car Fred opens the door and lets you in, he started it before you left the office so the seats are nice and warm. When Fred gets in he doesn’t start driving right away, instead his hand reaches across the console pulling you from your trance.

“I can see the wheels turning, I know you are stressing” Fred says his hand lightly squeezing your thigh.

“And you’re not? He said twins Frederik.”

“Full name, not good” he laughs. “Babe we talked about having three kids.”

“Yeah but we were going to re-evaluate after having this one” you laugh, but you can feel tears building in the back of your throat.

“Hey elskede” Fred says reaching across the console to place a soft kiss on your forehead. He rests his forehead on yours, a hand lightly placed on your hip “I love you so much and we will be okay. No matter what happens we have each other and we’ll be just fine.” He places a soft kiss on your lips before pulling away and sliding back to his seat.

“I know but Fred its two babies. But it’s just not just two babies because we already have one. We are going to have three babies, three babies under the age of 3. We are going to be outnumbered; it’s going to be crazy.”

He put the car in drive and pulls out of the lot, his hand returns to your thigh. “I know it won’t be easy, I mean some days will be absolute mayhem. We will barely sleep, have no clean clothes and go through a million diapers a week.”

“You’re not helping” you whine loudly cutting him off. You feel your chest begin to tighten, heart racing while you think off how difficult this will be.

Fred laughs and squeezes your thigh “some days are going to suck, and we’re just going to want to curl up in bed and cry all day. But we have each other and we’ll figure it out. We figured it out with Oliver, that situation was difficult too.” His hand squeezes your leg before he moves it to grab your hand; he pulls it to his mouth and places a soft kiss on it. You look over at him and see him smiling at you. His presence calms you while you take a few deep breathes “we’ll figure this out too Kære” he says softly turning his attention back to the road.

“I know we will it’s just going to be a lot” you sigh.

“I know, but just think about all the good times. Two times the smiles. Twice the baby laughs” he squeezes your thigh “I know you love baby laughs.”

You chuckle lightly remembering when Oliver first started to laugh, his laugh filled the room and your heart at the same time. A smile creeps over your face and you see Fred grin knowing he is helping to calm your fears.

“We’re going to have twice the love smuk, so even though it will be crazy sometimes it will always be amazing. And there is nobody else I would want to do it with” he says and you see him grinning from ear to ear. He stops at a red light and leans across the centre console to place a kiss on your cheek, but you turn your head and his lips land on yours. He places a soft kiss on yours lips before pulling a way to look at the light which is still red.

“Same babe” you whisper pulling his face to yours for another kiss. It starts off soft as your hand runs up the side of his face, stroking his stubble in the process.

You open your mouth and Fred gently slides his tongue in. Your tongue swirls around when you hear a honk from behind you. He quickly pulls away, the light now green and drives through the intersection chuckling while you wipe some of the Chap Stick that has smeared around your mouth.

---

“You guys are moving tomorrow right?” Kathy asks. You are almost a month into your second trimester, but due to the sickness and exhaustion you haven’t made it to many home games over the past month making it hard to keep her updated.

“Uh we get the keys tomorrow, and then we have some small reno’s and the painters are coming. Then the furniture is coming, then the movers to bring all our current stuff over” Fred explains.

"Yeah so there is still a bit of stuff to do but we are hoping to be fully moved in mid-march” you continue.

You and Fred are at the annual Night of Assists gala for the Penguins foundation. They had some casino games open prior to dinner, so you haven’t seen much of the players. You found a spot at Fred’s roulette table and spent a few minutes shooting him seductive glances and playfully sucking on your straw while he just shook his head at you from behind the table.

The waiters filled the wine glasses prior to everyone sitting down. You haven’t told any of the wag you are pregnant yet so Fred quickly drank it for you. Fred hasn’t told any of the players, wanting to wait for you; and you have wanted to do it in person. What he didn’t plan on was the waiter seeing the empty glass and refilling it before the salads were brought out. He finished his glass prior to the main course and switched to water for now, trying not to drink too much tonight. This means that you have a full glass in front of you, and it has been there for the last 40 minutes untouched.

“I’m okay we can share a piece” Fred says to the waiter holding a piece of chocolate cheesecake.

He turns his attention back to you, sliding his chair closer. “It’s bold of you to think I would share my cheesecake” you say bringing a piece up to your lips. You open your mouth and slip the fork in, slowly drawing it out while you look at Fred through the corner of your eye. A light moan leaves your lips while the amazing decadent flavours fills your mouth.

He just laughs leaning in close to you, the chatter of the room is loud and he doesn’t want to yell. “I thought you might be generous and offer me one bite” you can feel his beard graze your ear, his warm breath on your neck “but I can wait until later for my dessert” he whispers kissing your neck before pulling his body back a bit to talk to Kris beside him. You immediately feel yourself dripping down your leg, part of the second trimester is your crazy sex hormones. They were bad with Oliver, and you thought since this pregnancy is so different it might not be that bad, but you were wrong they have been worse.

While it still terrifies you the thought of having twice as many feedings and diaper changes, you have calmed down from the previous day’s news. You and Fred have an amazing support system between the WAGS, your friends and Fred’s mom there will be a lineup of people wanting to help, but it’s still is slightly terrifying thinking of twins.

A part of you is nervous at telling people. Some of the WAGS are slightly traditional and have been asking when you are getting married. And marriage should be the next logical step, but you both agreed you didn’t want a big age gap with your kids. This is why you are having another kid right now instead of planning a wedding. Fred also hasn’t proposed, which is the first step to getting married.

And if your being honest, you might not have had a wedding yet but you have everything that a marriage represents. To you it represents a lifelong commitment, with babies and a house. You know that Fred is committed to you so the path you take to get there isn’t too important to you; they all lead to the same place. He has suggested going to city hall to get married, and you have considered it. But an important part of your wedding is having all the people you both love there to support you.

Fred’s hand is resting on your leg just above your knee as everyone chats around you, he leans in “how are you feeling babe?” he whispers.

“Good, I haven’t really felt sick today. They have been giving me the day off from puking which has been super considerate” you joke as Fred kisses your cheek. “But actually it’s been better in general; apart from being overly emotional I have been noticing I have a bit more energy. There have also been some cravings” you take a small piece of cheesecake and put it in your mouth, slowly pulling the fork out.

Fred kisses your shoulder “oh yeah” he mumbles while you bring a piece to his mouth. He opens his mouth and you slide the fork into it. He closes his lips around it, pulling back cleaning the fork in the process. You swallow trying to not get too turned on as there are about 400 people around you, and it’s a team event.

He leans closer to you placing a kiss on your cheek “let me know if you need help with any of those cravings” he growls lowly. His raspy voice and hand slowly inching up your leg has you want to find an empty bathroom. Your core is on fire and Fred knows exactly what his touch is doing to you. You look over at him and before you can respond you hear Kathy “(Y/N) you haven’t touched your wine” Kathy says drawing some of the eyes to you.

Fred quickly responds “she hasn’t been feeling the best for the last couple days.”

“Oh sorry to hear that” Sidney says.

“You think you had a bug or something? One went through the Guentzel household a couple weeks ago” Kathy adds.

“No” you say as they stare at you, you feel Fred shift slightly, his arm moves behind your head resting on the chair. After a brief pause you look at around at the waiting eyes of his teammates. Fred smiles at you before you continue “we’re pregnant.”

