#jorge is giggling and kicking his feet right now

[bezzplaining]

Beautiful tiny man and his beautiful smile(he's talking about punching jorge)

#dani pedrosa #motogp #jorge is giggling and kicking his feet right now

[writingamongtheroses-archive]

Showtime- Chapter 3

(Liza, at 25 and 3, finds a present. Then she finds a music box.)

The Musicbox

Liza forced herself to go home to shower in the crappy cold water only shower in her apartment- the hot office and fear for her life had produced sweat- and change before she went to tío Rafael's house.

The three-story house was where Liza had spent her childhood since she was ten. Her parents had disappeared after the same accident that left scars on her head and somehow, she ended up living with tío Rafael, alongside the kids he fostered. She wasn't sure why- he was her great uncle, and she had tia Camilla-Rose and tio Jorge. But that did spare her from her cousin Candela.

Liza marched up to the door to give it a solid knock. There was a moment before the door opened, revealing her foster cousin Lynn. She had been a foster child when Liza moved in, although she had moved out years ago to become a psychologist, helping victims of police violence. "Oh boy," Lynn said when she saw her. "You should probably wait, Abuelita-"

"¡Lynn! ¡Vuelve, querida, para que sepas dónde está la fiesta!"

The blonde turned to yell back. "Un minuto!" Liza had paled at the voice from inside by the time she turned back, rolling her eyes. "Sorry, Abuelita's here, raving about Candela's engagement party."

Liza winced. "Oh! Um..." She rolled her sleeve back to consult the notes written on her arms. "Who is she..."

With a sigh, Lynn took pity. "This guy named Tom. Don't tell her or Abuelita, but I don't think he was planning for it to go this far."

"Lynn!"

"Un minuto, Abuelita!"

There were scoff and some footsteps, approaching the door. Lynn gestured for her to run. "¡Un momento, dice..." Liza turned to sprint away but froze at the old woman's voice. "¡Ah! Elizabeth, preciosa, ¡estás aquí!"

She turned back, fixing a fake grin on her face at the sight of the old woman. "Abuelita!" The old woman pulled her into a hug. "¡Me alegro de verte! Otra vez."

"¡También me alegro de verte, nieta!" Abuelita pushed Liza away to smile even harder. That smile warned that talk about Candela, Abuelita's favorite, was incoming. Lynn and Liza shared winces. "¡¿Escuchaste las noticias?! Tom finalmente le ha propuesto a Candela!" She opened her mouth to reply, but her great-grandmother was already dragging her inside. They passed three more foster kids- Tucker, Huang Fu, and Anne- playing in the living room as they entered the kitchen. "Rafael, Candela y Tom, Marisol, mira quién vino de visita!"

Tío Rafael was sitting with Liza's cousin and her twin, as well as a blonde guy who must've been Tom, at the kitchen table. Rafael aimed a warm smile at his great-niece. "Hola, Liza."

"Hola, Tío Rafael." Liza turned her fake grin to Candela, who was gripping and nuzzling Tom's arm like there was no tomorrow. (He looked a bit lost.) "Congratulations, Candela," she said in English, for the benefit of Tom, as she pulled up her sleeve. "I'm so happy for you."

"Heh, it's no big deal," Candela said with a sweep of a hand, showing off the huge diamond on her finger. "I just knew Tom was the one." Liza shared an eye roll with Marisol and Lynn. "Anyway, the party's next weekend at 5. You can remember that, right?"

Everything went silent. Liza could feel everyone's eyes on them. She managed to regain her smile, nodding. "Of course! Now, as much as I enjoy your...company, I'm actually here to-"

"Oh my gosh! You have to hear how he proposed!"

Liza’s eye twitched as she felt the urge to bang her head against something.

-_-

When she parked at the restaurant, it was 11:30. She had arrived earlier than yesterday, planning on trying to talk to Mr. Calworth. But, when she got in, there was nobody there. The dining hall looked like there wasn't even a cleaning crew.

The three animatronics stood on-stage, looking innocent as hell. It looked creepy, like they hadn't moved at all last night. Liza stuck her tongue out at them. She flinched a minute later at the thought of them taking even worse offense to that, and hurried to her office. Midnight must be when they started that weird night mode.

She should've come earlier.

Why were they hunting her? The whole 'naked endoskeleton' sounded like a bad lie.

Liza bit her lip before glancing outside. It was a bad idea, but she still had twenty minutes left. Her curiosity won out. First, though, she ducked back in to grab the landline and dial star-66. The phone guy must have some answers to her questions. Instead of the guy, she received an answering machine. It was late and he was probably asleep- she could try later.

She grabbed the office flashlight before she made her way down the hall, keeping to the shadows. A too-loud creak made her dart through the nearest door. She resisted a scream when she found herself surrounded by parts. Lisa glanced at the sign on the door, only to groan. Of course. She was in Parts and Services.

Liza flipped the switch to lighten the dark room. There was a shudder before a bulb blew. "Great," she grumbled. Now, there were shadows to jump at. She did jump at one when she poked around. A stab of pain lanced up her arm. She glanced over to see that she had scratched herself against a spare endoskeleton. Liza hissed as she grabbed the cut to stem the blood, glancing over to see a shelf of spare heads.

The room was dark, but she could still see the toys. This must be the Prize Room!

She let out a shudder, moving past. A loud screech made her freeze. She watched as a blur of grey sped past the doorway. That must've been Bun, which meant...oh no. It was midnight and she was far from the safety of her office. Liza immediately shut the door and turned off the light before she could blink.

She had to be quiet.

What was most interesting was the pretty present box, perched on the counter. The three-year-old wandered up closer to get a look at the purple paper and the poofy golden bow on top. But, even as she stood on tippy-toes, she couldn't see it!

Liza tried to move lightly on her feet, further into Parts and Services and farther away from the door. Hopefully, if any of the animatronics poked their head in here, they wouldn't see her. Instead, she ended up tripping.

The breath knocked out of her, Liza froze on the floor. She could hear footsteps passing by. From what she had figured last night, Bun had a metal leg and Kitty and Rex shared a limp. She clamped a hand over her mouth: it was Ted, just outside the door. She laid there, heart pounding in her ears, for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the footsteps walked away.

Liza looked around for something to help her to see the present. She ended up pushing a chair behind the counter and climbing up it. She was able to get next to the present and look at it better. The purple wrapping paper had a pattern of flowers that Tío Rafael called 'oleanders.' The bow suddenly shuddered.

Something was inside!

She sat up, aiming the office-issued flashlight at what she had tripped over.

It looked like a Ted suit, although the fur had lightened to a shade of gold and the eyes were empty sockets. It sat there, collapsed and lifeless. For some reason, Liza set aside the flashlight. She reached up and gently unhooked the faceplate from the suit.

The suit was empty inside, just as she expected it to be. No, wait...Liza reached inside. She snagged something that felt rough, then snatched something smooth from deeper in the suit. She pulled her hand back to look under the flashlight.

In her hand sat what looked like a clump of blonde hair and the shreds of a green ribbon. Both were stiff with age.

Liza attempted to pull off the lid, but it remained firm. The three-year-old whined- she needed to see what was inside! She looked around again for something to help her.

Liza tucked the two into her pocket before replacing the faceplate and trying to get to her feet. Instead, her boot kicked something. She winced. If she had broken something, Mr. Calworth probably wouldn't be very happy. She got to her knees, swinging the flashlight over.

It was a present.

It looked old. What must've been a few years of dust and grime had dulled the bow into an ugly shade of yellow. She could see some type of pattern on the purple wrapping paper, but the grime made it hard to see. Liza blinked in confusion before looking around for something to explain why a present box, of all things, was in this horror room.

Her flashlight caught the gleam of something on the workbench next to them.

Her eyes landed on a music box.

It was pretty. Liza picked it up to examine it further. It was a shade of dark blue, while gold made oleander patterns on it. She glanced between it and the present. Could this help her? She started cranking it until the handle couldn't move anymore, then released.

When Liza heard the twinkling tune, she nearly broke the box by grabbing the handle to try and force it to stop. The animatronics would hear and Ted would break the door down and grab her and start stuffing UNTIL SHE FIT-

Liza giggled when she recognized the tune. It was the family lullaby, about oleanders! Tío Rafael played it whenever she stayed at his house. She watched as the music box played the song, not noticing the present box’s lid shifting. Until it finally stopped...

And the box opened.

Liza stared at...whatever it was.

It looked like an animatronic, which made her tense. It had a completely black body, except for the face. The face looked like a china mask, completely white. Blue streaks were painted from the eyeholes to the cheeks. The chin was painted red- it looked like blood- stretching from a mouth made of a black line. It stared at her with little white dots, floating in dark eye sockets. Liza stared back, ready to run.

A spindly-thin hand raised up and a finger beckoned.

She wasn't sure why, but she scooted closer until she was right next to the Ted suit. The thing glanced downwards. Liza followed it's gaze to see the cut on her arm. "Oh, um..." She held her arm out so it could see it better. "I scratched myself a little bit ago." The dots flicked from the cut to her, and she got the feeling it was unimpressed. It turned in its box, turning around a minute later to reveal a bandage. "Thank you?"

...that was totally an eye-roll.

It withdrew a little when it finished bandaging up her arm, watching her. Liza watched it back. "So...what now?" she said finally, wincing at the too-loud volume of her voice. The thing merely stared before rising a little...

She didn't have a chance to yell before one spindly finger tapped her on the forehead.

Liza collapsed and all went dark.

The job done, the Puppet retreated back in its box.

"Hey, Liza, look!"

Liza looked over from the guard's hold. The Puppet pointed to its head. The three-year-old raised a brow as she raised a hand to her head. She pulled out her yellow hairband, offering it over. The Puppet took it before retreating back into the box and shutting the lid.

She was starting to wonder how to explain losing her headband to her mama before the lid opened and it popped up again, offering the headband back. A pretty bow now sat on it, made of yellow ribbon. Liza couldn't help the squeal of delight that escaped her as she took it, pushing it into her hair. There was a chuckle from the guard. "Now, what do we say?"

"Thank you!"

Six came and left.

In the shadows of Parts and Services, she slept.

#heartbeat #heartbeat series #wip #there's spanish

[pug-bitch]

That’s not why I’m going (11)

Forgiving yourself

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and not one, but 2 VERY steamy scenes, around 60 diamonds each :D. (Yes, it got a little out of hand) This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18. This also alludes to pretty disturbing content, regarding Amara’s backstory (trigger warning: death - if I say anything else, it will spoil the end of the chapter, but if you feel like this could trigger you, you could stop before the last section of the chapter!).

Word count: 4,130 (let me know if the ‘keep reading’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This picks up pretty much where we left off, during the last night in Lythikos, starting with Drake’s POV.

I know I said yesterday that I wouldn’t be able to write much this week because of work, and it’s still true. The next chapter will probably come later this week or even during the weekend. I’ll keep you guys posted.

Also, I wanted to add a disclaimer. I disagree with Drake, I think Monster-in-law is an awesome movie and I love Jane Fonda.

*****

They had been standing there for a while, watching their friends have fun, and then Amara joined in for a couple minutes to try out a skating move taught by Hana. She had left her phone with Drake, not wanting to risk shattering it in a fall. Drake was holding it in his hand, when it suddenly started vibrating.

Afraid to see the dreaded name ‘Michael’ pop up, he carefully looks at the screen.

No Michael this time, it just said ‘Papi’.

‘Suarez,’ he yells out, ‘your phone’s ringing!’

She stops smiling and skates back towards him, visibly stressed out. ‘Who is it?’

‘I think it’s your dad.’

She sighs and says ‘I should take this. He never calls, it could be serious.’

He nods as she holds onto his arm to remove her skates and get back into her boots.

She adds: ‘Do you know where I can find a quiet space to call him back?’

‘Yeah, hold on a second.’ He waves to Liam, not wanting him to shit a brick again when he disappears with Amara.

Liam approaches, and asks ‘Is everything ok?’

‘Yeah,’ Drake replies, ‘I’m gonna take Amara to a silent place, she needs to call her dad back, ok?’

Liam, visibly relieved that Drake is now sort of asking him permission to spend alone time with her, acquiesces and goes back to his ice skating routine.

‘Alright Suarez, let’s go. Is it still ringing?’

‘No, he’s probably leaving a voicemail, but I’m gonna call him back. He had a minor heart attack about a year ago, so everytime he calls, I always expect the worst, you know?’

Drake smiles and nods, gently taking her hand, now that they’re out of view.

‘Here we go, this should be quiet and still within wifi range. I’ll leave you to it.’

She grabs him by the forearm. ‘No. Stay, please?’

He didn’t expect that. She was so private that the fact that she wanted him to be next to her while she calls her dad truly made his heart flutter.

She hits the FaceTime button and her dad picks up immediately.

‘Mija!’ he says enthusiastically.

‘Papi, are you ok?’

‘Yeah yeah, don’t worry! I left you a voicemail, I knew that you would worry otherwise. I’m all good, sweetie.’

‘Papi, this is a FaceTime call, please stop showing me the inside of your ear.’

Drake chuckled. Dads.

‘Ohhh, so I can see you? Wow, qué bonita eres, mija! What’s up with the snow? Weren’t you supposed to be in Italy?’

‘I’m in Cordonia, Papi. It has several climates, and now we’re in the North, near Switzerland. Isn’t it pretty?’

‘Oh it sure is, honey. Look, I don’t want to keep you from your friends, I just wanted to tell you something, ok?’

She sighs but her smile never falters. ‘Tell me, Dad.’

‘I talked to Michael. He said your last phone call did not go very well. He made a mistake sweetie. He didn’t mean what he said, and Lord knows I don’t agree with what he said to you either.’ Her dad’s voice cracks. ‘We miss him every day mija, but I also miss you. Please stop punishing yourself.’

Amara’s eyes fill with tears. Drake has to fight his urge to dive in and hug her tight. ‘Papi, stop… Please…’

Tears stream down her face, and her dad is audibly crying too. Drake wonders if he should do something. ‘Mira Amara, it was not your fault. Those things happen, unfortunately. It’s been two years. Please start forgiving yourself. Please baby. I miss seeing you smile. Michael regrets, too.’

Amara tries to collect herself. ‘I know, he apologized. I just can’t look at Callie’s little face without...thinking of Sergio.’

Drake hears her dad muffle a sob. ‘Me neither baby. But Nancy and I are worried about you. So is Michael. Please start living your life again. Can you promise me?’

Amara takes a deep breath. ‘Te prometo, Papi. Voy a vivir de nuevo.’

‘Gracias, mija. Te amo mucho.’

‘Te amo también.’

Drake can’t speak a lot of  Spanish, but he understands that this is a private moment, and he should walk away. But as soon as he turns around, Amara calls out for him. ‘Drake! Can you...stay for a sec?’ She whispers, ‘Say hi to my dad?’

