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tvseries-writings · 4 months

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Elevators are deadly traps

Wandanat x reader

Plot: You and your girlfriends get trapped in the elevator but the heat makes you faint and Wanda is not the biggest fan of small, enclosed spaces.

TW: fainting, panic attack

You never believed that drinking water was so necessary; you were never a big drinker and although Wanda always told you, nay, begged you, to drink at least the necessary amount you never listened to her but maybe you should have today.

You watch the busy streets of New York, listening to Natasha and Wanda talk while your eyes don't leave for a moment the view that lurks outside the window of the expensive car that only the black widow, of the three of you, dares to drive; you've never even been a great driver...Let alone drive a car that costs two hundred thousand dollars in the busiest city in the world.

The 93 F makes the asphalt scorching, much more than usual; it is so hot that the air ripples from the heat, distorting the images that pass before your eyes.

Natasha turns right and the Avengers tower enters your view, towering over all the buildings around it. It is not the most beautiful building in New York, contrary to what Tony likes to think, but it is definitely the one that makes you feel the safest.

“Is everything okay malyshka?” Natasha looks at you from the mirror, raising her sunglasses for a few seconds to get a better look at you.

“Yes Nat.”

You lean forward, ending up between the two seats and leaving a kiss on the cheek first to the former spy and then to the Sokovian who turns around at the exact moment you turn toward her to receive a real kiss.

“Hey, that's not fair. Next time one of you will drive.”

Natasha moans, giving you a weak elbow in the side that makes you and Wanda pull away.

“Oh come on Nat, you'll be rewarded” Wanda smiles mischievously, letting her hand slide down the blonde's thigh.

You sit back down, giving them an amused look but as you do so, dizziness makes you close your eyes for a few seconds. Apparently the heat has affected you more than you thought since you've risen just a couple of inches.

“Detka?”

Wanda turns to you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she is wont to do when the Sokovian is angry or worried.

“Yes?”

You open your eyes, smiling as if the nausea isn't wearing you down and the dizziness isn't making you sway even while sitting up.

“Are you okay?”

The car stops, you have probably entered the tower garage but you are so focused on not letting her notice that you are sick that you are not completely sure.

“Yes, of course, why?”

Wanda looks at you as if the answer is obvious but before she has a chance to retort, the driver's side door is thrown open by a rather pissed off Iron Man.

“Natasha, I've told you a million times not to take this car, it costs a fortune.”

“I know, Stark, but I remind you that I always told you I'd keep taking it since you bought it. Although I must admit, I'd like to find the keys in the car already and not have to bypass your office's fallacious security system to get them.”

Natasha smiles, stepping out of the car and tossing the keys toward the multimillionaire; the man rolls his eyes, stuffing the keys in his pocket before walking away at a brisk pace, muttering something about “having to implement anti-widow security systems.”

“You're terrible Nat, you'll drive him crazy.”

You say with a smirk, opening the door in turn; you just sit there, still not trusting your body to keep you stable.

Wanda comes around the car and quickly joins you.

Although you are inside the garage, the temperature is just below that outside and certainly much higher than it was inside the car.

“Are you sure you're okay y/n? You're a little pale” Natasha places a hand on your right cheek and you lean into her touch, turning a reassuring smile to her.

“I'm fine Nat, let's go home. If I'm not mistaken, someone needs to be compensated for her chauffeuring services.”

Your joke seems to make her relax a little, and that gives you the confidence to finally put one foot on the ground. You get up and despite the dizziness that hits you as soon as you do, you manage to hide it masterfully, heading toward the elevator with your girls. Although it is only a few meters, when you enter inside it feels like you have traveled at least twenty kilometers.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. take us to the forty-seventh floor please.”

“Right away Ms. Romanoff.”

As soon as the elevator doors close, you lean against the handrail placed on the wall behind you praying that your condition will not worsen. You observe Wanda out of the corner of your eye; the Sokovian hates elevators but is well aware that she cannot climb forty-seven flights of stairs therefore, after an animated conversation about why she could not use her powers to do so, you had convinced her to use that “infernal contraption”-as she likes to call it-to reach your floor.

A loud roar diverts your attention away from the girl, and before you can figure out what's going on, the elevator suddenly stops; if it weren't for Natasha's lightning-fast reflexes, your face would surely be splattered on the floor or the metal wall in front of you, considering the gigantic size of the elevator. Big Tower big elevator, as Tony likes to say.

“Are you all right?”

Natasha watches you both, helps you to your feet and then draws Wanda into a hug.

“Honey, it's okay, the elevator will probably start working again in a few seconds.”

Wanda nods and does not even give you a glance; she is totally focused on not panicking completely. She hates elevators and now she is hating you too since you forced her into them.

Ten minutes pass and you are still stuck inside the elevator. The temperature, which was previously kept under control by the air conditioning, has risen considerably and the dizziness is only getting worse so, although you are the only one, you decide to sit down in the hope that this will help.

The former spy's phone that suddenly and, when Natasha answers, Tony's voice rings out in the metal box you are stuck in.

“Hey Nat, there you see, there's a little problem, I may have knocked out the power to like well...all of Manhattan so you're going to be there for a while but I'm working on it okay? All right, see you later.”

Natasha is not in time to insult him that Tony ends the call. Natasha mumbles something in Russian and although you know few words of her native tongue, you are pretty sure they are not compliments she is paying him.

Wanda's hand is clasped between yours and you speak words of comfort to her as sweat beads your foreheads. You and Natasha take turns, trying to keep her breathing under control; the Sokovian has had panic attacks before and the last thing you need is for her to have one right now.

“Because I let you talk me into it,” Wanda whines, squeezing your hand before standing up abruptly, starting to pace back and forth in the elevator as her breathing quickens.

“Wanda, love, it will be okay, I know you hate elevators but-”

Natasha gets up to join her and you do the same but realize the shit you've done too late; in fact, it takes less than ten seconds for your body to fall to the floor with a thud.

“Y/N!”

Both Natasha and Wanda scream in shock.

“Honey, open your eyes malyshka come on.”

Natasha falls to her knees beside you, placing your head on top of her legs and shaking your sweat-soaked hair from your forehead.

“D-detka open your eyes.”

Wanda caresses your cheeks and although she is still in a panic, she makes an effort to keep herself lucid for at least a few more seconds.

You blink a few times, and when you open your eyes, the metal of the ceiling reminds you where you are.

“Hey, take it easy, Wands do you have any water?”

Natasha whispers, continuing to caress your face as Wanda frantically searches through her bag before shaking her head. Her breathing is quickening again and she is far too quiet to be Wanda.

“I'm fine,” you whisper and then give the blonde a look that admits no reply as you wave her over to your girlfriend.

“You're not fine, you just fainted, you're probably dehydrated, and we're going to be stuck here for who knows how much longer.”

Natasha regrets what she said as soon as she hears a whimper coming from the sokovian before the latter falls to the floor, burying her head between her knees as you clearly hear her breathing shorten alarmingly. Natasha quickly removes her shirt and rests it under your head before moving toward Wanda.

“Don't try to get up y/n, just stand there, I got this.”

You watch her walk over to the sorceress and gently touch her arm.

“Wands, hey, it's me. You have to breathe love, I know it's hard but you have to do it.”

Natasha strokes her back and Wanda's breathing seems to calm slightly as she lifts her head to look at you.

“There you are, good girl, now follow my breathing. In and out, in and out. So good.”

As Natasha focuses on Wanda, you quickly assess your condition before sitting up and trudging toward them.

“I told you not to get up.”

“I'm sitting up and feeling better Nat.”

You whisper, holding Wanda tightly in a hug and letting her listen to your heart beat at a steady pace.