Kathy squeals and runs over to you wrapping you in a big hug. “Congrats guys” Sid says.

“How far along are you?” Kathy asks.

“18 weeks” Fred says.

“No way you’re 18 weeks, you don’t look pregnant at all” one of the WAGS says to you.

“Yeah the doctor confirmed the date again yesterday” you explain. “I’m 18 weeks along”

There is a slight pause before Fred chimes in “with twins.”

“Twins?!” Kathy exclaims “that’s so exciting!”

“Yeah I guess" you say chuckling.

“You guess?” Christina inquires.

“(Y/N/N) is a little stressed about the twin thing” Fred says laughing rubbing his hand on the back of your neck.

“Oh worried about giving birth to two babies?” one of the rookies asks.

“No" you groan glaring at him “I haven’t really thought about that! I’m worried about the 3 babies under 3, trying to handle all that. Two screaming babies and an energetic toddler, it will be a blast.”

“Stop stressing out, everything will work out" Fred says kisses your cheek lightly.

“You know I will always help out with the little ones, especially since you two make the cutest babies ever” she squeals still not letting go of the hug.

A few hours later the boys are off participating in some of the fundraiser events, Fred was up on stage participating in the team auction but it just ended. After the auction you saw him get pulled away by some donors. You and Kathy were walking around the room playing some of the games while catching up.

“Can’t believe he finally proposed to you” you say looking at her ring. It’s a beautiful oval cut diamond on a rose gold band, there are multiple small stones set around the band, and every time she moves her hand it catches the light.

“I know” she squeals picking up her wine glass from the bar. You grab your water and you both walk back to your table “he did it on all-star break” she starts to explain sitting down.

“We went to Salt Lake City where we had a private cabin” she tells you. “We had dinner in front of the fire and after the bottle wine we went on the balcony. It was snowing, the lights from the neighbouring cabins lightly illuminated the sky. I was looking out at the mountains and I turned to look at him and he was down on one knee, it was amazing. Just the best night, I’m so excited to finally be engaged.”

“I didn’t think he would propose until he retired” you say half joking.

“I know me too!” she shrieks bringing her hand up to look at the ring. “Now I just have to plan a wedding.”

“When are you thinking?” Anna asks from across the table.

Kathy brings her glass up and takes a sip before answering “August, I already booked a spot downtown. It overlooks the city and we’ll see the lights at night during the reception.”

“Oh that sounds perfect” you exclaim, getting into more details of the wedding with her.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and can tell from the touch who it is immediately, you look up to see Fred in his form fitted three piece grey suit. Your breath hitches in your throat as he leans down putting his hand out in front of you “dance with me.”

You grab his hand and stand up, he leads you out to the dancefloor. He places one hand on the small of your back, as you place one on his shoulder. He holds you tight as he leads you around the dancefloor, soft music fills the air. “I don’t know if I told you this yet, but you look amazing tonight babe.”

You are wearing a black low cut floor length gown. It has a wrap around the stomach which is hiding your bump. You paired it with the red Louboutin shoes Fred gave you for Christmas. “You have told me” you say lightly “many times. But I don’t know if I’ve told you how amazing you look.”

“You’ve seen me in this suit before babe” he says spinning you he pulls you in closer to himself this time.

You look up to him raising an eyebrow as he smirks “I will never tire of seeing you in a suit” you say lightly as his hand slides lower to just above your ass. The noise around you fades into the background, you feel like it’s just the two of you in the room.

“Well this dress is stunning babe” he kisses your forehead. “When did you get it? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

“You bought it for me about 2 weeks ago" you say smiling at him.

“Did I now?” he says laughing as you continue dancing. Your hand squeezes his firm bicep as your other slides up the back of his neck, playing with his hair. It dips behind the collar of his dress shirt, your pinky loops into his chain pulling you in tighter to him. You smell his familiar cologne, but he must have changed his body wash, you are getting a hint of coconut coming off him.

“Well none of my other dresses fit me because of the bump" you explain.

“It was worth every penny” he says kissing you lightly on the lips. “For the record my favourite part of your outfit is the little baby bump your dress is skillfully hiding.”

You stare up at him smiling “you’re ridiculous, this bump isn’t really that little. And this wasn’t easy to hide.” You laugh lightly remembering the hours you spent, trying to find a dress that fit the theme for the night but also disguised your bump in case you didn’t want to tell the team tonight.

“I love you, and I love seeing you pregnant. You look great with a bump, I don’t want you to hide it ever. I loved seeing you pregnant with Oliver.”

You roll your eyes at him as you continue to sway to the music, Fred holds you tightly. “I can’t wait to see the bump all the time" he says leaning down to place a soft kiss on your cheek. “Get to feel your growing belly, the babies kicking. I love it all” he places another kiss behind your ear. His thumb drawing circles on your back while his beard rubs against your neck as he peppers kisses on you.

You moan lightly his hand now gently resting on your ass “babe, can we leave?” you ask.

Fred doesn’t answer you instead he kisses you gently on the lips. He pulls away and walks over the table and grabs your purse before retrieving your coats. The drive home is an easy and comfortable silence as you stare out the window, your hand is gently resting on Fred’s thigh. When you arrive home, you find Christie on the couch and wish her a good night. You lock the door behind her and as you turn around Fred pushes you against the door, mouth sucking on your neck.

You arch your neck to allow him access moaning loudly, your hands slide from his chest down his treasure line. You feel his erection straining his dress pants causing you to raise an eyebrow at him. “I told you I love seeing you pregnant” he growls reaching down to pick you up and carry you to bed.

----

“What else did the doctor say?” Fred asks over the Bluetooth, he can tell you are holding back. You just left your appointment which Fred had to miss because of a road trip. He doesn’t have a game today so you were able to call him and discuss the news while you drive to the new house. You are heading over to check on the progress since you are supposed to be moving in a week and there are some final details you want to ensure are completed.

You take a deep breath “my blood pressure is a little high, and with twins I’m at a higher risk of preeclampsia” you say pulling off the highway only a few minutes from the house.

“Okay, so what does that mean?” he asks, you can hear the concern in his voice.

“I need to take it easy” you start to explain.

“So you thought instead of resting you would go check on the house?”

“Well I need to make sure things are on track so we can move next week.”

“And if things aren’t we can push the move back. The last thing is our current furniture being moved in, I did that so we can stay longer if needed. We don’t have to leave the condo for 3 more weeks. Babe I need you to listen to the doctor and take things easy.”

“That’s not all I can do to help my blood pressure babe. I need to drink enough water, make sure I exercise, limit my salt, and eat more veggies and less meat. There are a lot of things I can do. I don’t have preeclampsia, it’s just high blood pressure, something a lot of pregnant women deal with.”

“Well you’re the only woman pregnant with my baby so when the doctor tells you to do something I’m going to make you do it. And you might not have it now but it could happen. Limiting unnecessary stress and resting is best for you. Christie is there, you should be home and taking a nap babe. I need you and those babies to be okay. Promise me you will take it easy skat.”

“I promise babe I will. I love you.”

“I love you too, now go home. Not inside the house but back to the condo and lie down. You are not allowed in that house until we move" he says.

“But what if they -" you start to object.

