#ford!reader

[thegeeksideofsr]

Positive

Summary: Eliot finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom after getting home late from a job.

A/n: I know this gif is from season one and he's holding a thumb drive, but it fits the story kinda. El may be a little out of character, but I tried. Enjoy!

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It's been two weeks since I took the test. The positive symbol staring back at me.

It's in a drawer of the bathroom now. Buried under hair brushes, hair products, and a box of unopened condoms.

The days seem to go by in a blur. Going through the motions of survival while trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm pregnant.

Man, that's weird. My dad might have a heart attack. He nearly had one when he found out about Eliot and I. He was so angry at first, but he's been getting better about it.

I called Alice once the timer went off. She came over and held me while I cried.

She, Kate, and Deklan have practically put me on maternity leave six months early. They all are so supportive and wonderful, but the ones I want to be here and supporting me aren't.

I've had time to come to terms with it. It's still strange to know I'm carrying a baby, but I want them, even if I'm not completely ready. They are going to be amazing.

This morning I looked up some midwives in the area, found one, and gave them a call for an appointment.

I know the general time it happened, but I still want to be sure.

Once the appointment was made, I tucked into the couch to watch a movie. Under the warm blanket, and with the emotions from the last three days taking over, I drift of to the white noise of the movie.

A hand caressing my face, and a kiss to my forehead wakes me up.

Moving slightly, and opening my eyes a little, a form next to the couch comes into blurry view.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Eliot whispers.

"Please tell me you're really here, and I'm not dreaming again."

"I'm here. And I ain't planning to go anywhere any time soon."

I pull myself up, and finally look at him clearly.

He looks tired, and his hair is a little shorter, but he's still my Eliot.

I untangle my self from my blanket and launch into his arms, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist, my face pressed to his shoulder.

He catches me with ease. He tucks his face into my neck, his own arms wrap around my ribs and waist as we hold onto each other.

"I love you," he whispers, his scruff harsh against my skin.

"I love you, too."

With those few words the dam breaks.

I begin to sob, uncontrollably as he holds me.

"I missed you so much, darlin'. I got you."

I cry harder at his words, hoping that he won't change his mind when he finds out about the baby.

A deep breath to calm down, triggers a reaction I wasn't expecting.

I pull away from him, bringing a hand to cover my mouth and nose.

"What?"He asks, concern written across his face. "What is it?"

"You smell," I sob out.

He chuckles as my comment as he wipes tears from my cheek.

"I know. I need a shower, and some sleep."

I nob and take a few more deep breaths to calm down.

He leans back to his feet, and stand up. He holds a hand out to me, I take it, and he gently pulls me to my feet, then leads me to the bedroom.

I sit on the bed, legs tucked up under me, watching him as he strips, tossing his clothes in the hamper.

Nothing seems different. No new injuries or scars. Just a huge bruise, going from his shoulder, down his back to his ribs.

"What happened?" I ask. "To cause the bruises. Those aren't from a fight."

"Parker and I went up to the summit of this mountain, looking for a guy who got lost up there. We ended up falling into the same hole he did. We got lucky though."

"He didn't make it, did he?"

"No. It was deliberate. We got the guy that did it, though."

"That's good."

Clad in just his underwear he walks to bathroom, leaving me on the bed. The water comes on a moment later.

He comes back to the door way, eyebrow quirked and smirk.

"Wanna join me?" He ask.

"Absolutely."

I jump up and strip as I head to the bathroom, leaving a trail behind, gaining a wicked chuckle from Eliot.

We climb in the shower, the hot water soothing. We both wash up, washing the others hair, and each other, before rinsing off, and enjoying being together again.

I watch as he stands under the stream, washing the stress away, wondering how I'm going to tell him about the baby. Then his gaze turns to me.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, moving a strand of wet hair from my face.

"Huh?"

"You have that look on your face. Like there's somthin' botherin' you."

"I'm fine, El. It can wait."

"So there is somethin' on your mind."

"Yes. But it can wait until you are rested and settled back in."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

He doesn't look convinced. I try changing the subject by kissing him, which works wonders. Kisses always distracts him.

He leans into the kiss, arms wrapping around me and pulling my body flush with his.

We both get lost in each other. Hands travel as we reacquaint ourselves with each other, slowly building up to a long awaited reunion.

It's bliss. Until, his hand came to my breasts and squeezed slightly. No more then he had ever done before, but this time it hurt so much that it pulls a gasp and whimper from me.

I pull away from him completely, stepping back and wrapping my arms around my chest.

I close my eyes, not wanting to look at him.

"Baby. What was that? Did I hurt you?"

His voice is so soft, barely audible over the water.

"No. Just surprised me."

"That was more then surprise. I know how you sound surprised when I touch you, and when your hurt, and that sounded like hurt."

He closes the gap between us, his hands coming up to hold my head. He gently turns my head to look at him.

His brows are knit together, and eye round with worry.

"What happened?" He asks again.

"Nothing."

I pull my head from his hands, and leave the shower, grabbing my towel from the rack, wrapping it around me, and leaving the bathroom, latching the door behind me.

Pov Switch

Eliot sighs as the door clicks closed.

He turns and shuts the water off, then climbs out of the shower, and grabs a towel from the closet. He dries off, then wraps the towel around his waist, then rings his hair out over the tub, then starts brushing his hair out.

He racks his brain for any reason that she might be acting this way.

She was fine when they left for San Lorenzo, and the quick visit when they got state side. She knew that if something happened she could call, but she didn't.

And she never minded when he touched her, normaly she encouraged it. But this time, she flinched like it hurt. Yes her breasts get tender during PMS, but not this bad.

Nothing was wrong. Nothing he knows about.

He lets out a low growl, as he slams his brush down on the counter.

He has to take care of his hair, or it with become a fluffy rats nest.

He digs through the drawers, searching for his things, finding them after taking half of the drawers contents out. He sets what he needs on the counter, then starts replacing what he took out.

As he shoves them back in, he uncovers a piece of plastic, caught up with hair ties and combs. He picks it up to inspect it. White, with a pink cap, and on one side, a small screen with the word positive on the display.

