#I want to touch Morris's cheek | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scratchandplaster · 4 months

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Stack The Deck - Haven

CW: recapture, obsessive Whumper POV, noncon nudity/bathing/touching, emeto warning, drugged Whumpee (not Morris´ fault this time, I swear)

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Chris' knee was killing him. Between one hand supporting the waist of his sleeping foundling and the other busy grabbing onto the handrail, the strength to keep both men upright was an unusual overload for it.

"We can do this, come on!"

It felt like the staircase was stretching out for miles and keeping himself as quiet as possible, he finally managed to haul them both up to the front door. Elliot flopped against the frame with no resistance.

Any onlooker probably inferred that he was just a student after a merry bar-hopping and on his way home, accompanied by a good friend. Morris hoped that to be true soon.

"Hey," he whispered while giving Elliot a few slaps against his cheek, "what did you take?"

Wrenching his heavy eyelids apart, a tiny pinprick of a pupil stared back and caught Chris with the rich chestnut hue he prayed would greet him again.

In a perfect world, he kissed him awake and was welcomed by a warm, tired smile followed by a surprised gasp. They'd laugh about the odds of this, how only a cosmic force was able to reunite them after such a long time, and then he could finally repent: an apology to sooth the bad blood that was left. And Elliot would forgive him. He had simply had to, but a bitter throb struck Morris suddenly:

What if he doesn't?

Cradling the soft face of a clueless man, he took inventory: resting so peaceful against the wall with nothing but a few scrapes on his hands, Chris was sure he just had a few drinks too many. Did the poor thing get stood up?

In that case, there was nothing wrong with bringing home an old acquaintance after a wild night. Who knows who else's interest he peaked with such a lovely face.

Instead of staying to pine in the hallway for hours, Chris finally unlocked the door and dragged his consort in by his feet, letting the slick tile floor take on the lion's share of work. All sprawled out on the kitchen floor like he was just washed ashore reminded Morris of the risk he was indulging in.

"I'll be in real trouble if someone finds you here," he murmured down at Elliot anew, who seemed to only know bliss at the moment.

But oh, it was worth the implications, even though Belanger long desired to discover the final reason to rip him apart. Well, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, either.

Between pizza boxes and dirty laundry gracing every corner of his tight living space, Chris suddenly felt embarrassed: "I need to clean up before you come to!"

He wanted to leave a good first, well not first, but newly found impression. He couldn't remind himself of the last occasion he had to wow someone he brought home, not since...

Who was he thinking of again? Not that it mattered anymore.

Chris continued to manhandle them further towards the bathroom. The bloody stains on Elliot's jeans had only grown on the way home, hopefully Chris would find nothing more than a scratch on him.

As he leaned him back against the edge of the bath tub for support, Elliot decided to sag over and bury his face in Chris' chest. One small moan wormed itself out.

A rush of heat overcame him as he let his face sink onto Elliot's head too and gathered him up into his arms. Though not registering a single waft of booze, Chris couldn't ignore the scent of sweet cloves and beeswax that greeted him like a warm embrace. Did Elliot always smell so nice? He didn't remember how it was back then.

How could I be so blind?

Something long closed inside him ripped open: the past scars left behind by guilt, shame and purposelessness across his heart started to tear with a painful itch - now a wound gaping open and dripping wet with desire. An urge to make it all right again.

The sound of choking brought him back to reality shockingly quick. Desperate twitches called for action, and Morris only had seconds to bend Elliot over the tub, before he hurled up his dinner.

More than Elliot's situation itself, due to Chris being used to getting spewed on quite a lot, was the horrid truth of the small white pills gracing the ceramic now, half-dissolved poison that was clearly not supposed to be inside him. Especially not so much of it.

"Are you serious?" Chris yelled appalled, checking his pulse and breathing to make sure it was steady, "What happened to you?"

All he got was a relieved hum before Elliot drifted off again, carefree and groggy. Who did Morris pick up on that bench; because it surely wasn't the man he knew so intimately. Maybe someone did this to him...

One way or another, he wouldn't let him go to bed like this, no way. Letting the water turn pleasantly warm, Chris wasted no time with slipping the jacket and shirt Elliot was wearing off his body, always careful to not let his eyes wander too much.

As if he had any sliver of professionality left; as if he wasn't dying to see him like this.

Taking the shower head to his scalp and washing all residues out left Morris leaning over the tub's edge with newfound determination. Could his run-in have been a reward for regretting his sins? He was now granted a chance with a man he was unable to forget for nearly a year, a silver lining to make amends by getting to the bottom of his blatant little problem here.

Provided he got the right idea about how to manage their reunion, the process was bumpy, but earning eternal gratefulness for taking care of Elliot and getting him off his nasty habit was worth it. The puzzle pieces fell into place.

After cleaning out the leftover suds from his roots, Chris dragged them back together, only a towel between them. Elliot made no effort to come back to wakefulness, and it sure was better than to scare him with this compromising scene.

Finally, he took a corner of Elliot's scrunched up shirt to wipe his mouth clean from excess bile.

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"How furious will you be with me if I let you wake up like this tomorrow, mhh?"

Chris had placed Elliot flat on the bed, splayed out on the sheets, so his hair fell around him in a halo; like an angel. My angel. Unable to divert his gaze, this sight anchored his throbbing heart to the world.

First, he needed to get rid of possible infections. Then, he would figure out how else to aid Elliot. Eyeing the drying stains all over his pants, it was obvious what to do about it.

Well, it's necessary. He was itching to go this far.

In a swift motion, he released the bloody knees from the material covering them, not ignoring the warm pressure on his mind this brought with it.

Helping Elliot clean up - that's all he was doing, all he ever tried was to set things straight.

A quick wipe down of antiseptic on the hands and legs served little to contain any excitement. Hunger lingered under his skin.

Chris was on the verge of losing his mind when he finally laid down beside Elliot. His erratic breathing didn't match the peacefully sleeping man, only quickening when he let a finger trace along the curves of Elliot's face: the brows, the delicate arch of the nose and down the cupids bow. Even his cracked lips were soft, like the brush of a single rose petal.

Chris felt their skin melting into each other, while the semidarkness guaranteed that nobody would catch a glimpse of him in this sweaty, avid, desperate state. All he was able to do was savoring the electric joy he didn't feel in such a long time.

"Sorry," his lovedrunk whispers plead while hovering mouth over mouth, forehead to forehead, "'m so sorry!"

Under painful efforts, Chris made himself turn away: "Just look what you're doing to me!"

After draping Elliot's exposed self in one of his old shirts, one he was nearly disappearing in, Chris oh-so graciously pulled the jeans back up too.

"I don't have wool detergent, so it's less of a struggle if you plan on getting more out of your system."

It had been a great idea to hold onto the old sweaters and mementos Elliot's mother had gifted him, Chris thought with an amused expression as he stretched the thick blanket over his guest. Later.

Soon, everything would find its right place.

For now, he was retreating onto the armchair, out of simple respect. Under a watchful eye, Elliot could finally rest.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

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t-lane-writes · 2 months

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Five Lines Tag

I wasn't tagged, but @blind-the-winds said "and you!" and I thought they meant me.

It's fot The Specters (my current WIP)

A Line About A Weapon

Nersan shook his head, took a step back and raised his hands, so the woman would back off. Emma realized her palms were curled into fists. She made a conscious effort to release them but curled them right back a moment later. The strange woman put her weapon down and tilted her head to the side. “Nersan Ziya,” she drawled. “Long time no see.”

A Passionate Line

She blinked, like she understood something, but not exactly the message he had for her. Something else. He was still holding her face, a light touch, barely there. His thumb near her lips. And she watched his face with sharp intensity. The tip of her tongue slid out, as her eyes wandered to his lips and then back up. His thumb traced the drop of moisture, instinctively. She held her breath.

A Line With Touch

Neve took a step closer to him and carefully reached out to touch his shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked. He put his hand over hers and nodded. Closed his eyes, drawing comfort from the contact. At least she could do this little. After a few seconds he opened his eyes, then touched his lips with an open palm and extended it toward her. “Thank you.” “Okay.” Neve muttered, flustered. He was her mentor, he was the strong one, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do now. Anaher touched her hand to make her look at him again, then pointed at the heap of soil and leaves and pebbles and broken ceramics under the window, then at the kitchen cabinet. When she turned to look there, he pulled at her hand again and, when she looked, made a sign she didn’t know. “Careful,” he whispered when she didn’t understand. “With the plants?” Neve made sure. He had quite a lot of them, must have wanted to save whatever could still be saved. “Of course, I will be careful,” she promised.

A Line That Is Shouted

Anaher [...] signed to his brother, “We’re leaving. Come.” “No!” Troy screamed. “I’m not going anywhere with you!” “Hey, easy.” Even Jan-Rei was surprised, but Troy didn’t pay him any attention. He charged at Anaher and pushed him with both his hands. Anaher took a step back, air escaping his lungs from the impact of both, his brother’s hands and the wall he hit with his back. He gasped, but Troy wasn’t aware of that either. “Do you think I wanted you here? Do you think I need you? That I ever needed you? You ruined my life! Go away! You hear me? Go away!” He was right in Anaher’s face, his spit landing on his cheeks and eyelids. Anaher tried to push him away [...]

A Sad Line

How was he supposed to-- He looked at Emma. He loved her. She was the greatest thing that happened to him. He believed in her. The last thing he wanted was to cause her pain. She glanced up, not reaching his face really, and then looked down at her lap again. “They followed Zane Lee’s manifesto,” she guessed, with unconcealed bitterness. “I started to hate him then,” Nersan admitted in a whisper. “Now I know I was wrong. They are wrong--” “Please stop.” Emma put a hand over his. “I know,” she uttered. “Tell the story.” “Of course.” Nersan swallowed through a lump in his throat. “This is where it all started,” he said, because there wasn’t much to add. “At the very least it is one of the places where the Extremists movement was initiated. And-- I had my part in it.” He could add how he hadn’t been here long. How, when Wendi and Willem’s true allegiance had been revealed, how when he heard about Steinn’s plans, he couldn’t be a part of this any longer. How he didn’t intend to look for Emma. He had known her before leaving Majid, they had met through Anaher. After leaving this place and going back to Majid he-- Truth be told he had been curious. Truth be told he had initiated their first meeting, his and Emma’s.

Tagging, no pressure: @echo-bleu , @drippingmoon , @hithelleth , @daisywords , @void-botanist , @memento-morri-writes , @ryns-ramblings , @did-i-do-this-write , @aohendo and.. yeah, you!

When tackling this, replace "A Passionate Line" with "A Line About Frienship".

#wip game #the specters #writeblr

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

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The North Star - Part Five: Ask Me Again (NSFW) - Terry Bruno x Reader

Welcome to mine and @the-hinky-panda The Bronx universe featuring our favs Terry Bruno & Mike Duarte.

This story takes place several years after 'Blood Out'. Terry still lives in the Bronx and works in Manhatten SVU.

Following on from @the-hinky-panda story 'The Dog' Mike has retired from the NYPD on medical grounds due to seizures causes by the attack. He has a therapy dog called Bono and lives with @the-hinky-panda character Meredith.

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower @legit9thlunaticwarrior @bbyxoo @the-adzukibean @xoxabs88xox @crazy4chickennuggets @beardedbarba @wooshwastaken @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @storiesofsvu @anime-weeb-4-life

Part One: Moments

You fall asleep on the car ride home, Terry’s jacket draped over you, pulled up to your chin. The temperature had dropped by the time you left Meredith’s. He runs hot, he always has but he knows you feel the cold. This thing with Paul, and this case it’s exhausting you. You’ve stayed late the last couple of nights, and he sees the weight pressing down on your shoulders. The robberies are high profile, increasingly violent and now they’ve taken an even darker turn which is how they’ve landed at your feet. The victims are mostly from City Park and the Spencer Estates, the latest now being Morris Park. The homeowners are not Upper East Side rich, but the items that were stolen were heirlooms, past down from generation to generation. Duarte thinks there’s something in that, all these pieces are one of a kind, historical items, each of their stories running so deep you can feel the echo of generations when you look at the pictures.

He turns down Billy Joel on the radio as he pulls up in front of his apartment building. His head tilts towards you and he smiles. You’re curled up in the heated seat, head resting against the window. There’s a contented smile on your features and he loves that, loves the fact you feel comfortable enough with him to let your guard down.

A little wine, some good food, and excellent company can solve all the world’s woes.

“Hey pretty girl,” he says softly into the darkness of the car as he uses gentle fingertips to brush a strand of hair away from your features. “We’re home.”

“Hm…” You grumble, shuffling further down into the confines of his jacket. “Leave me, I’m comfortable here.”

Terry chuckled, his thumb tracing over the apple of your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your lips brushing over the base of his palm.

“I’m not letting you sleep in the car.” He says with a smile as he undoes your seatbelt.

“Always such a hardass.” You mumble, rubbing the back of your wrist across your tired eyes.

“Somebody has to take care of you.”

“You always do.” You told him resolutely. “I trust you more than I trust myself sometimes.”

“Nah, you’ve got good instincts.” Terry said. His fingertips caught the delicate gold chain around your throat, following the trail down to the centre of your chest where that tiny compass resided. “You just need to listen to them.”

“I do.” You told him, your gaze lowering to the compass between his fingertips. “When I’m not sure where I’m headed, I look down at this and think what would Terry do? And then I do the opposite.”

Terry rolled his eyes before releasing the compass.

“My girl, the comedian.”

There was silence for a second as Terry unclasped his own seatbelt and removed the keys from the steering console.

“I do want to move in with you, you know?” You said abruptly, the words spilling from your lips. “It’s just hard for me.”

“I know.” He said, his lips pursing together grimly, his fingers wrapping around the steering wheel. “Meredith told me.”

“I didn’t want you to see me as a victim, the work you do…” You trailed off, swallowing hard against the well of emotion in your chest. “I didn’t want you to have that in your home life too.”

“I don’t see you as a victim.” Terry said inclining his head towards you. “I see you as a survivor. You went through something awful at the hands of someone who was supposed to care about you and you’re still standing. Do you know how much strength it takes to do that?” Terry asked, angling his body towards you. “To get yourself out of that situation. You must have been terrified and you pushed through it. I admire that, I respect that.”

“Look…” Terry said meeting your gaze. His hand reached out to clasp yours, his thumb trailing over the indentation of your knuckles. “Move in with me, don’t move in with me. It doesn’t matter. I just want you feel safe, I want you to be able to sleep at night and know that everything’s going to be ok, that nothing is going to hurt you.”

“I love you; you know that?” You told him, leaning in close and inhaling that intoxicating scent. Your fingertips traced over the line of his jaw, your lips brushing over his softly. “Sometimes I look at you and I wonder how I got so lucky.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it.” Terry said quietly as he kissed you. “The two of us, it’s fate.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ask me again.” You whisper against his lips. You have him at your mercy, your hands threaded in his hair as you straddle his lap, his cock buried deep inside of you. There’s a flush across both of his cheeks, it reminds you of peaches and cream as you arch just a little taking him even deeper. His eyes are wild, locked on yours as you rock just a little coaxing a low moan from his throat. You have him at his peak, standing at the crest of the mountain and you are right there with him. His calloused palms roam up your curve of your back, clasping you close, holding on for dear life.

“Move in with me.”

His voice is husky and rough, his pupils blown as you sink down on him once more, tugging his head back and baring his throat. There’s an intimacy in the gesture, a sense of vulnerability and trust. You love him and this is your way of showing it, of reminding him that he’s yours, he’ll aways be yours.