“No, go home. You promised you’ll take it easy. The designer has everything under control and she can Facetime with questions. Please for me”

You huff in disapproval “you’re lucky I love you” you mumble. You pull into the driveway but immediately turn the car around and head toward the condo. You don’t have preeclampsia, lots of women have high blood pressure and never get preeclampsia. But you know he worries even more when he is on the road and can’t be there with you.

“I love you too kaere” he laughs before hanging up the phone.

March 15

Today is the day of your gender reveal party. Kathy has been planning the party for you; Carlee, Allie and Fred’s parents and one of his brothers are visiting as well. It is also a housewarming party, and the first time you and Fred have seen the finished product.

You originally wanted to do something small with just the three of you, but since you aren’t having a baby shower you agreed to this party. Kathy started a group chat with your friends and they basically forced you into this, even getting Fred on board. You agreed because this is something you never had with Oliver, you had a small shower with your friends but due to the circumstances you didn’t have an elaborate party and didn’t really celebrate the pregnancy with Fred.

After the doctor’s appointment last week Fred wanted to cancel the party, but Kathy promised to do everything so you could stay off your feet as much as possible. It seems a little extreme since you are still supposed to exercise but Fred is more worried about you stressing over the little details.

“Oh you look gorgeous mama” Allie says hugging you. You are wearing a white, pink and blue floral dress. Since most of the party is indoors you figured you were fine to wear a dress during the winter. There is also a lot of people in your house, which is making the temperature rise.

“And your house is amazing!” Carlee exclaims taking in the house.

“I know they finished yesterday. We haven’t even spent time here. The keys went right from the designer to Kathy so she could set up for the party" you say laughing. “We get to stay tonight finally, but everything looks amazing.”

“Hi dear" you hear from behind you and see Fred has returned with your grandparents and his parents.

“Oh you are glowing, look at your belly” you grandma says placing a hand on your stomach.

“Yeah two babies does this to you" you say laughing as you hug her.

“You look amazing" Charlotte says walking up to hug you.

“Yes she looks amazing, but she is supposed to be sitting” Fred groans kissing your cheek. You roll your eyes at him and walk over to the couch with your friends and family to catch up on everything.

The party continues for a while. Oliver roped some of the players into a game of ministicks in the basement. And even with music and chatter you occasionally can hear the boys laughing or cheering. You know it is very possible there will be some broken apple watches or cracked phone screens with how they play.

Due to feet pain you have spent most of the party sitting at the couch, not that you would tell Fred he is right. Since your conversations have been limited to those nearby Fred has been mingling with everyone and you haven’t seen him in close to an hour. You just returned from the bathroom, when Kathy tells you the gender reveal is in 15 minutes.

You make your way over to the drink table, grabbing a bottle of water when you feel the familiar touch of Fred’s hand on your back. “Hey babe" you say looking to him. His lips kiss the top of your head, and you breathe in his cologne. A light moan leaves your lips but Fred doesn’t hear over the chatter from everyone else. His hand slides around to your stomach “you look stunning babe" he says in your ear.

“Thanks, so do you" you say turning your head to kiss him.

“I don’t look nearly as good as you skat” he says stroking your stomach. He leans closer to your ear “this dress, it really shows off your bump.” His thumb slides higher, lightly grazing your breast, you tilt your head, and you wince slightly at the feeling. “It also shows off your boobs, which I see have popped too” he chuckles, his hand briefly strokes your boob before dropping lower to your stomach.

Your breasts have recently become very sensitive, as has every part of your body. As much as you have wanted Fred to touch you, some nights you are far too uncomfortable. You have fallen asleep on your side, while his hand rest lightly on your hip, one of the few areas that doesn’t seem to bother you while lying down.

You lean back a little bit resting your back against his chest and feel his erection straining through his jeans. Your eyes go wide looking around the room at all the guests “told you I love seeing you pregnant.”

You turn around to face him and stand on your tippy toes, whispering in his ear “I can’t wait for everyone to leave.” You press up against his erection “so many things I want to do to you,” you place a kiss on his cheek.

You hear Fred groan and take a breath before you walk away. You find Kathy and chat with her, you try to engage with her but you can feel Fred’s eyes staring at you. Every time you glance in his direction he smirks at you. Your hormones are in overdrive from those subtle glances he keeps sending you. Fred knows what he is doing to you and what you are feeling.

You showed up a half hour before everyone else, except Sid and Kathy were there setting up in the entryway. You have been doing some yoga the past few weeks which has been helping with some of your pain; so when you arrived you weren’t feeling too bad.

Given how you have been horny for the last 3 nights but too sore to do anything you thought you finally found a window. Kathy was distracted with decorating, and Oliver had pulled Sidney away to show him some toys. Fred went into the pantry and you followed him in closing the door behind you. Kathy walked in and found you sitting on the counter engaged in a very hot make-out session and if she had of come 2 minutes later she likely would have seen a lot more. She laughed and jokingly closed the door behind her to give you guys “privacy” while turning up the music, but the moment was gone.

Now you are starting to feel sore again, but you are still extremely horny. You hope that your pain and sensitivity drops so you can enjoy your first night in your house. Kathy finally wrangles everyone for the gender reveal which is outside.

You put on your coat and meet Fred and Oliver who are standing by a net with a hockey stick for a picture. As the three of you pose you feel Fred’s hand slide down your back, before it finally reaches your ass where he gives you a light squeeze.

“Frederik” you sternly whisper, jumping slightly.

“Come on babe you’re better than that. You know what calling me that does" he squeezes your ass again. He set Oliver on the ground and kisses you on the cheek, you move over to the side as Fred gets ready with a puck.

You opted for a hockey themed gender reveal. There is a net with 5 accuracy shooting targets attached, one in every corner and one in the middle. Fred will shoot a puck, and he has to hit the targets. 3 are blanks and two have powder either pink or blue depending on the gender of each baby. He lets the first puck go hitting the target in the top right corner.

“Ahh" you hear, the target breaks and everyone waits but nothing happens. Oliver runs to the net “Daddy, hit this one" he says pointing to the bottom right corner.

“You think that one has a colour bud?” he asks.

“Yeah daddy!” he exclaims. He isn’t really sure what is happening, but he is so excited to be a part of it.

“Okay bud, go to mom so you’re out of the way.” Oliver moves and Fred shoots the puck, blue powder fills the air.

“I told you daddy" he says running for a hug. You join him as Fred kisses you “you know what that means?” you ask Oliver.

He shakes his head “well that means you are going to have a little brother" Fred explains.

“Yay! I want a little brother” Oliver screams causing a laugh from everyone.

“Well there is two babies, so we have to find out if the other baby will be a boy or a girl" you say.

“Boy! I want two brothers!” he says and you laugh lightly kissing his head. You and Fred are set on no more babies after the twins, so you are kind of hoping for a girl. Apart from the matching mother daughter outfits you love the idea of Fred having a daughter. You know that she would have him wrapped around her finger the second she is born.

“What one should daddy hit next? Top, bottom or middle?” you ask him pointing to the targets.

“Bottom one!” he exclaims. You take Oliver and move to the side; Fred hits it on the first shot and nothing happens.

“Not that one” you say. “Pick another one bud. Top or middle?”

“Umm" he says staring at the saucers. “Middle one, the middle one daddy!”

Fred takes a shot and hits the middle one “oh" everyone says as the disk explodes and nothing comes out.