He’s taken aback, but moved that she wants them to meet. She probably wants to show her dad that she’s not alone in the snow, but still, it creates a warm feeling in his chest. ‘I’d love to.’

He walks in front of the camera, as Amara introduces him. ‘Dad, I want you to meet my friend Drake. He’s been an amazing support here, and I want you to know that I’m not alone, ok?’

‘Nice to meet you, Mr. Suarez,’ Drake says with a wave and a charming smile.

‘Nice to meet you too, Drake, please call me Jorge.’

‘Deal. How are you doing, Jorge?’

‘Good, better now that I know my daughter has people to look out for her, you know.’

‘You can count on me, I got her back, ok?’ He wraps Amara in a hug, and Jorge shows a relieved smile.

They say their goodbyes, and start walking back to the group, in silence. Drake knew there was something dark in her past, but he had no idea Amara was feeling so guilty about something that had happened two years ago. Seeing her break down had broken his heart, and he wanted to help her overcome whatever had happened. He definitely didn’t want to pry, but he also hoped she would open up to him. Trusting him with meeting her dad was a good start. Drake breaks the ice. ‘I see where you get your looks from.’

Amara bursts out laughing. ‘Oh my God, you did not just say that my dad is hot.’

‘Well, he’s got your dashing smile, that’s all I’m saying.’

‘Shut up, Walker. Thank you for humoring me. I didn’t mean to drag you into my family drama.’

‘Please. It was my pleasure. Your dad sounds really sweet.’

‘On top of being hot? Yeah, he’s amazing. I lucked out.’ She pauses, and stares at the horizon. ‘I hope I didn’t scare you off. Meeting the dad pretty early on was probably not a sexy move.’

‘I like that you asked. And you were right to, because now your dad knows that you’re not alone out here, and that you’ve got me.’

She gives him a playful smile. ‘Oh yeah? Are you gonna protect me from the evils of this world?’

‘Well, I think you can defend yourself just fine, Detective,’ he whispers. ‘But what I’m here for, is to remind you that you’re amazing and that, just like your dad says, you should live your life on your terms.’

She smiles at him earnestly, and they peacefully rejoin the group.

*****

‘The bouquet of this one is very interesting!’

Drake, Amara, and Olivia were rolling their eyes throughout all of Kiara’s descriptions of each wine they tasted. Maxwell, wanting to stir shit as always, made sure to ask her for her opinion every time she took a sip, because he got a kick out of watching his friends cringe.

Amara had tried what felt like fifteen different wines and was starting to feel it. She was a tad dizzy and even the cheese Olivia had put out for them to nibble on wasn’t helping much. Everyone around was quite drunk, which she suspected was exactly Olivia’s plan. Liam especially was getting extremely giggly, and Olivia was all over him. The only person keeping it together was, unsurprisingly, Madeleine, whose stick up her ass was as stiff as ever.

‘We should play a game,’ says Maxwell excitedly.

‘YES!’ Hana yells, barely able to stand on her feet.

Olivia sighs but gives in. ‘Alright, what do you have in mind, Beaumont?’

‘Well,’ he continues, getting giddier by the second, ‘we could play Never Have I Ever.’

‘Oh shocker,’ Olivia replies, ‘that’s all you ever want to play.’

‘Because it’s FUN!’ he says loudly.

Olivia concedes and asks who wants to start. Obviously, Maxwell is the first to raise his hand. ‘Never have I ever...seen Liam’s butt!’

He giggles so hard that even Olivia has trouble remaining serious. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the nobility of Cordonia. (Plus Drake and Amara.)

No one drinks, except Drake and Olivia. Amara squeals ‘Are you kidding me guys? You’re drinking to this?’

Drake shrugs, ‘We’ve played sports together. We’ve seen each other’s butts.’

Olivia adds, ‘And when you’re three years old, butts are not that big a deal.’

Amara cannot believe this is the state of Cordonia right now. ‘Alright, drink away! I guess it’s your turn, Olivia.’

She clears her throat and carefully announces: ‘Never have I ever had sex in a swimming pool.’

Madeleine sighs with disgust, turns around and leaves. Maxwell says sarcastically: ‘...and she was never seen again!’

Everyone bursts out laughing, and most of the crowd starts drinking. They go another round, and it’s Olivia’s turn again. ‘Never have I ever had sex with a cop.’ She holds Drake’s gaze as she finishes her sentence, watching him drink. Jeez, Amara thinks. Olivia was really enjoying her newfound information.

Liam raises an eyebrow. ‘When have you ever had sex with a cop, Drake?’

He coughs. ‘I don’t tell you everything, Your Highness.’

The crowd oohs, and Hana’s turn comes again. ‘Never have I ever had a sibling!’

Amara knows this was an innocent way to make people drink, but her heart drops. She reluctantly drinks, as she watches Drake take a sip too. Hana couldn’t know how much this sentence had hurt her, of course, but still. She takes another big gulp, hoping for the pain to go away.

And it does, for a while; it even gives way to more fun, as she enjoys the company of her new friends. It was nice hanging out with these guys, and to forget about the competition. They go a few more rounds, until people start to scatter before dinner. Penelope and Kiara go back to their rooms to change, and Liam goes to Olivia’s study to reply to some official emails. Not sure it’s a good idea in his drunken state, but he’s the boss.

The rest of them continue to play for a bit, drinking more and more wine. Amara can’t keep her eyes off of Drake, and his muscular arms every time he takes a sip. She flashes back to him pulling her back into bed that very morning, begging her to wait a bit before getting up. She thinks about his kiss, his smell, his touch. God, she’s drunk. She’s not even trying to hide the fact that she’s staring, but why should she? It’s just Max, Olivia and Hana. They don’t care.

Drake excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Amara waits a couple of seconds, and makes up an excuse about having to call her roommate. If only Mia knew she was her alibi, she’d be proud.

She follows Drake down the hall, and waits until he comes out of the bathroom. She pushes him back in, a hand on his mouth to muffle his gasp.

‘Shh,’ she says. ‘Be quiet.’

‘God, Suarez,’ he whispers, his words slurred, courtesy of the wine. ‘You scared me.’

‘Not my intention,’ she says, unzipping his pants.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Nothing,’ she responds playfully, before planting a deep kiss on his lips.

Her hands roam inside his jeans, as he quietly moans. She finds his already hard dick, and strokes it enthusiastically.

‘You’re crazy,’ he slurs. ‘What if someone notices…’

‘Shh, everything’s good… we’ve got some time…’

She gets on her knees, not even thinking about the fact that this is a bathroom floor. She sets Drake’s cock free, and runs her tongue across his length. He moans, his eyes closed. ‘Mmm Amara…’

She wraps her hand around his balls, drawing more moans and groans from him, and takes his tip in her mouth. God, he tastes good. She’d wanted to do this all day. His breathing quickens as she takes him in her mouth, still massaging his balls. His hands stroke her hair, and follow the movements of her head.

As he is getting harder than she thought was possible, he guides her back up, kissing her deeply and unzipping her jeans. He quickly puts his hand in her underwear, caressing her already wet slit. She lets out a moan, muffled by Drake’s kiss.

He pulls down her pants and underwear, and props her up on the sink. After teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, her moans let him know that he’s welcome to enter her. He pushes himself inside her, as she grabs on to his ass, guiding him in and out.

‘Fuck me,’ she whispers in his ear. His rhythm accelerates, and Amara feels waves of pleasure invading her. She’s still sore from their previous encounters, but she doesn’t care. She just wants him inside her, as deep as possible. She wraps her legs around him tighter, pulling him deeper.

‘I’m so close,’ he whispers, and so is she, she feels like she’s about to explode. She kisses him more passionately, their tongues enmeshed together, when she finally feels her orgasm rush through her body. She tries to remain quiet, but her panting does not leave any room for doubt. Drake follows suit right away; he tries to pull out, but Amara’s legs are still firmly wrapped around him, and he comes inside her.

Still out of breath, they clean up and put their clothes back on. ‘God, Amara, that was amazing.’

She kisses him on the lips, and says ‘So amazing. Thank you.’

‘Are you kidding? Thank YOU. Is it ok that I didn’t pull out?’

‘I’m on the pill, don’t worry. I just really wanted to feel you…’

He smiles and kisses her deeply. ‘Ok. Let me come out first. They must think I’m pretty sick by now.’

‘Ew. Go. I’ll fix my hair.’

*****

No one had noticed how long they’d been gone, thanks to Olivia’s bottomless wine collection. Dinner had been pleasant, they’d all been in a terrific mood, again thanks to all the wine. Madeleine had come back, and they’d all steered clear of any sexual topics so as not to scare her away again, even if the perspective of scaring her away was very tempting.

Fortunately for Drake and Amara, everyone was very tired and eager to go to bed, so they didn’t have to wait very long until they had their alone time. Drake was looking forward to being able to just be with her, and relax. Maybe also have sex again, although he didn’t want her to think he was a perv.

They get settled in Amara’s room this time, and she immediately gets comfy in her pyjamas, which are basically glorified underwear. Drake doesn’t complain.

‘Mind if I get comfortable too?’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Suit yourself.’

He takes off his jeans and button-down shirt, leaving him in his boxers and T-shirt. Amara’s eyes light up. ‘Are you gonna think I’m an insatiable ho if I tell you you look really hot?’ she asks.

He chuckles. ‘I was gonna ask you the same thing.’

They get into bed, comfortably snuggled up in each other’s arms, and Amara turns on her computer. They briefly argue about what movie to watch, and even if he really doesn’t want to watch Monster-in-law, Drake enjoys the very normal, very intimate banter. So, this is what would happen if they were openly together? They’d have a normal life, punctuated with tiny fights about horrible rom coms starring Jane Fonda? Life could be a lot worse.

They settle for Hitch, which isn’t much better, but Drake likes Will Smith, so he agrees. About five minutes into the movie, he starts kissing Amara’s neck, stroking her stomach under her pyjama top.

‘Mr. Walker, is that a boner on my lower back, or are you just happy to see me?’

‘I don’t think that’s how the saying goes. Because the answer is, both.’

She laughs. He runs his hands higher under her top, and finds her breasts. God, he loves her breasts. Big, round, perky, the exact ones he would draw, if he was asked to draw his ideal breasts. He kneads them in his hands, gently pinching her nipples, which draws a few moans from Amara, who is starting to wiggle her ass on his erection. They truly couldn’t get enough of each other. They had started having sex not even 24 hours ago and they were already beginning round 5. He couldn’t help it, though. Not only did she make his heart skip a beat, she also gave him a boner every time she moved.

‘Do you want me to stop?’ he asks, not wanting to initiate if she was too tired.

‘Mmm,’ she moans, ‘please don’t stop.’

God, they were horndogs. He slides one of his hands off her breast, down towards the waistband of her little shorts. He knew she was going commando under there, and it drove him crazy. He slips his hand in her shorts, and as he finds her pussy and starts caressing it, her moans become more intense. ‘Oh, Drake,’ she whispers. She is so wet, still. He wants her so much. He loves her body, her curves, her skin, the smell of her hair...he couldn’t get enough. His cock is so hard it’s starting to hurt. He continues rubbing it on her ass, and she pushes hard against it.

He circles her clit with his finger, and slides one finger inside her. She lets out a faint gasp. ‘Two fingers,’ she says. He complies. His fingers enter her again and again, as she moves against him. Then, it looks like she can’t take it any longer. ‘Slide inside me…’ she whispers, turning her head slightly to kiss him.

She doesn’t have to tell him twice. He swiftly pulls her shorts aside, frees his cock from his boxers, and slides it into her dripping wet pussy, as instructed. She groans loudly. ‘Fuck… it feels so good…’

He realizes they’d both forgotten about their responsible behaviors as they had forgone condoms. Amara was on the pill though, and they’d had a conversation this morning about being tested after their last partner.

God, she feels good around him. He loses himself in the moment as he gently fucks her from behind, still caressing her breasts with one hand, and her clit with the other.

She turns around to kiss him deeply. He fucking loves her lips, the way she kisses him, gentle and sexy at the same time. Her kiss becomes more eager, and she whispers, ‘Get on top of me.’

He loves that she’s bossing him around like this. He would basically do anything she wanted him to do to her, and he finds these instructions extremely endearing and arousing.

So, he complies, and she gets on her back, her legs spread. He pauses for a second, to admire her. He pulls her top off, and gives more attention to her breasts before slipping back inside her.

He makes love to her for a long while, both of them very much entangled in each other’s kisses, and their bodies as close as possible. Amara holds him tight, still wrapping her legs around him to push him deeper inside her. Drake has to regroup and avoid coming too early; he wants the moment to last.

Finally, she asks him to go faster, as she’s getting close. He makes her come, and he loves feeling her contracting around him. It drives him over the edge, and it’s not long until he loses control too, exhausted and satisfied.

They fall asleep in each other’s arms, Drake being the big spoon. Before drifting off to sleep, Drake showers Amara with a million neck kisses. He thinks about how lucky he is to have found her, and how important she’d become in just a couple of weeks. He didn’t know much about what he wanted out of life, but he knew one thing: he had no intention of losing her.

*****

Amara woke up in a sweat, out of breath, with horrifying images running through her head. She calms down when she sees Drake next to her, his arms around her, and a worried look upon his face.

‘Amara, are you ok?’

She thought she was. They’d had an amazing, intimate night. When she fell asleep, she was so blissfully happy that she’d never thought that she would have the nightmare again, especially not tonight.

But the subconscious was a complex machine. Even though her night of lovemaking with Drake was on her mind when she drifted off to sleep, her demons regained control of her brain during the night. Probably because of Olivia’s little discovery about her past, and, most importantly, her talk with her dad about forgiving herself.

What she realized was that she couldn’t run away from it. Even in the happiest of moments, as she was entangled with the man she was falling for, her past was catching up to her.

‘Amara? Please say something. You were having something like a panic attack. Like you did on the plane. Are you ok?’

She’d have to deal with her subconscious. Maybe it was time.

‘I’m fine, I--’

She chokes up. She can’t even control it. She’s just so afraid of what he’s gonna think of her once he knows what she’s responsible for, and she doesn’t want anything to change, ever. The way he looks at her… She’s never experienced that before. And, despite her best efforts, she is convinced that she doesn’t deserve it.

‘Amara, don’t cry...what’s going on? Is it about your talk with your dad?’

She can’t do anything but nod, tears streaming down her face. She realizes she’s naked, and she wraps herself in the sheet, as if to protect herself.

‘Baby please, talk to me…’

He hugs her tight, and strokes her hair. How did she get so lucky? Was he going to be disgusted by who she really was, and leave her?

‘Drake, I...I have nightmares. PTSD.’

He nods, an understanding look on his face. ‘I figured. Did something happen when you were in the NYPD?’

She nods, unable to stop the tears.

‘You can tell me anything, Amara. I promise.’

She remembers the promise she made her dad, just the previous afternoon. To forgive herself and live. She has to tell him. If she can’t tell Drake, she can’t tell anyone.