“You are so stubborn, you-”

Another roar brings her to a halt and then, to your relief, the elevator starts up again. In two minutes, the elevator arrives on your floor and when the doors open, Natasha gives you a worried look-Wanda is massaging her chest while you are still sitting on the floor with a complexion so pale as to make the dead envious.

“Wands, do you feel up to walking?”

The Sokovian nods but Natasha equally encircles her hips with her arm before ushering her toward your bedroom but not before issuing you a warning.

“Don't try to move, don't even think about it.”

You watch them walk to the end of the hallway and extend your leg to block the elevator door sensor. As soon as you see them disappear from your sight, you close your eyes and lean your head against the wall behind you, trying to counteract the dizziness and nausea.

After a few minutes you hear hurried footsteps and then a glass is pressed to your lips.

“Drink malyshka,” Natasha whispers, tilting the glass and helping you drink the water inside. When you finish it, Natasha sets the glass on the floor before taking your face in her hands; you stay like this for a few minutes before she speaks.

“Can you get up?”

You nod to her, and after a few seconds, the Russian encircles your sides with her arms and lifts you off the floor, checking you during every step you take to your bedroom.

“How about I call Bruce? At least he'll take a look at you...”

You shake your head and in doing so lean even more against Natasha.

“No, I'm fine Nat. I just drank a little water, that's all.”

Natasha sighs yet does not retort, helping you sit down next to Wanda.

Although you are still lightheaded and dizzy, your stomach twists as you see how much Wanda is still shaken by what has happened.

“Hey love, how are you feeling?”

You reach out to her, taking her hand and intertwining your fingers. Wanda turns to you as soon as she hears your voice and hides her head in the crook of your neck; you leave a few kisses in her hair before the Sokovian speaks.

“I'm fine, I'm sorry for-”

“No, hey, you don't have to apologize, you know it's not something we control. Neither Tasha nor I do, did you ever tell us to apologize for that?”

Wanda shakes her head and both you and Natasha nod.

“That's right honey, so never apologize for that okay?”

Natasha sits on Wanda's other side as Wanda pulls away from you and lies down on the bed, motioning for you to get on her side. You are about to do so but a sharp dizziness causes you to desist and swing dangerously to the side; Wanda's grip on your shirt prevents a disastrous fall.

“Hey y/n, hey!...Nat, did you give her sugar?”

Wanda sits up to support you better as she watches Natasha shake her head.

“No, I...I just gave her water, now I'm going to get it.”

You want to protest but you can't, you can't even keep your eyes open.

“Detka, honey drink this. It will help you.”

Natasha hands Wanda the glass with water and sugar and the Sokovian places it on your lips helping you drink every last sip; after a few minutes the sugar finally takes effect.

“Do you feel better?”

Wanda whispers, drawing small circles on your back as you open your eyes. You nod slowly, resting your head on Natasha's shoulder and turning a small smile to the Sokovian.

“I really think we should all get some rest, and we'll call Bruce later.”

Natasha leaves a kiss on your temple, giving you a look that clearly indicates how much you cannot retort at the moment. From the look on Wanda's face, she agrees too so you surrender to your girls, letting them tuck you in before hugging you on both sides.

“Rest, I love you,” Natasha lets you both have a kiss before lying down and closing your eyes. You reciprocate her “I love you” before following suit.

You three may be a mess but you are definitely a good trio.

Thank you for reading! This piece sucks but I wanted to write something and will probably delete it later anyway...thanks and have a great day!

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Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirlfriend @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @simpforwandanat @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @classyig @elenaguarnieri @scarletwidow @tati3001 @cristin-rjd @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @bioquake-blog @daisyjohnsonx

#marvel #mcufam #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #natasha x reader #wandanat #wanda x reader #wanda x natasha x reader #wandanat x reader #wandanat x you #poliamore

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ramblings-from-the-ether · 8 months

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Prohibition AU: The Family

The Outer Circle

These members have a limited amount of knowledge into the scale or even the degree-of-illegality of Naven's empire (Bliss Ocean).

Molly Blyndeff, trudging through hard times with an uncaring family, Ms Blyndeff has been quietly emancipated in exchange for her eyes, ears, and unassuming demeanor. A little spy in short.

Trixie Roughhouse, a close friend of Molly's with a fascination with concoctions. Upon introduction, they were assigned to be apprenticed in moonshining at one of Naven's underground distilleries, though they personally prefer experimenting for unknown product.

Phoenica Fleecity, another friend of Molly's. She isn't of much use in criminal activities (also the least informed of Naven's doings), but her generous allowance does help grease the financial side of activities she has no business knowing about.

Howie Honeyglow, an engineer and construction contact of Naven's. He provides maintenance and solves any lack of facilities for 'business activities', by building them up in record time with little excess charges.

Giovanni Potage, leader of a band of misfits who broke off from another street gang; now in Naven's employ. As mentioned in a previous post, he provides the majority of grunt work in Sweet Jazz City for Bliss Ocean. His talent lies in his rousing leadership which keeps morale steady no matter the branch, much to Naven's surprise. Hosts weekly hotpot nights for his brothers (in-arms).

Percival King, the officer who chose peace. She sees Naven as a major businessman with some connections to the criminal underworld; thus a deal was struck where Percy cooperates with Naven in removing the violence on the streets (and kills off competition) while Percy avoids further investigating Naven's influence that made the deal possible.

Indus Tarbella. Formerly Mera's self-declared servant and bodyguard, he now provides security and butler-like services in extension to Naven as a means to remain close to Mera.

The Inner Circle

Everyone here has blood on their hands. These are the men and women who initiates and executes the family's plans. Aka Bliss Ocean Proper.

Zora Salazar: former bounty hunter, gunsmith, and living action film 'protagonist'. Once carried out a hit halfway across the country within a single day by jumping off a wing of a plane midair onto a passing train to cut time. She usually works alone over larger distances outside of Sweet Jazz City.

Mera Salamin, the main (once) licensed surgeon and occasional strategist. She was out of a career after leaving glass shards in a patient and former co-worker who allegedly harassed her. But her swift manner of action caught Naven's attention, and she refuses to play on the sidelines this time.

Ramsey Murdoch is the accountant and financial advisor, mainly for Naven's legitimate ventures but also reaffirms good and competitive business sense for an empire balancing its legal and illegal standings. Whilst Naven is a great dealmaker, Ramsey makes those bigger deals possible.

The Driver is Naven's eyes on the city, as well as his personal companion. Always (seemingly) a different person to outsiders, some speculate that Naven has Sweet Jazz City's private chauffeurs under his patronage. Though in reality, Yoomtah Zing is a master of disguise and has a more hands-on role in managing Naven's criminal operations alongside Mera.

Naven Nuknuk, former arms dealer to the IRA and the man who came from selling apples to apple cider. He is just a small fish in comparison to the big bosses in New York or Chicago, no need to pay heed to him! (The FBI certainly doesn't anymore)

#epithet erased #epithet erased au #molly blyndeff #giovanni potage #percival king #mera salamin #ramsey murdoch #zora salazar #howie honeyglow #trixie roughouse #feenie fleecity #epithet erased phoenica #naven nuknuk #yoomtah zing #indus tarbella #epithet erased prohibition au

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cantsayidont · 9 months

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Recentish adventures in gay vampire movies:

THE VAMPIRE NEXT DOOR (2024): More properly a bisexual vampire movie (eventually, if you're patient), this is a dumb low-budget comedy about a 20-something dweeb, Cameron (Alex Matthews), who's persuaded to act as chauffeur/getaway driver for his hot new next-door neighbor Victoria (Jessica Ferguson) while she does some vampire murders around town. Meanwhile, Cameron is secretly in love with his hot blond bestie Diane (Bella Chadwick), for whom hot himbo Martin (Andrew Larkin) wants Cameron to do the Cyrano de Bergerac thing. An underwhelming throwback to the dopey (PG-rated) teen sex comedies of the '80s (with ONCE BITTEN an obvious comparison), the movie spends so much energy on the romcom stuff that it takes forever for the vampire stuff to come into focus, and, as in many bad '80s comedies, an awful lot of the plot hinges on Cameron being an "innocent" Peeping Tom. Sort of amiable despite having no real redeeming virtues, but it's weighed down by Alex Matthews, whose character is unsympathetic and whose head-lolling performance suggests that he's recently been hit with a tranquilizer dart.