Fred walks over and kisses you “at least we know what one it’s in.” You laugh as you watch him walk back, your eyes linger on his ass that is covered in dark denim. They are fitted in the ass, but don’t do justice for what you know is underneath. While he gets ready your eyes scan around the crowd and you see Carlee who is just smirking at you from across the way. Your face goes slightly pink as you know she saw you.

Fred aims at the top one but you hear a ringing as it hit the post. He pulls another puck over and takes a shot and shoots low, he takes another shot and goes wide. Everyone laughs at the missed shots.

“Need some help?” Sid jokes.

He takes another shot hitting the crossbar which earns some chirps from his team mates which he laughs off.

“My job is to stop shots not take them" he laughs.

“You’re supposed to hit it daddy” Oliver calls out which causes everyone including Fred to laugh. He shakes it off and brings another puck over to the shooting surface.

He takes another shot and hits the centre of the target and blue powder fills the air again. “Two brothers” Oliver squeals running to Fred. “Daddy I can play hockey and wrestling with them!”

Fred picks him up “yeah once they are a little bit older you can bud.” He wraps his arm around you and kisses you. He moves to deepen it slightly when Oliver starts laughing in his arms “gross daddy.”

Everyone laughs as he sets Oliver down who runs to your grandparents and Fred’s parents.

“Two babies and no girls" Fred says to you.

“I know babe, but as long as they are healthy that’s all that matters. If they are anything like our first son they will be amazing” you say looking at Oliver.

“With you as their mother they will be the best boys ever" he says kissing you.

Everyone surrounds you congratulating you, “maybe you can try for a girl once the twins are a little older” you hear Ernst say.

“Ha!” you laugh.

“We already decided we are done after these two” Fred explains.

“Being a mom of boys sounds nice” you say as Fred pulls you in tight to him. “If it was a girl Fred would let her walk all over him anyways.”

“Yeah that’s for sure” Charlotte says laughing.

A little while later everyone has left, you are at home; Oliver fell asleep pretty quickly once everyone left. Fred is driving your grandparent’s home and his family to your old condo. Your old bedroom set is going in the guest suite and you didn’t want to book the movers until this house was ready. You wanted them to stay in one of the spare rooms upstairs but there was some items on back order that won’t be arriving until next week leaving you with nowhere to put his family.

You are loading some dishes into the dishwasher, your playlist on a low volume fills the room when you feel Fred wrap his arms around you gently rubbing your stomach before settling on your hips.

“Babe, you have to take it easy” he places kisses on your temple.

“It’s just some dishes, it’s not stressful” you say moaning lightly at his touch.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet, need to rest” he reaches around you and turns the water off and scoops you up. You wrap your arms around his neck as he carries you to the elevator. Your hand plays with the gold chain around his neck, your head hearing his heartbeat while you ride upstairs “can’t wait until you’re no longer pregnant so we can christen this” he says in your ear.

You laugh and kiss his cheek “look forward to it” you say as the door dings. He carries you into your bathroom and sets you on the counter. He walks over to the tub and starts the water setting a warm temperature. He opens the cupboard to your bath salts and bubbles.

“What one?” he asks looking at you.

“Lavender vanilla” you reply smiling at him. He walks over and dumps some into the tub, a little too much as you see a big plume of bubbles forming. He walks over and helps you off the counter and pulls your dress and underwear off you. He quickly strips and leads you over to the tub where he steps in first.

He takes your hand and carefully helps you into the tub sitting down behind you. You relax against him, feeling the sensation from the jets being turned on around you. His hands are resting beside you, he is trying to respect your limitations even though you know it’s hard for him to not constantly touch your bump and feel his boys kick.

You rest your head in the crook of his neck, bringing his hands up to your stomach. Your eyes shut as he keeps his hands gently resting on your stomach not moving them. His touch alone relieves tension you didn’t even know you had been carrying. Calmness fills your soul as he begins to test the waters gently rubbing your stomach, a soft moan leaves your lips which he takes as encouragement to keep going.

“I remember 4 months ago enjoying a bath at the hotel with you when you suggested us getting a new place. We said how we wanted to get a tub like that in our house” you say lightly.

You feel his chest rise and fall behind you “crazy that you were pregnant then and we didn’t even know” he responds.

“Crazy how far we’ve come. About 3 years ago right now I found out I was pregnant with Oliver” you sigh as your hand draws up and down Fred’s thigh. Fred’s large hands still stroking your stomach as you feel one of the babies start to kick. You slide Fred’s hand to the spot on your stomach “just wait” you whisper as you feel his lips pressed gently into your head.

A minute later you both feel the baby kick and Fred chuckles in your ear “I love feeling them kick” he says as you turn your head to look at him. “Me too babe” you whisper against his lips. Fred’s golden brown eyes stare down at you for a minute, you see the yellow flecks in his irises before he brings his lips to yours locking you in a soft kiss.

You turn slightly to sit on one of his legs while you deepen the kiss. Your hands run up his beard, while you feel his slide up your back tangling into your hair. You continue to kiss, but it stays soft as your tongues explore one another, you finally pull back to take a breath.

“Bed?” you whisper and Fred nods helping you get out. After drying himself he helps you, laughing lightly as you struggle to reach your back. Once dry you grab his hand and walk over to the bed. He sits down with his head against the headboard and calls you to sit in front of him.

He starts massaging your back lightly. “Mmm” you moan lightly as he applies pressure to your shoulders, while peppering kisses to your neck.

“Remembered you like this from last time” he says.

“I think most pregnant women like massages” you laugh while he continues. “But this is really nice.”

“Well I have booked a masseuse to come every two weeks. Help keep your stress and pain down” he explains.

“I think that’s a little excessive” you say.

“You don’t want the massages?” he questions stopping. You turn around and stare at him “no I do, especially when you give me them. I really like when you give me them” you say smiling. “I especially like when you give me naked massages.”

He laughs, before he continues “I like when you give me naked massages too” he says pushing your hair in front of your shoulders while his hands work on your knots. You bring your hands down to your side looking for something to grip, and grab his thighs. You place a light grip on his legs, straightening your back while he continues massaging you.

You feel his lips lightly start sucking on your shoulders, your hands tighten on his thighs. Another soft moan leaves your lips as Fred’s mouth continues sucking on you. His hand leaves your shoulders and reaches around to cup your breast.

The pregnancy has them feeling extra sensitive, as you arch your back. “I need you babe” you groan, Fred’s mouth moves to behind your ear “yeah?” he questions. You nod your head and Fred moves out from behind you. You shift back slightly as he places a few pillows to help you get comfortable.

He spreads your legs and smirks seeing how wet you are before lying down putting his head between you. He lightly licks up your folds, causing you to moan. He continues placing light licks on your folds, and soft kisses on your thighs for a few moments before he slips his tongue in you.

“Babe” you gasp lightly as his tongue pushes further inside you. Your hips buck up when you feel him smirk against you. His beard rubs against the side of your thighs when you feel him slip two fingers inside you. He scissors you open and his tongue slides fully into you licking your walls. You are so wet that he could have slid in no problem.

His tongue slides out as he sucks on your clit, his fingers begin pumping in you. Your legs squirm while his fingers increase their speed. He sucks hard on your clit and you begin to feel your high approaching. You bring a hand down to grip his hair, moaning loudly.