The world stops, and his heart drops.

That would explain it. The tenderness, the odd smell sensitivity, and the question dodging.

She's pregnant. With his baby.

He stands on shaky legs, his hand shakes as well. His gaze holding fast to the test in his hand.

A baby. She is pregnant with his baby. And he is torn.

She would be a good mother, calm and sweet, but stern and fierce when needed.

But him? He was damaged and dangerous. His job was to hit people and lie. But at least Moroe was gone. One shadow of his past gone.

He sets the test of the counter to wash his hands from the trash, then grabs it again and opens the door.

He finds the woman who holds his heart, and now mother of his child, sitting on the bed, clad in one of his shirts as the brushes her own hair out.

"When did you find out?" He asks.

"What?" She looks up at him, looking like a dear caught in headlights.

He holds the test up to show her. Her eye move from his face to his hand, blood draining from he face.

"How did you find that?"

"Was lookin' for my hair stuff, found this while puttin' stuff back. Baby, when did you find out?"

Her eyes well up and flutter, her chin quivers.

Eliot crosses the room to sit next to her on the bed.

"Talk to me, please," he begs.

"Two weeks ago," she says, and the dam breaks.

His heart drops. Two weeks, and she didn't call.

"Why didn't you call me? You should have called me."

"You were on a job. I didn't want to distract or stress you out even more."

He sighs and pulls her into his chest, holding her head as she sobs.

"It's okay," he whispers. " It's gonna be okay. I promise. Just breathe."

"I'm sorry, Eliot," she sobs out. "I was gonna tell you, but I wanted to wait for the right moment."

"It's okay," he whispers. "Come on."

He gently pulls her with him to lay down on the bed, her head resting over his heart, their arms wrap around each other, her breathing slowly calms.

"Do you even want kids, Eliot?" She murmurs.

He squeezes her, the rolls her onto her side or lean over her, hand caressing her face.

" I never thought about it. Not before you." He starts. "I have never had the kind of life that would allow kids. I've done things that I'm not proud of, and-" he hesitates.

"What?"

"Our last job, the one that took us out of the country."

She nods.

"You got so distant. I thought you were going to end things between us. You all kept me in the dark."

"I'm sorry, darlin'. We just wanted to keep you safe. I think that is the only thing about you that your dad and I can agree on."

She huffs a laugh.

"After we broke Nate out of prison," he starts. "A woman came, and she black mailed us to take down a crime lord. Said we had to or she would kill us, and you. I had to protect you from her, and him."

"Him?"

He breaks eye contact.

"I used to work for him. I did terrible things for him. I got out eventually, was lost for while. Then got hired for a job, and met Nate," he looks back to her. " And you."

She smiles.

"I don't deserve to be a father," he starts. "To have anything so pure and innocent. But I'm selfish. I do want them. Do you?"

Her body relaxes as she nods, a new wave of tears begin to fall from her eyes.

"You really want this?" She asks.

"Yes."

POV Switch

Relieve floods me.

He want the baby. He's not leaving

He looks happy, a smile making his eye crinkle, and dimples appear, tears slide down his cheeks.

I bring my hand to his face, taking my turn to wipe the tears away.

"We're having a baby," he whispers.

"We're having a baby."

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[fablesrose]

Ch 23 - The Double Blind Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: A job in the pharmaceutical industry hits a little too close to home as a dangerous drug is about to hit the market.

Words: 7.8k

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“Hey, Eliot and I are walking past the pub heading to that cafe a couple blocks down, you wanna come?” Hardison asked when I picked up the phone. 

I looked down at the outfit I was wearing and figured it was clean looking enough to step outside into public in, “sure, see you in a minute.”

When I got down to the street, Eliot and Hardison were just walking up. It looked like Eliot had a similar idea to me, riding the line of comfy and presentable. Hardison looked a little more dressed up with a scarf. 

“What are you, a hipster in Portland?” I asked when I saw his outfit.

“That’s what I said,” Eliot huffed.

“I just have style,” Hardison said, “It’s not my fault you look like a bum next to me.”

“Hey!” Eliot and I said at the same time. 

Hardison quickly corrected himself, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Y/n, you look nice.”

I laughed at the clear exclusion and Eliot punching him in the arm. 

“Ow!”

They started bickering, so before it could escalate, I wedged myself between them, putting them on either side of me and wrapped my arms around them, forcing them to continue to walk towards the cafe. “Come on, boys, I think we all need a little treat this morning.”

The rest of the walk went by without much incident. Once we got to the cafe Eliot opened the door, Hardison went in ahead of me and as I passed Eliot, he placed his hand on my lower back as he followed me into the building. He kept his hand there, though it was almost hovering, as Hardison ordered in front of us. I ordered, and when I had finally pulled out my wallet to pay, the cashier was already handing a receipt to Eliot. I looked between the receipt and Eliot, finally pulling it out of his hand to see that it had my drink and his on it.

“Eliot,” I almost whined.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He looked at me innocently, a smile on his face. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” I insisted, feeling my face warm from the moniker. 

His smile widened, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He then handed me my drink from where the barista had slid it over the counter to us. He then turned to add sugar and cream to his coffee before we joined Hardison who was standing away from the counter with a pastry. 

“Thank you,” I whispered, taking a sip before we reached him. 

Eliot just hummed. 

“We staying or going?” I asked once we all stood together. 

“We can head back, there’s something I want to check,” Hardison said, “but I’m almost done, let me just finish this.”

I watched as he took two more bites, finishing the pastry before throwing away the wrapper.

“Already?” I asked, “Do you not savor anything?” I took a gulp of my drink, feeling like I needed to catch up. 

“Not today,” he replied, “It was too good to wait.” He took a napkin and wiped his face before tossing that too, “alright, ready to go?”

I looked at Eliot who rolled his eyes as he took a drink. 

“I mean, I guess,” I said. 

“Cool.”

Hardison led the way with Eliot and I right behind him when as we stepped onto the sidewalk, a woman ran into Harison, who then bumped into me. My drink spilled all over me and Eliot who stood beside me. 