She takes a deep breath. ‘My brother. He--he died.’ She pauses, and more tears flow out of her eyes.

Drake is still holding her tight. ‘Was your brother named Sergio? Is that who you were talking about on the phone?’

She nods. Damn, it feels weird to hear his name out of Drake’s mouth. They would never be able to meet. Sergio would have loved him, though. ‘Yeah. He...he was a cop, too. My partner was out sick that day and I--I’ She exhales. ‘I needed someone to go interrogate a suspect, and I asked him to go with me. It was supposed to be a routine interrogation, and we didn’t--didn’t gear up.’ She sobbed. ‘The perp had a gun. Tried to run away, we chased him into a corner. Pulled out his gun. Shot it. Sergio leapt in front of me to protect me.’

That’s all she can handle. She breaks down. Drake is stroking her hair, and kissing the top of her head. ‘I’m so sorry, Amara, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry.’ His voice cracks. She’s afraid to look at him. What if she sees something different in his eyes?

Still, she’d have to know. She sniffs, and takes a look at Drake. He has tears in his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry, Amara. I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through. But it’s not your fault.’ He kisses her forehead. ‘Your dad’s right. It’s not your fault. You have to forgive yourself.’

There is so much kindness in his eyes, so much understanding, so much compassion, when she expected him to push her away. He gives her a soft kiss on the lips, and wipes her tears away.

She takes a deep breath. ‘Michael was his husband. They have a daughter together, Callie. If it wasn’t for me, she’d still have two daddies.’

Drake wraps her in a tight hug. She feels just as shattered as she has felt for the past two years, but now something else had sprouted.

Now, wrapped in the arms of this man, whom she was falling for, under a flurry of his kisses, lulled and reassured by his kind words, she wanted to heal.

*****

Taglist:

@andy-loves-corgis , @drakewalkerwhipped , @drakxwalker , @drakewalkerrosenberg , @drakeswalkers , @drakelover78 , @silviasutton1989 , @jovialyouthmusic , @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria , @mariahschoices , @drakesensworld , @thequeenofcronuts , @notoriouscs , @drakewalkerisreal , @nikkis1983​ , @simsvetements , @alesana45

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#that's not why i'm going #drake walker x amara suarez #drake walker x mc #drake walker trr #drake walker #trr drake #trr #trr choices #the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #trr fanfic

[theroyalweisme]

Duties of a Prince - Chapter 4 - Leo x Liam x MC

A little AU of what would have happened at Leo’s fling before the social season to determine his bride kicks off.

Rating: For mature audiences… language and themes as the story continues.

(A RoE and TRR Crossover)

Summary:

Two brothers who couldn’t be more different if they tried. One out to be the life of the party. The other understanding both of they’re roles and determined to fulfill them all. But what happens when they fall for the same girl?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Tagging: @youwontlikewherewewillgo @captainkingliam @chrstbll @pens-girl-87 @mfackenthal @xxrainbowprincessxx @queencatherynerhys @syltti78 @boneandfur @ranishajay @decisso @blackcatkita @trianiasti

Liam held his hands up easily in front of him, hoping to portray an unassuming manner as he stepped slowly towards her.

“I wanted to ensure you’d get home safely,” he shrugged easily at the beautiful woman in front of him. Her stature relaxed as the hand in her oversized bag moved to her hip. Her intense ice blue eyes rolled at his comment.

“You’re worried about little old me, Blue Eyes?” Her voice was playful, now taking a step in his direction. Shrugging, embarrassed, as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his dress pants.

“I watched some of the customers you had to deal with tonight. There were some unsavory people and I was concerned…” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and he could see the humour in her eyes.

“The only strange man I see waiting for me outside my place of work is you.” She smiled, tilting her head towards him.

“I did let you know I would be waiting, Sabrina,” he nodded at her. “I believe Drake provided you with my card, did he not?”

Her brow furrowed in thought as she reached deep into her pocket. What he wouldn’t have done to smooth the furrow with his thumb.

She pulled the thick white card out of her pocket and ran her soft thumb across the raised letters.

“Liam Rys, HRH…” she whispered so softly he had to lean his head towards her to hear what she was saying. Her eyes flicked up to meet his dead on. “What kind of title is that?”

He awkwardly cleared his throat and shifted on his heels. How the hell was he supposed to explain this…?

“Well… you see…” He started slowly, his fingers running through his dark blond hair roughly, thinking of the best or easiest way to answer her question.

“Liam Rys…?” Her eyebrow arched as she stared at him imploringly. “You’re avoiding the question.”

Her long fingers traced down the sides of the card, flipping it in her hands as she studied him. He cleared his throat awkwardly, staring down at his shoes. One was scuffed… Damnit… He’d have to get them shined again before tomorrow.

“It stands for His Royal Highness,” he murmured under his breath. He could feel the tips of his ears heat with the blush of embarrassment as she began to laugh. A soft giggle at first, leading into a full belly laugh at him.

“Right…” She snorted through her fit of laughter. “His Royal Highness… Like a prince or something?”

His back straightened haughtily, raising him to his full height of 6’4”. She was laughing at him… Him… The prince of Cordonia. Albeit he wasn’t the crown prince… No, that title belonged to his older brother. None the less, he was a prince.

“Exactly like that.” His voice lowered to a commanding level, demanding her respect. Her ice blue eyes shot to his in the semi-darkness as the last of her laughter died almost as quickly as it started.

“Holy shit...” she exclaimed, studying him closely. “You’re serious!”

“Incredibly,” he nodded at her solemnly.

“So... pretty boy...?” She paced a few steps away from him before spinning on her heel and heading back towards him. He could see her thoughts as she tried to process the information he had just given her.

“Leo is the Crown Prince of Cordonia,” he nodded proudly. “Next in line to the throne.”

“Fuck me...” Her long, slender fingers found her temples. He watched her closely, waiting for her reaction. Would she run? Would this change her opinion of him? Of Leo? Would she decide to want the person closer to the power?

“Does this matter?” His voice shocked even him, strained… Unsure. “My title, I mean?”

She studied him from her position only a few steps from where he stood. Her eyes drifted over him, studying his shoes, his suit, and finally settling on his own. Her feet carried her purposefully to stand right in front of where he was. His breath hitched as her fingers played with the edges of his lapels.

“That depends…” she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Liam noticed her brow furrowed as she considered her next words carefully. “Does it matter that my dad was connected to the Irish mob and that both my parents were killed in a mob hit?”

“Th-they were?” His voice caught as he pulled Sabrina back from him, unable to wrap his mind around the words she just told him. Her ice blue eyes rolled prettily as she shook her head. “Well… that’s… uhhh…”

“No, they weren’t,” she sighed, pulling herself out of his grasp. “That reaction says a lot though. See ya later, Blue Eyes...”

She turned on her heel, pulling her wool coat tighter around him before waving over her shoulder and starting down the street.

“Sabrina, wait!” He ran the few steps to catch up with her. He grasped her arm lightly as he moved to face her. “Look… That was a shock… I mean, the mob? What did you expect my reaction to be?”

“Yah… sucks getting shocking information thrown at you, hey?” Her brows narrowed at him before she glanced at his hand on her upper arm. “Look, you’re cute, Mickey Blue Eyes. I could actually see me really fallin’ for a guy like you.”

“So why don’t you?” Liam released her arm from his grasp as he tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. “Sabrina, I don’t know anything about you but I want to get to know you.”

“You know that both my parents weren't killed by the mob,” her features soften as he chuckled at her quip. “Ok, Prince Liam. You get a shot. But you only get 1.”

“I will take what you give me,” he grinned down at her before offering the crook of his arm to her. “May I now escort you home?”

She quirked her eyebrow as she placed her hand in the offered crook.

“Does your charm turn on by itself? Or do you have a switch or something?” His laugh was open and hearty at her comment.

“I suppose it’s a symptom of circumstance. You have to be charming to convince people to see things your way.” She made a soft sound of acknowledgment as they walked down the empty New York street.

“It’s so quiet…” Liam commented. “I always thought this was the city that never slept.”

“Oh… it is…” Sabrina nodded thoughtfully. “It may not be wall to wall people at 3 a.m. But they’re there. Look over there?”

She pointed down a small side street at an old man standing in front of a large garbage can.

“He’s here every night… Looking for something to eat.” His brows furrowed at the obvious hardship the man was going through.

“That’s heartbreaking,” he whispered softly. He glanced down at her grip tightened on his arm.

“That’s life here.” She shrugged her shoulders as she turned them down the next street, now lined with old 5 story walk up apartments. “It’s hard and rough, but it’s beautiful at the same time. Sure he’s searching for food, but what you don’t see is the dog that curls up around him and keeps him warm on chilly nights, or the old woman who brings him a warm meal once a week.”

They stopped in front of a, particularly run-down, building. The gate attached to the chain link fence hanging on by a thread.

“Well...” She motioned to the building, “this is me. Thanks for the walk, my prince... or is it, your majesty?”

“Just Liam is preferred...” he muttered as he glanced around her at the building. “Are you sure you’re safe here?”

“Oh yah!” She waved his concerns away with her hand. “Jorge downstairs makes sure nobody bugs me. Doesn’t look like much but it’s mine. Thanks for walking me home, Blue Eyes.”

She smiled softly before turning away from him. Unable to stop himself, Liam’s hand curled around her upper arm, spinning her back towards him.

His lips pressed firmly against hers as a soft moan escaped her throat. Her hands wound around his neck pulling him closer to her. His hand slipped around her lower back bringing them flush against each other. His tongue danced with her own as he moaned into her mouth, feeling himself harden against her.

Slowly, he pulled back from her, cupping her cheek with his hand. His soft fingers tracing the corner of her mouth.

“Wow…” she grinned playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“Yah…” he echoed, staring into her eyes.

“I’d better go inside…” she smiled.

She shivered gently as a cold breeze blew across them,

“You’re right,” he smiled, pressing a quick chaste kiss to her lips. She followed with another and a third after that. “Sabrina…”

He chuckled before pulling her back from his body.

“Go inside, before I refuse to let you go.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before turning away from him again and moving around the gate hanging on to 1 hinge. “Sabrina, wait!”

She turned towards him slowly, cocking her head to one side.

“Can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?” His voice caught traitorously, causing her to smile in the semi-darkness.

“Sure, Blue Eyes. Pick me up at 10.” She waved her fingers at him before turning her back on him and heading into the building.

“Highness,” a voice from behind him called out. “Your brother is at the hotel, sleeping off the evening, as requested.”

Liam turned, giving the apartment building one last glance over his shoulder.

“Thank you, Bastien,” he smiled, patting the older man’s shoulder gently before ducking into the car. “You’ve been a great help this evening.”

Bastien closed the door of the car as Liam leaned against the plush seats, anxiously waiting for the morning.

—

“Jesus, Sab!” The tall fit man stood over her, offering her his hand to pull her back up from the mat. “What’s gotten into you today? I’ve knocked you flat 4 outta 5 today. I don’t usually get a hit.”

“Sorry, Jax,” she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand wraps setting up for the next round. “Something on my mind... I’m here now. Let’s go.”

“Something... or someone?” The trainer grinned as he ducked under her quick jab at his face.

“Something, jackass,” she scowled, pulling her knee in to push him back with her foot. Jax gave her a sarcastic nod to show her that he really didn’t believe a word she was telling him. Her frustration with the large man in front of her did nothing but fuel her kick to his side. Watching him struggle for his footing she grinned, coming up underneath him and clipping his chin with a solid uppercut. “4 outta 6, dick.”

He grinned as she helped him back to his feet. She glanced over his shoulder at the clock 9:40.

“Shit,” she sighed, pulling her hand wraps off. “I gotta go, Jax. We still on for Sunday?”

“You got it, Sab,” the large man grinned, watching her struggle with the pieces of cloth. “Have fun with your someone... oops, I mean something.”

“Fuck off, dick,” she laughed as she pulled her hoodie emblazoned with Sitan Muay Thai over her torso and her hand wraps into her pockets.

“Hey, Sab!” Jax called out as she reached the door. “Don’t make a mistake… Make sure he covers that snake!”

He laughed heartily as she threw her middle finger in the air, pushing the door open and moved into the cold air.

A cab pulled up in front of the gym just as she stepped out. Karma’s on my side today… She grinned as she slid into the back and gave the driver her address.

The cab pulled up to the apartment block, parking right behind a smart black car with tinted windows.

“Thanks, man,” She smiled at her driver handing him some bills. “Keep the change.”

She slid out of the back seat of the cab and started towards the door of her building. A lone figure stood in front of her building, studying the list of names living there. She cleared her throat softly as she approached. Her breath catching as the figure turned and she was met with familiar blue eyes.

“Blue Eyes!” She exclaimed as he stepped down from her doorway,

“Sabrina,” her name was almost a sigh on his lips. “My apologies, we did agree to 10 am, did we not?”

“No… we did…” She sighed, running her hand over her eyes. “I’m sorry… my training session ran later than I expected. C’mon upstairs with me. I need a quick shower and then we can head out.”

#choices stories you play #choices: stories you play fanfics #roe #trr #liam x mc #leo x mc #princes #brothers rys

[pathsofoak]

A few options, in case one doesn’t come up—feel free to use them all—for the wip word game :

wink, cold, ring

Thanks!

For wink, from: the Blue Hours

Vince nodded. “That’s generous, thank you. But really, please, you don’t have to call us sir.”

“Except for Jorge,” Minho joked. “He likes the ego boost.”

Jorge grinned and shook his head. “Feeling old there?”

Vince put on his stern face and looked at Justin. “We’re not your boss, we’re not royalty, and we’re definitely not Richard. Seriously, it’s not necessary.”

“You’re a boss,” Minho corrected. “You lead the Right Arm, and your soldiers call you sir.”

Vince leaned back and sighed. “I don’t see any of my soldiers here, and Justin isn’t one of them.”

Minho didn’t pass up on the opportunity to mess with Vince. Telling Justin to throw his very specific etiquette out of the window didn’t work anyway. “I heard people call Jorge sir, though, so you can—”

“Oh please don’t make him worse,” Brenda joked. “But for the soldiers part, what about the part where we brought down a city?”

“I told you not to do that.” Vince stood up to fill his plate for a second time as Chuck held his out. “Repeatedly.”

“Oh thank you,” Minho said with a wink to Frypan. “That really helps your rep with me.”

For cold, from: the Blue Hours

They came closer to the patient’s room. Teresa’s patient, though the difference didn’t matter now. From what he’d picked up, they had treated everyone they could and closed the patient wing. The patients were all WCKD’s own, anyway.

Not that one. They had called him kid. Either that meant they liked him, or he was one. Rutter said WCKD couldn’t trust him, that was why he had extra security. He wasn’t WCKD.