“Fuck Fred” you groan as he continues, his fingers speeding up. He knows you are close and chasing your high. He sucks hard on your sensitive clit, curling his fingers hitting your sweet spot every time. He pumps quickly as your high comes crashing over you. Your legs shake as he works you through your orgasm, it is more intense than normal and he doesn’t let up until you finish.

He slows his fingers before he completely stops and pulls away. He smiles at you and you see your juices glistening on his beard while he sets your legs back down. He crawls up you and kisses you, you can taste yourself as you moan loudly. Your hands move to his back and start pulling him closer, feeling his erection pressed into your thigh. Your tongue swirls in his mouth, pulling him closer by his chain but Fred pulls back slightly.

“What?” you question as he looks at you softly. A hand gently cups your cheek “babe you have been sore and uncomfortable recently. You sure?”

“I said I wanted to do things to you. I meant it” you say pulling him in for a deep kiss. Fred rolls off you and sits with his back against the head board as you crawl over him. You can feel his hard dick pressing against your entrance while his hands rest on your hips.

He helps guide you down slowly as he fills you up. You moan at the feeling “you okay?” he questions. You nod and groan as you place one hand on his lower abs and the grips his shoulder. You take a deep breathe while you continue to slide down him before you feel him fully inside you.

You smile at Fred and start a slow pace, rising and dropping on him. His hands move to your ass, helping you. Fred allows you to set the pace as his mouth attaches to your nipple. He gently sucks on your breast as you roll your hips on him.

“Fuck” you mutter, arching your back.

“You getting close babe?” he asks.

You open your mouth as a strangled groan leaves your mouth causing Fred to smirk. He pushes his hips further into you and begins to increase the pace. Your hand on his shoulder tightens its grip digging crescents into his skin as you rise and drop on him. The pace is very fast and has you moaning loudly, your head falls to his shoulder as your orgasm crashes over you.

Fred continues pushing into you as you lose focus, everything becomes intense. Fred slows the pace while you continue through your high. After a few minutes you loosen your grip on his shoulder and look up to him. He places a soft kiss on your forehead “you okay babe?”

“Mhm” you whisper staring at him for a second before you bring your lips to his. The kiss starts soft when you feel his hand tangle in your hair drawing you in. Your tongues dance around each other’s mouth as your hand slides up his abs that are covered in sweat.

You feel Fred’s hands give your ass a light squeeze as he helps you rise and drop on him. You are very sensitive from your previous two orgasms, and Fred allows you to set the pace. “Freddie” you moan.

“You good?” he asks kissing your cheek.

“So good” you growl. “Unbelie…evably good.”

A devilish grin crosses his face as he increases the pace. “You feel so good” he groans pushing fully up inside you. Your head falls back and you feel Fred sucking on your neck.

“Fred. Fuck Fred” you scream as he pushes hard inside you. You begin to feel him becoming sloppy under you. You bring your hand down from his abs and begin pressing circles into your bud. Fred thrusts up inside you when you feel your third orgasm approaching. The familiar knot in your stomach begins to untangle, your walls tingling, you spasm and clench around him.

You stop moving while your third orgasm rips through you. Your vision blackens and your head falls onto his shoulder. You feel Fred’s pace slow before completely stopping. The grip around you, turns to a steadying embrace as whimpers leave your mouth. His hands run up and down your back waiting for you to return.

Your hand slides down his sweat covered chest and you slowly look into Fred’s eyes. “Babe?” he asks “you okay?”

“Yeah, just a lot. Those three came so easily and quickly, I’m just a little sensitive. Just need a minute” you explain.

Fred grips you and gently flips you onto your back “nope” he mumbles kissing your cheek. “You’re done for today.”

He rolls beside you and you see his hard thick cock, your juices covering it. The vein is deep blue, tip throbbing and leaking precum. You roll onto your side and run your hand over it causing Fred to whimper “I can’t leave you like this” you explain.

“Yes you can, I’ll be fine in a couple minutes if my naked girlfriend stopped touching it” he shoots you devilish grin trying to grip your wrist but you shake it away. “After what happened we’re not continuing. I knew it would be too much.”

“Too much pleasure not pain babe” you explain stroking him and rolling to rest on your legs. “If you’re not going to fuck me then I’ll have to handle this another way.”

You crawl onto your knees hollowing your mouth. Your hand pumps him a few times while you open your mouth taking him in. You clean your juices off of him and then proceed to fully allow him in.

“Babe, come on you don’t have to” he moans but you aren’t even sure he believed himself. His hands stop trying to pull you off, and tangle into your hair pulling it back into a loose ponytail. You bob up and down with a hollow cheek taking him fully in.

Danish curse words spill from Fred’s lips, his grip on your hair tightens. You know he is close and you bring your hand to his gently massage his balls. You feel his legs tighten under you as he reaches his high. He spills his seed deep in your throat, while you suck him dry.

You pull away and smirk up at him through your lashes “geez babe, your something” he says with a large smile. You crawl up to your pillow and lie down looking up at Fred who shifts onto his side. “You didn’t have to do that smuk” he whispers brushing your hair behind your ear.

“I know I wanted to” you respond and feel Fred’s lips press lightly to yours. It’s a soft and quick kiss before you feel the mattress shift while he gets out of bed. He pulls on a pair of boxers and heads to the bathroom. He returns with a damp washcloth and gently strokes your sensitive folds. You whine at the contact and Fred kisses your shoulder “sorry smuk” he mumbles against you.

He throws the cloth in the hamper and pulls one of his large t-shirts over your body before crawling in behind you. He adjusts the pillows to get you comfortable, you feel your eyes getting heavy. He lies down and rests his hands on your hip while you listen to his light breathing as you drift off.

Next Chapter

#frederik andersen #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #frederik andersen x reader #Freddie Andersen #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen fic #freddie andersen x reader #fred andersen #Fred Andersen Fic #fred andersen smut #fred andersen x reader #nhl fic #nhl smut #fredzilla #because two people got drunk #my writing

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thetomorrowshow · 3 years

Text

unless you take your army back ch. 5

First - Previous - Next - Read on AO3!

yo once again giving you guys a chapter how’s everyone doing? My posting dates will never again be on tuesday lol expect wednesdays or fridays when possible <3

anyways other business if you see an A/N in here somewhere (it’ll be between brackets) lmk and I’ll edit it out

Enjoy :)

cw: food, eating disorders, discussion of injuries

Jack didn’t leave to sell papes the next morning, instead bringing a cup of coffee and some porridge to Crutchie, then settling in beside him with a real fancy sketchbook and a charcoal pencil.

The coffee wasn’t that great, but Crutchie drank it all, hoping the energy would distract him from the uncomfortable tightness of his fresh bandages. Only one of the cuts that had split open was one that had needed stitches (Katherine had snipped the thread and pulled it out three days ago), but they would all probably scar. At least he already liked to wear long shirts and pants.

The porridge was fine, but rich. After about four bites, Crutchie rested the bowl on the windowsill. Just weeks ago, he would’ve been able to scarf down twice that amount in a matter of minutes, but now he could barely handle eating enough to feed a baby. He was sure he’d get better faster if he’d just eat more, but he just--couldn’t.