You tantalise, you tease, you strip away every ounce of his control until he’s desperate and reckless, skin pressed so tightly against yours because he can’t stand not to touch you, not to feel you on every level. You drive him to the precipice, holding him there until the only thing he can focus on is the blurring of heaven and earth as he hits that rapture.

“Please, pretty girl.” He asks as he clings to the edge.

You know what he’s asking, it’s not just the moving in, it’s the commitment. The promise that you’re ready to take the next step, that you’re ready to trust him as much as he trusts you. It’s the final act, the shedding of that fear that sends you hurtling over the edge and plummeting into the sea of ecstasy. It washes over your synapses, drowning you like a wave until the only word on your lips is ‘yes’. You lose track of yourself, but Terry is always there, always grounding you. His hands are on your hips, his mouth smothering yours, drinking down your moans, your words and everything else you can give him as he spills himself inside of you.

You lose yourself in the bliss, the sense of belonging that comes with this man as he kisses you like you’re the only woman in the world. The only one he’s ever truly loved.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

It rains that night. Terry can hear the patter on the bedroom window as he lies in the darkness with your body draped over his. Your face is buried in the hallow of his throat, your arm thrown over his chest. His thumb trails over the curve of your spine, caressing your bare skin underneath the sheets. There was a perfection in this moment. The rhythm of your breathing against his. In the space of twenty-four hours his life has been flipped upside down and now he was considering the future.

There was a house for sale in Meredith’s neighbourhood, a couple of bedrooms, a small yard if you wanted a dog. It needed a little work, but the location was solid, and he had the money to renovate. He knew you would fight him on that point but the two of you would work out the details, you always did.

He thinks of the house with hardwood floors, your Aztec style rug in the living room along with his couch. A king-sized bed to go with the quilt he’d had to buy in the beginning of the relationship because you hoovered up the duvet when you were cold. The matching nightstands, you’d bought from a thrift shop before upcycling them with wallpaper and chalk paint. He wants to build a home with you, a place filled with laughter and love. He wants it to belong to both of you, for you to be able to come home and just relax in a space of your own. He longs for nights where you fall asleep with your head in his lap, a fire burning in the hearth, his fingers stroking through your hair. The two of you content.

This is what he falls asleep thinking about, with you in his arms. The life the two of you will have, the one you’ll create together.

Love Terry Bruno? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#detective terry bruno #terry bruno #terry bruno x reader #terry bruno x you #terry bruno fic

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noxexistant · 10 months

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Thought: Oscar is terribly ticklish but is terrified of anyone finding out and making him less intimidating.

Morris is the only one who knows. He tickles his older brother just to see him smile and it’s the only time he sees Oscar giggle at all.

When Oscar tries to get Morris off of him during these moments but is super gentle as to not hurt him - which means that he’s at Morris’ mercy until he’s done making Oscar laugh.

sobbing i love this so much

half the time when oscar flinches when anyone touches him or comes close, it’s because they almost touched or did touch a ticklish spot. more that than fear he’ll be hit. he’s so terrified of getting found out, of having this weakness mocked or used against him by someone who wants to hurt him. but he really can’t bring himself to mind it when it’s only morris exploiting it, when they’re alone and as safe as they can be. at most a teasing brush near oscar’s ribs or under his arms when they’re in public, the sort of movement that oscar can swipe back at and pretend it’s just a fight. morris always looks so amused and smug then, especially when he does it to make oscar stop mouthing off at someone or distract him from starting a real fight with someone else

when they’re alone, morris is his own version of merciless. when oscar won’t get up or out of bed or move, or he’s just sour or tired or angry, morris clambers on top of him and sits astride him and tickles him, giggling and shrieking himself as oscar gets more and more wound up and starts pretending to try and buck him off. oscar’s attempts are halfhearted at best, playfighting with a kid - usually keeping a hand on morris to make sure he won’t actually fall. he’s so terrified of hurting morris, of accidentally lashing out too hard and catching him across the face or something, so he mostly - for the only time in his life - just goes on the defensive. curls up and tries to grab at morris’ bony wrists to try and stop him, wriggling and laughing and making angry faces like he’s not still smiling. baring his teeth and growling. he always lets morris win in the end, and morris always looks so damn proud of himself.

it finally stops when morris is breathless. and oscar’s always a little breathless too from his laughter, but morris works a lot harder than he does in those scraps. hard enough that oscar can easily grab him by his sides then and toss him over, wriggle out from underneath him. morris stays sprawled on his back grinning up at his brother, and oscar can never find it in him to pretend to be mad, even when he’d been in the foulest of moods before morris started.

“i’ll get you back,” oscar threatens, fighting his remaining smile as he gets up. morris keeps grinning.

“i ain’t ticklish.”

oscar shrugs. and then it’s his turn to descend on morris, squishing his cheeks to make his lips pucker like a fish, make his little brother shriek and kick.

#let! them! play!#answered #anonymous #morris delancey #oscar delancey

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somedayonbroadway · 2 years

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Could you write the scene from your Grease au where Jack finds out that Race might be pregnant?

Of course I can!

Grease AU

Jack was on a high. He knew what he had to do. He’d just put Morris Delancey back in his place and now he needed to get himself together. He rushed home and into Race’s room. “Hey! I need your help,” he insisted, taking his jacket off and tossing it over the chair at Race’s desk before going to look in the mirror. He knew he must be a mess, but he didn’t even have the chance to look at himself before he saw his little brother crying on the bed with Jack’s best friend, Spot Conlon. Whirling around, Jack tilted his head. “What the hell are you doing here?”

It took a moment for Race to be able to lift his head up from his hands. “It’s nothin’, JJ, can you please leave us alone?”

With a shake of his head, Jack sat down and pulled Race close to him and away from Spot. “No, if you’re gonna be crying to someone, it should be me, not someone you don’t know—“

“Seriously, Jack?” Spot scoffed. “He’s upset, he can cry to whoever he wants!”

“And why the hell is he so upset, Spottie? What did you do to him?”

Race sniffled and curled into Jack. He shook his head. “Please stop,” he asked, letting his big brother hold him for a minute. “It’s bad, Jackie, it’s really bad…”

Jack held him close. “Race, what the hell happened?” he asked, looking down at the boy. He and his brother had their differences but they were still brothers. Jack loved Race more than anyone.

So when Race looked up at him with those big blue eyes filled with tears, Jack’s heart broke for a moment. Then those words were spoken. “I'm pregnant…” he whispered, his voice shaking as a tear fell down his cheek.

Nothing Jack could’ve guessed would have even come close to what his brother had just said. For a moment, Jack forgot the boy could even get pregnant. His mouth hung open for a minute. “Y-you’re…” he looked down at the boy who now hid in his chest like he was afraid the world would hurt him. Then he looked back up at Spot who saw the realization in his eyes. “And you’re crying to Spot,” he scowled.

Immediately knowing what Jack was about to do, Spot shot off of Race’s bed and rushed to the bathroom door but Jack got up and chased him, yanking the back of his shirt and sending him to the ground. He grabbed a baseball bat that Race kept by the window and lifted it above Spot’s head. Race jumped on his brother’s back. “Stop! Jackie!”

Jack did, but the bat was still up in the air above his best friend’s head. “You touched my baby brother and possibly just destroyed his life—!”

“And I ain’t goin’ anywhere!” Spot yelled. “I ain’t, I love him and if he’s pregnant I’ll be there, okay?”

The words made Race sniffled. He hugged Jack tightly from behind. “Please just sit with me right now, Jack,” he pleaded. “I just wanna sit with my brother, so please sit with me.”

Jack lowered the bat and threw it down on top of Spot who caught it and sighed. “I’ll let you two talk,” he caved, slipping out of Race’s window as Jack folded Race up in his arms.

“It’s okay,” he promised. “I’m here, it’ll be okay.”

Race didn’t truly believe him. “Everyone knows now. They’re all callin’ me a girl.”

With a quick shake of his head, Jack sighed. “You ain’t a girl,” he insisted. “Ain’t never been a girl.”

“Yes I was… least I looked like one,” Race muttered. “I don’t wanna be a girl.”

There was no one that was allowed to make Jack’s little brother feel like this. So he kissed the boy’s head and rubbed his back, doing the best he could to comfort him. “It’ll be alright,” he insisted. “I promise. I’ll get you to a doctor. Don’t you worry about anything.” But Jack would worry. He always would.

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sea-side-scribbles · 1 year

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Fanfiction: You Always Meet Twice

Link to ao3

Chapter 41

Morrie awoke when the sun was just about to rise and the clouds were painted pastel pink. Looking at the sky, he smiled. The man in his arms was still sleeping, buried in between the lapels of his jacket. Morrie felt his chest rise and fall in a steady, slow rhythm and thought that they just found a second home. And who knew what awaited them in the other houses they marked on the map? So many new places to explore...Morrie suddenly felt excited about them all, not just the daily treadmill of finding supplies. Nick was with him.

As always, he lay awake for a while and took in the sensation of having another body touching his own. The other man's warmth, his scent. Morrie felt he wouldn't want to wake up without smelling Nick's hair ever again. After a while, however, Morrie decided to move on and get their treasures home. He shook his Nick awake and kissed his shoulder, all very gently. Nick sucked in a breath and winced a little, but didn't move much.

“Morning, sleepyhead...”, Morrie sighed into his hair and Nick finally groaned: “Is it really morning, yet? It's so dark.” Morrie chuckled. “Just stick your head out and see.” With another groan, Nick moved his head and then blinked at the pink sky. A yawn followed and he stretched without struggling out of their embrace. Then he put an arm behind his head and directed his glance at Morrie again, looking relaxed and a tad bit flirty. Morrie adored the sight. If he could paint, he would capture this moment forever, even though he doubted that a painting could fully do him justice. None of his portraits had beaten the original.

“Hey, handsome, you come here often?”, Nick's voice interrupted his train of thoughts. Morrie averted his gaze and huffed. “Who are you calling handsome...? Nick touched his cheek and slowly moved his head back back to face him. His eyes studied Morrie, but not in an uncomfortable way. Morrie had once wished for the Lightbearer to look at him like this. Adoring, as if he was his only hope. He had thought about the musical aspect, though, or at least that was what he had wanted to believe. Now without it, he wondered what the rockstar even saw in him.

“Not many other faces to look at, him?”, Morrie guessed and chuckled shyly. Nick clicked his tongue and sat up. He cupped his face, a hand wandered up to wipe his hairstrands aside. “If you could see yourself how I see you...” Every touch, every glance and his voice were so soft that Morrie melted away. He searched for halt in Nick's face, palpating the skin just as carefully.

How could his green eyes be so warm?, he wondered. They were mostly known for sparkling mischievously, hunting prey, making them fall for him with a single wink. But eyes like these...He remembered them now...That one night with him...that one beautiful night...he had looked at him like this.

Morrie came to the conclusion that he had to accept it. This new Nick saw something in him. His heart flipped, but he also fought tears. All he knew was that he'd protect Nick. As long as he wanted to stay with him...

Eventually, he lost his fight and hot tears ran down his cheeks. He tried to say something, but his voice failed him as well. Instead, he was left to nod and clutch Nick for another embrace. Nick held him close as his heart beat faster. He loved every part of this...that he could comfort Morrie, that he could prove his worth like this...And that their time together was a constant exchange of affection, little gifts of love. Well, love...

Thinking about their last night, there was barely any doubt. Nick made sure to flood Morrie's heart with love, make him laugh and play and enjoy life again. Then everything would be okay.

“Handsome Morrie”, he purred. “You better believe it.” Morrie chuckled and sobbed at the same time. He wanted to stay in Nick's arms forever. His lack of body height didn't change how strong he held him, how save he made him feel. And most of all, understood. Not alone. He crumbled. Everything he knew got shattered into pieces and it was beautiful.

“You are the bravest, strongest and most handsome man I know”, Nick whispered on, and Morrie needed a second to get the meaning of his words. They were too much. “Come on, me?” He winded, staring at Nick. Even with his blurry vision he could sense Nick's firm look as he answered: “You saved my life.” Morrie dipped his head again. “Yes...Not from an army of Headboys, but...sure...” He gulped. “Yeah, I guess I'm amazing.” Nick chuckled and gave him a smile brighter than the rising sun. “I'm glad you noticed”, he went on.

Morrie couldn't help smiling back. Playing with Nick's hair, he added: “I must say you're not too bad either.” “Oh...”, the rockstar fluttered his eyelids. “Well, thank you, charming man.” “I...I suppose I fail at that a lot. Being charming and such.” “Ssh...no, you're amazing, remember?” “Huh, yeah...” Morrie looked around, wondering what to do. He couldn't just leave at at that, so he went for a kiss. Nick eagerly welcomed him, his tongue playful as ever, feeling his soft lips against his own. Morrie wondered why he had needed so long to kiss him again. How did he manage without him?

Nick purred into their kiss and Morrie went on to treat his neck. Then he wandered down to his shoulders and placed gentle bites here and there. He supposed it felt as good for Nick as it did for him, because the rockstar threw his head back and held Morrie close. Morrie didn't stop. He began to kiss down Nick's belly until the man lay spread out on the bed, winding and gasping with pleasure. He marvelled at Nick while he massaged the insides of his tights. That would be another painting, he thought, but only suited for their own eyes.

He thought about the rest of the balm they had left in the jar and pushed Nick further. They got rid of their clothes and Morrie grabbed the used curtain from the floor. Nick spread out on it, waiting and melting him with his eyes. Morrie's hands shook when he opened the jar. He was about to have this man again. He felt so privileged, but he was only a meaningless Wastrel....Stupid people in town didn't know what they lost.

He was nervous when he approached Nick but when he slid his fingers into him, he knew nothing but his warmth and the pulse between his own legs. Nick's little moans aroused him and the way he winded made him want to pin him down and bite him again. He actually placed a love bite on his shoulder, very gently. He made him gasp. Nick's hands touched the spot between his legs and the he decided that he was prepared enough.

When he took Nick, he forgot everything else around him. He could've been back in Nick's hideout between empty bottles of scotch and he wouldn't have noticed. It felt like he never left.

Their rhythm was more secure now. Morrie moved slower and was careful to hit the right spots. His senses tingled but he could hold back now, teasing himself with the sweet pain while their moans grew louder. Nick purred, moaned and whined. He used all the impressive range of his voice and he noticed how Morrie responded to it. He treated him wonderfully and Nick craved more.

When the time was right, he wrapped the curtain around his waist and came into it with a final moan. Morrie made few more thrusts, riding out his ecstasy and Nick ravished every single one of them.

Little gifts of love, he thought. And sometimes an eruption.

Sweating and shaking, Morrie collapsed onto Nick who embraced him and kissed his temples. They relaxed for another while until they managed to get out of bed and put on their clothes.

They gathered their loot and Morrie climbed down first to have it handed to him. Getting down was easier for Nick and after gathering the rest from downstairs, they climbed out of the house and strolled home, both amazed by each other.

They sated their hunger on the way and entered the house as carefully as usual. Then they emptied their purses. Looking around the cosy living room, they decided to keep the clean curtain as a blanket. This was more important than a beautification on the first floor.

When they were done putting their things away, they made themselves comfortable again on the mattresses and cuddled. Morrie fiddled around with the pocket watch and Nick simply rested against his shoulder. They were silent, only Morrie muttered something to himself from time to time. Nick watched, but not closely. He rather took in the whole moment.

“Isn't this crazy?”, the rockstar whispered after a while. Morrie let the watch sink onto his lap. “Yeah, perhaps...I don't even remember how to make this work and if I did, I still have no tools...” “Not that.” Nick chuckled. “I mean, that of all people that could've met again, it was us.” Morrie paused his fiddling. “Yes...we were lucky...You were lucky to find me first, and I was lucky because...” “H-hm?” Nick took his hand. Morrie clutched it and closed his eyes.