He was alive, though. Him, at least. WCKD’s soldiers were one thing, but this one had done nothing that Thomas knew of. Not that he cared much, as long as it didn’t involve working with or for WCKD. Double, that feeling. He killed fourteen people. He hated WCKD. He killed fourteen people because he hated being at WCKD. He regretted it. He still hated WCKD.

Before they could move past that room, all kinds of beeps and alarms came out of it.

The guards froze. Three people in scrubs came speeding toward them and rushed into the room, yelling all sorts of things. Up the dosage. Hold him steady. Try to calm him down. Get a crash-kit, just in case.

“It’s a waste of that stuff,” said the tugging guard. “I’ll bet that one doesn’t last until the end of the month.”

“Might as well let him kick the bucket,” replied the other. “He’s just as selfish as the rest of them. It’ll hurt less that way.”

Thomas scowled, but the guards didn’t give it any attention.

When no one else came through the hallway, the guards moved on. Thomas tried to glance into the patient’s room, but a curtain hid the bed. He wondered if—

“Thomas, come see.” Chuck giggled as he tugged at Thomas’s arm. “They’ve got a window now, come see.”

Gone. Just like the last ones. Apparently the impact during the crash damaged the implant they used to keep his memories from him. Rutter said it caused certain irregularities during testing, so they gave him this weird concoction a few times a day to keep it at bay.

They’d been late, this time. Thomas didn’t mind. The stuff made him cold. Ice-cold, crying into your blanket cold. It didn’t even work sometimes. He wasn’t so cold now, but his last dose was in the morning. He would get more eventually. In a glass of water, though Rutter did offer to just inject it. Thomas preferred the water. Less needles.

They dragged him to his cell’s door, and held him up until he’d gotten just that one step past the doorstep. They slammed the door shut after him. The bang threw Thomas off his feet.

He crawled the last bit to his bunk, and rolled on top of it. He’d gotten a bigger blanket because of the cold, but he had yet to use it. He felt pathetic, sitting huddled up in a corner like he hadn’t done what he did.

For ring, from: the Blue Hours

In the cave at the back of the farm were a couple of springs. Clear water. Safe to drink after boiling it. Every afternoon when the sun got too much they’d cool down in there together. Minho and Gally would take one of the pools as their ring and try to push each other under, even though the water was knee-deep at most.

#D answers the asks #kaiusvnoir #excerpt wip: tmr fic #wip: tmr fic

[victorianoir]

The Detective Opens the Door

DEAR GOD, CHUCK AND SARAH WERE STANDING IN THAT HALLWAY FOR MONTHS, I SWEAR!!!!!!!!! Well, we’re getting them out of that hallway and into...well, you’ll see. Hehehe.

This the first time you’ve heard of The Detective and the Tech Guy? Fear not! I have the entire Master Post HERE. Wanna read it on the fanfiction.net site instead? Cool cool cool, that’s HERE. 

Let’s just dive right in, shall we?

XOXOXOXOXOXO

“I-I was knocking. But you aren’t in there.” She heard him swallow from where she stood a few feet away. “You’re out here. Obviously.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m here. I, er…I was at work.”

“Right. Of course. Me…Me, too.”

God, she didn’t even know what to say now that he was standing right in front of her. She hadn’t had her shower yet. The shower in which all of the answers were supposed to come to her, the solution to all of her problems magically appear in her head. That was what showers were for, right?

But he was here. She wouldn’t get her magic shower. And she was at a loss for words.

Chuck huffed then and shook his head. “Sarah, I’ve seen a lot of romcoms in my time.” What?? “It’s always the same thing. The main couple gets into a big fight and they don’t talk to each other for days and days and it’s so dramatic, and then something, I dunno, romantic and magical happens to bring them together, put them in the same place at the perfect time and they make up and some campy-ass song plays while they kiss. I don’t—I don’t want that. I don’t want to just sit at home staring out the window wistfully waiting for something romantic and magical to happen. I don’t want to wait for you to come to me. I don’t want to be apart for days and days. I can’t do that. I can’t wait. I can’t sit around not fixing this when it needs to be fixed. Those movies are shit because when you really love someone, it’s like torture sitting around knowing they’re mad at you, that you screwed up and you can just be a God damn grown up instead and talk to them. I need you,” he said, taking a step closer, and she felt just as breathless as he sounded. “I need to be with you. I don’t wanna play games like that with you. We need to talk. I want to talk to you, hash this out. Because I love you. I love you more than anything in the entire universe and I’m so sorry. But I have so much more to say than just that. And I’m-I’m open to listening, too. I can do that this time. I promise. And can I please come in? Please?”

She nodded a bit dumbly, blinked once, and stepped past him to unlock her apartment door. She stepped inside, pushing it open for him to follow her, and she flicked on the light and set her briefcase down as he shut the door behind them.

When she turned to face him again, he was just standing there watching her, shifting his weight nervously. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said, then, his shoulders slumping, head falling forward so that his chin was pressed to his chest.

She took him in now that they were out of the hallway and alone. He was in a pinstripe suit and brand new brown leather dress shoes, wearing a dark green tie that was a little crooked. He looked good. He’d met with a potential sponsor today though, Stephen had told her. Hence the dress shoes instead of his usual Converse.

“I-I am, too,” she breathed.

His brown eyes snapped up to meet her blue ones. Perhaps he didn’t think she owed him an apology. She did, and she knew she did. But considering the weirdly charming nonsense about romcoms he’d just blurted in the hallway, it was probably better for her to allow him to get it all off his chest before she really apologized.

“First thing’s first, Sarah. What I said to you…” He swallowed, then seemed to force himself to meet her eye as he continued. “I have no right making assumptions about your life before this in the first place, but to have been so downright vicious towards you, insinuating that—that because you don’t want my help, that’s why you’ve…had no friends.” He winced and looked up at the ceiling.

Chuck looked completely mortified and miserable as he repeated the sentiments he’d expressed to her that night before she left.

“That…didn’t feel great,” she admitted, quietly.

“No, of course not.” He closed the distance tentatively, then reached out to take her hand in his. His gentle touch filled her with the overwhelming need to throw her arms around him and bury her face in his neck, stay there forever. Or at least until this ache subsided.

But she stayed where she was, resisting the urge.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry,” he said, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “It was a cruel thing to say, and I’m so disgusted with myself for saying something with the intention of hurting you. I was hurt, so I said something to hurt you. It was childish, stupid, and-and it wasn’t true.”

She wasn’t entirely sure if it was as untrue as he insisted, but she didn’t really feel like tackling that complicated issue at the moment.

“I completely understand if you don’t want to forgive me for saying it, but I at least want you to know that I hate myself for being so mean. I love you. The last thing on Earth I want to do is hurt you like that. I’m a total jackass.” He huffed and hung his head.

“Well, thank you,” she said finally. “For apologizing.” She paused. “I can forgive you, Chuck, but there’s a lot we need to talk about besides just that.”

“There is. There’s a lot. But y-you forgive me?”

Sarah felt the corner of her mouth twitch in a bit of a smile. “Yeah, I do. But you say something like that to me again, I’ll punch you in the dick.”

He let out a huff, relief and amusement in it, and he held his hands up by his head in surrender. “I still think I deserved that this time.”

He probably did, but she didn’t much like the idea of doing that to him.

But he was sobering up now, rubbing the back of his neck, apparently having more to say. “I really overstepped the other day, Sarah. Giving Jorge the money for the rent after you told me no, going behind your back to do it…I overstepped big time. I crossed the line. I apologize for that, too. I was wrong.”

She nodded slowly and started taking her coat off. She felt the heater in the apartment starting to kick in.

“This isn’t an excuse, just an explanation. B-But after the really terrible day I had, I was already kind of a powder keg with a very short fuse. I felt like you were pounding on me and pounding on me and it felt really unfair, and I just refused to actually listen to what you were saying.”

Sarah felt her claws come out a bit, and he must have seen it, because he held his hands up again, stepping even closer, and continuing before she could defend herself.

“That’s how I felt then, the other night. That’s not how I feel now. I’ve had some separation from our fight, I’ve been thinking about it and thinking about it over and over and over, and every way I look at it, you were right. I was being a defensive idiot, Sarah. I was offended and hurt and like a child, I closed myself off. I walked into my condo that night already in the wrong frame of mind and it just got worse from there.”

She huffed and tossed her coat onto the coat rack, pushing a hand through her hair and nodding again. “I think maybe both of us were in the wrong frame of mind.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Maybe. But you were just trying to explain and I refused to listen. I’ve been pushing and shoving my way into this agency because I-I guess I felt like you needed me there. I really was just trying to help.”

“I know,” she interjected, nodding.

“But that doesn’t make my inability to listen and understand what you wanted from me less wrong.” Chuck sighed, shoving both hands through his hair in frustration…at himself, she thought. “I do have faith in you, though. Even if I apparently did my damnedest to make you think I don’t, I really do. I have so much respect for you. I know you can do anything. I-I mean, I have so much faith in you, I think I’d even climb into a submarine if I found out you were gonna drive it. I’d willingly climb into that thing, and you know I hate confined spaces, especially underwater like that.”

She found herself letting out a short giggle, in spite of everything.

“I’ve been making the mistake of thinking that my constant need to help you wasn’t affecting anything, and this whole time it’s been making you feel like I don’t think you can start this agency on your own. I know you can, though. I got nervous and stupidly lost my footing when you told me about being late on your office rent. I jumped the gun. I went behind your back and I did it knowingly, and I’m a total fuck-up for doing that. I’m sorry.”

Sarah nodded again, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I get why you were so angry. And I promise to never do something like that again, especially not behind your back. That’s not what you do when you respect someone as much as I respect you.” He took a deep breath. “I made a lot of mistakes. A-And I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, about me…” He paused, and she saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “About me being privileged, I mean.”

“No, Chuck, I—”

“Hear me out, though. Please.” She closed her mouth and nodded for him to continue. And he smiled a bit, looking up at her through his eyelashes. “Because you’re right. There’s been enough separation between then and now and I guess I’ve allowed myself to lose sight of what it felt like not to have this much money. I’m embarrassed, mortified even, that that’s the case. It’s not easy to admit, but I think I’ve been taking my family’s success for granted. I forgot what life was like before this. When things were up in the air, every day wondering if my parents might have to sell one of our cars, if I’d have to skip college and go straight into the job market, something I really didn’t want to do. I did a lot of soul searching yesterday. Between the drinking.”

She lowered her chin and made a face. “Oh, Chuck, really?”

He winced and shrugged. “I know. But it’s hard not to let self-pity get the best of you when you’re feeling as bad as I was feeling. And the whiskey was…right there in front of me.” He winced again. “I’m not proud of it.”

The P.I. wanted so badly to reach up and fix the errant curl that had fallen onto his forehead, touch his face, squeeze his hand, something. But she didn’t move, just smiling a little at him.

“Th-The important thing is that I am privileged. And I’m very grateful that you’ve helped me see that. I maybe knew on the surface level. I know I’m rich. I know I have more than most people, too much some would say. Hell, I would say. To have all this money and be dating the best woman in the universe? Damn.”

Sarah twisted her mouth to the side in an attempt not to show him how much she liked what he’d just said.

“But you were right, Sarah. Because my idea of solving a problem has been throwing money at it for a while now. Because before this, before you, I didn’t really have to work at anything besides my job. My family is my family, there’s no work or compromise there. And Morgan’s…” He shrugged, a goofy smile on his face. “Morgan’s Morgan. We don’t fight. Ever. About anything.”

She couldn’t help letting out a soft hum of amusement. Chuck and Morgan were so damn cute together.

“And I’m not saying you’re difficult or that this relationship is difficult, I’m just saying a romantic relationship is different and I haven’t known you my whole life. You’re newish. And different from anyone I’ve ever met. Does that make sense?” She nodded. “And I can’t just throw money at you to fix things. I can’t throw money at your problems, either. Something you were trying to tell me but I just wasn’t listening,” he droned, rolling his eyes at himself. “I’m listening now, though. And I won’t do any of this again, okay? I promise you, baby.”

Maybe it was the way he called her baby, how deep his voice was when he said it, the fact that his apologies all rang so beautifully sincere, how much she felt the love still between them…She didn’t know what it was, but the moment that last word slipped out from between his lips, she had to cover said lips with her own.

In the back of her mind, she knew there was a lot more to say. She had apologies of her own to make. And she had to explain things better to him. He deserved more.

But right now, the only thing she wanted to give him was the feeling of being trapped between her bed and her body.

He kissed her back immediately, and as his hands closed around her arms, she heard him emit a desperate whimper.

Fire spread from her center to engulf every last bit of her body, and she held onto him that much tighter, dragging a hand up into his hair and twisting those soft curls between her fingers.

When they pulled back for air, both of them gasping, Sarah nuzzled his cheek with her nose. “Chuck…?” she breathed, tangling her other hand in the lapel of his coat.

“Yes,” he whispered back. And that was all they needed to say before they sprang together again.

They kissed passionately, hands grasping at clothes, at hair. In the midst of the kissing and grabbing and sighing, Sarah somehow managed to get enough of her wits about her to guide them slowly towards the bedroom.  

Sarah felt a powerful desperation rise in her chest, then. A need to drown out the last two days of tension and ache. Only two days and she’d missed him so hard that it hurt. She needed him to know. She wanted to give him every single part of her so that he knew.

And wasn’t it a little scary just how powerful this was?

They broke apart for air again, and she took a long breath in through clenched jaw, gritting her teeth. And as she reached back, figuring she was somewhere near the bedroom door, needing to be inside, needing to be on that bed with him, her hand found nothing but air.

God, where were they then? She didn’t even know. She couldn’t find her door. She didn’t care.

Standing here in the middle of the hallway wasn’t conducive to what she needed either way, so she pushed his button-up down his arms, not caring that the sleeve caught on his watch. And with one quick move, she had him pinned against the nearest wall, his back making contact with a loud thump.

Chuck didn’t miss a beat, pulling her with him, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her against his bare chest. She cupped his face and whimpered into the kiss, almost angry when she found that the pencil skirt she wore wasn’t conducive to climbing his tall, lithe body the way she wanted to.

Instead, she continued kissing him, tucking her hands between their fronts and making quick work of his belt and pants.

Then she felt his fingers at her back, tugging her blouse out of her skirt, yanking it up but pausing for a moment. She broke the kiss and grabbed her blouse, taking it off in one swift movement tossing it away when he seemed a little unsure. He knew better than to think she gave a rat’s ass about her damn clothes ending up on the floor in moments like these. But she knew the last two days must have jarred his confidence a bit.

It was all right. By the end of this, she’d make sure they were both back at the top of their game again.

As their lips smashed together again, she just clung to him, feeling his warm hands so large and strong against her back. It made her feel so heady, even though it was a sensation she knew so well after a year of being intimate with him.