This wasn’t even the first time Crutchie had seen kids have trouble eating. At least half the newsies who did a stint in the Refuge came back uneasy around food, too accustomed to there being too little to go around. A lot of food was a trick, just the right amount was too much to stomach, and the little bit that they felt they needed wasn’t enough to keep them going.

So Crutchie knew that what he was going through with his food aversion was normal--expected, even. The frustrating problem was that Crutchie knew how to fix it. He had seen the others go through this, had watched Jack and Race and Specs help others, had even guided Tommy Boy through recovery himself just a few months ago. He knew the signs, he knew how to work through it, and yet he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t snap himself out of it.

Just the thought of food made him queasy, scared, uncertain of what was to come. When the guards brought food, it meant the respite was over. It meant scraps shoved down his throat as quickly as possible, followed by a day of grueling, pointless work with no breaks. He didn’t have the time to finish this bowl of porridge. More than a few bites and he was going to be tardy, the guards were going to beat him and he would fall and he wouldn't be able to get back up, not again not again not again--

“Crutchie, you gonna finish that?”

Crutchie looked up from his lap to see Jack, concern creasing his brow. He shrugged, not sure if he could even pretend to smile. “I didn’t see you eat, wanted to save some for you.” He didn’t need anyone’s help. He knew how to handle this.

Jack frowned. “Nah, I ate on the way up, nicked a bun. Is there some . . . other . . . reason?”

Stupid Jack Kelly and his ‘subtle’ prodding. Crutchie stretched his arms out a bit, affecting a casual look. A bandage rubbed against a raw patch of his chest, but instead of burning, it . . . itched.

That meant he was starting to get better, right? Or was it infected or something? Whatever it meant, it was a good excuse.

“Not really, just been itchin’ all mornin’, so I ain't all that hungry,” he explained, scratching his stomach for emphasis. “Bit bothering, y’know?”

He was sure he didn’t quite have Jack convinced, but it was enough for him to drop the matter. After all, Jack was under the impression that Crutchie had eaten a whole apple the morning before, and he’d been fairly good at emptying bowls of soup all week (not necessarily into his mouth, but Jack didn’t need to know that).

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack smiled. “Hey, itchy, huh?” He lightly punched Crutchie’s knee, which also didn’t hurt like he expected. “That’s good, means stuff is startin’ ta close up and heal.”

Crutchie nodded, feeling something in his chest try to jump excitedly. Even after falling so badly last night, he was getting better. That meant that maybe soon, he could be right back out there, hawking headlines and getting enough pity from his regulars and strangers to make twice the amount he usually did.

Thinking of it-- “Jack, why ain’t you out sellin’?”

Jack looked away--ashamed? Guilty? What? Had he gotten in trouble with the bulls again already? Jack muttered something, then buried his face in his new sketchbook, the tips of his ears burning red.

“That ain’t gonna cut it,” Crutchie said incredulously. “Who d’ya think I am, Race? I ain’t distracted that easy.”

Jack huffed, but didn’t drop his sketchbook. In a barely audible voice, he said very quickly “I soaked the Delanceys yesterday and the fellas think I oughtta stay away from ‘em and maybe take a day off ta give ‘em time ta forget about it.”

Okay, but attacking the Delanceys was something Jack did on a weekly basis. The Delanceys weren’t bright enough to carry a grudge overnight, and they were in a constant state of goading Jack, so what was different about this time?

Then Crutchie remembered their argument last night, what Jack and Davey had told him about how Oscar and Morris had been talking.

“Have they, uh,” Crutchie started, quiet, “been talking about . . . uh, ‘bout me . . . all week?”

Jack stiffened from behind his sketchbook, but nodded jerkily. “Tha’s what Specs said, anyhow.”

“Right.” Crutchie swallowed, looking away out the window. Buttons was out there, looped around a fire escape, calling something through cupped hands. The Delanceys were somewhere out there too, and could be talking about him that very moment, maybe even making plans to come after him. There was no way he could stop them, no way anyone could stop them. After all, Jack couldn’t be here all the time, and Kloppman was old, wiry but feeble compared to Oscar and Morris. They could take the man down in no time, then be up here and Crutchie would have nowhere to go and no way to escape.

Crutchie was suddenly very glad that Jack was here.

There were a few moments of silence, during which Crutchie continued to watch Buttons. His grin was visible even from this distance, growing wider any time he managed to sell a paper or two. Buttons had been having trouble selling lately--he was a little timid, too shy when it counts--so it was nice to see him having some success.

The lady talking to him now seemed nice, by the way Buttons was nodding and had fully disentangled himself from the fire escape to converse with her. The lady turned slightly, her face visible under her sun hat, and--hey! That was one of Crutchie’s regulars! She bought a paper on her way to visit her mother-in-law every other day, and always passed Crutchie’s selling spot on purpose. It was nice to see her again, almost . . . sentimental. Crutchie never thought he would feel almost misty-eyed over some lady whom he briefly interacted with a handful of times a week, but here he was. More than miss her, he missed being out there, he supposed.

“Hey, Crutch?”

Crutchie startled out of his thoughts. The woman was no longer there, Buttons once again attaching himself to the fire escape. Jack was watching him, a carefully disguised look of something on his face. Crutchie raised his eyebrows.

“Uh, so, I missed a union thing, what with last night,” Jack said. “So I’m gonna hafta do it today sometime. That cool with you?”

“What sorta thing?” Crutchie asked suspiciously. If it involved reporters and pictures and all that, Crutchie was not going to allow it to happen in here.

Not that you could stop it, a nasty voice in the back of his mind whispered, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. Jack could do anything to you right now. He was pretty angry last night, after all. You know what anger leads to.

Crutchie swallowed drily. He didn’t need to think about that.

“Oh, just a guy I gotta meet with,” Jack said, far too casually. He made a show of scratching his head. “He might bring another couple o’ fellas with him, so I’s just . . . lettin’ you know.”

Okay, so this wasn’t something he could stop. Great. That calmed him down so much. Crutchie gripped the blanket over him tightly, trying to not show that his hands had begun to tremble. He was fine, he didn’t need Jack getting all worried over nothing. It was just some . . . unknown guy. With bodyguards. Coming into the room to have a discussion with Jack.

“Hey. Hey.”

Crutchie pulled himself from his spiral to see Jack laying his hands over his. “It’s okay,” Jack said seriously. “I can chat with ‘em in another room, or outside. You don’t oughtta have guys in here that you ain’t know.”

Crutchie released his grip, more to assuage Jack than his nerves. He nodded, not sure what he was even expected to say. What if a fight broke out? And Jack was all alone, against three or four guys? He couldn’t let Jack be alone.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Crutchie said hoarsely. Wow, he needed something to drink. He hadn’t noticed his throat drying up. “I uh, I can be your second?”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he regretted them. Of course Jack didn’t want him as his second! He was just some stupid, useless, injured cripple, and Jackhad to still be mad at him for last night. He’d want Davey there, probably--Davey was one of the union heads too, right? And Davey was so good at talking things through and being all smart. All Crutchie could do was make people laugh or feel bad for him--great for selling papes and living on the street, terrible for union business.

“Would ya?” Jack asked. He almost looked a little bit relieved, which took Crutchie aback. “You know how I can get. It’s--it’s nice, havin’ somebody backin’ me up. ‘Specially you, Crutch, you’s real good at talkin’ to folks.”