“Oh, Morrie, I'm so glad it went like this”, Nick sighed, full of affection. “Me too, Nick...You can't imagine...Well, let's not talk about bad memories again...” Nick lifted his head to look at him. His expression showed guilt. “I think I can imagine...a bit...” “It's over, Nick. Don't dwell on it, okay?”, Morrie said with a warm smile.

But Nick thought he deserved to know. “I remember you...” he said quietly. Morrie froze and his eyes widened. He felt hot and cold at the same time, thinking of all the embarrassing things he had done and said. Everything Nick could remember.

“Are you sure? I don't think I was very memorable. Maybe you mistake me for someone else.” “How many Morrie Mementos do you think crossed my way?” “Ah...” Morrie dipped his head, blushing. “Sure, the name stuck, but perhaps someone looked like me and you mistake him for me.” Morrie...” Nick purred and Morrie's heart jumped. “I remember a very talented and very ambitious young man.” “Like most of your bandmates?” “With the cutest brown eyes.” “Uh...” Doe eyed cutie. Morrie gulped. Time seemed to shift again, as if he was back in Nick's pad and sitting on the couch with him.

“Dark curls, sharp features, an adorable thin moustache and glasses with a black rim that hid his dark eyebrows...” Nick scanned Morrie, made him burst into sweat. He never knew how Nick saw him back then. He wasn't sure if he was ready to hear it. But his mouth was closed shut and his tongue refused to function, so he listened.

“You were skinnier back then, but still very attractive.” Morrie huffed and mumbled something unintelligible. Nick gave him a look. “Uh...that's nice of you, but...I know I wasn't as attractive as I hoped to be. I was just a naïve kid.” “Believe me, Morrie, you were smart and handsome and you turned my head.” Morrie huffed again, head still bowed. “Nick...I don't know if I want to talk about this yet...I don't know if I can...It was all fucked up.” “Ah...And that's my fault.” Nick sounded sad.

“Since when do you remember this?”, Morrie suddenly blurted out. The question was nagging him. Nick scratched the back of his head, looking guilty. “The evening before we went to the session...That's when it came back to me.” “But you didn't tell me then.” “I...I was trying to become a better person, to make up for it...I don't know what you would've done with me if you knew...” Morrie let out a deep sigh. “Right. You were scared. I understand. But you know that this is awkward now, right?” “I thought it's a good thing...We went through all this and...now we're here, we survived.”

Morrie touched Nick's cheek and looked him in the eyes, making sure he was still the same adorable man he had been a few minutes before. He looked the same. Innocent, if sad eyes and cute freckles. He saw that Nick told him the truth.

Morrie stroked his cheek to soothe him. “You really are an optimist...” Nick smiled apologetically. “Stupid, right?” “No, just honest, I guess. Even thought it would've been great to know it sooner.” “I'm sorry, I didn't know what you think of me.” “Yes, you're right. You couldn't know, I never...” Morrie closed his eyes. His mind raced, emotions swelling and fading inside him. “That's how it is now, I guess. No need to point fingers.”

Nick fondled his shoulder. “Is it really that bad that I remember? Would you rather I forgot you?” “I...don't know...How do you remember me? What was I for you? You never told me and I thought that memory is at least gone forever so I don't have to worry about it and start new. But now that we are just a continuation of our old endeavour...What am I to you?” “You're my saviour”, Nick blurted out without hesitation. Morrie froze again. “You wonder what you mean to me? Oh, Morrie, how can I tell you? You are the world to me. I want to stay with you forever, if you...agree.” “You feel different now...”, Morrie concluded quietly. “Yes. I remember the past but I can't feel like then. That was a completely different life. I just remember how you moved me...”

“And what you did to me, you remember that too?” “Yes.” Nick averted his gaze but he still leaned on his shoulder. “What we did?” “Yes...” Morrie was tense, wrapping his arms around his legs. He wasn't sure if he wanted Nick's head on his shoulder now. “Okay...here we go...”, he began, unable to look Nick in the eyes. “Why did you do this to me?”

Nick hadn't expected him to dig so deeply, but now it made sense to him. Morrie was still hurt and he had all the rights to be. He searched for an answer in his mind, a honest one, and he only came up with what he had told himself before.

“I didn't see another way...” Morrie's insides cramped. “To what? To get rid of me?” “You...” “I thought I moved you. Whatever that means.” “You...crushed me...You would've...torn me apart...I had to...” Morrie was appalled by this. Excuses? Instead of self loathing and promises to do better? Nick justified himself?

“Come on, Nick! That's bullshit and you know it!” “I'm sorry. It's the truth. If I hadn't been such a wreck, I would've been able to handle you, but you met me when I was...very low...weak...insufferable.” “What does that mean, handle me? So, my affection was already too much? Did I overstep my borders and even though you liked it, you still punished me for it? Do you know what you're saying?” By now, Nick was off his shoulders because Morrie had ripped himself away to stare at him.

“That's not what I mean, Morrie. I would've stayed with you, gladly, you did all the right things to me. But...But you...” He ruffled his hair. “Oh, why is this so hard to admit? I already proved to be a failure...” He sank onto his knees and added: “Don't you see it yourself? What would've happened to me if you stayed?” “Not in the slightest...”, Morrie answered blankly. Old, suppressed anger crawled back to the surface. “Perhaps people would've noticed what a pathetic figure you were.”

Nick winced at that. He had guessed that Morrie had seen through him, but he hadn't expected him to be so harsh. “Well, that's one way to put it...”, he said bitterly. “See, you couldn't even stand me. You would've destroyed me, taken my place. You already had the band behind you.” Now Morrie's anger exploded and he completely forgot about time and space. All the old excuses – and Nick didn't learn? He remembered, no, relived, how Nick snapped at him for no reason, humiliated him in the press, kicked him out and made sure he never had his own career.

“I did not!...”, he stopped himself and started over. “How dare you to say this into my face? After all these years – bullshit - after what I did for you now, you still think of me like that? Do you listen to yourself? Are you self-aware at all?” “You had those tapes...”, Nick tried to piece it together and Morrie laughed out loud. This was too absurd. “Oh, no, Nick, I won't have this! Not again! Did you ever consider that I was on your side? That I wanted you to be the star, and to get you back to your old glory? I wanted to help you!” “And you want me to believe that it would've never changed? After finding out that I was beyond help? You were too ambitious for that. You wanted to prove yourself and get your own fame. And there was nothing wrong with it. Just my band wasn't the best place for it.” “So you completely ruined my reputation to save your own arse, even thought you didn't know if you were in danger at all? Did you ever think of asking me first? Give me a chance to explain myself? Because I meant so much to you?” Morrie spat it in Nick's face and it was satisfying in a disgusting way.

“I...I couldn't...I had to do it quickly, before I could forget again...” Morrie snorted and eyed Nick as if he saw him for the first time. “You didn't give me a chance because you were so afraid for yourself...Do you know what you are?” “I was weak...” “You still are! You still think everyone is after you!” “No, I don't think you are...you saved me! After all this!” “Why do you trust me all of a sudden?” “Because you're kind...You don't poke at my mistakes...you changed.” They looked at each other and Nick noticed he used the wrong words.

“No, I'm still the same idiot!”, Morrie snapped. “I still fall for the same kind of man for no damn reason!” “No, don't say that! You're not an idiot, you...” “Spare me this shit! You take me for a traitor, that's much worse than what I think of me. You're in no position to lecture me!” “No, not a traitor! Just a...young musician? Like we all were? You know how it was!” “I can't listen to this any longer...” Morrie fetched the pointy stick from under the stairs and held it towards Nick. “Get out of here.”

Nick's heart beat to his throat and his eyes watered. Still, he fought for the last shred of his truth. For what had been common sense to him all these years. “Come on, why don't you let me have this? You know how we were, how hard our business was! Can't we just say we're happy to come out of this together?” “Get out, Nick!”, Morrie shouted now. He looked just like he had when they first met here.

Tears ran down Nick's cheeks. “Really? You throw me out because I'm honest?” “You're ready for it anyway! I told you everything I know! There's nothing more I can do for you!” “But Morrie...” “No, buts! Perhaps you find someone who's not an idiot to teach you how to treat people right! Perhaps there's hope!”

“But Morrie, we...” he gestured towards their cosy cuddle spot. It seemed to wait for them to come back and act like nothing happened. “You wanted me and I gave myself to you again! I have to figure out how to deal with it on my own! But at least now you opened my eyes! Perhaps that's a consolation!” “But I...I...” Nick faltered, then he darted forward. He went for the curtain, trying to hide under it until Morrie came back to his senses. He also hoped that it would help if they lay in there together again, indeed as if nothing happened.

But Morrie had quicker reflexes and no qualms. He shoved Nick backwards and then chased him out of the house. Nick thought about running up to the roof and hide there until Morrie changed his mind, but the way to the stairs was blocked and his chance was over. Nick pleaded, but Morrie didn't hold back. He feared the Wastrel would stab him in his rage, so he backed away. Eventually, he fell over the springtrap and landed outside. Even then Morrie chased him further until they stood a few feet apart from each other. Morrie gave him one last cold look before he went back inside.

The way he expected this to be over hurt more than being chased. The house was so close, but it was impossible to get back inside, told only by the gesture. Nick stood there for a while, waiting for Morrie to come back out. For something to happen. But nothing occurred. Insecurely, he eyed the landscape next. It was still the same but it looked to different now. He made a few steps and then turned around. Nothing happened. Slowly, he brought distance between himself and the house, looking back again and again. No one came to call for him and eventually, the house vanished behind a hill.

#you always meet twice #we happy few #wehappyfew #whf #nicklightbearer #nick lightbearer #whfnick #whf nick #nick x morrie #morriememento #morrie memento #whf morrie #nickxmorrie #whfmorrie #gardendistrict #garden district #the garden district

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sl-newsie · 1 year

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Chapter Thirty One: Safe (Spot Colon x Female Newsie)

(Warning: hint at rape and slight intimacy)

Today was a bad day. It rained all morn’n, and nobody was out- so I’s didn’t sell as many papes. But I get ta see Spot tonight, so maybe things’ll turn up.

On my way to Brooklyn, I hear voices- which is odd since I’s hadn’t seen a single soul for a few blocks now. It’s alright- you’s made this trip dozens-a times. You’s just let’n Jack and Spot’s cautious talk get to you.

I’s dressed like a boy, but that don’t mean I’s still ain’t noivous.

Tha voices keep get’n louder, but whenever I look behind me there ain’t noth’n there. Until-

“Nice day, right Oscar?”

I whip around and face tha Delancy broddas stand’n in the ally, block’n my way out, and immediately get a sick feel’n in my stomach.

“Yeah, real nice day. I’s was just think’n ‘bout do’n someth’n. How ‘bout you?” Morris asks his smirk’n brodda.

“Yeah. How’s about we’s find a nice-look’n someone to… take care of.”

My stomach drops.

“Hey, there’s a beautiful goil right there!” Oscar points at me, as if I hadn’t heard ‘em. What’re they-?

“C’mere, sweetie. We don’t bite!” Morris taunts.

I shake my head. “N-no. I gots to be go’n-”

“Hey, I’s right! She’s tha one! She’s Colon’s squeeze!”

I flinch. Spot and I haven’t gotten too intimate, and I’s still too afraid to ask. I’s afraid he’ll hate me for it, or if he will want me just ‘cause of that.

“Come here, now!” Morris stiffly strides forward and grabs my arm, which in response I kick him in tha knees.

“Touch me again, and I’ll- I’ll-!” I can’t find me own voice…

“You’ll what? Ya gonna cry? You think you’s untouchable just ‘cause you’s Brooklyn’s little hussy?” I gasp and he laughs with Oscar. He also pushes me back against tha wall and grips my wrists. “Hear that, Oscar? She thinks she’s is so all high-and-mighty just ‘cause she’s Colon’s plaything!”

Tears form in my eyes. “No! No, I ain’t- We haven’t- I-” But I can’t speak. And even if I could, they’s wouldn’t listen to me.

Morris leans in and tries to kiss me, and I nearly belch. He’s a tentacle-faced bastard! I bite his lip, which just makes him tighten his grip.

“Kiss back, harlot! God- I don’t know why Colon’s kept ya around, your such a tiny thing!”

“Maybe he likes ‘em smaller?” Morris chuckles.

My strength has left me. All I can do is whimper.

“This is get’n old. Shall we?” Tha broddas share an evil look, and I know what they’s think’n when Oscar starts mess’n with my knickers.

“No- No! P-Please-!”

I get a slap in tha face.

“We weren’t ask’n you! What, ya surprised? Colon ain’t ever slapped ya?” He hits me again, and my knees buckle, send’n me to tha ground. He hits me again, this time across my cheek.

“Uh- Oscar? Maybe we’s should back off for now. I mean, soak’n tha Brooklyn gang is one thing, but beat’n Spot’s goil? He’s gonna send us to Hell and back!”

Oscar leans in for one last attempted kiss, which I stiffen at. “Suppose you’s right, Morris. Alright, slut. We’s leave’n- fer now. But don’t think just ‘cause you’s Colon’s goil it means you’s get’n away with anyth’n! We’ll be back!” He runs a threat’n finger along my jawline.

And with that, he sneers and turns away. Morris goes to follow him, but not before give’n me a look of slight apology.

I feel sick. Like there’s dirt on my skin that’ll never come off.

Those low-life, slimy, no-good, sleazy bastards!

I break down cry’n, and sit there with my face to tha ground. I can’t bear to look up- even if there ain’t nobody there. How did I let that just happen? Am I really just a weak, little goil?

I can’t stand be’n alone any longer- I need Spot!

I slowly, cautiously get up and look both ways before I come oudda the ally, then I take off sprint’n, not bother’n to look at anybody I pass. It’s all I can do not to break down cry’n in front of everybody.

Tha Brooklyn Bridge is a new sign of sanctuary all in itself. I can’t wait anodda minute ‘till I see Spot-

But I can already see Spot’s got himself in a situation too. Him and tha Brooklyn gang’re surround’n a guy- a nonfriendly, by tha looks of him. Probably glanced at Spot the wrong way and gots to pay for it.

I don’t wanna interrupt, but I can’t control myself. When Spot looks over and sees me, his face lights up a bit. He glares at tha thug and says a few words, then runs ova to me.

“Hey! I didn’t know you’s-”

I don’t let him finish. I wrap my arms around him, grip his suspenders for dear life, and sob, like a pathetic goil. I don’t even care my face is burn’n from rub’n against tha suspenders.

Spot, surprised by this, seems to give his joke’n gang a warn’n look, and pulls me in. All tha Brooklyn newsies split, but not before give’n me strange looks.

“Hey, it’s ok. It’s alright. Let it out, Beauty. Shhh… What happened?” Spot runs his hands up and down my back. His woids give me comfort, but when Spot sees tha handprint left on my face his features turn dark. His body goes stiff, and his hands clench.

“Who?”

A simple question- one I wish I’d never have to answer.

It takes me a while, but I finally whimper:

“Tha- Tha Delancies,” I whisper so quiet, but Spot still hears.

“They’s hurt ya pretty bad, huh? Even I knows it’s bad when Rebecca Colon is cry’n. It’s alright- you’s safe now.”

“S-Spot- Do- Do you… Do you only like me ‘cause I’s pretty?” I struggle to find my voice, and even so I don’t wanna know the answer.

Spot does a double-take, and don’t seem to get my question.

“You know- how you’s only with me ‘cause I’s… with you physically.” I cannot believe I’s talk’n about this!