And then his fingers were at the back of her skirt, feeling for a zipper there. When he found none after a short moment of searching, he switched to the side of the skirt. And then she heard the sound of him unzipping the skirt and it pooled at her feet. As she stepped out of it, giggling at the playful way his fingertips teased the insides of her thighs, she had a moment. Just a short memory of the first time he’d divested her of a skirt just like this. The first time he’d visited her in Chicago, after she’d gotten back from a meeting and she’d been tired, frustrated. First, that martini had gone down so well, and then…Well, so had he. In every sense of the word. After he’d struggled a bit to find the zipper on her skirt.

Chuck had learned since then.

Obviously, she thought to herself as he grabbed her by her hips and hoisted her up. She giggled with a squeal and gasped as he turned them around and pressed her against the wall this time, pinning her there as he kissed down her jaw, her neck, and over her shoulders and collarbone.

She spared a moment to take in her surroundings as she tilted her head to give him more access to her neck where she liked his attention most. The door was only a few feet away. They just had to go through it and somehow find the bed. That was it…

But he was making it hard as he unhooked her bra and settled his mouth even lower.

“Chuck…” she whimpered again.

He took the hint, it seemed, grinning against the sensitive skin of her breast and lifting his face, meeting her eyes as he eased her down so that she could set her feet on the floor. She stepped out of her pumps, losing a few inches of height, and she slowly eased herself down to untie his shoes, not breaking eye contact with him even for a moment.

She stood to her full height as he hurriedly toed his shoes off, nearly falling at least twice in his rush. And finally they wrapped themselves around each other, kissing again, haphazardly hobbling the few feet to the door.

The private detective winced as her shoulder crashed into the door, but she didn’t care as it swung open, because she knew her room well enough to know the bed was only about ten feet away. She just had to keep moving as they kissed.

And as the backs of her knees met the edge of the mattress, she sighed in relief against Chuck’s lips, opening her mouth and stroking his tongue with hers. The deep grumble he emitted made her feel half-mad, and as she pulled back from the kiss, her teeth bit down gently on his lower lip, taking it with her. She let it slip out again and he groaned, kissing her at the juncture of her neck, holding her close. Just like that, he lifted her from her feet and put her on the bed. He did it in such an emphatic way, like he was putting something where it belonged, and it was such a turn on for some reason.

They didn’t bother with the duvet or the sheets, kicking off the rest of their underthings, joining on the wrong half of the bed, clinging, surging. She didn’t know how long, she lost count of how often…

Once it was all over and a joint shower was had, Chuck lay facedown in the bed, his body splayed diagonal across it, and she’d somehow ended up with her upper half draped over his back, her breasts rather uncomfortably smushed. She didn’t care. She wanted this contact, and he wasn’t exactly complaining, was he?

“I feel like the best possible thing we can do to finish what just happened off with a bang is for me to get up and make us both a very strong martini that we can drink right here in bed.”

She giggled and turned her lips to kiss him behind his ear, dropping a hand to his hip and stroking him tenderly. It was funny. He’d been hot to the touch earlier, and now she could feel his skin had cooled significantly. He was a little damp from the shower still, too. She shivered herself, glancing down as best she could without exerting too much effort to see that they’d kicked the sheets off of the bed…And after going through so much trouble to climb under them halfway through once they realized how cold her room was.

“But…?” she prompted.

“But you’re so warm and comfy and I don’t want to move again.”

Giggling again, she nuzzled her face back into his neck. “I can forego the martinis for a while if you want.”

“Mmm’good,” he grumbled, and his whole body lifted and eased back down again as he yawned, letting out a wookie sound in the process.

She smirked lovingly, pressing her lips to the nearest part of him and humming comfortably herself.

Then he groaned and gently started to roll out from under her. Sarah laughed as she scooted off of him, letting him sit up and climb off of the bed.

“Couldn’t resist the call, could you?” she teased, easing onto her back to lie on the bed properly and tucking her pillow under her head.

“Nope. I really, really want a martini in bed.”

“I’d take a martini anywhere, but there’s something delicious—salacious even—about enjoying one in bed after what we just did,” she admitted, sending him a look as he glanced over his shoulder from where he was stepping back into his boxer briefs.

He smirked with a “be right back” and disappeared into the hallway outside of her bedroom. As she listened to his footsteps fade, she sat up and grabbed her sheet and duvet, straightening it, pulling it up over her and plopping back down. After the sex and the long shower, she was so satisfied and comfortable that she could easily take a nap while waiting for him to come back.

But of course that was the moment her conscience decided to remind her that while they’d stopped talking for a while, their conversation hadn’t ended, exactly. It had just been interrupted. There was a lot to talk about, something she needed to make sure he really understood this time.

He’d promised to listen this time, right before they’d both decided to set their conversation to the side for more physically pressing matters.

She couldn’t put it off any longer.

And by the time Chuck came back into the room shortly thereafter, she was ready.

Her tech guy’s grin was massive and cheesy as he teasingly tiptoed across the room, handed her one of the martinis, and crawled back into bed next to her holding his own. She glanced at the martini he made her and then set it to the side on her nightstand. He boggled at her. “Can we share yours?” she asked with a wince. “I haven’t had dinner and if I’m gonna get wasted tonight I at least want it to be after I eat a full meal.”

He chuckled and nodded, handing her his. “First sip’s yours, then.”

“Aw, thank you, baby.” She took a long first sip, felt it slip deliciously down her throat and warm her from the inside out, then handed it back to him.

She watched him then, lazily lounging against his side, reveling in how comfortable she was with him, how good it all felt, how important this part of her life was. And then she finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry I closed myself off to you, Chuck.” He was silent for a bit. And then he reached over with the hand that wasn’t holding the martini glass and squeezed her wrist. “I’m sorry I closed off that part of my life to you. And I’m sorry I cut you out of—out of my dream.”

The quietude was comfortable, she found, and when he turned his face to press his lips into her hair, she smiled softly.

“It’s okay, Sarah.” He paused. “I understand now. I understand why you don’t want my help.”

Sarah stopped for a moment, frowned a little, and then straightened, turning to look into his face. He looked back, his gaze steady, confident.

He said he understood, but she knew he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He’d called himself out now for the things he’d done, and for what he’d said, for not listening to her, for snapping at her. And she appreciated how candid and genuine his apologies were.

But he was doing that thing again, saying he understood with the goal of mending things between them, moving on from this fight they’d had, when he really didn’t understand. How could he understand something she still hadn’t told him?

“Do you?” she asked quietly.

He blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Yeah. I do. You don’t want me to help you anymore, and I get it. I won’t.”

“But you said that you understand why. Why I feel this way, why I want this. Do you really?”

She wasn’t trying to call him out, but he needed to really understand why, not just say he did to make her feel better, to set her at ease. Not when she knew he wanted to know more about her, especially where this was concerned. She knew she confused him by not telling him.

Chuck didn’t seem to know how to respond, so she plucked the martini from his fingers and stretched across him to set it down on nightstand on his side of the bed. Then she sat back and cupped his cheek in one hand, hoping he didn’t take this as her chastising him.

“Chuck, please don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you so much.” He got a look like uh oh on his face, and she was quick to ease his worry. “No, no, this isn’t—I’m not saying things right. I’m not good at talking like you are.”

“Uh, did you hear that mess about romantic comedies that came out of my mouth earlier?”

She giggled. “Fair point.”

Running the backs of her fingers down his cheek, she waited for him to meet her gaze before she continued. “Chuck, you always say what I want to hear, what I need to hear. Even before we were together, you had a way of just…knowing what to say. To make me feel better, to make things better in general. And most of the time, it’s exactly the right thing, helpful and supportive…perfect.” She took a deep breath. “But sometimes it just tables things for later that…” She huffed, searching for the right words. “That need to be addressed right then.” Chuck’s gaze flicked away from her for a moment and she put her hand on his chest to get his attention again. “That isn’t your fault, Chuck. It’s mine. I’m such a freaking dysfunctional human in a lot of ways and I’ve been so closed off and private for my entire life. I think I inadvertently trained you to encourage that behavior. Or-or maybe not encourage my behavior so much, but I think you learned pretty quickly that I pulled away when you asked questions or…pushed.”

It was incredibly sweet that he didn’t seem to want to confirm or deny, still looking out for her feelings.

“You don’t have to say anything, Chuck. I know how I am and I know what I do. My hang-ups aside, your thoughtfulness and the respect you gave me by even caring enough to notice and to learn and—Well, that’s one of the things that made me fall in love with you so hard and so fast.” She leaned in to kiss him, tasting a hint of vermouth, strong and rather bitter, but so delicious.

She looked into his soft gaze as she pulled back, running the pads of her fingers over the stubble on his chin distractedly. “Whenever this subject in particular has come up, me not wanting help with my detective agency I mean, you say you understand. You get it…”

Chuck nodded, pressing his lips together and dropping his gaze. “But I don’t really understand…”

“No. Of course not. I haven’t told you. And again, that’s my fault. Not yours.” She licked her lips, collecting her thoughts for a moment. “And every time it comes back again. You say you get it when you don’t get it, I accept it because it’s what I want to hear, we move on, and it comes back because you…I don’t know, you do something like what you did the other day. But less…er, severe.”

She watched as he winced, letting out a long breath. “You’re right. I do that. I just know you don’t like talking about that stuff.”

“I really don’t. Not at all. But I need to stop hiding from you. I need to open up, and I’m sorry it’s taken me a whole year to start, to give you even the slightest hint about where I’m coming from, why I am…this way.”

As he rubbed his hands over his knees under the sheets, she realized he was a little breathless in anticipation. And what kind of a crap girlfriend had she been all this time that even the smallest bit of her backstory had him this excited? She pushed the guilt away for the time being, the voice inside her telling her she was a damn wreck, and she dove right in.

“You know about law school.”

He nodded. “Harvard,” he said, obvious admiration in his face, an impressed tilt to his smile.

“Don’t be so impressed. I didn’t finish, remember?” “You got there, though.” And those words gave her the confidence she needed to just…tell him.

“Well, I had my heart set on law school, Harvard in particular, because it was closeish to New York City, but still away from home, away from my comfort zone. And I took this trip down there on my own to scope it out and I guess…There’s so much history and prestige and I bought it hook line and sinker.” She rolled her eyes at herself good-naturedly.

“Hey. Stanford. I get it,” he chuckled, pointing to himself.

She smiled. “Yeah, well…There was no damn way I was getting in, and I was kind of glum about it, even while I worked my ass off on the essays, went to every single class, studied like mad to get the best grades possible. I made sure to kick the LSAT’s ass as best I could. And the truth is, I…” She let herself breathe for a moment, and was grateful to Chuck for squeezing her hand. “I’m pretty sure my application would’ve gone straight into the trash if they didn’t get a recommendation letter and personal phone call from the NYPD Department Chief to the Dean.” Chuck’s eyebrows shot up. “I know,” she drawled. “Pretty big deal. He was…sort of like a mentor. Kind of. It doesn’t really matter. He just really came through for me and next thing I know, I was at Harvard Law. Seems he and the Dean were close friends, families spent time together. It got me in, so I kind of…ignored the implications. Sort of. As best as I could. But then the Dean was kind of looking out for me and as big as my law classes were, I could tell there were some classmates who knew about it. I don’t know how, I just…could tell. The way they treated me. Like I was getting preferential treatment or something. And, I don’t know, maybe I was. Maybe I shouldn’t have even been there in the first place and they knew.”

She pushed a hand through her hair and turned to face forward. “It isn’t an easy thing for me to admit, but I got a hand up. I got a hand up getting into law school and then I got a hand up once I was there. The Dean, a few professors, really taking an interest in my well-being, making sure I had what I needed to succeed.” She sighed. “It was subtle, but I felt it. I could see it.”

Chuck was mercifully silent, just there, listening, holding her hand. And she took some strength from it, even though she was swimming in shame, aware of the blush that rose to her cheeks.

“Ms. Danilian, the Dean…Well, I don’t know. I really don’t know her thought process. But she got in contact with Langston Graham.”

“Pinkerton,” he said.

“Yep. Maybe she could tell I was losing my footing, losing confidence, not really as interested in what I was doing in law school, just kind of…going through the motions. I don’t know what made her call him. But she did, told him about me. I didn’t have any kind of…er, home really…besides…” She paused, nervously playing with the sheet in her hand. “Before you, I never really had much of a home. It was basically wherever I ended up, with whatever I could carry. You saw my place in Chicago, yeah? I mean…I never had much.” He nodded. “Maybe that was a reason why they thought I’d be a good candidate. But I guess since I was close to the top of my class, on top of being alone in the world, Graham felt like he’d give me a trial. He sprang some tests on me when he visited to meet me. I don’t think he knew that I knew what he was doing, but I must have passed with flying colors because he didn’t waste any time personally asking me to join the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”

Her boyfriend was gaping at her by this point, shaking his head. “Sarah, that’s amazing. The director of Pinkerton came to you personally to beg you to join.”

“He didn’t beg,” she giggled. “He invited me.”

“Same thing.”

She gave him a flat look. “Nevertheless, I didn’t have to think much. I leapt at the chance to get out of there, do something different. Can you pass me that martini?”

He did, taking a sip himself when she was finished and setting it back on the nightstand.

“So I trained at Pinkerton. I thought things would be a bit different, without the influence of the chief or my…prior connections. It was, kind of. But not, at the same time. I was seen as getting a bit of a leg up because of my being a woman…a woman who looks like…” She gestured to herself.

“A warrior goddess?” he filled in. She blinked at him and he shook his head. “Sorry. Morgan and I decided you’re like a valkyrie but without the whole choosing who gets to live and who has to die bit.”

“…Thank you?” Sarah shook her head and snorted quietly. “The point…” She looked at him meaningfully.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, properly scolded.

“…is that there were a lot of uses for someone like me in a detective agency. And it didn’t take long before it was pretty clear to me that this was why a few of the guys in the agency took a long time to trust my work. And I got a lot of side-eye.” Chuck frowned deeply. “Once I started taking lead on cases, it was okay. I mean, it was one of those Good Ol’ Boys places still, but I wasn’t harassed or disrespected. Not to my face, at least. I just…I got that same sort of feeling sometimes. Like I shouldn’t have been hired. Like I didn’t belong there.”

“Sarah, I saw you working your ass off when you were assigned our case. You saved my life, my dad’s life too, but mine in a more…uh…blatant, literal way.” She tilted her head and smiled a little at him. “You solved a murder. You’re so freaking smart. Seriously. Watching you work was like…” He huffed, seemingly unable to even finish his sentence.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet, Chuck. And I appreciate that.”

“It’s true.”

“Thanks.” Sarah paused, turning her hand over under his and threading their fingers together. “What I mean by all of this is that I-I guess my whole life I’ve been sort of given this extra advantage. I’ve had doors opened to me that were shut for others because they didn’t have important people going to bat for them. I’ve been given leadership roles and had people kind of look out for me for, like, almost a decade now. And when I left Pinkerton, it was like…” She sighed. “I don’t know, like a clean slate. There are no police chiefs, no kindly deans, no mentors, no one like that to give me everything, lay it all out on a platter for me. I had this detective agency idea, and for the first time I could create something from nothing all on my own. No help from anyone.”