“Sorry,” I winced, and then turned to see who had bumped into us. 

“FBI, sir,” two men came running up to us, flashing a badge that didn’t look right. “That young lady is in our custody,” he said, pointing at the woman who had run into us and Hardison was currently holding.

Hardison laughed, “Oh, you made two mistakes, bruv… First, you flashed that fake-ass FBI badge at me. Second, you spilled her drink.” Hardison then pointed at me and Eliot, who was looking over the damage. Eliot then tossed what was remaining of his coffee behind him and ran to beat up the two fake agents. 

The three of us: Hardison, this mystery woman, and I, all watched as Eliot beat them to a pulp before joining us to head back to the pub. The woman told us along the way that her name was Ashley and that she was just sitting there at a different cafe down the block when a man approached her, offering information about the drug trial her sister was part of. The drug trial that led to her sister’s death. When she had turned her back to take a call, he had disappeared, but she noticed those two men watching her across the street. When she had tried to walk away they had started to chase her down, and that's when she ran into us. Super suspicious, sounded like our kind of thing. 

“Alright, I’m gonna go change,” I said once we reached the pub.

“I’m gonna head home and change, too,” Eliot said, looking over his stained shirt, not only from my drink, but from the fake agents too.

“Sounds good, see you in a bit,” I told him as he walked down the street to where I assumed he had parked.

“Why don’t you go into the pub, I’ll go tell Nate to meet you down there,” I told Hardison. 

“Can you tell him to bring my laptop down too?” he asked as he descended the stairs with Ashley.

“Sure.” 

I did as we discussed, telling Nate to get downstairs with the laptop, and then went to change. I decided after I stripped down that I still felt gross, so I took a quick shower before putting on the clean clothes. They were a little nicer than my previous ones, figuring that if this was indeed a job, that I might need to look more publicly presentable. 

When I had gotten myself all straightened out Hardison called to confirm my suspicions. Eliot was going to come pick me up to head over to Dr. Robert’s house. Apparently this was the man that Ashley had spoken to at the cafe. 

“Hey sweetheart,” Eliot said as I hopped in his truck.

“Hey,” I mirrored, noticing that he had dressed up a little bit too. “Nice gloves,” were the only thing I commented on. 

He smiled a bit as we drove, his grip on the wheel tightening though the leather gloves he was now wearing. 

We pulled up to the address Hardison sent us and walked up to the Doctor’s apartment. Eliot knocked on the door while I called his name. We waited for a moment to listen for any movement inside, but it was quiet. Eliot tried the handle and it didn’t budge.

“Door’s locked and no one’s answering,” he said. 

“Alright, see if you can break in, but be subtle,” Nate answered through comms. 

Eliot and I exchanged a look. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered before kicking the door in with one blow. 

“Real subtle,” I teased. 

“You didn’t seem to have any ideas,” Eliot defended as we walked into the room. “Did you have a lock pick set on you?”

“Don’t tell Parker,” I replied, pretty much confirming that I didn’t.

Eliot called Dr. Robert’s name again while we walked further into the room. When there wasn’t an answer, I walked up to the table and picked up a set of keys.

“Does Dr. Robert’s drive a BMW?” I asked, looking at the key fob. 

“Pretty small apartment for one of those,” Eliot commented, looking around the room further. 

“He doesn’t drive a BMW, he drives a moped,” Hardison answered. 

I hummed, thinking, and examined the key fob further. There was a seam in an odd place for just a decorative item. After some fiddling, it parted into two pieces, showing one side was a cap.

“It’s a flash drive,” I said. 

“Plug it into Eliot’s phone,” Hardison said. 

I momentarily wondered why my phone wouldn’t work, but didn’t vocally express it. Eliot tossed his phone to me from across the room. I fumbled it for a moment before catching it into my chest. I finally plugged the drive into the port, “is it working?”

“Okay, according to these files Dr. Roberts was meeting with, uh, Darren Hoffman,” Hardison said. “Now Hoffman was trying to buy something from him for… Two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Sounds like a bribe,” Nate said. 

“To buy his silence maybe,” I added. 

“There’s nothing in his account that shows up that big,” Hardison countered, “if it was a bribe, he didn’t take it.”

“We’ve gotta figure out who this Hoffman guy is,” Nate said. 

I took the opportunity to slide Eliot’s phone, still plugged into the drive into my pocket so I could continue to explore the apartment. 

Hardison pulled up information on Hoffman. He was the CEO of PallaGen labs, who bought the company that was doing Ashley’s sister’s drug trial. Hoffman was a career executive, jumping from CEO position to CEO position with little to no background in any of the fields he was the executive for. 

I was about to turn a corner in the apartment when Eliot called out. 

“I found Dr. Roberts. Y/n, don’t come in here.”

I paused. “Is he dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he gruesomely dead?”

Eliot paused for a couple of seconds. “No.”

I walked into the room to see the doctor curled up on the couch, looking pale and almost peaceful, but very dead.

“They made it look like a heart attack,” he said. 

“What do you mean, made it look?” Nate asked. 

Eliot started examining the body, starting at the face, “Well, there’s nine places that a professional will use to deliver an injection.” He had to pry the doctor’s arm up from his chest and pry his fingers up from their clenched position. “They went under the fingernail.” Eliot let the arm go to settle back to its original position, “your Dr. Roberts was murdered.”

I sighed, looking at the body, not sure how to feel. It’s not the first dead body I’ve seen, but the others were nothing like this. I could feel Eliot’s eyes on me, evaluating me. He seemed to determine that I wasn’t going to start crying or puke, so continued to survey the room, checking the doctor’s pockets and drawers for anything useful. 

Sophie and Parker then joined the conversation saying that they had found the people Nate had sent them looking for, Parker listing off a substantial list of names. 

“Okay, who have you talked to so far?” Nate asked. 

“Well, that’s not really an option,” Sophie replied. “They’re all dead.”