He then gets it, and his eyes widen a bit. I wanna look away, but I godda know-

“Beauty, you realize there’s a million odda reason for me to luv you, right?”

I nod shakily and look away, embarrassed I’d ever brought it up. But Spot catches my face in his hands and makes me face him.

“Whatever them two bastards told you, it ain’t true. I luv you ‘cause your you, and I don’t want you to ever change. Please don’t change, Rebecca. You’s just fine tha way you’s is. And…” He licks his lips, unsure what to say. “...And if you’s ever wanna talk ‘bout be’n physical, it’s ok. Ya don’t have to be so shy. I never bring it up ‘cause I’s don’t wanna make you’s feel uncomfortable.”

“Th-Thanks, Spot. I- I’s just ashamed that I’s so shy ‘bout this…” I hang my head again.

“Beauty, you know how adorable you’s is when you’s all flustered? I luv it! Don’t worry so much- I knows a thing or two. You can trust me.”

I can- I knows I can.

“Th- Thanks, Spot. I- l-luv you too.” I gather myself and attempt to explain what happened.

“They-they’s tried to… They said…” I gasp for breath as I look down at my slightly ripped pants..

Spot gets this message loud and clear, and clenches his teeth. I can feel his temper rise’n, and know this ain’t gonna fly well with him.

“I’ll soak them bastards! I’ll soak ‘em so hard they’s won’t be able to walk!” He lets go and starts march’n away, but then realizes what he’s do’n. He comes back and holds me again.

“I’ll find ‘em, don’t worry. But for now I’ll stay with you, alright?”

I nod again. “Th- Thank you, Spot. I- I’s just sorry I wasn’t stronger-”

“Hey, hey! There’ll be no talk’n like that! Beauty, they’s cornered you in an ally! They’s more than twice your size and strength, not to mention you’s probably weren’t think’n straight when they’s tried to-”

He stops, disgusted to even say anymore. But he also seems to rethink someth’n.

“I- I didn’t mean you’s weak-minded or anyth’n-”

“No, no. I- It’s fine. I was weak-minded when they’s… did what they did. Don’t be so hard on Morris- he made them stop.”

“That ain’t no excuse- he still hurt ya! And that ain’t gonna be taken lightly! I ain’t just gonna let some bastards feel up my wife!”

“Th- Thanks.” I bury my face in Spot’s neck, thankful for tha safety and comfort.

“No problem. You’s here now, alive. My strong, beautiful goil. And that’s all I could ever want. Hey, Bucky!” Spot calls over at his second-in-command, who’s returned. “Tell tha jerk to scram- unless he wants a busted leg!” He must be refer’n to tha guy they’s was fight’n earlier.

Tha guy in general sees me, and scoffs.

“You’s ain’t gonna fight just ‘cause of some wimpy goil?” tha brute asks.

That did it. If looks could kill, tha guy’s blood would be soak’n tha pavement. Spot’s glare intensifies as he steps toward him almost a little too calmly.

“As a madda-a-fact, her name’s Becca, and she’s tha most beautiful thing tha Maker ever created, and if I catch you’s talk’n ‘bout her like that again, I’ll rip your throat out!”

Tha brute don’t wait any longer- he takes off run’n like a wimpy deer, and he don’t look back.

Spot looks back at me, with a mixed look of pity and humor. “I guess I knows how to pick ‘em. Why’s it you’s always got bums chase’n after you?”

I shrug, wipe’n my face. “Just lucky, I guess.”

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me against him, then whispers in my ear: “Then I guess I’s got tha best luck of all, ‘cause I get to be with you.”

I let a giggle slip. Then, Spot says:

“It’s get’n late, and you’s had a long day. How ‘bout we gets you to bed?” Before I answer, he swiftly picks me up and begins to carry me.

“Sp-!”

“Before you’s start hiss’n at me ‘bout carry’n you, can it! It don’t mean you’s weak, I’s just show’n how I luv ya.”

I don’t protest. Instead, I rest my head on Spot’s shoulder and nearly forget all about what happened…

Upstairs, I’m laid down gently and begin to take off my shoes-

“You want me to stay?” Spot asks. In a hopeful way, or just curious?

“Would ya hate me if I said yes?” I ask, take’n my hat off and let’n my hair down.

He grins at me, a boyish grin that nobody could ever top. “Never.”

He sits down next to me while I finish untangle’n my hair, and I notice him analyze’n me oudda tha corner of my eye.

“We could have some fun, if you’s ok with it.”

My heart skips a beat, but… I don’t panic. I’s a mature, married woman. I trust my instincts, and this feels right. My voice avoids me, so instead I run my hands up and down Spot’s suspenders, then begin to slowly pull them off one by one. This gets me a shocked, wide-eyed look from Spot.

“Yes,” I say in a low, but certain voice.

Spot’s face lights up, and he slowly starts take’n off his shirt. I notice his pupils dilate as he brings me in for a deep kiss, already run’n his hands on me…

“Wow,” Spot breathes, both of us pant’n. “Just… wow.”

I give a small smile. “Not too bad yourself.”

Spot cups my face and makes me look at him.

“Ya sure you’s ok?” Spot asks again. “No more worry’n ‘bout tha Delanceys?”

I nod, trace’n tha veins on Spot’s arm with my finger. “You make me feel safe, Spot.”

He nods back, and we both begin to drift off. I’s tired, but I keep get’n tangled in the blankets. It’s extremely late, and we’s both extremely tired, but for tha life of me I can’t settle down!

“Beauty, will ya stop move’n?” Spot grumbles, his hat over his eyes.

“Sorry!” I hiss. “I just can’t find a spot to get comfortable in-”

I feel a hand reach across my side and pull me in, closer to Spot. His heat radiates off him and comforts me.

“Well, here’s a spot you’s can get comfortable with.”

I open my mouth to respond, and then get tha joke. I smirk. “Haha, Spot Colon is play’n with woids.”

I give him an annoyed look while he looks down at me with a simple, content smile.

“I didn’t think I’d ever be able ta luv you any more than I already did, but I guess I was wrong.”

“I’d never thought I’d ever be able to find luv, let alone be able to feel so happy. I guess we’s both wrong,” I smile.

I nuzzle into tha crook of his shoulder, and feel Spot kiss my head. Slowly I drift off to tha sound of Spot’s steady breath’n…

#Newsies #newsies musical #newsies broadway #newsies 1992 #newsies x reader #spot conlon #spot colon x reader #Jack Kelly #Les Jacobs #david jacobs #sarah jacobs #boots newsies #kid blink #skittery newsies #mush meyers #racetrack higgins #racetrack newsies #crutchie morris #crutchy newsies

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 8 months

Text

I Never Planned On You Chapter 6: Delanceys- Davey Jacobs x Poppy

Word Count: 1.8k

Most of Manhattan was alive the very next afternoon as word about the newsies strike spread around town. Every newsie was excited to be part of something that could hopefully bring down the price of the papes. Well, except one of them.

It took all Poppy had not to wince or cry as she made her way up to the Jacobs residence. While on her way out of Jacobi’s she’d been cornered and jumped by Oscar and Morris Delancey, who wished to remind the newsies of who they’re dealing with by starting this strike. It left her with bruises all over her body, a busted lip, a bruised cheek and a black eye along with a cut right under her eye (Morris had been wearing a ring). She knocked on their door and waited patiently for someone- anyone- to answer. It only took a minute before the door opened, revealing Davey.

“He-“ he stopped and stood there wordlessly for a moment, bringing his hand to his mouth as he looked her over.

“Poppy- what the hell happened to you?” He asked incredulously, helping her inside with gentle hands. Poppy licked her lips, which had by now become dry, cringing at the metallic taste it left in her mouth, then sighed shakily.

“Oscar and Morris Delancey,” she answered quietly. “They cornered me outside Jacobi’s. They…I can’t go back to the lodging house looking like this, the boys will kill the Delanceys, and I don’t want anyone in jail for murder over me. I’m sorry I just showed up without warning, I just…I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Davey didn’t answer and instead gently swooped her up after closing the door, carrying her to his room and setting her gently on the bed. He crouched in front of her, holding her chin gently so he could examine her face, his own face absolutely covered in worry.

“They got you good,” he commented, his voice shaky.

“Really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?” She joked dryly in an attempt to lighten the mood. It went unnoticed as he stood and walked to the bathroom with haste.

“What were you doing out there all alone?” He scolded from the bathroom as he ran a washcloth under the sink.

“Hey, it’s not like I knew they were out there,” she defended herself. “Besides, everyone had already left. Mr. Jacobi asked for help moving some tables and I’m the only one that volunteered.” The boy huffed in frustration, as a mother might do, but decided not to pry further. He walked over and knelt in front of her, holding her chin in one hand and the rag in another. He wasted no time in pressing the rag to her wounds, starting with her lip. His eyes focused on his work. Poppy flinched back with a quiet hiss as a first response, clenching her eyes shut in pain.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. His grip tightened slightly on her chin to keep her from moving as he dabbed the rag over the dried blood, trying to keep a serious attitude about him as he concentrated.

“You’re lucky they didn’t hurt you worse,” he muttered as he began to focus on the cut across her cheek. “Are you hurting anywhere else?” The girl shook her head.

“Just some bruises here and there,” she responded quietly. Davey hummed in response as he finished cleaning her up. He stood, tossing the bloody washcloth onto his nightstand.

“Well, I’m going to go grab some ice. You can change into some of my clothes from that drawer if you’d like.” The girl nodded and stood with a small, awkward yet grateful look.

“Thanks Davey, and I’m sorry again.” Davey paused, his gaze softening as he looked down at her.

“You don’t have any reason to be sorry- I’m sorry. I was being worried and not checking in with you,” he cupped her face with a surprisingly gentle touch. “How are you feeling?”

“Not good if I’m being honest,” she admitted with a weak laugh. “My side and head both hurt.”

“Get dressed and lay down, I’ll bring you ice and some water. Is there anything else I can do for you?” He asked softly. Poppy shook her head and smiled softly.

“You’ve done more than enough, thank you,” she says, leaning into the hands that were cupping her face for a moment before pulling away to find herself some clothes. Davey pulled away and made his way to the kitchen. In the time he was gone the girl managed to find some clothes and change, folding her old clothes as best as she could before laying on his bed with a sigh. He walked back in with an ice pack moments later and smiled softly at the sight of her in his clothes. Upon noticing his smile the girl couldn’t help but smile shyly in response then scooted over a bit so he could sit beside her, which he did.

“This will sting at first, but I promise it feels better after a while,” he warned her as he held up the ice pack. Poppy nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Okay.” After getting the okay Davey brought the ice pack up to her cheek, gently pressing it to the bruise and cut. The girl hissed in pain, gripping her shirt so she didn’t move her head away like she’d done last time as her eyes clenched shut again. Davey’s brows knit together in worry and he gently took her hand in his free one. She gripped it lightly, starting to relax with his touch, and calmed down after getting used to the cold. A small, reassuring smile settled onto his lips as he brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the back of it.

“It’s okay,” he muttered against her skin. The girl blushed deeply and smiled softly at him (well, as much as she could with an ice pack on her face).

“Thank you for taking care of me,” she mumbles, squeezing his hand gently.

“You’re welcome,” he responded. “I would hate for you to get an infection or hurt yourself further trying to get home.” Poppy nodded, then laughed.

“I probably would be passed out in an alley if I hadn’t thought to come here,” she commented. Rather than answer at first Davey scooted a little closer and lifted the ice pack to check over her wounds before he placed it back over the bruise. Something about the intimacy of helping her had made his heart throb for her. He gazed into her eyes with a soft and inviting smile.

“I’m glad you chose me to take care of you,” he said quietly. Poppy stared into his eyes with a certain fondness, one that made her heart flutter in her chest similar to the butterflies that flapped around in her stomach, slowly lifting her hand to cup his cheek gently, as if she’d hurt him if she pressed against him any more.

“I am too,” she whispered. Davey set his hand over the one that she had pressed to his face, letting their fingers lace together, which earned a coy smile from her. She brought their hands down so she could press a kiss to the back of his like he’d done earlier, as she thought about how his simple gesture was making her feel all sorts of things. A smile settled onto the boy’s face, and he began leaning closer to her.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, almost not realizing that he had said it. He used his free hand to interlace his fingers into her hair as he awaited her answer with eager eyes.

“Yes,” she whispered, relieved that he’d been the one to ask, and that she wasn’t misreading the situation.

Davey leaned in, almost like she was magnetic to him and kissed her gently. His eyes fell closed as he ran his hand through her fiery hair. With his other hand he pulled her close to his chest by the small of her back. He had never experienced this feeling, he had cared about people, sure, but something about this felt so pure to him, so effortless.

You know how people say they feel a spark when they kiss someone? Well it was nothing compared to what Poppy felt the moment Davey’s lips touched hers. She found herself wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself even closer to him (if it were even possible) as her eyes fell closed.

He let his hands run up her sides gently and he gripped onto her shirt as they embraced. He wondered if he was dreaming, even just the day before he had been unsure of her, but now he was sure. He was sure he wanted to have adventures with her, to hold her hand, to make her breakfast in bed, he wanted to hear the different types of laughs that she had, he wanted to be the best man he could be for her. Poppy smiled into the kiss and moved one hand to cup his cheek while the other played with the hair at the nape of his neck. The feelings she had for Davey were so new to her. She’d never felt this way before, but she knew she would do anything to make him the happiest that he could be.

Eventually Davey pulled back for a moment, breathing heavily. A bright smile graced his face, his warm eyes looking her over. He wanted to hold her forever. His face conveyed a fondness as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Wow,” was all he could say. Poppy giggled quietly, staring into his eyes with a sense of adoration for the boy in front of her.

“Yeah, wow,” she whispered back, a comically wide smile on her face. The boy blushed, looking aside with an embarrassed smile.

“You make my heart pound. I’ve never felt that way before,” he admitted in a whisper, tucking some stray hair behind her ear.

“I know the feeling,” she said softly, grinning at his coyness. “You’re a really special guy, Dave. One in a million.” Davey couldn’t help but smile at her words and, rather than reply, which he lacked the words to do so, he began to press kisses all over her lips and face. The girl giggled and cupped his face, attempting to get a few kisses in between his, before he ultimately pulled back again with a smile.

“Are you feeling any better?” He asked. “After that? Definitely,” she joked, earning a quiet laugh from Davey.

“Good, I’m glad. God you scared me, I almost had a heart attack when I opened the door and saw you like that,” he admitted softly.

“I’m sorry,” she responded, giggling afterwards because that had to be the sixth time she’d apologized at this point. “I didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Don’t be sorry, but don’t go walking out by yourself anymore, it isn’t safe,” he urged, shaking his head.

“I promise,” she nodded with a small smile up at him. And Davey believed her. He trusted her, just like she’d trusted him to take care of her. That was more than enough for him.

#newsies #newsies imagine #newsies live #newsies live imagine #davey jacobs #davey jacobs imagine #davey jacobs x oc

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hello-imasalesman · 2 years

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Chad and Bryce

"we're just friends, right? Friends kiss each other all the time."

i had to force myself to keep this short because i love them too much!! chad morris / bryce montrose, first kiss :)

Chad and Bryce are good friends. They practice together at the Glass Jaw Boxing Club at least three times a week, always designated spotters for each other when they lift weights.

Chad is indomitable in the ring, a true force of nature. Bryce is good at boxing in theory, though rarely does he manage to take that knowledge into practice, under those blinding spotlights in the ring. Still, he knows his forms well, the footwork. He’s studied tapes. Chad is as prideful as any preppy, but he never seems to mind when Bryce corrects him. A hand on his hip to change his stance, shifting his shoulders.