The air left Crutchie’s lungs. Was he? He was pretty good at selling to just about anyone. Jack used to joke that he would be able to sell a pape to Pulitzer himself for a dollar, without the man even realizing it was his own paper or too high a price. Jack would say that to just about anyone who would listen, actually.

How had Crutchie forgotten that?

“Who’s these folks, then?” Crutchie asked, shifting a bit so that his head was almost level with Jack’s. He liked to think that he was pretty accustomed to the broken ribs at this point--they hurt, but he could now sit up without even breathing heavy. After the week he’d had, Crutchie counted that as a win.

Jack’s carefully casual air was back, clear in the stiff lines of his body and the forced half-grin on his lips. “Just some guys who got a say in newsie union stuff, y’know? From one o’ the other turfs.”

That made sense, actually. The Manhattan newsies weren’t the only ones in the union, after all. In fact, if what Elmer had excitedly told him was true, Davey had shook hands with Spot Conlon and led him straight to Pulitzer’s office, after Conlon had spoken at Davey’s rally--

Oh.

Oh no.

“You’s bringin’ Spot Conlon to the place we sleep?!”

“It was--”

“No no no, lemme get this straight,” Crutchie said, incredulous. “Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn borough, is comin’ here. To Manhattan’s lodging house. Now I know that Brooklyn joined the strike, but there is no way we’s become friends with Brooklyn in the two weeks I ain’t been around, and ya don’t show allies where ya sleep.”

“They already knows where we sleep, there’s a huge sign on the buildin’!” Jack shot back. He dropped his work and gestured widely. “Manhattan newsboys lodgin’ house, in big ol’ letters, smack on the front! Was it s’posed ta be a secret? Or do ya think they just can’t read?”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Crutchie replied stubbornly. “Ya don’t invite them into your home, you hold ‘em at arm’s length for when they in’vitably scab!”

“Well, that ain’t no way ta treat your allies,” a voice said from the doorway.

Crutchie and Jack both looked up to see the man himself, an unimpressed Spot Conlon, with two lackeys--and also Racetrack. Race waved casually.

“Hey Jack, hey Crutch!” Race said. “Spot’s here ta meet with ya.”

Jack strode across the room, spat and shook with Spot, anxiously adjusting his hat with his other hand. “Nice ta see ya, Conlon,” he said, the geniality in his voice a stark contrast from his heated arguing moments before. Crutchie snorted. Jack shot him a glare.

“So, what’s sayin’ we get straight ta business, Kelly?” Spot suggested, walking further into the room without invitation. Race tipped his hat at them all, then stuck his cigar in his mouth and took off. “This here’s Hotshot, and the other’s Sharpshooter,” Spot threw out, gesturing at the two guys with him. They each nodded in turn.

“Right,” Jack said, “This is Crutchie, he’s my second.”

Spot turned a piercing gaze on Crutchie. Crutchie felt his face heat up as Spot’s sharp eyes took in the patchwork of yellow-brown bruises on his face and throat, the scabbed-over gash on his temple, the splint wrapping his left arm. Finally, he turned away to face Jack.

“You met with Joe of late?” Spot asked. Jack nodded.

“Saw ‘im yesterday. No complaints from his side--he’s sayin’ they’s already noticed circulation goin’ up. You’s been meetin’ with the Journal and the Sun, yeah?”

Spot gave an affirmative nod. “We got ‘em where we want ‘em,” he said with a chuckle. Crutchie waited for him to elaborate. He did not.

Jack seemed sort of disconcerted--Crutchie wondered if Spot could tell. This was all happening so suddenly. Moments ago, Crutchie hadn’t even known anyone was coming. Now there were three Brooklyn newsies standing over his bed, and he couldn’t do anything to defend himself or make them leave. Brooklyn was always angry, always jeering, doing nothing to strengthen the tentative peace they had come to a few months ago. Really, Crutchie had good reason to be wary. Brooklyn newsies had more than once kicked his crutch out from under him.

Spot and Jack were talking about something, but Crutchie couldn’t really pay attention to them. The one called Sharpshooter was staring him down, in a way that said both I’m-trying-to-intimidate-you and I-don’t-need-to-intimidate-you-weakling. Hotshot was doing the exact same thing to Jack, but Jack seemed unbothered. Crutchie was pretty sure he wasn’t pulling that off near as well. He hadn’t been stared at like that--like he was a piece of dirt that stubbornly remained as you scrubbed at a window--since he’d been . . . there. The Refuge.

Crutchie turned his gaze to the window. Buttons was out of sight, the fire escape likely blazing hot in the sun. There weren’t very many people visible whatsoever--it was stifling out, which was probably why Brooklyn was already here. Selling would have to be done in a very particular fashion today--morning, at the coolest, when everyone was headed for work, then around the lunch hours, then the last few in the evening. Crutchie felt bad for the likely sunburned newsies, frantically trying to sell all their papes in those short windows of time, clothes sticking to them with sweat and the hot air weighing them down.

“Hey, Crutch?”

Crutchie looked back to the conversation. Jack was watching him expectantly, as was Spot. Crutchie tried to not look clueless--he had really been zoning out, hadn’t he? How much time had passed? Why was everyone looking at him?

“D’you mind answerin’ any questions Spot has? I’m gettin’ us all some water.”

Crutchie nodded. It couldn’t be that hard, right? He had totally lost track of the conversation, but he knew a fair bit about what had happened and what was going to happen with the union, mostly from Jack rambling in the afternoons when the silence became too much for one of them.

“So,” Spot said brusquely as soon as the door closed behind Jack. “All that from the strike?”

Crutchie blinked. All what? He needed a bit more context. He should’ve been listening. He opened his mouth to ask, then saw Spot vaguely waving at his body. Oh.

“Nah,” Crutchie mumbled, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Some of it, yeah. Mostly the Refuge, though.”

Spot sucked a breath in through his teeth, and Hotshot turned away. “Looks like you was lucky to make it out alive.”

“Oh, yeah,” Crutchie said bitterly. He almost laughed. “By the end there I was ’lucinatin’ so bad I thought I’d been buried already. Probably I was hours from bein’ gone forever.”

Silence. He’d made it awkward, hadn’t he? Crutchie tried to come up with some useful purpose for Spot Conlon to know this, like maybe he’d get pity or sympathy or something and the Brooklyn newsies would leave him alone, but it honestly sounded worse than Conlon straight up hating him. Crutchie was tired of being pitied. He was tired of being a charity case.

“How long?” That was Sharpshooter, his voice pitched a lot higher than Crutchie expected. It didn’t quite match his height and dark eyes.“Was you there, I means.”

“A week, I think. It’s sorta blurry.”

Spot whistled. “Snyder musta had it out for ya. All that in just a week? I’s had boys in there for months come out lookin’ better.”

Again, Crutchie almost laughed. “Everybody has it out for the crip,” he said bluntly, his eyes on his hands as he twisted the blanket between his fingers. “Throw in my personal connection ta Jack Kelly union leader, and a week is a long time ta be lastin’.”

Crutchie looked up. Spot was giving him a strange look--it wasn't pity, like Crutchie expected. It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t even shock that he was still alive. It was--he didn’t know. And then it was gone.

“Crutchie, right?” Spot asked, glancing out a window aloofly. Crutchie nodded. “You’s a good kid. If you ever finds you in some sorta trouble . . . you’s welcome in Brooklyn.”