She could see that Chuck was putting the pieces together now. He had that thoughtful look on his face that she thought was so cute. He wore it sometimes when he was coding and he ran into a problem. Watching him work through it without him knowing she was watching was one of those simple pleasures, those quiet moments in their relationship that she secretly treasured more than anything else in her life.

“Chuck, I’ve been so willfully vehement about not accepting help from anyone, especially you, because I need to know I can do this. I need to know, for my own personal peace of mind, that I can actually do these things on my own. That the help I’ve gotten isn’t the only reason why I’m here. That I have skills. That I can make it, just me, no mentors or guardian angels. No recommendation letters or personal phone calls. Just me, working hard, finding success all on my own.”

“A fresh start, forged from your own hard work, and your own money.” He pulled his hand away and slung his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side and holding her there. “You want to prove them wrong, all the people who looked at you sideways in law school, those Pinkerton agents who thought you were given advantages they weren’t.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. If I can’t do this without my rich boyfriend shelling out the money and handing me my clients, it’ll prove that I really just got here through the work and favors of other people. I can’t handle that, Chuck.”

He held her tighter as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt his lips against her forehead. “Quite a knock to your self-esteem, I imagine.”

“Yeah. Which is hard to admit. I’m sorry, Chuck. I know it sounds stupid. I got all of these advantages and privileges and I’m whining about it. It-It’s more complicated than that, though.” There was so much underneath all of it. The pity and sympathy underlying the chief’s actions, the shame of seeing that look in the dean’s face. The one that told her Dean Danilian knew, that Chief Sayer told her about the whole thing. Pity and sympathy followed her everywhere. Nobody had meant harm by it, but it stung so badly. And every merit that followed thereafter felt like another barb sinking into her skin, another thing she hadn’t earned, a gift given to her because of someone else’s sins.

It wasn’t something she wanted to think about now, and she was glad when Chuck spoke up.

“It’s okay, Sarah. I understand.” He held up the arm that wasn’t wrapped around her defensively. “I mean it this time. I’m not just saying it. I really understand.” He gently tucked some of her hair behind her ear and stroked his fingertips over her temple. “I have to say something, though. I think it’s easy to dismiss everything you accomplished because other people helped you along the way. But, well, you took that LSAT on your own. That score you got was yours. What about the grades you got in college? The work you did to be at the top of your class at Harvard Law? The cases you solved as a Pinkerton agent, including my dad’s? Nobody was holding your hand when you were lead on our case.” A dreamy look came over his face. “I mean, I wanted to but with an entirely different meaning to it.”

Sarah melted, pulling back to look into his face, her own features crumbling. That was the cutest thing she’d ever heard in her entire life and she thought maybe she was dying a little. Especially with the teasing nose wrinkle. God, she was truly a goner.

“You get what I’m saying, though, right?” he asked quietly. “Yeah, important people liked you and therefore helped you take some big steps up in your career, in your life, but you still did the hard work, Sarah. You just talked me off a similar ledge last week. Remember? I was singing that nepotism tune, slamming my work, and you reminded me that while my dad gave me the job I’m in, I work hard. And you’re right. I do.”

“The amount of times I’ve gotten texts from you at two in the morning while I was sleeping because you were at work still…” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

He chuckled. “I know, I know. You get what I mean, though?” he asked again.

“Yes. Thank you, Chuck. Really.”

His smile made everything feel a bit brighter and she scooted in to put her head on his shoulder, cuddling into his warmth. “You’re welcome, baby. Whatever I can do to help. When you want it,” he emphasized then.

“I do want it. I still…” She sat up and looked in his eyes. “I still need to do most of it alone. No more paying my bills, okay? And especially not behind my back.”

“No more. I promise.”

“And I promise to be less of a hard-ass about accepting help, and I’ll try to be more open to asking when I do need it.” He nodded. “I still need to know I can do this without relying on your checkbook.”

“Got it.” Then a look came over his face and he looked down at his lap, his brow furrowed.

“What?”

“There, um…I-I think I should tell you something that might maybe explain…uh, my behavior. Or-Or at least give you some insight into what was, uh, going through my head.” She waited, watching him. “See, I—Crap, I didn’t wanna say this that night because I felt like such a sap for letting it get to me…”

“What is it, Chuck? You can talk to me.” She leaned over to bump him with her shoulder and he smiled a little. It went away just as quickly.

“I talked to my mom the day before.” Sarah’s stomach clenched. “She came by my office and we went for a walk and talked for a while. And I swear I haven’t told her a thing about your agency, but she seems to still know you need clients and she needled—”

“She’s good at that.”

“Yeah.” He sighed in frustration. “She got me into a position where I was insisting you were refusing to let me help you, especially with money.” Sarah could feel her levels rising, the annoyance and, damn it, the hurt, pricking at her heart. “I don’t want to tell you this, baby. I just thought, in the spirit of getting things off our chest…”

“No. Chuck, it’s okay. Keep going.”

He continued with a wince. “She planted this seed of paranoia, Sarah, and then my own self-esteem hang-ups and self-doubt watered the seed, and legitimately made me into a panic plant.”

“What about?”

“You. Leaving.”

She did a double-take. “What? Jesus, what did she say to you?”

“She talked about how you’d have better luck opening an agency in some other city somewhere, like New York, and that you had to know that, had to always be thinking about it. But that you’re staying here because you love me. She, uh, ahem…She told me I provide a big safety net for you. That if this doesn’t work out—your agency, I mean—you’ll just let it go and live off of my earnings.” Sarah clenched her jaw, trying not to let it get under her skin. That woman was pernicious. He rushed on as if he could read her thoughts. “I told her flat-out, without hesitation, that you’d never just let this go. It’s your dream. And even if it got to a point where you had to throw in the towel, you’d never be satisfied living off of my earnings and that was when I realized that…” He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing a hand down his face. “Before you ever lived off of me, you’d-you’d leave first. Find some other place to build your agency where it was viable. Somewhere that isn’t here.” She didn’t know what to say so she just swallowed and lowered her gaze. “It scared the shit out of me. And knowing that you were late on your rent, I thought that if you lost that office, it’d be such a big setback. I guess I got it into my head that you might decide the problem was LA and you’d move away. I’m ashamed of myself, but I spiraled. I spiraled really bad. Then I went behind your back and didn’t pay just your last month’s rent, but the next month’s too, and the late fee. Because you bet your fucking life I’m gonna make sure I keep my detective here, in LA, with me. So selfish and immature and paranoid, I know, but—”

She covered his mouth with hers. It was gentle, slow, and more intimate than anything else they’d shared over the last hour or two. And she slid her arms around his neck, falling onto her back and taking him with her.

When he eventually pulled back, she reached up to stroke her fingers through his messy curls and met his brown eyes steadily. “Chuck Bartowski, don’t you ever spiral like that again, no matter what your mom says to you. Because I’m not going anywhere.” He softened significantly. “I picked up my whole life for you, if you remember??? Moved to Los Angeles, got an apartment I love,” she glanced around her room, “I found an office space. I’ve set my entire damn heart on this place. I’ve dug roots in for the first time…” She felt breathless suddenly. “God, for the first time in my life. LA’s my home.” She had to bite her cheek then as tears stung her eyes. She just barely kept them back. “Your mom can do or say whatever she wants. But we can’t let her keep getting to us like this, okay?”

Chuck nodded vigorously. “You’re right.”

“Maybe Ellie has some tips.”

He chuckled. “She probably has a whole binder on it.”

“She would,” she said with a snort, playing with his stubble. “Hey, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The gravity with which he responded made her feel weightless, but she also felt…almost overwhelmed. There were moments when they were together and she felt just how incredibly serious this was between them. This was one of those moments. “I’m so sorry I lost faith for a second. I’m sorry I panicked and did something stupid because of it. I feel terrible.”

“Don’t feel terrible. Your mom’s really good at…” Being evil? Could she say that to him about his mom?

“Being evil?” he finished for her, as if he’d read her mind.

She laughed a little. “You said it, not me.” “Noted.”

His grin lit up her whole bedroom.

XOXOXOXOXO

Chuck couldn’t help being distracted as he mixed the batter, the bowl rounded by one arm, and the spoon clutched in his other fist.

He’d wanted to wake up before Sarah so that he could make her breakfast, and he’d found the waffle iron Ellie had given his girlfriend last week. He’d wanted this bit of time alone, rummaging in her kitchen while she slept. He’d found himself needing some time to think.

Sarah had told him a lot the night before, and it opened his eyes to so much about her.

She was so confident as a detective. He watched her when she was on the job, not just when she’d worked his case, but when they’d started dating and he visited her while she was on other cases. She knew exactly what she was doing, every step she took was calculated. She was brilliant.

But she had baggage. He understood the hit she took to her self-esteem after years of receiving what she thought was preferential treatment, and he was sure the people around her—her peers—hadn’t helped much in that respect. She wasn’t able to see the things she’d done for herself, the hard work she put in all those years, because the kindness shown her overshadowed that. He could just see it—how that might eat away at a person’s image of themselves and what they’re capable of.

Chuck hurt for her. Because he could empathize, in a much smaller scale. His dad had pulled him into the business halfway through his time at Stanford. Bartowski Electronics Corporation was already lucrative, making headway, filling the family coffers, as it were. He was set for life because of who his father was. And it did have a way of making you feel privileged, like you were just lucky, given an advantage in life no one else had.

He worked hard, though. He had to. He had to make sure B.E.C. stayed relevant in an industry that changed practically on the daily. He ran the company’s transitions, set up sponsorships, met with partners, anything his dad couldn’t fit into his own busy schedule…

It was something he had to pound into his own head. He was earning his role in the company by working as hard as he was, by coming up with fresh ideas, by reaching out in the community.

Sarah needed to find that place where she could recognize her skills, and he understood now that the only way she thought she could do that was starting this agency without anyone giving her a hand up.

That was why Chuck was a bit nervous when he glanced over his shoulder to look at her laptop he’d set up on her table. She said she’d be more open to his help, and maybe it was too early for him to make this move…

Chuck turned back to the waffle iron then, set down the bowl and spoon, and opened the iron.

“Hmm…” He stared at the contraption, the blinking red light, and then he grabbed the oil spray and popped the cap off, spraying the iron and then watching the steam rise.

The tech guy heard his girlfriend’s feet against the floorboards as she stopped at the doorway into the kitchen. “Okay, so do you turn it over when it goes DING or when it goes DINGDING?” he asked without looking at her. “Because it’s already gone DING and it’s gone DINGDING and I haven’t even put anything in it yet.”

He turned to watch as she giggled and walked over to join him. She was fully dressed for the day, he noticed with a bit of an inward pout, in spite of the fact that they’d woken up to rain. He’d been hoping for a lazy Saturday staying in.

“So ignore the beeps if you haven’t even put anything in, first of all,” she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she sidled up next to him. “That seems obvious.”

“A little less snark, maybe, Sarah Walker, P.I.”

She giggled again and held up her hands defensively. “I’m just saying. Here, put the batter in the iron. I’ll show you how it works.”

He poured it in and she reached around him to shut it.

“Leave it like this until it does the DING.”

“Or is it DINGDING?”

“Any kind of DING, Chuck. It DINGS until you turn it over. It can sense it.”

“Like Morgan’s car. If I take off my seatbelt before we pull into his driveway, it beeps at me like an angry mom. Put on your seatbelt, Charles!” he mimicked, making her laugh.

At the DINGDINGDING, Chuck turned the iron over, thrusting his hands out in a ta da motion. She rolled her eyes, still smiling.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked, then.

“Really, really well. I feel fully rested and ready to take on the worl—Oh shit, it’s raining.” Her face fell as she finally looked out the window.

He laughed. “You didn’t know it was raining?’

“Still have the curtains shut in my room so no, thank you, I didn’t know. This is dumb. I’m not going out in this.”

“That was sort of my plan, too. If you’ll have me. ‘Cause your building doesn’t have an elevator and I don’t want to go back down those three flights just yet, know what I mean?”

“God, you’re so lazy,” she teased, going into her fridge to grab the eggs. “Want a fried egg?”

“Hell to the yeah.”

“And of course you can stay. I’m just going to be doing a bit of work and then watching TV. Maybe I’ll read a book ‘cause that’s a bit more productive.”

He wrinkled his nose in faux disappointment. “Aw man. I left my laptop at home. And my tablet. Guess I can’t do any work today. Just going to have to watch TV and take multiple naps.”

She laughed and then caught sight of the laptop on the table. “Hey, did I leave my laptop open last night? That’s weird. I thought I put it away.”

“Uhhh…No, I…I had to check something. I hope that’s okay. Um, checked my email.” “Oh.” She shrugged. “That’s fine. The DING happened already. You might want to take the waffle out before it gets a little too crispy.”

“Oh. Shit.” He spun back and opened the iron, grabbing the tongs and peeling it out, slapping it onto the plate.

“I was really just making sure I wasn’t going insane or something, thinking I put my laptop away when I didn’t.”

He inadvertently gave off a nervous laugh then, and damn him for it, because she immediately noticed and was right at his side, leaving the two eggs frying on the stove. “What?” he asked when she looked at him pointedly.

“Your nervous laugh. You do that when you have something to tell me and you aren’t sure how I’m going to take it.”

Chuck sighed and turned off the iron, taking her hand and leading her out of the kitchen and around to her table. He woke her laptop, punched in her password, and gestured to the screen. She leaned in and immediately frowned. “What’s this?” she asked.

“That’s an email I composed this morning. I rewrote it maybe seventeen times to make sure it was…Well, anyway…”

“Who is Reggie Lincoln?” she asked. “What are you doing sending him an email about me?”

The good thing was she just seemed curious more than anything, and he didn’t sense any anger.

“Lincoln & Associates Contracting. He’s the CEO. He and my dad have been friends since college. I’ve known him for decades, my whole life pretty much. He’s almost like an uncle. Sort of. I don’t see him as often as I used to. But that’s—that’s beside the point.” He cleared his throat. “Lincoln’s a contracting business, has work everywhere, contacts up the ass. A shit ton of contacts. And a lot of them are pretty high profile, guys who have a lot to lose if they get in the papers over theft, whatever else they might be dealing with. I’m pretty sure some of them could use a private investigator with your skill sets. If only they knew you existed.”

Sarah took a deep breath and turned to look at him. “So you’re telling him to tell his friends about me.” She shook her head. “This is something I should be doing for myself, isn’t it? Like, marketing and advertising…that should be me.”

“Sure, yeah. But this is different. Read the email. It’s just a recommendation with your website and contact info. You did work for me and my dad, we’re really pleased with the work, I think he and his associates might benefit from a P.I. with your supreme discretion. That sort of stuff.”

“I’m your girlfriend, Chuck. He isn’t going to know that? Come on.”