That made Eliot pause again as the air started to feel heavier. It’s not everyday or every job where we have had evidence of the widespread impact of our marks, with a solid paper trail of just how many have already died. Usually its financial, or reputational ruin, or one or two deaths with the potential to save many more. I can’t remember a job that started with a death count this high. 

This job wasn’t going to be a fix-it job. This was going to be an avengement.

Eliot and I did a little more searching of the apartment, but didn’t find anything else. I confirmed that Hardison had everything from the flashdrive before pulling it out of my pocket. I wiped off any fingerprints I may have left on it with my shirt and left the key ring on the table where I found it. I silently handed Eliot his phone back as he escorted me out of the apartment, his hand hovering on my lower back, much like it was this morning. It didn’t feel like the same day, though. 

Eliot pulled the front door closed, making sure it didn’t swing open freely, even though he broke it down. We then walked silently back to his truck where the drive back to the pub was also silent. We seemed to wordlessly agree that we could pick this all back up tomorrow. It was probably for my sake. The more I thought about it, it probably didn’t bother Eliot as much as it did me. I couldn’t pin point quite what I was feeling, which made it that much harder to process. 

I told Nate and Sophie I was turning in for the night, the both of them were staying up for a little while to do some research and planning. 

I kept turning the day over in my mind. What triggered the feeling? Why is it lingering so much? Is it just the death, or the fact that a medical company is doing it? Maybe both. Eventually I digested it enough to fall asleep.

I woke up the next morning still in a bit of a funk, but feeling a lot better than the day before. I headed down to the poker room where Hardison had set up. Nate, Ashley, Hardison, and Parker were already there. 

“How’re you feeling?” Nate asked once I walked in. 

“Not quite myself,” I answered honestly. “But I can do whatever you need.”

Nate hummed, looking over some paperwork, ���Just relax for now, I’ll let you know if we need an extra man on this one.”

I nodded, somewhat relieved, and sat at the table. 

Nate and Hardison started explaining the plan. Parker was going to break into Hoffman’s office to find out what Dr. Roberts had on him. Her cover was going to be a pharmaceutical rep in training, previously a cheerleader and runner up beauty queen, to fit in with the other reps. 

“Beauty queen?” Parker asked skeptically. 

“Oh yeah, nice touch right?” Hardison said. “That was Ashley’s idea.” Hardison smiled, giving Ashley a fist bump while handing over Parker’s name badge which she took tersely. 

Nate moved onto Sophie’s part, getting close to Hoffman so he would go to her when we rattle his cage and scare him. In order for that to happen with Hoffman’s busy schedule with a new drug launch, we had to steal an appointment with a Jennifer Pearson, an FDA rep. 

“I’m sorry,” Ashley interjected, “how will you keep the real Jennifer Pearson from showing up?”

Nate looked at me for a hard moment, thinking, before replying, “Eliot can do that.”

Hardison called Eliot to give him a head start on getting ready and Parker pulled me aside while he was distracted. 

“I need you to do something for me,” Parker said seriously.

I blinked, “Okay?”

“I need you to keep an eye on her,” she said with a sharp tilt of her head to point at Ashley. 

I glanced at Ashley who was smiling at Hardison, “What am I watching for?”

“I don’t know, anything suspicious!” she whispered. “Please?”

I looked between the three of them: Hardison, Ashley, and Parker, starting to get a sneaking suspicion of what was going on here. I felt a smile twitch at my lips, “Maybe specifically between Ashley and Hardison?”

Parker’s jaw clenched and she didn’t meet my eyes. 

I let myself smile softly before placing my hand on her shoulder, sympathy coursing through me. I knew the feeling. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Parker finally met my eyes again. Her body seemed to relax just a hair before she nodded at me in thanks and left to get ready herself. 

Then it was just a waiting game for a little while. Waiting for Parker’s check in time, for Sophie’s stolen appointment time, for the real Ms. Pearson to show up. Hardison did a little bit of prep work, but most of the time was filled with talking. Between Ashley and Hardison specifically. Nate was mostly staring at the screens and some paperwork, lost in his own head. Ashley and Hardison pulled me into the conversation a time or two, but stayed mostly focused on each other. I had to give it to Parker, they were being a little friendlier than I would like if I was in her shoes. Which I guess I have been a couple of times. I think she was handling it relatively well. 

 Which, I did try to help her out, every time they started to go down a rabbit hole and start talking to each other closer and closer, I would gently try to add something to the conversation, making sure they were still in the real world and maybe not so close together. To their credit, it didn’t seem to bother them too much, so I didn’t feel bad being a horrible wingman for Hardison. Ya know, the whole “gals before pals” routine. 

And then, just like that it was rapid fire of our team heading into the belly of the beast: Pallagen. First, Parker checked in with her pharmaceutical rep team. Then Eliot was there to intercept Ms. Pearson, offering to show her around to keep her busy. Sophie then swooped in to take her appointment with Hoffman. 

We had the comms tuned to Sophie’s conversation. She had an air of flirtation, catching Hoffman’s attention. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve just heard so many amazing things about this company, and… and the man that runs it,” she said once introductions were made. 

“Well, you know… Can’t believe everything you hear,” he replied in cool humility.

“I’m sure in this case, I can,” Sophie doubled down. “I know that you must be very busy, but I was hoping you might show me around.” She placed down a file with a smack that we could hear through the comms, it must be the paperwork the real Ms. Pearson came to sign. “I have to discuss the possibility of doing some consulting for you.”

“I’d be honored.”

“Consulting is code for bribe,” Nate explained simply. 

The three of us turned to look at him.

“Yeah, doctors who review drugs for the FDA are allowed by law to take consulting fees from the drug companies,” Nate continued. 

I wasn’t super familiar with the practice, but I had heard of it. Hardison seemed to know more about it as he added onto Nate’s explanation to Ashley, who seemed the most in the dark. “See, it’s fifty thousand to each doctor on the FDA panel; two hundred thousand to the director of the New York Medical School to speak at the Pain Awareness Institute; and then twenty-five thousand to each celebrity who attends the annual dinner at the institute.”