BIT (2020): MEAN GIRLS meets THE LOST BOYS, featuring a teenage trans girl from Oregon, Laurel (Nicole Maines), who comes to L.A. to spend the summer with her brother (James Paxton) and falls in with a clique of gay vampire girls led by the sardonic Duke (Diana Hopper). Funny and stylish, it suffers from trying to cram at least five hours' worth of plot into 90-ish minutes of screen time. Many of the component pieces are interesting and fun, but as a whole, the movie feels jumbled and unresolved: Various subplots and secondary characters go nowhere; the other vampires (Zolee Griggs, Char Diaz, and Friday Chamberlain) get hardly any character development — Griggs' character Izzy is there mostly as Laurel's love interest, and Diaz and Chamberlain barely have any lines; and Laurel remains curiously underdeveloped, reducing her to a fairly generic teen movie protagonist. Maines is an appealing screen presence, but she can't compete with Diana Hopper, whose commandingly bitchy performance as Duke is the centerpiece of the movie. There's a lot to like about BIT, but it might have worked better as a TV series, giving the characters and story more room to breathe.

THERESA & ALLISON (2019): Extremely low-budget cinema verité horror comedy-drama about gay college girl Theresa (Arielle Hope), transformed into a vampire after a disastrous one-night stand, as she struggles to navigate her new vampiric existence while nursing a crush on a somewhat older vampire, Allison (Sarah Schoofs) — who is totally, definitely (not) broken up with her obnoxious boyfriend Tony (Charles D. Lincoln, who also wrote the script), who now won't leave Theresa alone. The production values are modest and the acting is uneven, but this is a much more cohesive movie than the other two, with far and away the most intelligent script and many inventive ideas (like the fact that New York City has social services for vampires, although like most urban social services, they're underfunded and totally inadequate). Its biggest strength is the way the story builds its vampire-related elements around familiar real-world gay girl travails, which is sometimes very funny as well as horrifying. The caveat is that this is still definitely a horror movie, and goes some quite dark places (requiring CWs for suicide and sexual violence, beyond the usual for vampire stories), with an ambiguous but rather harrowing ending.

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drivelux · 3 months

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DriveLux offers premium chauffeur services in Los Angeles, New York City, and Miami, redefining luxury travel. Whether you're going to a business meeting, a function, or touring the city, DriveLux will get you there in elegance and luxury. Book Now: https://driveluxco.com/

#chauffeur #new york #car service

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chickensarentcheap · 2 years

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Lost and Found- Chapter 8

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake and Esme Drummond (established OFC. Although you do not need to read the others to understand this one)

Warnings: angst, mild profanity,

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @secretaryunpaid @youflickedtooharddamnit @thesirenrealm @residentdormouse @asirensrage @munstysmind @muchadoaboutcj @starryeyes2000 @karimac @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciationtag @occommunity @themaradaniels

My tag list is OPEN. Just give me a shout if you’d like to added :)

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43179357/chapters/116371852

******

He arrives in New York City shortly after one pm; the owner of The Continental sending a chauffeured, bulletproof Lincoln Town Car to fetch him.

“Now is not the time to cheap out on security,” the driver had told him when he’d commented on how he could have just taken a cab; uncomfortable with the kind of treatment that comes with associating with the likes of those that work under The High Table. “People are watching. They are ALWAYS watching.”

The moment he steps foot in the hotel, he becomes the focus of attention; the eyes of both the politely curious and the disgusted and disdained following his every move. He ignores both the stares and the whispers as he confidently strides towards the front desk; the soles of his boots squeaking ever so slightly on the gleaming marble floods. He’s painfully out of place among the expensive Italian suits and designer labels; clad in well-worn blue jeans, and a blue, brown, and white long-sleeve plaid shirt over a white t-shirt under a beaten and tattered utility jacket. A simple, knitted black beanie covers his freshly shorn hair and a rucksack from his army days is slung over his right shoulder; enough clothes to last him a few days. IF they’re forced to say that long.

But despite his modest appearance and his long absence, he’s greeted by Charon’s warm, dark eyes and welcoming smile as he steps up to the concierge desk.

“Mister Rake. How nice to see you again. Welcome back. It’s been quite a while.”

“About ten years,” he confirms. “ See you’re still keeping the place running, huh?”

Charon chuckles. “I wouldn’t know about THAT. I merely answer the phones and book rooms and send people on their way. I’m hardly breaking a sweat. We have missed you. I know you were never a regular, but it was always nice to see you. To catch up. How are things ‘down under’?”

“Busy. And hot. Very hot. Things have been good here? I see the old place got a facelift. When did that happen?”

“About six years ago. But I assure you, she is still the same beautiful, graceful old lady.”

“You’ve got the same owner?”

“Same owner. “

Tyler reaches into his pocket for one of the gold coins that Yaz had given him before de-boarding the plane; placing it on the countertop and then sliding it towards the concierge.

Plucking the object up from the smooth, marble surface, Charon briefly inspects it for authenticity before slipping it into one of the pockets on his suit jacket. Then turns his attention to the computer in front of him, fingers flying over the keyboard. “I see we have you for three nights. Tentatively.”

“Depends on how things go. How fast we can get them off the ground. And how cleanly.”

“Of course, sir.” The other man produces a keycard from a drawer behind the desk, then holds it out in offering. “Room six fifteen. Should I announce your arrival?”

“Give me a few hours. Just to grab something to eat and some sleep. It was a hell of a long flight.”

“You will find a room service menu on the bedside table. All of the delicacies offered at our in-house restaurant can be delivered straight to your door. There are no restrictions. And our servers are at your beck and call; twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

“I expect nothing less from this place.”

“Is there anything I could get sent upstairs for you? Something to drink? A bottle of scotch, perhaps?”

“I don’t touch the stuff anymore. Haven’t had a drop in almost five years. But thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir. If there’s anything you need, please do not hesitate to call the desk. And do let me know when you’d like me to tell Ms. Khan that you’ve arrived.”

Tyler smirks. “MS Khan, huh? Nik know you call her that?”

“She has expressed disdain at the title. Scolded me once or twice. But we pride ourselves on our professionalism here at The Continental.”

“Definitely a diamond in the rough. Almost makes me wish I’d not gone into the private sector. Might have enjoyed things a bit more had I gone this direction.”

“Be careful what you wish for. It’s not for everyone. It comes with its…how should I say?...downfalls. I think someone such as yourself does much better in an environment that’s not so…strict.”

“You calling me uncivilized, Charon?”

“Never, sir. Merely stating that the circles you travel in are not quite the same as the ones who come through these doors are known to frequent. And that while it’s always nice to see you, it’s also a good sign when we don’t, if you know what I mean.”

“I do. And I appreciate it. It’s nice to know someone wants me to have some peace and quiet. Stay out of trouble.”

“You have more than earned your rest, sir. And I must admit that after such a long absence, I was quite hopeful our paths would never cross again. A sign that life was treating you well. As it should.”