“I don’t know what he knows. Maybe Dad told him his son is dating a private investigator, I don’t know. But who cares? I’m not asking him for a favor. I’m just passing along your information. He can do whatever he wants with it from there. Pass it on or not.”

She sent him a bit of a flat look. “You’re using loopholes in our agreement.” “Maybe. A little.” He winced. “Look, if he does decide to recommend you to other people, they’re going to look at your website that you built, your résumé, your record with Pinkerton…They’re going to make their decision about whether or not to call you based off of things you’ve done, not who you are or aren’t connected to. I don’t know Reggie’s high roller buddies. They don’t know me. I doubt they’d give a crap about whether you’re my girlfriend or not. They’d want someone who can give them results, baby, and they’re gonna decide based on you. Not me. Not Reggie. You.”

He could see her thinking on it, and he wondered if he wasn’t getting through to her. He took it an extra step further.

“Say they like what they see, they’re worried some employee is stealing from them or something and they need a detective but they don’t want this leaking to the press. They call you up and they talk to you. They won’t be talking to me or anyone else. You’ll be selling your skill sets. And when they hire you, because they will hire you, you’re going to be working the case. It’s all you. I’m just one of your past clients who was really pleased with the work you did to literally save my life a handful of times.”

“You’re really talking me into this,” she said, pausing.

“And there’s the email. I’m letting you decide if I should send it or not. If you don’t want me to, I won’t. It’s okay.” He reached down and moved the mouse to hover over SEND. “We’ll have breakfast and pretend this didn’t even happen.”

There was a long pause, and then Sarah reached over to click. There was a whoosh sound and it was gone. When she turned to face him, she took a deep breath. “Thanks, Chuck. For helping me.”

“It’s all you, baby.”

They hugged tightly and he buried his face in her hair. It occurred to him, then, that the rain had gotten worse outside, the pattering against the window more like a…sizzle?

“The eggs!”

Sarah dashed out of his arms as he laughed, turning to watch as she tried to rescue their breakfast, reveling in the tumult of the scene as he realized things were contradictorily calm and settled between them.

Just the way he liked it.

#The Detective and the Tech Guy #DATG #Thin Man #Thin Man Chuck #Thin Man Charah #charah #chuck #chuck x sarah #charah fic #chuck fic #tech guy!Chuck #detective!Sarah #charah fanfiction #chuck fanfiction #Thin Man crossover #AU #AU fic #chuck AU #charah AU #chuck AU fic #charah AU fic #nbchuck #tv: chuck #NBC Chuck #otp: sometimes the nerd gets the girl #Chuck Bartowski #Sarah Walker

[diazevan]

Stay With Me (Newtmas Fanfiction)

Synopsis:  Thomas and Newt travel to an old Wicked testing field with a member of the right arm. When the member stands on a landmine, Newt is trapped underground with an injured Thomas. (mostly film-verse)

Words: 3,220

This can be read as both plantonicNewtmas! or romanticNewtmas!

This is my first Newtmas fic and my first Maze Runner fic! So please be nice.

Warnings: Brenda and Thomas friendship (no romance) 

“Why are we checking this out?” Newt asked, “both Vince and Jorge said this place hasn’t been inhabited by Wicked in months.” He stopped, turning back to his friend, “did you just want an excuse to get away from the group?”

“Maybe…” Thomas moved closer, so they were walking side-by-side, “every small thing is getting on my nerves, you know?

“I understand,” Newt grinned, “even you can get tired of the group, they are a rowdy bunch. Frypan snores, Brenda sleeps for a few days every time she has a dose of your blood, Jorge and Vince just argue all day about what’s safest for us,” he leaned in closer, “and the rest of the right arm,” he whispered, “seem to hate us.”

“Shush,” Thomas looked back at the man they had been ordered to take on their road trip with him, he had a gun strapped to his chest, “he might hear us.” They both chuckled. It had been six months since Minho and many others were kidnapped, it kept everyone awake at night, but Vince said they wouldn’t survive if they didn’t have time to be happy. Thomas felt most happy with Newt, he could smile without feeling guilty.

“Vince says he treats us as equals, but he still treats us like children,” Newt muttered, “I mean we survived the maze, the scorch and everything else alone, but now we need a bloody bodyguard.”

“If we do face Wicked up here, we need someone with a gun,” Thomas stated, “all we do is talk...and run.”

“We should ask to learn how to shoot,” Newt told him, “it might save us. We’re still another six months away from the base at least. We need to be ready.”

“We will be.” Thomas reassured him, “look.” He pointed to a sign that was stuck in the ground - they had been walking through a forest, and they had reached a clearing. The sign said, “World  Catastrophe Killzone Department Property. Danger,” the sign was covered in overgrown moss and was clearly worn down.

“Why would Wicked need a training field?” Newt asked.

“Before the maze, Wicked would test kids in other ways,” the man told them, “you two stay behind me, so I can check the grounds.”

“What’s his name?” Thomas asked Newt after the man was out of hearing range.

“I can’t remember, I’ve never even spoken to him.” Newt said, “we better just listen to what he says.” They started to walk again, Thomas studied his feet and the field. They were no signs that anyone had ever been there, apart from the different levels in grass length, which ranged from long to short every few patches.

“There’s nothing here,” Thomas shrugged, “I hope when we get back Fry has cooked something.”

“You mean rice?” Newt asked.

“We might only have rice, but Fry can make it interesting.” Thomas smiled.

“Yeah,” Newt nodded, “before Fry came up in the Maze, I cooked.”

“And I know from experience that you can’t cook,” Thomas said.

“That is true.” Newt nodded, “I don't think there is anything here.”

“You are probably right .” He answered, “apart from the ground.”

“The ground?” Newt quizzed.

“This entire field is unstable, it’s basically hollow underneath,” he said bouncing up and down, “that’s why the ground is so unnaturally soft.”

“Then stop jumping!” Newt shouted, “we should go.”

“What about him?” Thomas asked.

Newt cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted out, “hey!” The man turned, but was too far away from them to hear, he began to move closer to them.  Both boys were not prepared for what came next, as the soldier stepped forward, an enormous explosion erupted. Newt’s flight-and-fright response kicked in because he knew that Thomas had a stare-in-fascination response, he grabbed Thomas’s shoulder and tried to pull him back, but the ground underneath them crumbled, and they fell with it.

Newt woke with a sharp pain in his temple, he was laid, face down on the ground, ran dripping onto him. He rolled over, groaning in agony. He breathed deeply, his already injured ankle stung, but he had grown used to that. He tried to piece everything together, and that’s when his mind turned to Thomas.  He stood up, balancing himself on his feet, he looked around until he saw his best friend; he was laid lifeless on his front, his arms and legs sprayed to his side.

“Tommy.” Newt’s voice wobbled, he collapsed in front of him, “hey, can you hear me?” He stroked hair out of Thomas’s sweat-ridden face. He rolled his friend onto his front, he had blood coming from the tip of his head down the side of his cheek; his face was chalk-white, which contrasted with his dark raven hair, “you are not doing this to me now.” He took his jacket off and folded it in half to place underneath Thomas’s head, “not you too.” He placed one hand on Thomas’s side, and the other on his leg so he could turn him onto his side, which he learned from the Medjacks back in the glade, was the safest position for him to be in. 

Newt stood up, he looked around. They had fallen at least twenty feet, and he could only make out the sky, rain was drizzling onto the pair of them. The hole they were in stretched back, the explosion how swallowed the field whole, Thomas had been right about how hollow the ground was beneath, there was hardly any debris from the mud and grass around them. They had fallen right next to the edge of the hole, but it stretched back to the other side of the field. Newt cupped his hand on his forehead to keep the rain out of his eyes and he tried to look around for a way out. “Please find us.” He whispered, hoping the group would hear.

“Newt?” A small voice came from close behind, he snapped around to see that Thomas had opened his eyes, and was staring blankly at his friend, “what-what-” he stuttered, it was clear that he was disorientated and wounded.

“Hey, hey,” Newt rushed over, kneeling in front of him, “you’re fine, it’s okay,” he placed his hand on Thomas’s shoulder.

“I feel terrible,” Thomas cried, breathing heavily.

“Well, of course, you bloody do,” Newt sighed, “I think you hit yourself pretty hard when we fell down,” he looked up, “you’re going to be okay.”

Thomas’s stomach churned violently, he turned to the side and brought up the contents of his stomach, Newt didn’t even flinch. He helped Thomas into an upright sitting position then he placed his hands under Thomas’s arms, and gently dragged him to a new space, he leaned his friend up by a wall and went back for his jacket, which was Thomas’s makeshift pillow. When he returned, Thomas was crying, silently, “sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Newt told him. Thomas turned to look at him, Newt knelt back down in front of him, “tell me what hurts?”

“I think I might have broken my leg,” Thomas gestured to his right leg, “it’s numb and heavy,” his speech slurred, and his eyelids drooped, “and I just feel tired.” Newt placed his hands on Thomas’s cheeks, propping his head forward.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Newt told him, “I might not be able to get you up again.”

“Newt…” Thomas trailed off, his voice was desperate. Newt’s heart skipped a beat, he had never heard his friend so innocent and lost. It was like Thomas’s soul had finally broken to the point that Newt could see all the parts Thomas tried so hard to hide, “I’m really scared of dying,” were the words Thomas finally choked out. Newt didn’t know what to say, he was still in shock from the tone of his friend’s voice, he pressed his forehead against his, and held onto his shoulder as Thomas cried.

Newt drew back, holding onto Thomas. Newt was now crying too, but he knew what to say, “says the man who ran into the maze as the doors closed,” Newt joked, Thomas giggled, “after being told that no one had ever survived a night.”

“I knew I could.” Thomas mocked, he coughed harshly, and Newt moved his hands away and helped Thomas lay down, his head pressed on Newt’s jacket.

“Rest,” Newt told him, sitting down by his side. He wiped tears out of his eyes, he needed to remain strong for Thomas.

“What do you think happened?” Thomas asked, “what caused the explosion?”

“Maybe a landmine,” Newt suggested, “that man died.”

“It’s my fault,” Thomas sighed.

“No, it isn’t.” Newt shook his head, “why’d you say that?”

“Well, you said yourself, there was no point in coming here.” Thomas sighed.

“We’ve investigated everything Wicked on this trip, even though Vince didn’t think there was anything here, he would have still checked it out.” Newt told him, he laid by Thomas’s side, “none of this is your fault.”

“It’s night time,” Thomas pointed out, clearly ignoring what Newt had said, “do you think they’re coming for us?”

“I know they are.” Newt nodded.

Thomas groaned again, “you know I thought a broken leg would be worse than a concussion, but my head is pounding.”

“Vince needs to check you over.” Newt said, “do me a favor.”

“Yeah?” Thomas asked.

“Don’t die.” Newt ordered.

“I won’t,” Thomas said unsurely, “I’m going to sleep,” he turned away, closing his eyes. Newt watched him cautiously, but soon enough he was consumed by tiredness, and he too, fell to sleep.

Newt woke again, it was still dark and Thomas was sleeping next to him, he watched his friend for a second because his breathing was loud and rapid, but Newt understood that he was ill. Newt listened and heard footsteps coming from above ground. He got to his feet, and looked up, hoping it was one of the team. Someone said, “I don’t think anyone is here, I think a crank just set off the landmine.” Newt stepped back, looking down at Thomas.

Another voice came, “I think Paige and Janson were hoping it’d be Thomas.”

“Oh! Not that guy again!” The first voice shouted, “should we check the sinkhole?”

“Shit,” Newt sat in the corner with Thomas, but his friend’s breathing kept being interrupted by his coughing, and Newt knew that they’d be caught. He pressed his hand over Thomas’s mouth for a second.

“There’s nothing down there, if there was, they are surely dead.” The second voice shouted, “let’s get out of here.”

Newt waited before letting Thomas go, “they want you dead,” he muttered to his friend, “really badly.” He looked at Thomas, “and they’re going to get what they’re wishing for if the others don’t find us.” He took Thomas’s wrist to check his pulse, it was slow, he rolled his friend to the side so that he could breathe easier. Newt didn’t sleep again, he just stayed up to make sure Thomas kept breathing. He didn’t even notice the sunrise. He finally tore his eyes from his friend, when he heard footsteps running above him.

“Newt! Thomas!” Frypan’s shouted, he sounded worried and on the brink of breaking down.

“Fry!” Newt leaped up, running into the middle of the sinkhole, he cupped his hands around his mouth, “Fry!” He cried.

“Newt?” Frypan appeared at the edge, kneeling down, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” Newt yelped, he looked at Thomas, “but I’m not sure about Tommy!”  He ran over, shaking him lightly, “Tommy?”

“Newt?” Jorge’s voice came from up ahead.

“I can’t get him to wake up!” Newt called, his voice breaking.

“Okay, stay calm kid, we’ll get you both out.” Jorge said, retracting, “where’s that rope?” Soon enough, he was lowering a rope down, with a harness attached. Newt jumped up the grab it, “you got it?”

“Don’t drop us,” Newt commented, Jorge chuckled. Newt was able to get Thomas in the harness, by lifting him up, it took longest to get his broken leg into it. “Okay, take him up.” Jorge, Frypan and the Right Arm pulled on the rope, Newt could hear Vince’s voice ordering everyone around, telling them to be careful. When they got Thomas to the top, Vince and Jorge lifted him over the surface. They left Newt to make sure they got Thomas out of the harness safely.

“What happened Newt?” Frypan asked.

“That man we came with, he set off a landmine.” Newt explained, “Where's Brenda?”

“She’s still asleep.” Frypan explained, “we haven’t woken her to tell her yet.”

“Okay Newt,” Jorge reappeared, “time to get you out of here.” They threw the rope down, and Newt hooked himself up. He didn’t realize how weak he was until he crumbled into Frypan’s side when his feet touched the surviving around. “You got him, Fry?” Jorge asked.

“I got him,” Frypan placed his arm around Newt to help him walk. Newt looked forward to see Thomas, now in a makeshift gurney, being carried by at least five men. Newt didn't pay attention to anyone. He just looked at Thomas. “He’s gonna be okay.” Newt didn’t hear what Frypan said next, he let himself relax and he fell back into unconsciousness.

Newt shot up awake, in his bed back at base. He wiped his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath in. He looked around, both Thomas’s and Frypan’s beds were empty. The door clicked open, and Frypan walked in, carrying food and water, “you’re up. I was worried. Vince said you were dehydrated, so I brought you this.” He handed his friend a bottle of water, which Newt drank as soon as he grabbed hold of it. “Okay, not so fast.”

“How’s Tommy?” Newt asked.

“He hasn’t woken up yet.” Frypan commented, “and Vince says he needs to rest for a while. I wish I had come with you guys.”

“You might have got hurt, or died,” Newt said, “we shouldn’t have gone at all.”

“Brenda says that you should sit with him for a bit,” Frypan told him, “when you’re better.”

“Why me?” He asked.