“That’s a lot of money,” I said, mostly to myself. 

“What’s the Pain Awareness Institute?” Ashley asked. 

“It’s a foundation founded by Hoffman and PallaGen to, uh, legally funnel bribes,” Nate answered. 

“This is legal?” Ashley asked in disbelief. 

“Unfortunately,” I answered. 

“We’re in the wrong business, man,” Hardison smiled at Nate and then me. 

I cracked a smile and a huff at the joke, but Nate didn’t acknowledge it, moving on with the con.

“Parker, Sophie’s cleaning out Hoffman. Get in position.”

Sophie gave an all clear, meaning Hoffman was out of his office and she had planted a device on his digital door lock to keep it open. We then proceeded to listen as Parker used her awkwardness to her advantage for a full minute (though I’m sure it felt like a lot longer to everyone else) to get out of a sales role play exercise. 

Once she got into Hoffman’s office, she sent Hardison all of the files on Hoffman’s computer. 

“Locked file on a locked workstation,” Hardison said, picking out the file almost instantly. “I smell secrets… Oh, 256-bit A.E.S. encryption? Adorable.”

The file opened up with ease with multiple documents popping up on the screens. 

“Wait, hold on,” Nate said, pointing at one document in particular, “this right here, make that bigger.”

Hardison obliged, blowing up a page that showed the chemical composition of Vioplex, the new drug Hoffman was launching. Nate sorted through some pages on the table until he pulled another chemical composition diagram. He walked up to the big screen, comparing the two diagrams. 

“It’s identical,” he concluded. 

“It’s HT1,” Ashley said, “I’ve spent three years learning everything I could about the drug that killed my sister. That is HT1.”

“Okay, so I thought Roberts made a connection between HT1 and Hoffman, but no, it's between HT1 and Vioplex,” Nate said. “So Hoffman is going to release HT1 as Vioplex… And a lot of people are going to die.”

The weight I had been feeling since yesterday just became even heavier on my chest. Now there was even more at risk. 

Ashley did some more studying of the chemical compounds of the two drugs, telling us that they were the same drug, but Vioplex had a few time released protein inhibitors that would hide the symptoms and delay liver failure from months to years. 

“No, he can’t get away with this, no,” Hardison said after Nate looked over all of Hoffman’s bribes in order to push this drug through. 

“Listen, the FDA gets five hundred thousand complaints every year about bad side effects. By the time anybody figures out what’s going on, Hoffman will be long gone to his next CEO gig,” Nate explained. 

“So he’ll never be held accountable for the people he killed,” Ashley concluded. 

“That’s right, we need physical evidence that HT1 and Vioplex are the same thing,” Nate said. “We need the HT1 vials.”

“You think they still have them?” Ashley asked.

“Does any company or person over thirty five you know not have tax and other quote on quote ‘important’ documents on hand dating five to ten years back?” I asked rhetorically. 

Ashley blinked at me. 

I looked at Hardison in disbelief, hoping that he would agree with me. He gave me a pained frown and a nod telling me that he got me.

“Yeah, drug companies keep samples of everything,” Nate answered her more directly. 

“They’ve still got vials of smallpox in over a dozen countries,” Hardison added. 

“Do I wanna know what countries?” Ashley asked. 

Hardison and I both shook our heads no. 

What this all meant though, was that our con just got more complicated. Nate instructed Parker to try and find anything on where the vials were stored and Eliot had to keep Ms. Pearson around until we could get her the HT1 vials. 

“Dude, she’s on a flight in two hours,” Eliot whispered, emphasizing the conflict of the situation. 

“Well, do not let her get on the plane,” Nate replied while exiting the poker room to get a drink at the bar.

As I contemplated how he would do that, Eliot already got to work in making it happen. His tone when talking to her softened and lowered in a way that made goosebumps slightly raise on my arms and neck. He suggested she stay for a while, to not only tour PallaGen, but the city with him as well. I could hear her contained giddiness through the comms of changing her flight plans in order to oblige him. 

It was only when Parker said that she found a safe and was scoffing at his easy password that I noticed that my hands were clenched hard enough to leave deep indents into my palms from my nails, my hands slightly discolored from the change in blood flow. I stretched my hands, trying to get myself to relax and distract myself from Eliot flirting with the FDA rep. 

I noticed Hardison staring at my hands, seeing the indents and discoloration. “What?” I demanded, a little harsher than intended. 

“Nothin’” Hardison snapped back with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, turning his gaze back to his computer. 

I caught his lips start to creep into a smirk, so I tried to glare at him to knock it off, but it didn’t work. I tried to let it go and focus on something else, anything else. Unluckily, that something came when after using her phone to scan some documents she found, Parker was at risk of being caught when a security alert was sending guards to Hoffman’s office. Hardison told her to get out. 

“No no no, Parker, you don’t get out,” Nate denied. “You stay right where you are until we get what we need.”

Hardison and I shared a look. What was he doing?

“How much time do I have? Sixty seconds?” Parker guessed. 

“No,” Hardison replied, looking at his watch and getting up from the table, heading to the bar where Nate was, “fourty, uh, thirty-five, now twenty.”

“Now you have nineteen, you’re gonna stay where you are,” Nate said. 

I followed Hardison out of the room to talk to Nate. 

“No, Nate, look,” Hardison began, “security is literally seconds away from Hoffman’s office.”

“We need those vials,” Nate insisted. 

“But we also need Parker,” Hardison answered. 

While I was anxious about Parker, the feeling softened, hearing that from Hardison. I already knew she didn’t have anything to worry about with him, but hearing this just made it that much clearer to me, just the way he emphasized it, it was beyond just a teammate worrying about another member. 

The anxiousness fully left when Parker told us she was done a moment later, escaping the office before security could arrive. 

Nate’s smug and self assured expression at her answer caused me to purse my lips. This was toeing the line more than I would like. Even from Nate. Even for me, who has a higher tolerance for his bullshit than almost anyone. 