“Trouble always seems to find me. One way or another. Nature of the beast, yeah? Once you get in this life, you never really get out of it.”

“For your sake, I hope that isn’t true. That this is the last time I will be welcoming you. And it’s not because I don’t like you. It’s because I DO.”

“Well, you’re one of the select few. And for what it’s worth, you’re alright yourself.”

A smile tugs the corners of Charon’s mouth. “Coming from you, I take that as an utmost compliment. Are you certain there is nothing more I can do for you at this time?”

“We’re good. I’ll let you know. When I’m ready to meet with Nik.”

“I feel I should let you know that the owner would like to meet with you at some point. There are some things he’d like to discuss.”

“Is that just a friendly heads up or a warning?”

“Simply a professional courtesy. It’s been a pleasure, sir. A genuine one.”

“Believe me, Charon, after the last few years I’ve had, the pleasure is all mine.”

“Onwards and upwards, as they say. And as always, it IS good to see you again. We hope you enjoy your stay, Mister Rake.”

*****

Following two hours of sleep, a long hot shower, and a change of clothes, Nik greets him in the fifteenth-floor hallway; wrapping him in a warm embrace and then holding him at arm’s length. “You look good, Tyler. Healthy.”

“I FEEL good. Healthier than I have in a long time. Mind you, the jet lag will catch up sooner or later, but…”

“How was the flight? I know it’s kind of a long haul and…”

“It was boring. Uneventful. Do we really have to do this? The small talk We’ve known each other for a long time, Nik. I thought we were past all this by now.”

“Just trying to catch up. It’s been a while since I last saw you. And I have to say, I was hoping that the next time we DID meet up, it wasn’t because of business. I would rather it have been a social call, but…”

“I gave you my word. Years ago. That I’d be around to help out if you ever desperately needed it. And it sounds like you’re pretty damn desperate.”

“Like I said on the phone, the client won’t even hear about another merc. They’re insisting that you handle everything. And if I’m completely honest, you’re the one guy that I CAN put all my faith into and not regret it in the end.”

He nods in the direction of the door. “So what’s with all the secrecy? And don’t give me some bullshit about not calling me on a secure line. I know how strict you are with things. There was no way you were calling me on something that wasn’t safe. What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s a delicate situation. One that needed to be handled face to face. I didn’t want to take the risk of telling you over the phone and having you turn the job down. I knew if I got you all the way here, the chances were pretty good that you weren’t going back to Australia empty-handed.”

“A good payday WOULD make the trip worthwhile. But I gotta admit; something doesn’t feel right. Whatever it is you’re not telling me…”

“It’s just…I don’t know…” Nik sighs and rakes a hand through her hair. “...complicated.”

“It’s always fucking complicated, isn’t it? Just who is this client? Why all the mystery? And who the hell did they piss off to find themselves in this kind of trouble?”

“It’s an employee of mine. An intel specialist I had working undercover. Infiltrating a local organized crime family.”

“The mob, you mean.”

“Extremely powerful and dangerous. With very deep roots. And a lot of skeletons in their closet. Not to mention the judges and lawyers and law officials they have in their back pockets. They have their fingers in a lot of pies. None of them good.”

“And this employee got busted?”

Nik nods. “Through no fault of their own. They’d been tied up with the family for eight months. and there’s even the slightest whimper of trouble. Four nights ago, I received an anonymous phone call that said my person’s cover was blown and all hell was going to break loose. The family was out for blood. And they were sending a small army to collect it.”

“Sounds like they’re not the type to handle failure very well. They know where you’ve got everyone hiding out?”

“Everyone knows The Continental is a safe haven. I doubt they’ll show up here. As tough as they are, even though they don’t want to piss off the High Table.”

“It’s the second we step out those doors that we’ll have a problem.”

“There’s a lot that needs to be worked out. A lot of planning we have to do. It isn’t going to be easy; getting them and yourself out of New York in one piece.”

“When is it ever easy? I didn’t come here thinking it would be a cakewalk. What I don’t understand is why anyone would get mixed up with people like that when they have a kid in tow. Why would a parent do that? Get caught up with dangerous people when they’ve got someone depending on them. The kid is innocent. They don’t deserve to be in the middle of all this.”

“I was the one who pressured them,” Nik admits. “Into taking the job. Just like you’re the perfect person for this, they were the perfect person for that. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. You know how I can be pretty persuasive. Lean on people pretty heavily.”

“How much is the payout?”

“One million. Two fifty for the client, seven fifty for the little girl.”

“So the kid is my main priority.”

“As per the client’s wishes. They’re not concerned for their own well-being. Their biggest worry is getting the little one somewhere safe and keeping her alive and well. That’s it.”

“I’m not a babysitter, Nik. I’m not a nanny. What am I supposed to do with her when I get her there?”

“You were a father. You know how to take care of a kid. I know you haven’t dipped your toes in that particular pool for a while, but I imagine it’s like riding a bike.”

Sighing heavily, he leans back against the wall; eyes briefly closing as he pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

“Tyler, if you’re not up to this…”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I wouldn’t have come all this way if I wasn’t up to it. I’m just tired. It’s a hell of a flight from home to here. Just need more sleep. Before jet lag gets even worse. Or better yet, maybe someone can just pour some coffee into one of those IV bags and hook the fucker right up to my arm.”

“After the team meeting later, you’ll be able to get some reason. That’s all that’s on the schedule for today. We’ve got four days here. We should only need two to plan everything out. I’ve planned bigger and more dangerous things in less time.”

“So what am I walking into now? If we’re not all getting together yet, why’d you ask me to come down here? Why…?”

“I think you and the client should have some ‘one-on-one time’. Meet, feel each other out, see if you vibe. If it’s not a good fit, I’ve still got time to bring in someone else. I know it’s not how we usually do things, but this is…” She chooses her words carefully. “...very special circumstances.”

“Because of the age of the kid and all. I get it. I didn’t want her getting freaked out. Some big, beat-up-looking guy getting too close to her and her mum. Besides, aren’t kids usually really good judges of character or something like that? Guess she’s the one I need to win over, huh?”

“Just go in there with an open mind,” Nik encourages. “Just put all your reservations and your judgements and opinions aside. On the whole dragging your kid into the job thing. They need you, Tyler. And part of that is needing you to be as gentle and patient as you possibly can. Like I said…”

“Special circumstances.”

She nods and then turns towards the door; pausing before reaching for the handle. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“I wouldn’t have come all this way if I wasn’t sure. I gave my word, didn’t I? To you. To them.”

“Circumstances CAN change. If you’re having reservations…”

“I’m in,” he assures her. “I am ALL in.”

*******

While Nik steps out of the room to fetch the client, Tyler surveys his surroundings. The suite is far more opulent than anything he’s spent time in The Continental; one of a handful of three-bedroom apartments that take up the entire top floor of the hotel. The walls are made of rich and glistening mahogany; bearing incredibly detailed carvings of flowers and trees, stretching upwards to meet the intricate cove ceiling. And the carpet is thick and plush beneath the soles of his combat boots; forest green interspersed with tiny flecks of orange and gold.

The whole place reeks of power and influence. Its fully stocked bar with only top-shelf liquor; accompanied by shelves of crystal highball glasses and long-stemmed champagne flutes. Leather couches and chairs with their brocaded throw pillows; vibrant golds and oranges lending much-needed color to the room. A marble globe and ivory chess set sit in one corner; a lone occupant leaving behind the stump of a cigar and half a glass of whiskey when they had departed. A state-of-the-art television mounted to one wall and an aquarium -full of brightly coloured fish- inlaid in another; the bubbling and humming of the filtration system the only noise disturbing the silence. And the lone picture window, giving a stunning view of New York City. With its congested traffic and its towering structures and the shimmering harbor in the distance.