And when he does mind, it’s always to throw Bryce’s hands off him in jest, laughing and shoving. The curve of Chad’s inner elbow, warm bare skin to his neck in a headlock, takes his breath away more than the pressure of it does.

They’re friends.

Bryce reminds Spencer of that when he hears him talking about how he hears him and Chad wrestling all the time. So what? It’s not his fault Tad’s some webbed toe friendless freak. Chad laughs at that, has some choice words for Spencer of his own in the privacy of their own gossip bubble in the yard. Chad’s dog Chester starts to bark, as if he has some comments of his own, head butting Bryce in the shins until he pets the pitbull’s wide head. And then Chad’s laughter goes quiet, and he looks at them for a moment like—

They’re just friends, two friends, hanging out underneath the blue shadows of the gazebo. Spring is around the corner and Chad wanted to take a smoke break after practice, so they’re outside in the tender warmth instead of trying to huddle in the bathroom away from the smoke detectors, trading a single cigarette back and forth to pretend it’s not as bad for you as if they each had their own. Chad looks— like a good friend painted in the dusky purples and lilac pinks of sunset, grinning at Bryce. His mouth split so wide, the dimples make the skin of his fencing scar on his left cheek stand out. Bryce almost drops the cigarette when Chad hands it to him, fingers brushing.

“I should head over to the Club soon.” Bryce says. To anyone else, it just sounds like he’s taking a stroll over to the Vale’s prestigious Golf and Yacht Country Club, but only Chad knows that the duffel bag slung over his shoulder contains not just his boxing shorts, but his work uniform for the night shift. It’s the biggest secret of Bryce’s life, and Chad has always held it fiercely close to his heart.

“You’re scheduled for today?” Chad checks his wristwatch, the only other face he seems to care to ever look at when he’s in proximity to Bryce. “I thought we could hang out tonight.”

Bryce swallows. Because he would love to, but his lunch money account is dangerously low, and he’s called out on enough shifts to spend more time with Chad as it is. “Maybe tomorrow.” Bryce says, mumbles around the same filter that Chad’s lips had just touched. “I’m free tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is sooo far from now.” Chad complains, tipping his head back. Bryce’s eyes drag across the arch of his throat, stumbles over the pronounced peak of his adam’s apple.

Bryce turns his head, coughs into his closed fist and passes the cigarette back. Their hands fumble. “It’s just a few hours.”

“Yeah.” Chad sighs, raising the cigarette to his lips. “But tonight?”

There’s a touch of hopefulness in there; an earnest hint. Bryce feels his ears grow warm.

“I’ll see you back at Harrington House.” Bryce offers. The tip glows as Chad takes another drag, exhales a thick menthol plume. When the smoke clears, he’s a step closer. He tries to offer it back, but Bryce waves it away. “I’m good.”

“Alright.”

“Tonight, though.” Bryce promises, scuffing his shoes against the wooden planks. He watches Chad carelessly toss the butt to the ground, following it quick with the heel of his loafer until it was only a smear of ash.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Chad closes the distance between them. He grabs Bryce’s shoulder, as if he’s going to drag him into one of their numerous rumbles, but his hand is all wrong— the grip too lax, curled gently against his shoulder blade, because he doesn’t need to exert any pressure to pull him closer. Bryce goes of his own accord; tilts his head, and closes his eyes, easy and natural as breathing.

Chad’s lips are soft against his. Barely a kiss, brief enough just to be a brush of the lips, but if Bryce were to be honest, it’s his first and he has no other to compare it to. It’s only a moment. It’s glorious. And then Chad’s pulling back, lips parted in a half-smile, eyes bright.

“See you later, Montrose.” Chad grins.

“I—“ Bryce’s palms are so sweaty his gym bag nearly slides from his grasp. He licks his lips. Quickly he nods, tries to swallow his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. “See— see you later, Chad!” His voice comes out a little too loud, cracks a little near the end— and Chad laughs, not unkind, as he bolts out from underneath the gazebo across the park. They’re friends, afterall; very good friends.

#canis canem edit #bully canis canem edit #bully cce #bully se #bully scholarship edition #bully #chad morris #bryce montrose #preps! preps! preps!

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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 14: Day Tripping

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder awakes the next morning with his face crammed into his pillow, squeaky leather couch cushions groaning, and for the first time in years he thinks maybe he should get a bed. For his own sake, of course; sofas aren’t meant for long term sleeping, and his joints aren’t getting any younger. It seems prudent to invest in a bed frame, a good mattress, maybe some nice sheets.

And hell, if a certain small redhead happens to come by…

He has a slight crick in his neck, but it fades into the background as his memory replays the night before. Pad Thai, Scully’s big blue eyes, ice cream, soft lips under the cover of branches. Requited affection at last.

He doesn’t know where they’ll go from here, but he’s eager to find out.

He waltzes into the basement office, freshly showered and shaved and wearing his least offensive tie. Scully’s already there, digging through her briefcase.

“Morning, Scully,” he says cheerily, dropping into his chair and searching her face, attempting to make eye contact.

“Morning,” she replies, not looking up.

“I had a, uh, good time last night,” he says in a low voice. “Best night I’ve had in years.”

She nods, cheeks faintly pink. “It was nice,” she says carefully.

Something’s wrong.

“Scully, are you okay?” he asks, leaning in.

“I’m fine, Mulder,” she replies, exhaling softly. “But I don’t want to talk about this now.”

Disappointment and dread creep into his chest, spreading a chill like midnight frost.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asks, voice suddenly small.

“No,” she clarifies, finally meeting his eyes. “I’m not, I promise. It’s just that things look different in the light of day, and I’m adjusting.”

“That doesn’t really make me feel better,” he says, worrying the end of a pencil between his teeth.

“It’s not meant to,” Scully replies. She sits down opposite him and reaches into their inbox on the desk, hauling out a stack of files. “It’s just the truth.”

They’re quiet for a long moment before she reaches out and places a hand atop his on the desk, squeezing gently before withdrawing it and returning to leafing through files.

She knows exactly how to comfort him, to communicate that things are alright, they’re alright, and that he doesn’t need to worry right now. A paragraph in the touch of a hand. Their eyes meet, and she gives him a tentative smile, causing warmth to bloom in his chest once more.

They sort through potential cases for an hour before Mulder makes a triumphant sound in his throat.

“Got one, Scully,” he announces, handing her a file. “Equine mutilations in Gettysburg. Wanna go check it out?”

Scully opens the folder and immediately frowns. “Not really, but if I say no you’ll go anyway,” she sighs, flipping through the pages. “And then when you get lost in some cave or stuck in the bottom of a well or something and are in need of a rescue, who’ll inform the local authorities? Oh god,” she says in realization. “I’m Lassie.”

“There’s a filthy joke in there somewhere, Scully-”

“-And right now’s not the time to find it,” she cuts in, giving him a patented eyebrow arch.

“Let me know when that time’ll be,” he says in a low tone. “I’ll clear my schedule.”

“Dead horses, Mulder,” she reminds him, waving a gruesome photo. She sighs. “Let’s get this over with.”

Mulder’s in a great mood. The sun is out, they have a case, and he kissed Dana Scully last night. Twice. He’s actually humming as he drives, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Nothing lights you up quite like mutilated livestock, Mulder,” Scully observes, shaking her head. “What are you hoping to find? More vampires?”

“Civil War ghosts, actually,” he replies, adjusting his mirrors. “Think about it, Scully. Those wounds lacked the consistent placement and patterns we usually see in ritualistic killings, nor did they resemble animal attacks. I’ll bet if we compared the wounds with weapons and ammunition from the era, we’d get some matches.”

“To what end?” Scully asks.

“If I’m right, we’ll see some ghosts. If I’m wrong, we’ll stop some sicko from slaughtering more horses. We can’t lose.”

“Hm,” Scully replies, the brief exhalation steeped in skepticism. He knows the meaning of each little hum and sound of hers at this point.

Well obviously not all of them, he thinks, pulse quickening. But soon.

“So,” he says, cracking a sunflower seed between his teeth, “About last night.”

“It happened, if you were unsure,” she confirms. “It was real. I was there.”

“Funny,” he quips. “No, I know it happened. I just wanted to make sure you were okay that it did. You seemed a little uncomfortable when I came into the office this morning.”

Scully sighs deeply, and Mulder braces himself for a rejection he’d always feared would come.

“Mulder, yesterday I told you that I spent years repressing certain facets of how I feel about you,” she reminds him. “And only yesterday I found out that… that I don’t need to do that anymore. I’m simply adjusting. It’s all very new, and seeing you this morning in our office… you looked the same, everything looked the same, but I felt different. Frankly, it was jarring. It was like watching two planets collide; Mulder the colleague and friend, and Mulder the… the lover,” she says quietly.

Lover. The words gives him a thrill. “Am I your lover, Scully?” he asks softly.

“Well, you did kiss me twice,” she replies matter-of-factly, “So I think you’re on your way.”

“Then that makes you my lover,” he says, almost to himself. “You’re right; this does feel kind of weird.”

“Not a bad weird,” Scully clarifies. “Just… new. I think we just need practice.”

“Lots and lots of practice,” Mulder agrees, flashing her a grin.

Scully rolls her eyes, turning to look out the window as though to hide the smile creeping across her face. “Just drive, Mulder.”

They get to East Cavalry Field at half-past noon, just in time to enjoy the sights. Namely, the latest victim, a Clydesdale named Morris. The warm spring sun pours down on them and the fallen animal, illuminating the gore spilling from its lifeless body.

“Well, Mulder,” Scully says flatly, snapping on a pair of gloves, “You sure do know how to show a girl a good time.”

They drive home six and a half hours later, having gathered little new information. A musket ball, borrowed from a local museum, rolls around one of the cupholders.

“Mulder, are you sure they said you could take that thing back to DC?” Scully asks, glancing at the ball. “Why didn’t they put it in some kind of bag or envelope?”

“What are you implying?” Mulder asks, plucking the ball out of the cupholder and awkwardly tucking it into his pants pocket.

She just gives him a look.

“Civil War musket balls aren’t that rare, Scully,” he informs her. “You can buy them off history buffs for a couple bucks.”

“Mulder, my feet hurt, and I’m exhausted. At this point I don’t care anymore.” She doesn’t even bother to stifle her yawn. “And I spent the day poking around dead horses, even though I’m not a veterinarian or a munitions expert. You owe me.”

“Alright, what do you want in reparation?” he asks. I can think of a few things, but we’re not there yet…

“I don’t know. Take me out on a date,” she says flippantly. “We never do anything nice. Preferably something with no mutilated corpses.”

“Damn, that really narrows down the options,” he jokes. “But sure; we’ll go do something nice.”

“Let me know what it is ahead of time,” she adds. “So I know what to wear.”

God, she’s adorable.

“It’s a date,” he confirms, and he can feel his heart pulse.

They’re doing this for real.

#my fic #txf fic #xfiles #msr #fox mulder closet romantic #fmcr #tafuckingda

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spencesglasses · 3 years

Text

sweet creature (spencer reid x f! reader) pt 2

a/n: ah yes, a case chapter. this was gonna be longer but i didn’t want it to just drag on and i just ended up cutting out some parts soooo enjoy this 3k word chapter of y/n using her big galaxy brain to solve a case with just a pinch of fluff w spence :)

part one | part three

It was only the beginning of the movie when the weight of the day hit her. She snuggled further into the couch, trying to gain some extra warmth. Spencer had his apartment so cold, she could nearly feel the chill creeping up her body. Her eyelids began to close shut slowly, and the sound of the television lulls her to sleep. She was far too tired to keep herself awake, so she hoped that Spencer didn’t mind if she rests, at least for a few minutes.

Spencer keeps his eyes glued to the television screen, having been making commentary throughout, he didn’t even notice Y/N fast asleep. “You know, it’s actually scientifically impossible for someone to-“ He turns his head to look at her, and she lets out a quiet snore. The TV’s sound was barely audible now, Spencer turning it down so it wouldn’t wake her. He stood up to his full height and the freshly cleaned floor squeaks as his feet carried him to the cupboard that held spare linens and duvets.

He laid a blanket over her figure gently, careful not to disturb her. Taking the extra blankets, he spread them out, making a makeshift bed on the floor below her. He flickered off the TV and all that could be heard was the pitter-patter of the rain against the windows. Spencer let the layers of blankets engulf him in warmth, letting his eyes fall heavy and drifts off to sleep.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the vibrations of her phone ringing. It was Anna. Wait. I’m still on Spencer’s couch. Shit! I was asleep longer than I should have! She sits up, checking the time, “I’m late to work!”

She tossed the blanket off her and tried to push herself off the couch. But then she sees him. Spencer curled up with a blanket that was much too small for him. She stifled a snicker and covered him with the blanket she was once using.

Before Y/N could leave, she noticed a pen and notepad sitting atop his desk. Maybe I should leave a note, she thought. She grabbed the pen and the black ink slid smoothly across the page.

Sorry to leave so soon… and for falling asleep during the movie. Lets reschedule? Keep in touch, 187! xx

-Your favorite barista

She heard Spencer stir in his sleep, and just before he could wake up, she was gone.

“Surprise?” Garcia questioned. “What surprise? What’s going on-” and then she realizes. “Oh, Coffee shop girl! You’re the girl from the coffee shop!”

Y/N hid a giggle behind her hand as she stood. “You told them about me?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see JJ’s head shoot up. “Yeah, Spence,” she says, tilting her head at him. “You told us about her?”

“I told Garcia,” he grumbles.

Spencer can feel the five pairs of eyes on him. He didn’t think that not telling the team about her was such a big deal. Why was it such a problem he kept something to himself for once? They practically live together. Spencer just wanted to keep someone who makes him feel like a person. He wanted to keep her so close to him because he finally had the chance to think about something other than work and the cases, and the people he couldn’t save. He wanted to be someone; to feel normal. In the time that it’s silent, he understood why Y/N didn’t tell him, but he sure as hell wishes that she did.

Spencer’s eyes flicker back and forth between her and the team. “We should focus on the case.”

The first case Y/N works on with a team is fairly close, which she appreciated. She wasn’t particularly fond of plane rides but that was something she had to get used to. Joy, who she found out is Rossi’s daughter, had been writing a piece about violence against women on campus, and noticed a series of mishap in the area. After finding what she believed was more of a case than a possible story, she brought attention to a series of disappearances to the team’s attention once a young woman by the name of Bahni Desai had gone missing.

“4 cases in 9 years.” Derek speaks into the cell, sitting in the driver’s seat. “How come this hasn’t been on our radar?”

“Because the disappearances were in different states with different M.O’s.” Rossi explained over the speaker.

Y/N claimed her spot on the middle seat in the back, reviewing a case file. “The first missing woman was Kathy Miller in 2006,”

Morgan questioned. “So what’s the plan once we land on campus?’

“Track Bahni’s movements. Campus police checked her room, she’s not there. They taped it off for you.” Hotch instructed.

“What about her cell phone?” asked Spencer.

Y/N shifted in her seat, passing the file to Spencer and whispered to him. “It’s kind of cold in here, don’t you think?”

He turned ever so slightly to look at her. “I have my jacket in my bag if you need it,”

She dug to find the much-needed jacket and threw it over her shoulders. It was his FBI issued jacket, tapered at the sleeves and a bit oversized. It smelt like him, she noted. Cinnamon and coffee. She offered him a gentle smile. “Thanks, Spence.”

Spencer returned the smile, handing her back the file.

“It just pinged in her room overnight,” Garcia informed. “No credit card activity. I’ve confirmed with all the ticket agencies she didn’t take a boat, bus, blimp, or plane last night. Oh! The Dean's office just sent us her file from Judy Temple College. It looks like- Oh dear…” She trails off.