I wasn’t sure how to articulate this to him right then, though. I just had to stew over it while Sophie finished up her meeting with Hoffman, Parker made her way back from PallaGen, and Eliot continued to entertain the FDA rep. Luckily with the latter, I didn’t have to listen to it once Sophie and Parker were out. His part was the equivalent to background noise of the con. 

I was heading back up to Nate’s apartment at the end of the day to unwind with the others a bit when Sophie came nearly stomping into the pub. She had a fury on her face that told me that she was going to give Nate a talking to. That took a bit of pressure off of me to do it, though I knew I probably should still address it, Sophie could probably do it better and get through to him more than I could. As much as he loves and respects me, knows I am capable, I know that sometimes, I’m still just his little niece. A little girl that he needs to take care of, that he knows what’s best for her. 

It’s kind of funny actually. Both of us knew that he had no idea what he was doing back then, but he tried his best. He still has the underlying feeling that he knows what’s best though. Maybe that contradiction is just something that comes with being a parent, or in this case guardian. Or maybe it’s not that one could feel that they know best, but that they know better, so for now it is the best for the child. 

I guess it’s no good speculating. I won’t know for sure until I have kids of my own. If I have kids of my own. 

I sat down across from Hardison after entering Nate’s apartment. It wasn’t long before Eliot strolled in. 

This was the first time I had seen today, and boy, I wish I hadn’t seen him at all. He was in a suit, but no tie. Instead, his white shirt had two buttons tastefully undone. His hair was silky and voluminous as ever. Now I had to imagine him spending the whole day looking like that with the FDA rep. My jaw clenched as I tried to smile and greet him. 

He sat at the head of the table between Hardison and I. He didn’t say anything as he lowered his head to the table, resting it on his crossed arms. 

“Little Jennifer Pearson’s wearing you out, ain’t she,” Hardison teased with a smile. 

“Dude, we walked the freedom trail twice,” Eliot answered without lifting his head. 

“Nice,” Hardison grinned, assuming the innuendo, which I also assumed, causing even my practiced and poised tight smile to falter. I didn’t want to think about that, let alone hear about it directly from him. 

Eliot slowly lifted his head, “No, man. The actual freedom trail.”

Hardison’s smile started to falter. 

“We took paddle boats to the public garden, shopped on Newbury Street. I went to something called the Boston Duck Tour,” Eliot’s answer became slowly more exasperated, showing his displeasure and exhaustion. 

I hated to take pleasure in his lack of, but I couldn’t help the bittersweet feeling coming over me. I would have liked doing all of those things with him, so hearing that he didn’t like it caused me to shrink a bit. On the other hand, I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from breaking into an inappropriately wide smile, because at least he didn’t enjoy it with her.

Man, I’m turning into a monster. 

I cautiously reached over and rested my hand on his arm, squeezing it comfortingly, “I’m sorry Eliot.”

He shifted his focus to me and his face softened a touch, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Nate then walked in with a quick stride, without Sophie I noted, and sat at his desk to continue working. 

“Yo, the information I got from Hoffman’s office confirms that he’s still got vials of HT1 in PallaGen storage,” Hardison told him. “Thing is, the vials are stored in a case amongst hundreds of other cases in one of ten storage facilities. Now, if I do my math, that means this case was —”

Eliot banged his head on the table, “It’s gonna be hard to find!”

“I believe I was making that point,” Hardison said almost sarcastically after a pause. 

“Well, we are going to get Hoffman to lead us to the vials,” Nate answered coolly. “We’ll use Sophie’s friendship with him to get information, then I’ll enter the game to push.”

Eliot lifted his head with a cautiously thoughtful expression, “You realize the last guy that pushed Hoffman ended up dead?”

“Yeah, well, let him take his best shot,” Nate replied. “We’ll see who walks away this time.”

I felt my eye start to twitch at his attitude. I didn’t notice that I had started to grip Eliot’s arm, probably painfully, until he put his hand on top of mine. I instantly snapped my attention to him, relinquishing my grip on him, but he kept his hand on top of mine, giving it a squeeze. 

The three of us then exchanged a skeptical look. 

“Prison’s changed him,” Hardison said. 

“Better or worse?” Eliot asked. 

“Haven’t decided yet,” I answered.

On that note, we, with the exception of Nate, decided to call it a night. 

The next day, Sophie went to meet Hoffman over drinks to further discuss her consultation. Hoffman pretty much confessed to everything we assumed of him. People were going to die from Vioplex, and he didn’t care. He wanted Sophie to push the complaints to the bottom and once the deaths become a problem, they’ll send out an apology and pay the fines that would be a small fraction of the profits. 

Strangely, even though Hoffman was a dirtbag of one of the worst varieties, he still had enough chivalry to give Sophie his jacket when she expressed she was cold. Maybe that was some of her flirting and subliminal messaging though. She slipped away to take a phone call, giving Nate and opening the scare Hoffman a little bit. 

Nate blackmailed Hoffman, saying that not only did he know that Vioplex is HT1, but that he had proof, namely the vials that we needed to steal. Nate asked for five million dollars in exchange for his silence. Nate rattled him enough that Hoffman couldn’t wait to go check on them. He quickly excused himself from Sophie and retrieved his jacket from her, where she placed a button cam on so we could spy. 

The button cam was high definition and included GPS so we could track his path. We watched as he went to a particular facility and walked the halls to a particular storage room. He typed in the code in full view of the camera, so I chose to write it down, just to help keep track of it, along with the case number once he reached it. 

“Thank you Mr. Hoffman,” Nate said, watching the screen. 

“Now, Parker, look,” Hardison instructed before sending her off to get them, “we have the location, alright? Got the access codes, and we have the case number; all you have to do is go pick the lock on the cage. Now, I’m gonna compare Hoffman’s path to yours and, uh, lead you to the right room.” He handed her a button cam of her own so we could watch which she attached to her leather jacket. 

“Good luck,” Ashley wished with a smile.

Parker lifted her head to look at her with poorly concealed disdain, “Luck? Do I look like I need luck?”

I placed myself in front of Parker, breaking her line of sight on Ashley, “hey, I’ve got it,” I reminded her in a whisper.