He stands in front of it now. Hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans as he studies the horizon; mesmerized by the way the sun bounces off towers of steel and glass. It’s been years since he last stepped foot in New York City; a rare -yet extremely lucrative- North American gig that Nik had approached him during his first few months on the job. A gig that had required a little more class; a fresh shave and a fancy suit and mingling with those that inhabit the upper tier of society. His path crossing with many interesting and questionable people; corrupt politicians and crooked members of law enforcement, young socialites with their much older -and extremely wealthy- husbands.

And one infamous and widely feared hitman that was as heartbroken and damaged as he was.

“Tyler?”

It’s soft. Almost timid. And he turns purely on instinct; not leaving any time for the voice to register. His chest and throat immediately tightening; his mouth suddenly painfully dry and his eyes wide with disbelief.

It’s been five years but at that moment, they’re still standing in the kitchen of that old shack in The Kimberley. The one with the rusted tin roof and the creaky, uneven floors, and the pipes that groaned and shook whenever you took a shower. Back when they didn't have much but they were happy; healthy and healing and planning for the future. TOGETHER.

And when he finally manages to speak, it comes out as barely a whisper.

“Esme?”

*******

Her entire body trembles with anxiety; sweat gathers at the nape of her neck and her palms are suddenly cold and clammy. It’s all so much. Not just the tremendous guilt and regret she’s carried all this time, but a staggering amount of love, adoration and attraction. Still as overwhelming as it was nearly five years ago; in that hotel room in Dhaka when she’d finally allowed herself to trust and want and need again. Since the moment she’d walked out the door, she’s spent hours dreaming about this moment; the things she’d feel and how she’d react when they finally got the chance to come face to face again. How would his voice sound to her ears? What would his skin feel like under her fingertips? Would he still smell the same? That crisp and clean scent that always clung to hair and clothes; reminding her of safety and home and all of the other beautiful things he’d brought to her life. She had never once entertained the thought that it would be the job that would cause their paths to cross once more; always holding onto the thought that she’d simply show up on his doorstep, their daughter in tow. Never here. Shrouded in secrecy behind The Continental’s four walls.

“Tyler.” It’s all she can manage; her hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of her blouse, her feet rooted to the floor as she takes in his expression. Shock and bewilderment; the deep furrows in his brow, his wide, disbelieving eyes, and his ragged breathing.

He carries more weight now; his face is fuller and neck thicker, and his shoulders and chest broader. The gray in his hair is more prominent; littering his beard and congregating around his ears, at his temples, and along the bottom of his hairline. There are more lines on his forehead and by the corners of his mouth and around his eyes; the latter not as vibrant as she remembered. Life hasn’t been easy or kind to him; an ongoing struggle to keep his sobriety, the stresses of balancing his firefighting career with not only his home reno business, but the favors that Nik still calls in. It’s his lingering connection to ‘the game’ that has seen more scars added to his collection; tarnishing the skin by the corner of his right eye and the underside of his chin. And one that travels from under his left ear lobe and snakes its way down his jaw.

But he’s still very much Tyler; his scent and his voice familiar.

She attempts a smile; tearful and shaky. “Long time no see.”

“It’s been a while.”

He takes a hesitant first step; arms loose at his side and his hands unclenched. Not wishing to scare or intimidate; sending a clear message that despite how things had ended and how he’d both grieved and raged, he poses no threat. Feeling the abrupt change in himself; the peeling away of the layers of worry that had burdened both heart and shoulders. Many times he’d wondered if she were still alive; if she’d been taken against her will and had simply been unable to contact him before meeting her untimely demise. He’d have nightmares based around the scenario; masked men doing vile and demeaning things to her before killing her in the most brutal, bloody ways possible. And he’d spend days afterwards wallowing in guilt; hating himself because it was easier to accept her death than it was the thought of her leaving him for someone else.

“You’re the client?”

Esme nods

He closes the gap between them; bewilderment turning to concern as he studies the fresh injuries that mar her face. And it’s as if he’s operating on auto-pilot; reaching out to gently explore the blemishes that peek through her makeup. His fingertips slowly passing over every bruise and cut; eyes darkening as concern turns to anger. All these years later…despite all the hurt and the heartbreak…he still possesses a softness towards her; a tender and patient side that she had managed to unearth shortly after they met. He hasn’t shown or revisited since she walked out of his life; closing himself off emotionally and not finding that same level of comfort and trust that had existed between them.

Her eyes close; both body and mind are comforted by his touch. A moment that is so pure and beautiful that it takes her breath away; her head swimming and her cheeks flushed, and her knees weak. She had missed his touch; heart and body both experiencing an unbearable ache whenever she recalled what it was like to be loved… physically…by him. Not just the sexual encounters but the moments of more innocent and subdued intimacy. The feel of rough calluses against soft skin, the repeated brush of his knuckles along her spine, the tenderness displayed by large, powerful hands as they soaped and rinsed her body or scrubbed at her hair. Such a juxtaposition; the softness that could linger inside such an enormous man. Despite his painful back story and all the trauma he’d endured and the things he’d seen and done in combat and on the job, he’d still had so much humanity inside of him; a love and a tenderness that not even the harshest and most brutal of circumstances could completely erase.

“Who did this to you?” His fingertips brush over both the swelling and discolouration that have taken up residence under her left eye.

The need to protect is far greater than any of the negative he’s ever experienced; quickly pushing aside all of the hurt and sadness and long-simmering anger. They’ll return to the forefront eventually; thoughts returning to the year spent looking for her and the countless dead ends he’d encountered and all the horrible scenarios he’d entertained. He’ll want and demand answers; something…anything… that will finally put an end to all the questions and the wondering. And he’ll somehow accept and cope with her explanation even if it does sting like hell to hear.

“Bad people. Very bad people.”

His palm cradles her cheek; the pad of his thumb brushing across her lips. “Are you okay?”

Shaking her head, she peers up at him; unable to control the tears that well in her eyes. “I need your help.”

“When Nik said someone called demanding me, this is NOT what I was expecting. Why didn’t you get a hold of me yourself? Why…?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d even take my call. Or that if you did answer, you’d hear my voice and just hang up. I was scared, I guess; I thought I was probably the last person you’d want to hear from.”

“I’ve only been wanting to hear from you every day for the last five years.”

She blinks at his honesty. His tone neither harsh nor condescending, but instead tinged by the various emotions that come with both deep hurt and lingering affection. “Tyler, I…”

“What happened? Why DO you need me?”

“What has Nik told you?”

“That you were working a job. Something to do with organized crime. Your cover got blown somehow. Is that who did this to you?” His fingertips briefly come in contact with an abrasion on the right side of her forehead; stretching from her hairline to the top of her eyebrow. “Your mark?”

“I’m not sure WHO it was, exactly. People employed by his family, I’m assuming. It’s all so twisted and complicated…”

“Twisted and complicated come hand in hand with the job.”

“It’s a long story; how I got tied up in things. Nik needed someone that could get inside the family; get close enough to hear all the dirty secrets. And everything was going great. I’d been in there for almost eight months and there’d been any sign of trouble. I was SO careful. You know me; I never take unnecessary risks and I always watch my back. If I’d felt anything was off whatsoever…”

“So what happened? Nik said something about information getting leaked and people showing up at the house and…”

“She got a phone call. From an informant. That I’d been figured out. I don’t know if someone saw me with the family and recognized me from when I’d done business in New City before, but…”

“But all hell broke loose.”