“Looks like what, Garcia?” Y/N urged, tugging the jacket closer to her.

“She voluntarily withdrew!”

“She definitely didn’t plan on leaving town,” Spencer surveyed Bahni’s abandoned closet. “Her clothes, shoes, and luggage are all still here.”

“Well, it looks like she was trying on different outfits,” said Morgan.

Y/N shuffled past Spencer, standing next to Morgan, and observed the clothes laid out. “Miniskirts, heels. Seems like she was going out.” Y/N added.

“But why not take her phone?” Reid asked, picking up Bahni’s cell. “She’d need it to meet up with her friends.”

She spun on her heel and inspected her desk, noticing two chemistry textbooks. “Unless her friends were already here,” she suggests, her finger brushes against the lettering on the cover, then beckons Morgan to look at the books.

She turned the cover of the textbook, Morgan doing the same to the one to their left. Y/N pushes out a sharp exhale out of her pursed lips. Paddy Morris, she read.

Morgan is the first to speak. “Same textbooks, different names. “She wasn’t studying alone.”

Spencer moves closer to the pair and peers over Y/N’s shoulder. “That could be the last person who saw her.”

Y/N trailed behind Morgan and Reid with her hands tucked into the pockets of Spencer’s jacket, and her eyes wandered around the halls of the building. This is going to be her first interview. She wasn’t nervous, per se, but her mind couldn’t help but fill with possible scenarios. Don’t mess this up, Y/N. Only ask questions relevant to the case and remember, don’t say the wrong thing.

“Nice jacket,” Morgan commented, slowing down to reach Y/N’s pace.

“Nice face,” she joked, reaching up to tap his cheek.

Y/N quickened her pace, walking past Spencer, and she could practically feel his stare burning into the back of her head. She found the correct door, and it was Reid and Morgan’s turn to trail behind her. Finding Paddy’s correct door number, she taps her knuckles against the hard wood. “Paddy Morris, this is the FBI,”

“Very funny, Josh,” They heard through the door.

Y/N turned to the men behind her and they shrugged their shoulders in unison. She scrunched up her nose, knocking once more.

The trio held up their badges as the door flung open, exposing the girl. “You’re not Josh.”

“Great observation,” Y/N nodded.

Paddy opened the door wider for them, and they took their spot on the three chairs to the side of her bed. “We have a few questions about Bahni Desai,” Morgan told her. “Is there any information you have that might help us?”

She let out a sharp exhale. “I was with her last night. She was fine,”

“Any idea why she left her cell phone in her room?”

“We didn’t take purses, and we didn’t have pockets in our skirts.” Paddy draws out.

Y/N saw Spencer shift in his seat. “Ok, walk us through the night, you guys were studying before you went out?”

“Yeah, um,” her voice is shaky. “I knew about this party. She didn't want to go.”

It was Y/N’s turn to ask a question. “Did you two come back to the dorm?”

Not too bad, not too bad, she reassures herself.

“No. I made her stay.”

“Why?”

She gulped, looking over their shoulders and out the window. “There was this tennis guy that I’d been trading tweets with. He said he’d show up, but he was late, and then the later it got, the more I drank.”

“How much did you have?” asked Reid.

“Her, I don’t know. Me, a lot. Until Peter arrived…” she trails off. “She told me she was going right after that.”

“Did anyone walk out after her, maybe try to escort her?”

“Not that I saw,” she frowns, face streaked with tears and day old mascara wiped beneath her eyes. “God, it’s my fault, isn’t it?”

Morgan reassured her. “No, it’s not. But there’s still a way you can help us.”

She perked up, wiping the stray tears away. “Anything. Name it.”

Y/N straightens up and asks, “Where was the party?”

“This was the last spot she was seen. The next camera is 100 feet down,” Spencer pointed forward. “Which makes this the abduction zone,”

Y/N walks with him, investigating what the team has found, all thanks to Garcia, Bahni’s last location before she went missing. “Alexandria police searched the buildings, nothing was there.”

“Well, if she got in the car with him, they would have shown up on the camera down the street.”

Her eyebrows knit together, suddenly coming to a stop. “Right, so it would be too risky,” she looked to the camera, and observed the shops behind them. “Just shoving her in the trunk of a car. And out in the open like this? Someone would have been bound to see them,”

“Well, that leaves this.” Spencer gestures to the near alleyway. It’s empty. Secluded. Low chance of anyone seeing the attack.

Spencer and Y/N shared a look, walking further into the alley. His phone went off, signifying that he’s gotten a new message, and she watches him as he fetches his phone out of his coat pocket. She could see the wrinkle between his brows that he would when he was worried about something,

She stops in her tracks and gently places her hand on his bicep. “Is everything okay?”

“Actually, no. My mom’s not doing so well,” Spencer says, biting the inside of his cheek. “The doctors have had to change her medicine 3 times to try to stabilize the schizophrenia,”

Y/N knew about his mom and her conditions. He had mentioned it a few times to her when he would go into her shop during her break. She let out a soft exhale and rubbed languid circles in his arm as a comfort. “Spencer, why didn’t you tell me… or the team?”

“I- I didn’t want to bother you,” he averts his eyes

“You could never bother me,” Y/N’s voice is hushed. “You can never bother any of us, got it? How long has this been going on?”

Spencer’s frown deepens, looking down to the asphalt beneath their feet. “It’s gotten really bad the past few weeks.”

“As soon as we’re done here, you need to go help her. She needs you,”

Y/N watches as his eyes narrow, looking at her this time. “I know. Right now so does Bahni.” he said firmly.

She watches him as he moves to leave the alley, and a frown etched on her face. Y/N knew he would rather keep something to himself than bother anyone about his problems, but this was different. She just wanted to be there for him, to help him, to make sure he doesn't feel alone. He was her friend, after all. Spencer turned to her, looking at her expectantly, and she followed him.

“Alright, let's think this through,” Spencer said.

Y/N added. “Okay, so, if he took her this way, it is a busier street,” they both observed the cars passing. “The traffic was much lighter last night, but it would be a risk to abduct someone in plain sight.”

“So he was able to control a drunk woman and it didn’t look suspicious.”

“He probably just put his arm around her and walked off, and was too drunk to realize she was in danger.” she replied.

“You know, if this was just about the assault, he could have done that back in the alley. I think this gotta be some sort of long-term play,”

“Then he’s been watching Bahni,” she makes eye contact with Spencer. “Looking for the perfect opportunity.”

“Well, he certainly found it last night. She’s a straight-A student who never drinks and rarely goes out.”

Y/N nods, walking back to the alley to inspect it once more. She eyes the spot where the suspect was last documented, trying to think of anything that could possibly help them, and then it hits her. “Spence, tell Garcia to look for offenders with precursor crimes.”

“On it,”

The rest of the investigation went by smoothly and the team rescued Bahni successfully, arresting Tom Larson for abduction of Bahni Desai and Sam Burnett for the murder of Kathy Miller in the process. By the end of the night, Y/N stayed behind as the majority of the team left, having to finish paperwork for Hotch. She heard shuffling, and it brought her attention to Spencer sitting on the edge of his desk. Following his gaze, she noticed a framed photo of JJ’s newborn perched on her desk. Then she examined him closely, noticing visible bags under his eyes, and his hair slightly disheveled. She gathers the loose paper into a folder, then places them into the drawer of her desk.

“You were that little once,” Y/N says, catching Spencer’s attention.

“It seems impossible, doesn’t it,” he smiles fondly at the photo. “That we all start out so helpless.”

Y/N got up from her chair, joining Spencer at his desk. “Yeah, well, we all end the same way.”

A moment of looming silence passes between them and Spencer stiffens, suddenly becoming hyper aware of the proximity. It’s not that he didn’t like it. It made him more aware of the flutter and flit of the butterflies in his stomach. That he didn’t like.

Y/N is the first one to break the silence. “You’re gonna call your mom?”

Spencer is brought back to reality by the sound of her voice, and he’s back at ease. Y/N did a good job at doing that; easing him. He furrowed his brows, checking his watch. “It’s not too late there, is it?”

She gently grabs a hold of his wrist to check for herself. “Shouldn’t be,” she whispers.

Y/N let her arm fall to her side. “I wanted to tell you, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“That I was joining the team,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “I wanted to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you?” he counters.

“I didn’t want to intrude. I thought it would’ve been weird if some girl from the coffee shop you go to just suddenly started working with you, but I guess that happened anyway,”

Spencer’s eyes flick down to her. “You’re not just some girl from the coffee shop,” he says slowly. “And if it makes you feel any better, I really enjoyed working with you today.”

Y/N’s lips curled upward, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Hmm, I guess we just make a good team,”

“Guess so,” Spencer says with a soft laugh that makes her heart swell. “You know, I actually didn’t mean to tell Garcia,”

“You didn’t?” She raised her brows.

He shook his head. “She saw your number written on my coffee cup.”

“I see,” she hummed.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence. Y/N scoots away from him slightly, barely realizing the closeness. Her stomach twists and tumbles within her, nerves spiking, trying to find words to add to the conversation. She finally looks at him and she feels heat creeping up her neck when she saw that he was already looking at her. And she finally says, “I guess I should be getting home,”

Spencer followed her movements, trailing behind her as she retreated to her desk. “Would you like a ride home?” she asks.

For a second, it is silent again. It’s clear to her he’s thinking way too into the question. “It’s no bother,” she adds, giving him a kind smile. “I promise.”

She held out her arm just like she did that morning and waited for him to link his arm with hers. He visibly relaxed, hooping his arm beneath hers. This is what he liked about Y/N, what drew him to her. She allowed him to break down his walls when he was with her, and he guesses that that was why he let himself be so comfortable with her because if he was being completely honest, he wouldn’t do this with anyone that wasn’t her. Yeah, he was close with JJ and Penelope, but the connection was just different. He just couldn’t put his finger on it, and for the first time, Spencer Reid didn’t know why.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic

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avengers-hamiltrash · 3 years

Text

Don't Bother Me

Prompt: From a friend, "Jack x Crutchie's sister enemies to lovers where he comforts after Crutchie gets taken"

Pairing: Jack Kelly x Morris!Reader

Word Count: 680

A/N: Hopefully you like Newsies! Happy reading!

There was nothing wrong with your relationship with Jack, except the fact that you despised each other. Crutchie was the only thing that kept you two from killing each other.

Every day was an endless cycle of putting up a facade to fool Crutchie that the two of you were actually friends. Every argument was small and petty, like a bunch of children. You got along with all the other newsies, especially Race, but Jack just always got on your nerves for the way he treated women and the fact that he was an escaped convict. But your brother always seemed to look past that.

That brings you to the present, you were arguing with Jack about how you and Crutchie couldn't survive if he wasn't making money if they all went on strike.

"You do know the point of this right?! Right now we're losing more money than we make!" He yelled at you in the alley that you claimed as your home for the night.

"You are only fending for yourself, like always! You don't know what it's like to have a real family!"

"Oh, now that's really low, Y/N. And we both know that Crutchie is more of a brother to me than he ever was to you!"

"You really know how to wow a girl, don't ya Jack?" You said after a moment.

"You know what Y/N, fuck you!"

"You'd like to wouldn't you?"

"Oh, real mature!"

"Says the one who just said fuck you!" At this point you had gotten so close together your noses were almost touching. You stayed like that a moment before clearing your throat and backing away.

"When Crutchie gets back tell him I'm staying with Race tonight," you say walking down and out of the alleyway.

---

It had been a few days since you talked to Jack, there was no specific reason. No reason whatsoever. You definitely didn't realize you were in love with him.

But that is a topic for another time, all you needed to worry about right now was your brother in the Refuge. You haven't really left Race's side since it happened and he's a little fed up with you now. That's when Jack finally decided to show his face.

"Beat it, Race," he said.

"Gladly," the boy whispered under his breath.

A few moments passed after he sat down next to you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder in a half hug.

"Don't bother me."

"I'm not, I'm comforting you," he said matter-of-factly, "Look I know you hate me and all, but with Crutchie being gone, we gotta do something to keep all of them happy."

"Why would you want me to help?"

"You, uh, you just generally make the guys happy."

"I'm surprised you aren't just running away to New Mexico."

"Y'know I think I finally have a few reasons to stay here."

"Really?"

"Yea, I got you and Crutchie."

"Surprising, since you told me to blow you a few days ago." You gave him a look and he apologized with his eyes. "I know we haven't always gotten along, but Crutchie would be real happy when he gets back to see the two of us getting along," he replied wiping a tear off of your cheek.

The two of you were close again but neither backed away this time. You started to lean in when Race came in and interrupted.

"Hey, I thought I sure you didn't murder each other," he stated.

"Y'know, Race I thought I told you to beat it." He raised his arms in defense and left. You went back to the situation at hand.

"Did he ruin the moment?"

"Nope!" Jack replied and smashed your lips together.

"Does this mean we are going to stop arguing? 'Cause I thought that was awfully entertaining," you say after catching a breath.

"Not until Crutchie sees that we can get along."

"I guess we better get us a plan and get him out quick then, shall we?" He grabbed your hand as the two of ent to find Davey.

Taglist: Ask to be added!

#newsies #jack kelly #jack kelly x reader #newsies fanfiction #elaina writes

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leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 34

Chapter 34

Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry for the delay. As this is set somewhat in the future, Connor is a character/player I introduced as a rookie in a previous chapter. He isn’t based off of anyone.

Warnings: Swearing, smut (oral male receiving), hockey injuries

Word Count: 7700

“Babe how did we get here?” you ask lying on your back staring up at the ceiling. Fred is a few feet away on his phone, distracted by whatever he is reading. A light hmm leaves his mouth but you can tell he isn’t fully paying attention.

“We have three kids. How haven’t we figured out how to use birth control? We’re not teenagers” you groan rising onto your elbows to look at him.

Fred laughs at that and puts his phone in his pocket bringing his eyes up to yours “we just have so much love for each other we want to share it and watch it grow.”

“Please” you scoff looking rolling your eyes at him from him wondering what hallmark crap he has been reading. “You just like seeing me naked.”

“That’s a two way street smuk” he laughs taking a sip from his coffee. You fall onto your back with a loud exaggerated groan.

“How are we going to teach our kids to use birth control when we can’t?” you ask.

He smiles “my mom used to say do as I say not as I do, I feel like that applies here” he laughs and you shake your head in response, the paper liner crinkling under you. Before you can respond Dr. Morris walks in “didn’t expect to see you back so soon” she says taking a seat at her desk. You sit up with a large sigh leaving your lips.

“Definitely didn’t plan on being back” Fred jokes.

“Speaking of, the second this baby comes out I want an IUD in” you explain not giving the doctor a chance to ask any more questions. Fred shakes his head shooting you a smirk and Dr. Morris just laughs from her desk.

“This isn’t a joke; I want everyone aware of the plan from the start. This way there is no confusion or discussion. I don’t care if it’s a C-section or a natural birth; either way baby comes out in goes IUD. We are NOT having any more babies after this one. And you better only find one in there this time” you mumble while Fred tries to hold back his laughter. The past few weeks you have repeatedly said these things to Fred, and his response has always been “yes dear” followed by a soft kiss on your cheek while he holds in some laughter.

While he is fully on board with this being your last pregnancy, he knows that there is a possibility of twins; as do you. It is just something that both of you are hoping doesn’t happen again; because what are the chances?

“Well let’s see what we see okay?” she asks before diving in to questions on the pregnancy.

You explain how you have been tired some days but not nearly as bad as with the twins, and you have had very little morning sickness. She takes your weight and various other measurements all while Fred sits quietly in his chair.