What?

He understood that they were allies, but allies did not mean that anyone from either turf was allowed to just go wandering over. The only person who had ever been allowed to was Race, who sold in Brooklyn--why, Crutchie didn’t know. Crutchie didn’t think anyone knew. There were plenty of good spots in Manhattan--why did Race trek all the way to a hostile turf just to sell papes? The point was, this wasn’t something that just happened. Ever. Brooklyn and Manhattan had been on bad terms for as long as Crutchie had been a newsie, and before that as far as anyone could remember.

Crutchie didn’t have much more time to think about it, though, as Jack reentered the room, balancing three glasses of water carelessly enough that it made Crutchie tense up, as if ready to catch one when it dropped. One he handed to Spot, one to Crutchie, and the last to Hotshot. Sharpshooter rolled his eyes and swiped it, half-draining the glass before handing it back.

“Crutchie clear anything up?” Jack asked. Spot continued to stare at Crutchie, a slight crease between his brows.

“Yeah, a few things,” Spot answered absently. “A few.”

The discussions continued for another ten minutes or so, Jack eventually convincing Spot that they were not currently trying to lower the price even further (“I’ve already got Bill down ta fifty-two per hundred, why should I stop?”), and got him to agree to work closely with Davey when Jack wasn’t available. That seemed to be all they could resolve for the time being without attacking each other, which was probably the most that had ever been done by a Manhattan newsie and a Brooklyn newsie working together. When Spot went to leave, though, he turned to Crutchie.

“Ol’ Jack ever oversteps, ya know where ta find us,” he said with a firm nod. “Any guy from Brooklyn will bring ya to me, jus’ say the word.” With that, he was gone, Sharpshooter and Hotshot marching after him.

Jack froze, halfway to gathering the two glasses from where they’d been set on the floor, his mouth agape. “Wh--” he tried. Crutchie could have laughed. He didn’t. But he could’ve. “Did Spot Conlon jus’--” he whipped around to stare at Crutchie. “What’d you talk about?” he demanded. “How’d ya get Spot Conlon ta make you an honorary Brooklyn boy?”

Crutchie shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure what had passed between them himself, and he also wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. It wasn’t like he’d done anything. Spot barely knew who he was. The first time they met had been today.

“W-well, if you isn’t gonna eat that, hand it to me.”

The change in subject took Crutchie by surprise, but he passed the partly-eaten bowl of porridge to Jack, who gave him one last suspicious glance before leaving the room.

Crutchie hated being alone these days--the only things worth doing were sleeping and practicing walking. The second one was off the table after yesterday, and he was sick of sleeping, but when there was nobody around there was nothing to do but think. Nothing to do but fall deeper and deeper into a dark chasm that yawned open in his mind. Nothing to do but slowly become more and more paranoid. . . .

He wished he had asked Jack for some more water before he left. Not that Jack wasn’t coming back or anything, it just would’ve been nice to not force him to make another trip.

When Jack returned some ten minutes later, though, he was not alone. Holding his hand was Katherine, laughing at something Jack had said before they entered the room. Crutchie shrunk away. He didn’t want to see Katherine--she would try to pay for a doctor to come see him or insist on checking each of his wounds or something equally mortifying.

“Look who turned up!” Jack said brightly, and Crutchie tried not to frown too obviously.

“Hi, Katherine,” he said politely. “How’re you?”

“Oh, Crutchie, you look so much better!” Katherine exclaimed. Crutchie examined her face carefully. Mostly the truth, but something in her eyes told him that she was still worried about him. “Look at you, sitting up and everything!” a pause. “Have you, um, been eating well?”

There it was. Crutchie hadn’t seen himself in the mirror in a while--every time someone carried him to the washroom, he’d resolutely avoided it. He knew that his face was still multicolored from the various stages of healing his bruises were in, but he hadn’t even thought that he might look malnourished. Elmer’s bracelet was pretty loose on his wrist, now that he was thinking about it. His unwrapped elbow practically jutted out of his skin.

Great. He’d spent a week in the Refuge and had come out looking like the most pitiful creature ever. He was so weak--it had been such a short amount of time! And now he’d been in bed for just as long, when he should’ve been recovered by now!

“Been workin’ on it,” Crutchie managed, trying not to let his thoughts show too obviously. “Hard ta get back up ta where it’s s’posed ta be, y’know?”

“Yeah, he’s been eating less,” Jack added. “It happens, but he’s been tryin’ ta eat most everything I bring him.”

Crutchie resolutely did not blush or look away. There was no reason for Katherine to believe anything to the contrary. Still, she and Jack watched him carefully for a few moments, then exchanged a look. Was he supposed to say something?

“Jack said there was quite the scare last night,” continued Katherine. “Are you feeling okay after your fall?”

Crutchie nodded. He wasn’t lying, actually. He did feel better than he had all week, even if all of his injuries felt raw from falling. Nothing was hazy anymore, nor particularly sharp. It felt almost normal, if the pain could be ignored. He was getting better.

“Why’re you here, Kath?”

Katherine’s smile strained. “Can’t a girl check up on her best friend?”

Crutchie leveled a stare of his own at her. This was the first he’d heard of being best friends. She had to have some sort of ulterior motive--a doctor or a medicine or something stupid like that. He hated to think it, but couldn’t she just leave him alone?

“Okay, I came--of my own volition, by the way--to ask you if you’d be willing to be seen by my family doctor--”

“Nope, thanks,” Crutchie said loudly, glaring hard enough to bore a hole in Katherine’s head. “As you can see, I’s healin’ up just fine.”

“It wouldn’t cost anything, my father--”

“I won’t be botherin’ your father, if it’s all the same ta you,” Crutchie retorted. “Nor no one. I’m gonna be out there sellin’ again soon, an’ if I decides I need a doctor, I’ll save up the cost myself and see ‘im when I feel like it.”

Katherine and Jack exchanged another look, one that told Crutchie they thought he was being stubborn. And so what if he was? Stubbornness had kept him alive countless times. His particular brand of stubborn had been considered both adorable and inspiring in the past. Maybe he was being annoying, but so what? Was it why they wouldn’t listen to him? Did acting annoying really mean he was stripped of his worth to them, his autonomy?

After a long staring contest with Jack, Katherine huffed and rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she muttered, turning away from both of them. Jack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. The lines of Katherine’s shoulders were sharp and tight, radiating tension that was echoed in Jack’s nervous stance.

Crutchie picked at the blanket. Why did every conversation seem to turn into a fight lately? He just wanted people to respect his choices. Heck, maybe he would take Spot up on that offer. It sounded nice to be around people who had no history with him, a fresh slate, a new standard to set. He would get to prove he was strong to them, instead of being cooped up because they were too afraid of how broken he was.

“Well,” Katherine said, straightening her shoulders and facing them again, “take off your shirt, then.”

Crutchie choked. So did Jack. “Uh, what?” Jack sputtered.

“Buy me dinner first,” Crutchie managed.

Katherine rolled her eyes. “You want to be back out there, don’t you?” she asked Crutchie. He nodded, a little scared of where this was going. “I need to make sure you’re healing well enough, if you won’t see a doctor. Then I’ll tell you when you can continue to sell newspapers. And Jack? Get us something to drink.”

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