“They brought a small army with them. A heavily armed one at that. And if it hadn’t been for Nik getting a team together to get us out of there…”

He frowns. “Us? Who’s us?”

“That’s where it gets even more twisted. And complicated. It’s something you and I really need to talk about. Before we get any further into the business side of things. It’s why I asked Nik to keep her distance; give us a chance to talk to each other in private. There’s a little…I don’t know how to say this…”

“She talked about ‘fragile contents’. And that’s code language for only one thing. There’s a kid involved. Somehow. Yours?”

“And yours.”

His eyes narrow; a scowl tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And mine? What…?”

“I didn’t know about the baby. Not until two weeks after I got here. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to call you right away; I wanted you to be here. But I had to protect both of you and…”

“Wait…wait…” He’s unable to contain the nervous chuckle. “A baby? MY baby?”

“She’s so beautiful, Tyler. She’s beautiful and she’s perfect and she is everything amazing inside both of us. And when you meet her, you’re just going to fall in love with her. I know you will. She is so much like you. From head to toe. She even has your smile and your laugh and all of your facial expressions. It’s like there’s nothing of me whatsoever inside of her. Like I was just the incubator and….” Her face flushes; cheeks feeling impossibly hot as she chews on her bottom lip to stop herself from rambling. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. That you had to find out this way. This is the last thing I wanted. I had it all planned. How once I was done with this job, I’d take her to Australia and we’d get a hold of you and…”

The door of the suite unexpectedly and Millie rushes in. Her thick, dirty blond hair worn loose and tumbling down to the middle of her back; still damp from the time spent in the indoor pool with Abuela. Her long and lanky frame clad only in a bubble gum pink swimsuit adorned tiny, sparkling silver unicorns. And as she hurries towards her mother, she nearly trips several times over the bottom of the beach towel slung around her shoulders.

“Momma!” She wraps her arms around Esme’s thighs; eyes closing and a content sigh escaping her lips as she squeezes as tight as she can. “I missed you!”

Esme struggles in vain to disguise the nervousness in her voice; feeling the full weight of Tyler’s stare upon her. It’s a mixture of shock, hurt, and betrayal; the reality that the little one being scooped up into her mother’s arms is indeed his. There’s no way he could possibly deny it; Millie bears a striking resemblance to him. Hair color and texture, the long limbs and torso, the brilliant blue eyes, the same nose and jaw structure. “You weren’t even gone that long, sweets. Not even a couple of hours. And you still missed me?”

“I always miss you, mom. Even if it’s just ten minutes.”

“Well, I missed you, too. Nap time isn’t the same without my all time favorite cuddle buddy.” She showers Millie’s forehead and cheeks with kisses before placing her on the ground. “Can you do me a favor? Can you go and…?”

“Hi!” The four-year-old chirps; flashing her toothiest smile as she peers up at Tyler; intrigued by his sheer size and the tattoos that grace his skin. “I’m Millie! Well, my name is really Amelia, but I tell everyone to call me Millie. I think it sounds better. Who are you? What’s your name?”

He swallows noisily; barely able to force the word past his lips. “Tyler.”

“Are you a friend of mom’s?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Millie…” Esme drops a kiss on the top of her head and then places her hands on her shoulders, attempting to gently steer her away “...why don’t you go and take off your swimsuit and wait for me in the bathroom. I’ll be in in a couple of minutes. Give you a bath and get all that chlorine off of you.”

“Are you here to help?” Millie inquires, as she steps closer to Tyler; the tips of her toes pressed against his boots; head tipping back as far as it possibly goes to ‘size him up’. “Are you going to get us away from the bad guys?”

“I’m going to try, yeah.”

“You’re really big.”

Esme reaches for her; embarrassed by the peppering of questions and comments. “Amelia…”

He manages a grin. “Maybe you’re just really small.”

“Uh-uh. I’m normal size. You’re a giant! Are you like ten feet tall?”

“Six feet. And a couple inches.”

“I like that picture. On your neck. It’s cool. What’s it supposed to be?”

“Tattoo,” Esme gently corrects. “They’re called tattoos.”

“Where’d you get it? In jail?”

“Amelia,” her mother scolds. “What in the world…”

“In the army, actually,” Tyler informs her. “A long time ago.”

“The army? You were like GI Joe?! I can see it. You’re really tall and it looks like you got really big muscles. Do you? Have really big muscles? Momma likes guys with really big muscles. Which is why I don’t get why she was with Alessio. He looks like a wimp. Really small muscles. Not like you. You look really strong. I bet the bad guys never mess with you. You got a girlfriend?”

“Not really, no.”

“She is way too nosey for her own good” Esme offers in a way of apology. “She thinks everyone she meets is automatically her friend and that she can ask a million and one questions and…”

“But he IS my friend, mom,” Millie informs her. “If he’s a friend of yours and he’s here to help with the bad guys…”

“I am so sorry,” Abuela gives a sheepish smile as she hurries into the room; using the towel around her neck to vigorously dry her hair. “She is so fast! And sneaky! Took off as soon as those elevator doors opened. You little miss…” Tousling Millie’s hair, she gently takes her by the shoulders. “...are coming with me. We’ll get you a nice warm bath and some comfy clothes and then decide what we’re going to have for dinner.”

“But I was talking to Tyler! He’s my friend. Why can’t I…?”

“Your mom was talking to him first. We interrupted. Come on, let’s go and get cleaned up. Sooner we do that, sooner we get to eat! Which means we get closer to having ice cream for dessert!”

“Ice cream is my favorite!” Millie gushes, addressing Tyler. “Do you like ice cream? What’s your favorite kind? Mine is mint chocolate chip.”

“That’s my favorite too.”

Millie gasps; eyes wide as she excitedly takes one of his hands on both of hers. “Really? Is it REALLY your favorite? You’re not just saying that?”

“It’s really my favorite.”

“We just became best friends! Besties! Maybe you come with us. To get ice cream! But we can’t have any until after dinner. Are you hungry? You come with us if you want. We don’t mind, right Abuela?”

“I got a lot of stuff going on right now, but maybe we can get ice cream some other time,” Tyler suggests and tentatively reaches out; fingertips clearing damp strands of hair off her forehead and looping others behind her ears. Wanting…needing…to touch her; as if requiring proof that she is actually real and standing right in front of him. It’s a surreal, mind and body-numbing experience; unable to control his movements and his brain struggling to get a firm grasp on this new reality. Trying to accept that after all of the heartbreak following his son’s death and those dark and troubled days filled with grief, guilt, and regrets, he’s suddenly a father again.

Millie keeps a tight hold on his hand; blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Like an ice cream date?”

“Sure, we can call it that. I mean, if your mum’s alright with it.”

He offers Esme a shaky smile; feeling a potent, confusing mix of not only love and adoration, but hurt and anger. The last thing he wants is to harbor and feed into the latter; he sees the deep furrows of concern that crease her brow and the tears of remorse that prick her eyes. She IS the love of his life; all of those emotions and all of the attraction are still as strong as they had been five years ago. But a deeper layer has been added to both their lives; an even stronger, more permanent bond than the one they’d previously shared. She is now the mother of his child; they’d managed to create an incredible little human together.

The corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile of her own. It’s so hard; so goddamn hard. For everyone involved. There’s no way life has been easy for her; going through a pregnancy alone and then living the past four years as a single mother. But she’s obviously done right by their daughter. Millie is happy and healthy; an intelligent, free spirit that is the center of her mother’s universe.

“That sounds like a great idea,” she muses. “I’d like it if the two of you hung out together.”

“It’s a date!” Millie squeals. “I’ll even wear one of my new dresses! And get Abeula to do my hair all pretty. Ribbons and stuff. You’ll do that, right Abuela?”