You see small smirks and half grins spread on Fred’s face hearing you talk about the pregnancy. This pregnancy was very unexpected for you, and Fred has sensed some hesitation on your part. Because of this he doesn’t ask about it much, and waits for you to bring it up first. Once it’s brought up he will ask, but sometimes you brush off his questions.

You don’t know if it’s the lack of symptoms or the unexpected nature but you don’t feel pregnant. And not feeling pregnant has made it hard for you to embrace the pregnancy like in the past. While Fred wants to stay up late naming off baby names and keep his had constantly on your stomach he isn’t trying to do too much right now. He knows there will be a moment, when the switch will flip and he can ask a million questions so he is just waiting for that to happen.

“Alright well that’s all I need right now, I’ll let you get changed for the ultrasound.”

A few minutes later you are lying on the table, clothes stripped from the bottom down, Fred is waiting patiently beside you. He softly brushes your hair behind your ear creating space for him to press his lips to your forehead; your eyes fluttering shut. No matter how stressed you might be this simple action always grounds you, makes you feel at ease.

“Jeg elsker dig” you whisper melting into his touch. You feel Fred’s lips gently press against yours “love you too” he whispers but you are pulled apart by a knocking at the door.

“Ready?” Dr. Morris asks picking up the jelly. Your eyes are glued on Fred’s, a soft smirk pressed between your lips “yeah” you whisper. You shift your attention to the screen, your hand reaching out resting on Fred’s while you nervously wait.

The doctor moves the wand around taking some measurements “looks like you’re 7 weeks or so” she says almost to herself. She continues to move around the screen, you can feel your hand begin to tremble as you are wrecked with nerves.

“Looks like it’s just one” she says and you let out the air in your lungs.

“Heard that before” Fred laughs placing his other hand on yours, gently squeezing it. Without even looking he can sense your nerves and does what he can to calm you. Finally the doctor turns the monitor towards you, and points “there it is” she says about the blob on the screen.

“It might be too early, but let’s see if we can get the heartbeat” she says hitting a few switches. She adjusts the wand around and suddenly the little thumps echoes through the room. You and Fred both grip each other’s hand listening to the beating while the doctor explain some of the risks associated with your pregnancies being so close together. You’d like to say you’re listening to what she has to say, but at this point everything she is saying turns into white noise.

When you took the test you honestly didn’t think you were pregnant; you really just wanted to prove Fred wrong. And once the “pregnant” was displayed on the screen, you went into a state of denial for a few days followed by panic.

During that time Fred patiently waited for you to get to a point where you had accepted it. Since he was the one who first saw the pregnancy signs, he was a little further ahead with that. The stress of having 4 kids under the age of four; three of them just 14 months apart. This would be stressful for any couple, but you add in planning a wedding and the fact that your fiancé is a professional athlete who travels a lot and it is a lot to deal with it.

And it’s not that you aren’t excited for another child, you know you will love this child unconditionally, it is the shock value that is coming along with it. You fully planned on no more kids after the twins, you were going to raise your three boys and plan a wedding. And your life is not going as planned. Through the denial you haven’t allowed yourself to feel much about it beside panic. If it wasn’t for the occasional bought of exhaustion or the really gross smoothies Fred makes you every morning, that he claims are full of nutrients, you wouldn’t know you are pregnant.

But this moment, hearing the heartbeat, it finally hits you. This is what you needed; the switch. You finally feel pregnant. The doctors voice fades into the background, you’re unable to pull your eyes from the screen.

“You okay?” Fred asks wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. You finally turn your head and adjust in the bed to look at him. You realize the doctor left, and you honestly have no idea how long she has been gone for.

“Yeah” you whisper softly a slight smile pricking the edges of your lips. Fred’s thumb brushes your cheek; his eyes are soft while he waits for you to continue.

“I guess I didn’t believe I was pregnant until now and–“ you trail off.

“And?” he asks shifting uncomfortably on his feet.

“I’m happy” you laugh through your tears “I’m really happy.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and brings his face down to yours and presses his lips against yours. “Good” he says pulling back briefly before pressing his lips back to yours.

“I’m sorry I –“ you stammer out finally pulling away. You become wracked with guilt with how you have been addressing this pregnancy the past few weeks.

“No need” he gently places his hand on your stomach, feeling the practically non-existent bump. His touch while soft and gentle are all you need in this moment. “It’s a lot babe, but nobody else I’d want to do this with.”

“Same” you smile pulling him back down for another kiss. The kiss starts soft but your hands slowly rake through his beard. They run further into his hair holding him close while your mouth opens allowing him entrance, but instead he pulls away.

“We’re in a doctor’s office, anyone could walk in” he murmurs forehead lightly pressed on yours. He quickly leans down and places on more on your lips before helping you to sit up in the bed.

A few minutes later you stand up pulling your pants back up your legs when Fred picks you up putting you on the table. He reaches over and grabs your shoes putting one on your foot and begins to tie the laces.

“You know I’m not that pregnant yet” you laugh “I can put my own shoes on.”

“I like taking care of you” he smiles grabbing your second shoe.

“Mommy, daddy” you hear Oliver squeal as soon as the door opens. You have barely got your shoes off when he comes barrelling forward almost knocking you over. Fred’s hands quickly grip your hips to steady you while you pick him up.

“Hey birthday boy” you smile at him “ready for today?”

“Mhm” he nods.

“You need a haircut eh bud” Fred laughs brushing his curls away from his eyes.

“No!” he quickly whines having developed a fear of haircuts early on. You and Fred both laugh “you can barely see” Fred responds. He begins to squirm in your grip so you set him on the floor.

“Uncle Auston says it’s my hockey flow” he calls over his shoulder taking off towards the kitchen. You groan shaking your head while Fred pulls your coat off; the last thing he needs is another reason to not get a haircut.

“He does have good hockey hair” Fred chuckles following him down the hall.

“Hey big buy” Fred smiles walking over to Noah who is in his baby swing. Noah’s face immediately lights up as Fred picks him up when Christie walks into the room with Lucas. After a few minutes she leaves; you and Fred take the twins to the playroom, watching Oliver play with his dinosaurs.

The two of you shift getting comfortable on the couch each of you holding one of the twins; his hand gently landing on your thigh. Your head finds his shoulder when Noah fuses in Fred’s arm. He bounces him a little bit as ucas begins to whine in yours.

You groan slightly sitting up “we already don’t have enough hands, how will we manage another baby?”

“Another baby” Oliver asks from his toys. Both of your heads snap up, you had no intention of telling him for a few more weeks.

“Umm” Fred shifts laughing uncomfortably beside you. You shift Lucas to press him against your chest.

“Yeah�� you trail of a bit, Fred smirking towards you.

“Come here for a sec” Fred says patting the couch. He makes his way to the couch and hops up, Fred pulling him onto his lap, his legs swinging back and forth.

“Daddy and I are going to have another baby” you say. “It will be here in about seven months.”

“I’m gonna have another brother” he says smiling.

Fred laughs a little shaking his head “maybe, could be a girl. Could have a little sister” Fred replies.

“A sister” his eyes light up. “I want a sister!”

Both you and Fred laugh slightly at his excitement. “We won’t know that for a little bit” you reply. “But how do you feel about another baby?”

He ponders for a minute “okay” he shrugs.

“Yeah? You sure?” you ask and he eagerly nods at you.

“Okay but you have to keep it a secret” you say to him. “Can’t tell anybody.”

“Okay mommy” he replies. “When is it time for my party?”

“A half hour” Fred laughs “why don’t you go get dressed.”

He eagerly jumps off the couch his dinosaur clatters on the floor while he skips down the hall. Before long you are pulling into the parking lot at Planet Bounce. It is a large indoor jumping castle playground complete with obstacle courses, slides and activities to keep the kids occupied. Being an off day, a lot of the team is coming even those without kids, and a part of you thinks the players will have more fun than the kids.

You arrive about a half hour before everyone else, the space comes decorated but you are setting up the finishing touches. Pretty quickly people begin to filter in and the space is filled with the laughter of children. You haven’t seen Oliver in almost a half hour, but you can hear him running through the tunnels.

“Where are the twins?” Anna asks coming up beside you.

You nod your head toward Fred and Sidney, each of them have a baby and are holding them over a portion of the jumping castle, helping them jump up and down. Their laughter erupts sending huge smiles to Fred and Sidney’s faces. Next you watch as the two of them crawl into the castle and begin to jump, holding them against their chests.

Your eyes go wide, not for the twins but for the men as they start bouncing. When they grabbed them from the stroller you warned them they had just been fed but Sid said they had steel stomachs and would be fine.

“Mommy watch” you hear from across the room. You begin looking around hearing him repeatedly call out to you and find him at the top of a 30 foot bouncy slide. He is sitting beside Connor and as soon as you find them they push off and bounce down the slide, Connor waiting to give Oliver a small head start. “I won” he cheers reaching the bottom first. Before you can respond Sidney is shoving Lucas into your arms, a trail of vomit down his chest.

You just shake your head giving him a knowing glance that says I told you so. “Good thing your cute” he jokes poking Lucas’s side.

“You see me mommy” Oliver asks running over to you.

“Yeah I did, you were so fast” you respond excitedly.

“I’m going to go again” he says running off back to the slide.

“I think the adults are having more fun than the kids” Anna laughs walking away. You watch as Oliver climbs back up the slide, waiting his turn behind some of the players who are almost wrestling at the top. Tyler a boy his age comes up behind him and the two of them begin taking turns on the slide. You don’t know how long you stand there watching as they run up the slide and back down, sitting, lying on their back, to their stomachs.

Finally you feel Fred gently nudge your elbow, pulling you from your gaze. You turn to him, seeing Noah pressed against his chest “hey.”

“Hey” you grin to him.

“What’s going through your head momma?”

A light chuckle escapes you but before you can answer Oliver interrupts you. “Daddy can I have a drink” Oliver asks sweat on his forehead and a huge smile on his face.

“Yeah I think we’re going to do cake and presents now anyways” Fred responds guiding him to the table. He eagerly climbs onto his chair, eyes lighting up when he the cake is brought into his gaze.

You stand across from him taking some pictures while everyone sings. Finally he blows the three candles off his cake “what’d you wish for Ollie?” someone calls out while Fred pulls the candles from the cake.

“A sister” he answers nonchalantly bouncing in his seat waiting for Fred to cut him a piece cake. You hear some murmuring and confusion around you. You begin to shift on your feet feeling heat hit your cheeks as the eyes begin to find you in the room.

“Why does Ollie want a sister?” Kathy asks walking up nudging your arm.

“You know kids” you brush off eyes finding Fred “crazy imaginations.” He has a large smirk, focusing on cutting the cake. His head doesn’t look up; a ploy to avoid the suspecting glances.

“Right” she responds next to you. “and you didn’t drink today, or on Halloween because…”

She trails off waiting for your response, although everyone already knows the answer. Someone takes over for Fred and he joins you, putting an arm around your shoulder. He leans in, pressing his mouth to the side of your head.

“Three hours, couldn’t even keep the secret for three hours” you chuckle slightly but are immediately pulled into celebratory hugs from the team.

“Four kids eh” Sid says wrapping his arms around you.

“Yeah Fred wanted an even number for roller coasters” you laugh.

“Congrats guys” Kathy says wrapping her arms around you. “You know I’m surprised that you’re having a fourth, but not all that surprised.”

“Yeah that’s kind of the general feeling” Fred laughs walking back over to Oliver.

The rest of the party is spent with you being congratulated or pulled into conversations about the wedding or the baby. Fred mouths the words “sorry” from across the room as he plays with Oliver.

You aren’t sure when but you wake up and take a look around the room. You realize you aren’t in your room, but instead are curled up next to Oliver. You remember lying beside him while you read a story to him and you must have fallen asleep. You are under the blankets indicating Fred came in and tucked you in next to him.

You chuckle slightly and place a kiss on his forehead. You lie there for a few minutes toying with the idea of just spending the night with your son curled up beside you. As exciting as today was for you, it also has been hard watching your first born grow up and turn three.

Finally you decide to join Fred in your bed. If it wasn’t for the fact you were still in your jeans you probably would have stayed snuggled up to him. You have no idea what time it is, all you know is you took Oliver to bed around 8:30. You fumble your way down the hall through the dark when you make it to the room.

You see Fred lying in bed on his phone, the clock reading 10:26. The light of his phone illuminates his face and you see Fred smile at you. You strip out of your clothes, not bothering to find some pyjamas and crawl in beside him in your underwear.

“How you doing momma?” a chill running through your body from the lack of clothing.

“I’m sleepy” you yawn. Fred wraps his arm around you, his hand resting on your bump. He scooches closer, his body heat warming your naked body. His thumb gently rubs your stomach as he throws one of his large thighs over your legs; you feel his breath on the back of your head and slowly begin to doze off.

***

“Hey babe” you call answering your facetime.

“Hey how’s it going?”

“Good just making lunch” you respond opening the fridge.

“Daddy!” Oliver calls our running over to the island. You turn your phone around so he can talk to Fred while you prepare lunch.

“How was hockey?” Fred asks. Today was the third game of his season and with Fred’s season he has only managed to get to one practice and one game. You take lots of video’s and send them to Fred, and Oliver could spend hours telling Fred every detail of his hockey.

Fred wanted him to start as a player for a couple seasons, work on developing his skating and stick handling before going in net; assuming at that point he wanted to be a goalie. But Oliver would have none of it. He wanted to be a goalie just like his daddy.

Fred even explained that he was a player for a couple years but Oliver didn’t care. This resulted in Fred spending a few hours at a hockey store helping to get him everything he needed. When Oliver came back from the store he was grinning from ear to ear and was so excited he had to try everything on for you as soon as he got home.

“It was good I had so many saves, and my coach said I have been getting good at getting up” he replies before diving into the details of the game. While he has been skating for a bit, skating with all the equipment is different, and when he falls or goes down to make a save he has a hard time getting back up.

Because most of his hockey exposure has been NHL games, he thinks he should be an NHL caliber player to start. Fred asked his mom to send some videos of him as a kid, showing him that even his dad fell down and it wasn’t always easy to get up. You know with time he will realize that it takes practice to get better, but for now you think it’s cute.

“I even caught one in my glove” Oliver calls out when you put a grilled cheese in front of him.

“You have fun?” Fred asks.

“Mhm daddy, so much fun!” he screams taking a bite.

“Good that’s all that matters”

“I have a practice Wednesday, can you come?” he asks.

“Sorry bud I’ll still be on my road trip then”

“Oh okay” he says slightly disappointed. “Can I eat in front of the TV?” Oliver asks switching his attention to you.

“Yeah of course bud” you say and he jumps down taking his plate with him.

“You know you’re super woman?” Fred says to you. “Getting him ready for hockey while pregnant and watching the twins. I don’t know how you do it.”

You smile at his words “Kathy stayed over last night and came with us this morning. She watched the twins while I got him changed.”

“I know but most of the time it’s just you and the boys. I don’t know if I tell you enough how lucky I am to have you”

“Yeah you are pretty lucky” you joke sending a smile to Fred’s face. “Are you starting tonight?”

“Yeah Jarry wasn’t feeling too good yesterday so I’m going in tonight” he replies checking his watch. “I actually have to go and start my game day stuff; I just wanted to see you in case you’re too tired after the game to talk.”

“Okay, I love you”

“How is Noah still awake?” Oliver asks skipping down the hall to the couch. While Lucas fell asleep almost an hour ago, Noah is still awake, sitting on the couch with a bottle in his hand. His eyes are heavy, and you feel as if he will fall asleep soon, which is part of the reason you have left him alone. You figure if you leave him be eventually he will fall asleep.