That seemed to stop her for a second enough for Hardison to reassure her, “whoa whoa whoa, she just meant like, you know…” he smiled and gave her a thumbs up. 

Nate chose to send her on her way to change the situation. He handed her the trick case that she was going to switch the vials into, “go do your magic.”

Parker took it with the same expression, but left the poker room without further argument. 

Sophie let us know when she got into PallaGen and quickly told us that Hoffman was up to something. “Hardison, are we tracking his phone?”

“I’ve got a signal, I just don’t have a connection point,” he replied. 

Nate’s phone started ringing on the table next to me. I picked it up, looking at the screen to see that it was Hoffman calling, and handed it to Nate. 

“And now I have my connection point,” Hardison quipped. 

We listened to the short conversation between Nate and Hoffman that, in summary, consisted of Hoffman agreeing to the deal, but wanting to do it in person instead of just wiring him the money. Nate agreed before either of us could tell him no, convincingly at least. 

“‘You’ll be there,’” Hardison mimicked, “Nate, it’s a trap. What are you–”

“Do you wanna end up like Dr. Roberts?” Sophie asked. “All Hoffman has to do is send his goons out into the crowd to brush past you with a syringe.”

“She’s right, this is a suicide mission,” Hardison agreed. 

“Alright, listen, listen,” Nate interrupted, “If I don’t do it, it’s gonna tip Hoffman off and this whole thing will fall apart. So, I guess the rest of you are just gonna have to get it done before they manage to kill me.”

Through this whole exchange I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I was angry, scared, and overwhelmed. With how nonchalant he was in his last statement, a surge of energy boiled over and I burst from my seat, rounding the table to stand in front of him, blocking his way.

“That’s bullshit!” I yelled. I wanted to say something else, but nothing came out. Instead I found my hand raising to slap him, but it paused about halfway to his face. It stopped and I clenched it to a fist and just shook it at him before hitting it to his chest. Through this Nate’s expression didn’t change, he just looked at me in his arrogant way when he doesn’t really care what happens. The outburst suddenly drained all my energy and resistance in an instant. I was finally able to whisper, “don’t let them take you away from me too.”

I thought I saw his expression soften, just for a moment before he kissed me on the forehead, whispering something into my hair that included “birdy,” but I couldn’t make out the rest of it. And then just like that, the moment was over and he was back to how he was, confidently sidestepping me and walking out of the room. 

I grabbed the closest chair and slumped into it, the lack of adrenaline now draining on my body and emotions. Hardison hesitantly patted me on the shoulder before returning to his computer. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” Eliot asked through comms on his way to PallaGen to entertain Ms. Pearson for a little longer and hopefully keep Nate from being killed.

I hummed, pausing before actually answering, “Ask me again when this job is over.”

Everything was quiet until Nate showed up to PallaGen. 

“I’m in. Does anyone see anything suspicious?” he asked. 

“No, but that’s kind of the point,” Eliot replied. “They’re gonna try to blend in. Look for guys that have a couple inches on everybody else here, and hands in their pocket. Shoes that lace up a little too high. Security guys always wear shoes they can run in.”

“Noted,” I commented. 

“Narrows it down,” Nate fired back. 

Ms. Pearson’s voice came through the comms, asking if Eliot was even listening to her. Eliot agreed distractedly, but couldn’t really respond. 

“You know, I’ve dated a lot of you drug company guys,” she said, “you’re all the same. You’re nice, you’re handsome, and married to the job. Look, I’ve really enjoyed our time together. I’m just looking for someone who’s a little less settled.”

Eliot tried to stutter out a rebuttal. 

“It’s not a criticism,” she assured. “You are a great guy. I’m just not looking for someone who sits behind a desk all day. I want someone who travels the world and takes risks, somebody a little more dangerous.”

“Right,” Eliot hesitantly responded. 

Eliot chuckled and ensured she would wait to sign the paperwork with Hoffman until after the launch. She agreed that they could hang out for a little while. 

“You alright Eliot? You need time to shake it off?” Nate asked bluntly. 

“Shut up!” Eliot replied. “Let’s get this show over with.”

“You know? Respect,” I said. “Upfront, knows what she wants. I like it. It kind of compliments your grifting skills Eliot.”

Hardison gave me a side eye when I said upfront, to which I told him to shut up.

“Hardison, how are we doing on the vials?” Nate asked. 

The route to the vial’s and Parker’s location, marked as a red dot was on the screen, Ashley and Hardison were watching it standing close to the screen. I chose to stay in my seat to try and give myself room to breathe. 

“Parker’s two minutes out,” Hardison replied. 

Parker’s dot deviated from the route, taking a wrong turn. 

“Wait, wait, stop,” Hardison said. “Parker, you’re going the wrong way, turn around.”

She silently did as she was asked. 

“Alright, now take a right,” Hardison told her. “There’s a security camera over your right shoulder.”

“Got it,” she responded. There were a couple of beats of silence as she maneuvered around it before she asked for the code to the door. 

Hardison and Ashley looked at each other, asking the same question before scrambling back over to me at the table to find it. I sighed and pulled out my note where I had written it down. 

“Parker, it’s five one one nine nine three,” I told her. 

“I’m in,” she replied a second later. 

I looked over to Hardison and Ashley who were staring at me, paused midway through shuffling through papers and scanning the video tape of Hoffman. 

“What?” I asked. They didn’t answer, so I lifted my note that I had the code written on and waved it a little, “contingencies.” I turned back to watch the screen and Parker’s progress. 

I heard Hardison mumble a bit clunkily, “you are your… uncle’s niece?” Clearly altering the saying of ‘you are your father’s daughter’ as he worked on his laptop making sure the motion sensors were disabled for Parker

I hummed in response.

Parker was able to get in and switch out the cases, putting the vials in a trick case that can make it seem like the vials are there or missing from the case, depending on when and how you open it. 

“Done,” Parker said once she had exited the cage, but not the room. 

“Alright, good,” Hardison replied. “Turning on the motion sensors… now.”

There was a moment where nothing happened.

“Parker, come on,” I said.