“I will. But first thing is first…” She scoops Millie up into her arms. “...cleaning you up! And figuring out what we want to have for dinner. I can hear your tummy just grumbling away. Sounds like an angry bear!”

“I’m starving,” the four-year-old declares. “I’m so hungry, I could eat the ass out of a dead hippopotamus!”

“Amelia!” Esme scolds. “Excuse you?!”

She gives a sheepish grin. “Sorry, mom. I could eat the BUTT out of a dead hippopotamus! Bye, Tyler!” She waves enthusiastically as Abeula carries her through the room. “Maybe we can have our ice cream date tomorrow!”

“I’ll talk to your mum. Make plans.”

“And you don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to, but I’m going to wear my prettiest, frilliest dress. Just for you!”

He returns a final wave with one of his own; a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he watches and listens to her as she goes. Excitedly and incessantly chattering about their upcoming ‘date’ and the various dishes in the hotel restaurant that are her favorites. And it’s when she disappears out of sight that the pain returns; a profound sadness mixed with rage.

“Tyler…” Esme hesitantly begins; reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his bicep. “I’m so sorry. I never…”

His eyes narrow; tone menacing as he regards her angrily and yanks his arm away from her. “How could you do this? Keep her from me? How could you…”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I wasn’t trying to keep her away from you. Believe me, I wanted us to be together. I wanted us to be a family. But…”

“Four years, Esme. I’ve been a dad for FOUR YEARS and you didn’t even tell me. After everything we talked about. About how we were going to settle down and start a family and have a normal life. I gave you EVERYTHING I had of myself. And I would’ve given you even more if I could have.”

“I know. I know you would have. And I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you, Tyler. I left you because I did.”

“You know, for five years that’s all I cared about. It was the worst thing that ever happened; losing you and not knowing WHY. Constantly wondering what the fuck I did wrong that made you walk away.”

“You didn’t do ANYTHING. You were everything I ever wanted. I didn’t want to leave you. I just didn’t have a choice.”

“So someone dragged you out, kicking and screaming? Held a gun to your head?”

“No. But they would have. If I didn’t leave, I would have brought nothing but horrible shit to your doorstep. That you wouldn’t have survived. And I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t lose you. Not like that. I had to walk away. To save you.”

“You know what? Suddenly why you left isn’t even my biggest concern anymore. It’s why you keep her…our daughter…MY daughter…a secret from me. How could you do that? You knew I wanted to be a dad again. Despite the fact, it scared the shit out of me. I was fucking terrified but I still wanted that experience again. And I wanted it with YOU.”

“I couldn’t tell you. When I found out. I was in the middle of something really scary and horrible and getting in touch with you would have just put you in danger. And I didn’t want that. That's why I left in the first place.”

“What about after? When whatever was going on settled down? Why didn’t you contact me then? Tell me about her? Because I would have been on the next flight. To BOTH of you.”

“I was afraid. That you’d be so angry at me for leaving that you wouldn’t want anything to do with her. And I couldn’t handle that. If you decided not to claim her. I just couldn’t.”

“I would have NEVER done that to you. Or to her. I wanted a family with you. I wanted a kid. You knew THAT.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry? I made a mistake? Because believe me, it was the worst mistake of my life and I have regretted every single second since I left. I really wish things could have been different. That I’d been given any other choice. But leaving was the best thing. Especially for you.”

“There is nothing you can say that will ever make all of this make sense. How could you do this to me? After everything we went through. All the times I spilled my fucking guts to you. The way I turned my entire life around so I could be the man you wanted. That you DESERVED. How could you fuck me over like this? Keep her from me?”

“If you’d just let me explain. If we could sit down and talk about this. Rationally. If we can just push the anger aside for even just a little bit. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. A lot of apologizing. But if you’d just give me the chance…”

“I can barely even look at you right now. How the hell am I supposed to sit and talk about things RATIONALLY?”

“Once you’ve been able to digest everything. To just calm down even just a little bit. That’s all I’m asking for, Tyler. Just a chance. To explain my side. Please? If not for me, for Millie. Because she deserves to know you. And if you just walk away…”

“I might be pissed, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to walk away. I’m here, yeah? I didn’t take off as soon as I saw you, did I? I stuck around. Do you honestly think I’d leave? After finding out about her? Do you think that little of me?”

“I’ve NEVER thought little of you. EVER. I was the one who believed in you, Tyler. I was the one who took the chance. When no one else would. I was the one who SAW you. The real you. All the rusted and broken parts and everything beautiful that still existed inside of you. Everything we went through…everything you came with…I STILL wanted you.”

“What do you want me to say? Thank you? For not looking at me like everyone else did? Like some huge piece of shit?”

“I want you to realize it isn’t just black and white. Why I left. I know you, Tyler. I know how smart you are. How well you read people. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that I’m lying to you? About how I felt? About what I wanted? About why I left? Can you do that? Look me dead in the eye and tell me you can’t tell I’m being sincere?”

His eyes focus on hers; cold and calculated blue at war with rich, apologetic brown. Despite the hurt and the anger, he still SEES her; his most loyal confidant, biggest cheerleader, the best friend he’s ever had, and the love of his life. It’s all there; the affection and the adoration and the lust. His pride doesn’t want to feel those things; he wants to wallow in his misery and blame her for his trouble out of sheer spite. But it’s impossible.

“No,” Tyler admits. “I can’t.”

“Can we please talk? Later? After all the business stuff is done for the day? I’m not asking for much. Just a chance to explain my side. That’s it.”

He nods in agreement and reaches out once more, skimming his knuckles along her bruised cheek. It’s so conflicting; needing and loving someone that much yet wanting nothing more than to rant, rave, and air your grievances. And he opens his mouth to speak; intending to comfort and offer reassurances that everything -at least in regards to the job- is going to be okay. But is interrupted by Nik suddenly appearing in the doorway; drumming her fingernails against the wood and noisily clearing her throat.

“We need to get the show on the road. Winston’s held the main conference room for us. We’re all going to meet down there. I can give you guys a few more minutes but…”

“We’re done here.” His tone is harsher than he intended, and when he notices her blink and physically recoil, he gives Esme a comforting smile. “At least for now.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Chris Hemsworth Extraction

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denimbex1986 · 6 months

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'Tom Ripley used several different aliases in the new Netflix limited series Ripley. Tom, who also acquires many places of residence throughout Ripley, is a master of disguise and deceit. He is drawn to murder once his true identity of being an elaborate con man faces the threat of being exposed. Throughout the thrilling series, Tom has conned his way from a lowly life of scamming and thievery in New York City to becoming incredibly wealthy in Italy thanks to a supposed old friend, Dickie Greenleaf (Johnny Flynn). Ripley's cast is led by an exceptionally chilling Andrew Scott (Fleabag, Black Mirror, All of Us Strangers) as the titular treacherous protagonist.

Ripley has received rave reviews from critics upon its April 4, 2024 release exclusively on Netflix. The psychological thriller is based on the renowned 1955 novel The Talented Mr. Ripley by celebrated novelist Patricia Highsmith, the first of her 5-part "Ripley" series that also includes Ripley Under Ground and Ripley's Game. The Talented Mr. Ripley has been adapted several times for film and television, but none have been shot completely in monochrome until Steven Zallian's Ripley. Zallian, the Academy Award-winning screenwriter of Schindler's List, American Gangster, and The Irishman, wrote and directed the entire 8-episode miniseries.