“I don’t know” you reply.

“He must be excited watching Daddy make all the good saves” Oliver says placing a kiss on his head which causes the edges of your lips to curve up.

“Mhm” you hum. While Oliver loves his brothers, he sometimes isn’t all that excited by them. You know once they are a little bit bigger and they can play together they will become best friends, but for now his interactions can be limited. But you think it makes it all the more special when you see him making silly faces at them, or trying to read to them.

The second period of the game is underway and the team hasn’t shown up in front of Fred. They have been held to 9 shots while the Bruins have 24, but Fred has stopped them all. Even the shots he shouldn’t have stopped he has. You can feel the frustrations coming off the Bruins as they are down by one and should be winning but just can’t get anything by Freddie. This has led to a couple scrums and shoving matches after the whistle and you’re pretty sure it’s going to get worse.

You turn your attention from your boys to the game. A few minutes go by when there is an odd man rush. Oliver slides forward on the couch with excitement. Marchand has the puck and cross the blue line, McAvoy right with him. Fred leaves his crease in an attempt to limit the net space for the shooter, put more pressure on Marchand.

The Penguins defenseman tries to pull the puck away, hooking his stick in. The two get tangled up in the battle for the puck and tumble forward landing on Fred as the three slide into the net. The play is blown down, the puck somewhere under the three men.

“Daddy stopped the puck” Oliver calls out jumping onto his feet.

You feel your heart rate rise watching the men slide into Fred. Collisions aren’t uncommon in hockey but your heart always skips a beat. That is until Fred is back on his feet, pulls his helmet back and shakes it off. Once you see his red hair and brown eyes as he takes a drink you relax knowing he is fine.

The other two players untangle themselves slowly and rise to their feet, a small scrum erupts off to the side of the play. Fred is lying on his back and he rolls onto his stomach slowly; you can tell he is shaken a bit. He presses himself on his knees but instead of getting up he falls onto his stomach. Tears instantly prick your eyes and your chest tightens knowing something is wrong. They show a trainer come out to talk to Fred and the feed cuts to commercials.

“Is daddy okay?” Oliver asks you concern laced in his voice.

“Yeah buddy he’s fine” you whisper and pull him up on your lap.

“Why didn’t he get up?” he asks and you can hear the concern etched in his voice. You gently brush the hair from his head and kiss his forehead “sometimes it hurts a little bit and he just needs a minute” you reassure him “he’s okay.” You want to believe your words, knowing it was a hard hit and he likely will be fine; but something in your gut tells you otherwise.

When the feed returns Fred is still lying on the ice, but the stretcher has been brought out. You pull Oliver tight to your chest muttering a fuck, not caring about swearing in front of your toddler in this moment. You find the remote and turn the TV off, not wanting Oliver to watch.

“Mommy” Oliver whines and you can hear the fear in his voice.

“He’s going to be fine” you say hugging him gently pressing your lips to his forehead. You let out a sigh rubbing your hands on his back. You blink back a few tears trying to keep your composure knowing it isn’t good. Stretchers are never a good thing, and it’s not something they bring out unless necessary; the player will typically do anything to skate off the ice on their own no matter how bad the injury is.

“I want to watch the game” he cries but you know he wants to see his Dad, and see if there is an update. You see some tears run down his cheeks and you gently wipe them away.

“I know bud but it’s getting late, it’s time for your bedtime” you lie. While it’s almost nine, on Saturdays you always let him stay up and watch the game in its entirety. You look to Noah, and he has fallen asleep beside you. “How about we go to mommies bed and watch a movie?” you ask him. He sniffles against you but you feel him nod slightly “okay” you whisper.

You rise to your feet and Oliver clings to your neck, you somehow manage to pull Noah into your other arm. You carry the two of them upstairs and you set Oliver down at your door. You get Noah into his crib and find Oliver lying in the middle of your bed. He looks so tiny lying in your king sized bed but his eyes are wide awake. You turn on the TV and crawl in next to him, pulling him into your arms. After setting up Toy Story you grab your phone.

You send Fred a text, though you know you won’t hear from him until after his evaluation at the hospital. You have messages from all the other WAG’s. Some asking if you’ve heard anything, others just telling you they are thinking of you. Injuries are common in hockey but stretchers and hospitals aren’t; and it’s something nobody likes to see.

You ignore the texts and type his name in google and on twitter. But the only update is he was sent to the hospital for evaluation. You aren’t surprised you know that you’ll hear from the team or Fred long before any update is released on social media.

Oliver is quiet throughout the movie, never saying anything. After about twenty minutes you set your phone down on the bed and pull him closer, pressing your lips to the side of his forehead. You try to relax in hopes you can calm Oliver and he will fall asleep, but also because you know there is nothing you can do.

About halfway through the movie you hear Oliver’s breathing shift. You brush some hair from his head and turn the movie off darkness filling your room. The darkness leads to your mind wandering; countless bad thoughts and worst case scenarios entering your mind.

You unlock your phone and check the text you sent, message still unread. You set it back down and close your eyes trying to sleep though you know it’s unlikely. You feel Oliver’s chest rise and fall beside you, and it helps to keep you calm. If it wasn’t for Oliver you would be pacing back and forth in the bedroom, maybe stress cleaning the kitchen. But him needing you is the only reason you haven’t left the bed.

You end up falling asleep, though only for short periods of time. Every time you start to get into a sleep you are startled awake by Oliver stirring or cooing from the twins over the baby monitor. You hear every crack in the floor, and jump at the wind rattling the windows. At some point you feel your phone vibrate and you jump out of the bed.

“Fred” you answer.

“Hey baby” he says through a raspy voice.

“Oh my god” you exhale. “How are you?”

“Been better” he laughs “but I’m alright.”

“That’s good” you whisper, tears catching in your throat.

“Hey don’t cry babe, I’m okay” he soothes hearing your soft sobs through the phone. “(Y/N) I promise I’m fine, it was precaution. The neck brace is off.”

“What…why did you…why did” you ramble unable to get the question out as warm tears barrel down your cheeks.

“I have a concussion and when I tried to get up it was too much and I lost consciousness. When I came back I told them my neck hurt so they brought out the stretcher” he explains sighing.

“But you’re okay?” you ask through strangled sobs.

“Yeah babe. I have a concussion and will be out for a bit but otherwise I’m okay. MRI came back fine” he says and you exhale feeling a sense of relief. You take a deep exhale and the two of you sit in silence for a minute while Fred waits until he knows you are doing okay.

“Did Ollie see?” he finally asks. You don’t respond and Fred knows what your silence means. “How is he doing?”

“Okay, a little scared” you respond wiping away your tears. You look over at your son, the miniature version of Fred barely noticeable under the pillows and blankets on your bed. You can see some red hairs sticking out but beyond that you can hardly tell he is in the bed. You crawl back in beside him and pull his body against you, you feel him stir a bit but eventually you feel him relax into your embrace. “He’ll be better when he finds out you’re okay. I turned the game off pretty quickly so he didn’t see much.”

“That’s good” he replies sadness in his voice. The two of you talk a little longer and apart from being tired he seems to be okay. You attempt to hide the fear and concern in your voice but most of your conversation is spent with him reassuring you he is fine. You try to hang up but Fred refuses to hang up until you stop crying and are okay. He stays on the line long after you stop crying, waiting until he hears your breathing steady indicating you’re sleeping before he hangs up.

The next morning is mostly a blur; you wake up early and wait for the boys. You make them breakfast and lunch though you can barely keep food down. Your stomach is doing backflips, not because of morning sickness but because of your nerves. The twins have no idea what is going on so they are babbling away and playing on their activity mats.

But Oliver is a different story he doesn’t do anything except watch a movie and constantly ask you the time. He knows Fred is okay, as soon as he woke up he wanted to talk to him. He had a meltdown when you told him Fred couldn’t look at his phone, and he had another when you told him he was staying home with Christie while you pick him up.

But at 3 pm it’s finally time for you to go get Fred. He flew back on a private plane and won’t be going to the rink for at least a week if not longer, and he won’t start practicing for a bit after that. When you told Oliver Fred would be home for a couple days he calmed down slightly, but he blocked out the part where you said he would be resting for most of it.

You finally see Fred come into the parking garage sunglasses on his face. You immediately get out and run to him wrapping your arms around his neck. You hear him groan as his body coils away from you.

“Sorry” you say pulling away from him and see him wincing in pain. “I thought your neck was fine.” You say taking his bag from him.

“I downplayed a bit so you wouldn’t worry” he says shifting on his feet. “Doctors said its fine, but it definitely hurts.”

You shake your head at him “Fred” your voice catches in your throat. He pulls you into his chest wrapping his arms around you. You hear the soft beating of his chest through his sweater as he gently places his chin on your head.

“You were worried” he sighs “and I knew if I was 100% honest about it you wouldn’t have slept and would stress all night. The last thing the boys or the little nugget need is a stressed and tired mom when I’m not there.”

You open your mouth to scold him for lying but you know he was only thinking of you so instead you smile against his chest. The two of you stand wrapped in one another for a minute before you and lead him to the car. Fred reclines his seat, pulling his hood up while the two of you drive home in silence. As soon as you open the door Oliver almost tackles him, you try to tell him to be careful but Fred bends down to pick him up through his pain.

The next few days are relatively quiet; Fred spends most of his time in bed with the blinds down. He comes down for meals but the lights and television are often too much for him. Even though you told Oliver he needs his rest, you have often found Oliver curled up in bed with him; sometimes while Fred sleeps unaware of his presence.

One time he even snuck up with a book and was “reading” him the story, though it was actually him going off memory and the pictures. Fred was completely asleep during all of it; you actually took a video to show Fred later once he is better. And every day during the twins nap time Fred has wandered down to their room to pull them out of their cribs to nap with him. On day three you actually gave up and just started taking them to Fred to save him from getting out of bed.

“How was his practice” Fred asks when you crawl into bed.

“It was good” you reply rolling onto your side to face him. You can tell from his face he is drained, but not from a lack of sleep, from being locked away in a quiet space while he recovers. The things he wants so close to him yet he can’t spend much time with because of the mayhem and noise. That’s part of the reason he has been bringing the twins in for nap time, to try and get some quiet time in with them.

You softly brush some of his locks away from his dark eyes “how are you doing babe?”

“My heads a little sore” he replies “my neck is stiff though.”

“You want a massage?” you ask and he chuckles lightly.

“I should be giving my pregnant fiancé massages not the other way around.”

“We take care of each other babe” you smile “come on roll over.”

Fred pulls his shirt off and rolls over and places his hands under his pillow. You straddle him legs on either side of his body; you sit on his ass and begin applying light pressure on his neck.

“That okay?” you ask not wanting to press too hard.

“You can go a little harder” he responds “I’ll tell you if it’s too much.”

You increase the pressure gently working on the knots on his neck. Soft moans leave his mouth while your fingers work his muscles. Your hands continue to work along his neck before moving to his shoulders. He shifts slightly under you, his moans getting louder as you apply more pressure.

While giving him massages are nothing new, normally they all lead to one place. In fact the baby growing inside you is a result of a massage you were giving Fred during the pre-season. Normally you start on his shoulders, slowly working your way down his back, until you reach the top of his glutes. You sometimes get a couple minutes of a glute massage in, sometimes its mere seconds before Fred has you on your back, his large body pinning you to the mattress.

But tonight is different. While you doubt Fred has it in him due to his injury you wouldn’t even try; not wanting to possibly agitate him or make something worse. Tonight is 100% about helping to alleviate his pain, help him sleep comfortably.

Your fingers begin to let up and you lean forward and press a few soft kisses on his shoulder. You hear a light moan leave his lips at the contact and you crawl off him. He has a big smile on his face “thanks smuk that helped.” He pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your lips.

His hand rests on your hip while you lean into the kiss, your hand resting on his chest. His thumb slides under your shirt, finding your small bump as he rolls onto his side.

“You’re really showing this time eh” he smiles rubbing his hand over you. While you do have a slight bump, bigger than either of your previous pregnancies at this point; Fred’s large hand easily covers it. He playfully kisses your cheek, you blood reaching your skin in response.

Fred notices the slight blush on your cheeks and pulls you in closer, placing a few sift kisses on your collarbone. Your head tilts slightly in response and his lips find yours again. He falls onto his back pulling you on top of him.

His hand tangles into your hair groaning as you pull away. “You’re hurt babe” you respond smirking at the pout on his face.

“Kissing never hurt anyone” he responds pulling you back down. His other hand rests low on your hips, stroking the curves of your body. You hesitantly deepen the kiss, allowing him to guide it. He smirks slightly before sliding hid tongue in your mouth, as he holds your body against his.

His hand slides down your body reaching for the back of your thigh; he grips it tightly pulling you closer to him.

His hand caresses your ass while you rest on your forearms, your nails gently raking his beard. “You know some studies say orgasms help with headaches” he smirks.

“Oh yeah who says that?” you joke raising an eyebrow to him.

“Doctors. Scientists” he trails off kissing you again “people.”

“Uh huh” you say a hand trailing down his bare chest while you gently palm over his boxers “doctors eh.”

You feel his dick twitch under you as you continue to apply more pressure, him beginning to get hard under you. You pull away and see him smirking under you; you shake your head and begin placing kisses on his chest. You gently suck marks on his chest leaving a trail down his muscular body.

Normally you would be worried about marking his chest, not wanting the team to see. Given the fact he won’t be at the rink for a bit you allow yourself to slowly tease your way down. Some kisses are soft and brief; others are hard with your teeth grazing against him. Your hand continues to gently stroke him over his boxers as he groans above you, patience wearing thin.

His hips buck up at your touch, trying to get more. His hands find your biceps and he gently tries to push your down farther, instead you bite his skin. Muttered Danish spills from his lips, knowing you aren’t done teasing him.

Your hand slides under the elastic band and you push it down his large thighs. With the fabric out of the way you run your hands up and down his shaft while you nip his pelvic bone. He groans above you, your hand continuing to work his hard member. You feel the warm pre-cum that has leaked from the tip and spread it around with your thumb.

You finally give him what he wants and start placing soft kisses on his hard member. He twitches slightly feeling your mouth finally touch him. You lick a long stripe up the underside of him and swirl your tongue around the tip tasting his familiar flavour.

You gently lift him up wrapping your lips around his tip before dropping your head down. You hear him swear above you, watching as he stares down at you. You set a lazy pace knowing he won’t last long, relaxing your throat for him. Your fingers dance along his large thighs you feel his hips involuntarily jerk, pushing himself against your tonsils.

His hands find your hair pulling it out of your face. You continue to take him in your mouth while a slew of curse words spill from Fred’s. You hollow your cheek taking him fully in, you hear Fred’s voice catch in his throat.

Normally his hips would buck up causing you to gag on him slightly. You would set a hungry pace as his hands tangle into your hair holding you on him; but tonight is more relaxed. It’s you taking care of him, doing what you can to help with his injury.

Fuck,” his hips jerk, his thick member hitting the back of your throat while you hum around him. Your nails rake up his bare thighs; your spit dripping down your chin. Your hand cups his balls and gently massages him while you continue to suck on him Your tongue swirls around him a few more times when you feel his dick twitch and warm spurts of cum are shot down your throat.

You continue to work him through his high, sucking on him until he stops. You feel him still as your mouth stops. You pull off him with a pop and help him shimmy back into his boxers. You crawl back up his body and Fred pulls you into his side, wrapping his arm around you.

“You’re a pretty good nurse babe” he mumbles pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’ve been a good patient” you chuckle slight resting your hand on his chest.

Next Chapter

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