“Everyone knows you two are the closest.” Frypan shrugged, “if he wakes up, it needs to be you.”

“Fry…” Newt trailed off.

“Hey, I love the pair of you, but we both know that you two are closer. I’m okay being the third wheel. That’s what I did to you with Winston.” Frypan said.

Newt went to comfort his friend, but suddenly he felt like a train hit him a full speed, “you said if he wakes up.”  Frypan closed his eyes, and cursed himself under his breath, “what?”

“There is a chance...he won’t,” Frypan cried, Newt stared at him in pure shock, “he’s breathing is still labored, and well he hit his head pretty hard.”

“I need to see him.” Newt blurted out, “now.” He shot up, leaving the room. Frypan followed him.

Newt’s eyes found Jorge, and somehow it was like he realized that Thomas’s death wouldn’t affect him the most. It would affect Jorge. If Thomas were to die, Jorge would lose him and Brenda. It was Thomas’s blood keeping her alive. Newt and Frypan still had no idea if they were immune. “Jorge, where is he?”

“He’s in there,” Jorge pointed, Newt walked away, “Newt!”

“Yeah,” he turned.

“Make sure he wakes up,” Jorge pleaded, Newt nodded and walked in.

Thomas was wrapped up in a bed. He was laid perfectly still, his head tilted to the side. He was still pale, but now the blood had been wiped off his face, and he had a towel pressed to his forehead. His leg was being propped up by two pillows, and his hand was being held by Brenda. “Hey, Brenda.”

Brenda looked up at him, “oh, hey Newt. You all right?”

“Don’t worry about me, how’s Tommy doing?” He took a seat on the opposite side of the bed.

“I don’t know,” Brenda bit her lip, “he talks in his sleep though.”

“I know, it’s annoying, right?” Newt asked, “what’s he been saying?”

“Names and places,” Brenda sighed, “yours came up a few times, but it was mostly Chuck.”

“Yeah, he still has nightmares about Chuck,” Newt said, “he normally just tells me and Frypan to ignore him. Doesn’t stop us from being worried.” He wrapped his hands around Thomas’s arm, “how are you?”

“Okay. It’s still scary when I know I could be a crank if it wasn’t for him,” Brenda gulped, “Newt. I need you to do something for me.”

“What?” Newt asked.

“If he dies,” she sobbed, “and I have to die too. Don’t let Jorge go down a path he can’t come back from.”

“He won’t die,” Newt told her, “he won’t leave us now.”

“Newt, his heart has stopped twice in the last hour,” she told him, “please.”

“I promise,” Newt reassured her.

That night, Brenda and Newt spoke about Thomas. The pair didn’t talk much unless they were with other people. This night was the first time, and it was easy because their topic of conversation was someone they both adored. Brenda fell asleep first, her head leaned on her folded arms on the bed. Newt fell asleep in the chair, after making sure both his friends were comfortable.

In the middle of the night, Jorge walked in to get Brenda and take her to bed. Newt slept through it, he deserved a good night's rest, and everyone knew he’d sleep soundly whilst next to Thomas.

He stayed with Thomas, 24/7 for eight days.He hardly spoke to anyone besides Frypan and Brenda. Thomas didn’t stir, he didn’t get any worse and they couldn’t tell if he was getting better.

On the eighth night, Newt fell asleep with his head curled onto the bed. It was woken by a hand on his shoulder, this was usually how Frypan woke him in the morning for breakfast, but when he opened his eyes and looked up, it was Thomas. His cheeks full of color, and he had a look of confusion on his face. Newt chuckled, not knowing what to say. “You okay?” Thomas asked. Newt burst out in hysterics, laughing at his friend’s oblivious mind to his own condition, and because he knew Thomas was okay.

“I’m fine,” Newt smiled, tears teasing down his cheeks, “you?”

“I’m good too,” Thomas told him, Newt laughed.

“You’re impossible Tommy.” Newt shook his head, he stretched up, taking his friend into a hug; Thomas smiled, locking his arms around Newt’s shoulders. He lay his head to the side, closing his eyes, “do you have any idea what you have been through?” Newt asked, pulling back.

“Judging by your face, a lot.” Thomas swallowed.

“You nearly died,” Newt told him.

“Oh,” Thomas shuddered, “how long was I out?”

“Nearly nine days,” Newt told him.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” Thomas smiled.

“You tired? Hungry?” Newt asked.

“I slept for nine days, so I’ll say hungry.” Thomas told him, “do you think Fry will mind if we wake him up?”

“Nah, he loves an excuse to cook.” Newt said, “I’ll go and get him.” He rose from the spot to walk out.

“Newt!” Thomas called.

“Yeah,” he said, turning back.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Thomas said, smiling.

“No problem.” Newt walked out of the room, wiping tears out of his eyes.

Thomas was okay.

His best friend didn’t die.

#newtmas #newtmas fanfiction #newtmac fanfic #newtmasfanfiction #newtmasfanfic #the maze runner #tmr #the scorch trials #tst #the death cure #tdc #the maze runner fanfiction #maze runner fanfiction #tmr fanfiction #tmr fanfic #newt maze runner #thomas maze runner #otp: I love you long after you’re gone

[xyliane]

life and death and love and

summary: yusuke and botan have a conversation about immortality. because neither of them are good at decorum, they have it over kuwabara’s grave. kuwabara wouldn’t care. probably.

notes: hello yu yu hakusho, my first fandom, my forever love, home to my favorite shonen protagonist and favorite mentor in anything. @wuzzyletoastermac is a terrible influence. gen, looooong post-series, discussions of death. yusuke and botan brotp, 1800 words

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Yusuke stops aging at some point. Or stops aging visibly at least—he never looks as dignified and ageless as Kurama, or as young and pissy as Hiei, instead wavering between too young to drink and too old to not know better. But eventually, Kuwabara looks at him, dressed in old jeans that shouldn’t be as flexible as they are, then back to himself with salt streaks in his red hair, and says, “Shit, Urameshi, you stay young and you still don’t look as good as me.”

Then there’s a time when someone mistakes him for Keiko’s grandson and she still hasn’t stopped giving him shit for it. Decades dead, and Botan is still popping by with messages: Yusuke do you still have a thing for older women? Is that your big secret?

It is her fault, too, ripping into his ear for not showing up for her birthday party just because Demon World had been a little preoccupied with an influx of stupid in the form of militant invaders from another dimension, like a video game gone terribly bad. She’s eighty-one. She’s had eighty-one birthdays, she’d have eighty-one more if Yusuke has anything to say about it.

Needless to say, she doesn’t. If there’s one thing Yusuke’s learned in his impossible life, it’s that people die, and most of the time, they stay dead. Him and Kurama, he’s still not sure if they’re the lucky ones, or the ones that got scammed.

(Yusuke makes sure Botan gives Keiko a deathday card every year, now. He’s sure it makes her laugh, and if she ever wants to be reborn, Yusuke is sure he’ll keep sending them. Birthdays, deathdays—they’ll become unwieldy after a while, but he’s got a long time to worry about that.)

(For now, she stays dead and nags him from beyond the grave, beyond worlds. Yusuke can’t believe he loves her.)

Demons have an odd view of their own mortality, or lack of it. Yusuke first realizes this with Raizen, who for all his centuries is still fixated on years that soar by like fireworks, bright and brilliant and gone in a flash. Moments that shape his life, ignorant of the decades and centuries that lie between. Yusuke, still a baby in comparison if not in strength, can’t help but feel the years slipping through his fingers, each one staying in his memory even as some things begin to blur. It’s scary in a way he’s not used to, something he can’t fight against and isn’t sure he wants to.

“What’s it like to, you know. Live forever?” he asks Botan, offering her a smoke over Kuwabara’s grave. It’s been a few years now, and the dipshit is still insisting on haunting Yusuke’s thoughts. Absolutely unfair, really—it’s not like they don’t see each other, not with Koenma blatantly ignoring Yusuke’s irregular stints of breaking and entering Spirit World unless the brat needs something.

One day, Yusuke will admit he does it because he misses them, Kuwabara and Keiko and even the old hag. For now, he still looks young enough that a little B&E is excusable as a weird sort of early-demonhood rebellion.  

Botan crinkles her nose at the stench of burning nicotine. She’s perched on Kuwabara’s gravestone like it’s a posh throne, absolutely no care to deference of the graveyard or the cat toys half-buried in front of the grave. Maybe Yusuke’s finally rubbed off on her, but more likely she’s more comfortable in a graveyard than anywhere else in the human world. Someone smarter would have something to say about the boundaries between life and death, but Yusuke’s not that sort of person. “I’d think Kurama would be a better advisor on this subject,” she says delicately.

“Kurama’s in the same boat as me. We don’t die, but we already did, and who knows, maybe I’ll go three for three one of these days. I’ve pissed off enough people.” Yusuke takes another pull, smoke wafting in front of his nose. “Besides, I tried asking him already. He just gave me that annoyingly smug smile he gets when he doesn’t know the answer and told me to give it time.”

Botan giggles. “That does sound like Kurama.”

“Look, I asked other people too,” Yusuke huffs, counting on his fingers everyone he’s tried. “Enki and Kokou were too busy planning the next tournament, and I don’t think they really understood the question anyways, since we can die if we get punched hard enough. Hokushin and the monks went all zen guru on me again. Yukina practically gave me a dissertation on the power of life and made me babysit her twins again—one of them has Kuwabara’s hair and Hiei’s personality, and it makes my head hurt. The angry gremlin himself just did his grr I am angry piss off thing he does when he's not sure what to say. And I tried asking Jin and Chu, but they don’t seem to understand the idea of mortality at all. Fucking fight-happy dumbasses.”

It’s a sign of their decades of friendship that Botan restrains herself from more comment than, “They are the fight-happy dumbasses.”

Yusuke flips her off with his free hand. “So I’m asking you. If anyone knows what living forever’s like, it’s a shinigami, right?”

She laughs, bell-like. “I suppose I can see your point.”

And then it’s quiet again, birds chirping and leaves rustling. For all that Yusuke’s stopped aging, Botan never has. She’s always looked as old as she needed to, not so much like Koenma’s drastic physical change but just…fitting in. Never too old to be a kid’s friend, never too young to be an elder’s confidant. It might be magic, but Yusuke’s pretty sure it’s just Botan.

Yusuke finishes his cigarette and stabs it out on the dirt in front of Kuwabara’s epitaph. “So?” he demands.

“Hush you, I’m thinking.” She props her chin up on her hand, elbow on her knee and foot on the tombstone, like some perky gargoyle.

“If this is you thinking, maybe I don’t want to live forever. It’s like watching a loading screen.”

“Some of us actually use our brains on occasion,” she says. A strand of blue hair falls out of her ponytail, wafting on the breeze. She twists it around her finger.

“I’m more of a concept than a person, you know?” she says. “Death. Shinigami. Yamaduta. Grim reapers. We exist as we do because people think us that way, part of the wheel of life and death. We keep the cycle moving. Don’t want it getting clogged up, after all.”

Yusuke snorts. “So I…thought of death as a hyperactive blue haired girl? Puu aside, that does not sound like me. Definitely not fourteen-year-old me. I was a shithead.”

She laughs. “No, no. Nothing so personal as that. Many people prefer the concept of death as a terror, anyways, something to be feared and hidden. But we…I will live forever because death will always exist, and people remember that it exists. And if people believe death to be manifest, well. Someone has to do the job.”

“It definitely won’t be Koenma.” The thought of toddler-sized Koenma attempting to corral lost souls into the Spirit World is almost enough to cackle at.

“And I certainly don’t want his job. Or Jorge’s, for that matter. All of that paperwork.” She makes a face, nose scrunched and tongue out. “But I will live forever, because there are people to believe in me, and because there is a system that needs me. I’m an extension of more than just my thoughts.”

She hops off the tombstone, narrowly avoiding a kitten plushie an angry red-headed boy had placed there not too long ago. (Yusuke is, of course, sworn to absolute secrecy over this, but he doesn’t mind. He held Hiei’s secret long enough, holding onto Kuwabara’s spawn’s is actual child’s play. And if the kid’s anything like Hiei or Kuwabara, the blackmail potential will be endless.)

“So what does that make me?” Yusuke asks, neck cracking as he looks up at Botan. “I’m not ferrying anyone across any rivers anytime soon, not even if Koenma tries to hire me again. That’s a shit gig.”

Like he’s fourteen and stupid, rather than decades and aware of his stupid, Botan bops him on the nose. “It makes you who you are, Yusuke. And remember, you’re as immortal as I am, in your own way. As Keiko is, or Kuwabara, or Kurama or Hiei or the rest of your ‘fight-happy dumbasses.’ As anyone you love, and loves you.”

He considers this for a moment, turning the thought over. “You know Botan,” Yusuke says slowly. “You’re pretty smart. But you’re also full of shit.”

She laughs again and ruffles his slicked-back hair. He throws his arms over his head, attempting and failing to protect himself. Being a questionably immortal demon with nearly infinite power means keeping up appearances, especially since most of the demons he knows have never heard of the concept of hair gel and can get away with it on a mixture of spite, sarcasm, and whatever’s in the air in Demon World. “Botan!” he protests, feeling as bratty as he sounds.

Satisfied with her work, Botan leans back and summons her oar, hopping onto it in midair. “I love you too, Yusuke. And if I live forever, so will you, even after you do something stupid to get yourself killed again and Koenma makes me drag you kicking and screaming across the river.”

He leans back, propping himself up on his hands and crossing his legs. “Take your time, I guess,” he says.

She hovers there for a moment, obviously waiting for something. “Do you want a ride back?” she asks. She doesn’t specify where back is supposed to be: back to Demon World, back to his old home, back somewhere he never quite fit in but damn if he didn’t try.

Yusuke pulls himself to his feet, dusting off his jeans and pulling a comb out of his jacket. “Nah. I’ve got a family visit this afternoon. Gonna check in on the twerps, see how they’re doing.” He tosses the rest of his cigarettes onto Kuwabara’s grave, where they scatter over the plushie and the cat toys. He’s almost tempted to light them on fire, just to be ornery. He’s a moderately-sized scary demon from hell—youthful appearances and doting grandkids aside. “Tell Keiko I say…Well, you know. I love her, I miss her, all that. Kuwabara too.”

“Of course.” And she’s gone, off into the sky in a dash of blue hair and grins, her kimono manifesting halfway into the scattered clouds. It’s a nice day, sunny and bright despite the early spring chill. Kuwabara would’ve loved it, the old romantic.

Not Keiko, though. She preferred summer storms.

Yusuke sighs and jams his hands into his pockets, nose tilted to the sky. Maybe he is getting old, if he’s thinking about stuff like this. Well, there are worse things.

#yu yu hakusho #yyh #yyh fic #yyh spoilers #tagging for 20 year old spoilers whoops #I needed to get this out of my head so I can get back to work #yusuke urameshi #urameshi yusuke #which one is my tag idk #botan #my writing