By the end of Zallian's Ripley, Tom has orchestrated a way to frame his murder of Dickie Greenleaf as a suicide, successfully convincing Dickie's concerned girlfriend Marge Sherwood (Dakota Fanning) and a determined Inspector Ravini (Maurizio Lombardi). Ripley brings to light the lengths that monsters like Tom will go to in the name of self-preservation, using chilling methodology and calculation to be seen as significant by means of material wealth and social access. Even after Tom escapes to England and assumes a new identity in the final moments of Ripley, he does not seem satisfied, only aware of what it feels like to wear Dickie's clothes, flaunt his ring, and stare at his artwork while ultimately feeling nothing.

4. George McAlpin

Tom's fraudulent debt collector persona in New York

At the beginning of Ripley, Tom is shown in the thick of his life of petty scamming in 1960's New York City. Under the alias George McAlpin, Tom runs an elaborate scheme of fraud and theft under a fabricated organization he calls the McAlpin Collection Agency. Basically, Tom steals the mail from specific doctors, specifically a chiropractor in Ripley episode 1, that he detects has checks inside of them. These are payments from patients for services done by the chiropractor, which "George McAlpin" intercepts and opens illegally. He then contacts the patients claiming to be the sole employee of a debt collection agency that he has made up.

Tom is forced to destroy his George McAlpin identity once he faces suspicion at a bank when trying to cash the checks addressed to his fake agency. In Ripley episode 1, Tom is dressed in disguise as a serious, traditional-looking businessman of some sort, giving off a very plain and safe impression. He admits he doesn't have an account with the bank but is able to provide identification in the form of a chauffeur's license with George McAlpin's information on it. This is a precursor to Tom's ability to change his identity and acquire fabricated forms of identification throughout later episodes of Ripley.

Once Tom faces heat under his George McAlpin name, he has no choice but to burn all the checks and the fake stationary he had made as part of his scam. This turns out to work out perfectly fine for Tom, however, who is on his way to Italy to meet with Dickie right after destroying all evidence of the George McAlpin agency. Fortunately for Tom, the George McAplin business never came back around to haunt him, but if he had been stuck in New York, it's likely that the bank he failed to convince would have pursued legal action against him. Dickie becomes Tom's saving grace as he leaves George McAplin and his old life in New York behind for good.

3. Richard 'Dickie' Greenleaf

Tom assumes the identity of Dickie in Rome after killing him

Pretending to be Dickie in Rome allowed Tom to justify living so luxuriously and also provided a track record of evidence that Dickie was still alive.

Tom's next big scam and identity theft begins after he kills Dickie on the boat in San Remo. Dickie confronts Tom rather foolishly, on a small boat in the ocean far away from shore with no witnesses around, which reveals how unsuspecting Dickie was of Tom all along. Dickie politely tells Tom that it's time for him to move on with his life and leave Atrani. He also reveals that his father believes that Tom had been taking advantage of him and the generous access to his money while on a mission to bring Dickie back home. Tom immediately sees where this is going and saves Dickie the trouble of having to bluntly tell him to pack his things and leave.

Tom is unwilling to let go of this golden opportunity to live lavishly as Dickie did in Atrani and resorts to murder as the best option for him to keep his fantastical dream alive. The only reason why Tom kills Dickie is so that he can become him, eeiriy wearing his clothes and taking ownership of everything Dickie owns like an insidious parasite. Pretending to be Dickie in Rome allowed him to justify living so luxuriously and also provided a track record of evidence that Dickie was still alive. Checking into hotels, writing letters on his typewriter, and all the other intricate ways that Tom covered up Dickie's murder maintained suspicion for long enough so Tom could buy enough time to get away for good.

Tom murdering Dickie, covering it up, and assuming his identity is the narrative spine of Ripley. It alludes to the main drive within Tom's character that he wished to be someone bigger and better than what he is as well as his lust for material wealth and special treatment that comes with status. Tom is also innately motivated to validate his worth as evidenced by his deep resentment towards his Aunt Dottie, who berated him as a child. By assuming Dickie's identity, and eventually making it his own, Tom could basically shove his wealth and status in the face of his Aunt and anyone else who questioned his significance and ability.

2. Tom Ripley

A shape-shifting and relentless con artist

The true Tom Ripley is hardly seen in the series despite it being named after him. All the audience can gather about who Tom truly is on the inside is a cold, callous, dangerous monster that is out to take everything he wants from others by any means necessary. Tom is deeply hurt by his Aunt Dottie's mistreatment of him, and is, of course, affected by the sudden death of his parents when he was just five years old, which undoubtedly left a dark cloud over the young Tom's head throughout his life. Regardless of his traumatic childhood experiences, Tom is unquestionably a sociopath who views murder as a viable option to acquire what he likes.

Tom Ripley hides beneath the people he pretends to be, even his own personality. The Tom Ripley that he convinces Marge and Dickie to be is certainly not who he actually is. Tom comes off as naively agreeable, innocently forgetful, intentionally vague, and forcefully relaxed, which some people see as strange in the way that it is calculated, as if by design. Tom's own identity is a creation because he hides his the dark monster within him at all times. Tom Ripley is truly a shapeshifter with an unsettling ability to adapt, mirror, and transform himself to fit his objectives, which are typically seedy and dishonest.

What makes Tom Ripley so disturbing is seeing him in the quiet moments when he is alone. He has a reptilian-like coldness about him, as if he is functioning only at a base psychological level of survival. Human emotions are used as tools of manipulation to get what he wants and to make people like him. Rather than simply existing as a human being, Tom crafts attitudes, opinions, interests, and personality traits in order to gain advantage on the path to achieving his goals. Tom's one goal is clearly to be wealthy and to be respected because of his wealth, which perfectly exemplifies how immensely hollow he is at his core.

1. Timothy Fenshaw

Tom's new identity in England

After essentially getting away with the murders of Dickie Greenleaf and Freddie Miles, Tom is able to shake off Marge without killing her, although he was just seconds away from doing so. He also avoids the detection of Mr. Greenleaf, the American investigator, and Inspector Ravini, who have all collectively bought Tom's angle that Dickie must have taken his own life. He also reaffirms the notion that Dickie could have killed Freddie. Once Tom successfully gets all the suspicion off his back, he resigns from using the Dickie Greenleaf alias altogether and allows everyone to believe that Dickie died by suicide.

Tom Ripley, living in Venice, understands that his plan had only worked because of some very lucky circumstances. Remarkably, no one had caught him when he was living a double life in Rome, despite all of the attention from the press. Now out of the crosshairs, Tom was still determined to own everything that Dickie had to do whatever he wanted with it, including the Picasso. Tom leaves Venice and assumes a new fake identity of Timothy Fenshaw with the help of John Malkovich's "art dealer" character Reeves Minot. This new identity allows him to retain all the wealth he has stolen from the Greenleafs and hang Dickie's Picasso with ease under his new Fensahw name.

Tom's preemptive measures end up saving him in the end when Inspector Ravini discovers that Tom had completely fooled him throughout the Freddie Miles investigation. Marge had finished her novel about Atrani and got it published thanks to Tom's sincere notes and sends a copy to Ravini. In the final moments of Ripley, Ravini is stunned to see a printed photograph of Dickie in the first few pages of the book that looks nothing like him. In truth, Dickie looked nothing like Tom, and Ravini was left humiliated. Tom, however, has already assumed the new alias Timothy Fensahw in England and will be much harder for Ravini to find at the end of Ripley.'

#Tom Ripley #Richard 'Dickie' Greenleaf #Timothy Fenshaw #Johnny Flynn #Black Mirror #Fleabag #All of Us Strangers #Steven Zaillian #Marge Sherwood #Dakota Fanning #Inspector Ravini #Maurizio Lombardi #Ripley #Netflix #The Talented Mr Ripley #Patricia Highsmith #George McAlpin #Andrew Scott

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