She sighed. There was another pause before she spoke. “I triggered the motion sensors. The HT1 vials are in the cage. How long until security’s here?”

“Fifteen seconds,” Hardison replied. 

“Plus or minus?”

“Plus or minus none. Get out of there now.”

With a little bit of finangling with the guards, she was able to get clear. 

Then it was time for Nate to at least try to get out before things got messy. Unfortunately that wasn’t in the cards with Hoffman’s goons grabbing him and bringing Nate to his office. 

“So glad you could join us,” Hoffmann said. 

Nate chuckled humorlessly, “What’s going on?”

“The deal’s changed.”

“Look, I don’t understand,” Nate stuttered in reply, “I thought a businessman like you would know how to keep a deal.”

“We had a deal when you said you had the vials, but you were bluffing. Nice, getting me to lead you to the storage facility. Too bad the hack you hired to steal the cases got caught.”

“Mm, she didn’t get caught.”

“She left empty handed,” Hoffman shot back. There was a pause before he continued, “See? Now I have the vials, and I have you. I think we need a new deal.” He then told his goons to wait outside and guard the door. 

Eliot quickly made his way to the office and took care of the guards, making sure the door was clear.

“As far as I’m concerned, the old deal still works,” Nate said. “You give me the money, and no one finds out that Vioplex is identical to HT1, right? Okay, alright, listen… I’ll lower the price for you: two million dollars.”

“Still negotiating, huh? Well, I gotta admire your persistence.”

“Well, you know, the truth’s gonna come out once people start dying.”

“Well, sure, but by then, Vioplex will have made this company billions of dollars, and I’ll have turned that success into a penthouse office in a fortune five hundred. I think I’ll try oil next,” Hoffman replied, showing that Nate knew his corrupt CEO types well.

Sophie, at this point, went and approached Ms. Pearson at the launch party, introducing herself as Hoffman’s assistant, saying that he was ready for her to sign the paperwork, sending her up on her way to the office. 

“It’s a great idea, great plan,” Nate conceded. “There’s just one little snag.”

“What’s that?”

“We stole the vials.”

“Then what’s this?” 

“That’s an empty box. Yeah. We have the via- well, we had the vials.”

“You ‘had’ the vials? Where are they now?”

“Well, now, they’re in the champagne that you’re… drinking.”

Hoffman didn’t reply, there was a clacking noise coming through the comms of him opening the trick case to see it was empty with a little note saying ‘cheers.’

“Now, I got to tell you, it was a pretty concentrated dose,” Nate told him, “so, your liver will fail in the next few hours. Two days tops. You should be experiencing nausea, followed by this intense, profound, uh, fatigue, loss of appetite-”

“Now stop it!” Hoffman stopped him. “I know you couldn’t have drugged the champagne. I’ve been watching you since you’ve got here.”

“Well, I’m not working alone, so…” 

Ms. Pearson entered the office, introducing herself, and told Hoffman that his assistant sent her up when he expressed confusion. Hoffman insisted that he had already met the FDA rep, and so Nate reminded him that he wasn’t working alone, revealing that Sophie was in on it. 

Hoffman stormed out of the office with a ‘no!’ Ms. Pearson, understandably, asked what was going on, so Nate told her to follow Hoffman, that he would explain everything, handing her the case to keep with her. 

Hardison hacked into the security system so we could watch the chaos unfold. Hoffman went around yelling about the champagne being poisoned, smashing glasses out of people’s hands. Hardison put the chemical compositions of HT1 and Vioplex next to each other on the screens, showing that they were the same. All of the shareholders were in shock and Ms. Pearson put the pieces together quickly. Hoffman insisted that we had stolen the vials, and so Ms. Pearson opened the case to show that they were still there. Now she had the vials to do testing with. The press surrounded Hoffman, asking questions. 

“Fifty high profile doctors, two dozen medical journalists, and an FDA rep,” Sophie said once she met up with Nate. 

“That should do it,” Nate replied.

“You do realize that that stunt you pulled defines ‘out of control,’” Sophie said.

“I just wanted you to see that I would never put any of you at risk if I wasn’t willing to take the same chances myself.”

“I love that you think that’s comforting.”

“Let me just pose a question,” I said. “Would you have made the same calls if I were in there?”

There was silence on the other end of the comms.

“That’s what I thought.” I pulled out my com and started helping Hardison clean up. 

They made their way back to the pub. Parker pulled me aside again where I assured her that Ashley was fine, and nothing weird or inappropriate happened between her and Hardison. Despite this, she still looked a little uneasy. 

Hardison sat down with Ashley to give her some financial compensation and a new quest of finding all the people that were impacted by HT1. Parker continued to stare them down, so I turned to Sophie who was sitting next to her and told her that it was her turn with Parker. Sophie gave me a perplexed look but I didn’t elaborate as I left the pub. 

Eliot was waiting for me on the way to my apartment.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked again, referring to earlier in the job.

I sighed, a lot of the anxiety of the job leaving, “Yeah, I think I’ll sleep for a couple of days though.”

Eliot nodded. 

“Thanks for looking out for Nate.”

“That’s my job,” he replied simply. 

“I still appreciate it,” I reiterated. 

We stood looking at each other for a moment before I turned and finished the short journey to my apartment. I followed through and almost immediately fell asleep, the lack of adrenaline and anxiety exhausting.

A/n: Reblogs and comments are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder @wh1sp @who-actually-cares-anymore @romanreignsluver1 @fictional-hooman @nothingryuu @onomatopoetic101999

[kentstoji]

• whenever ROBERT FORD wrote a narrative, it was necessary to seek out nuances of hell hidden between the lines of his immaculate text. the devil is always in the details, in the minutiae that we overlook due to their subtlety. and with him, it was no different.

• every detail, initially fictional, was part of a path. a bloody adventure, with numerous routes and possibilities.

• however, every leader, every angel, every god needs a successor. someone to carry on the sadistic legacy the park harbored. If ARNOLD WEBER had DOLORES ABERNATHY— the sharp-minded host —and the darling CHARLIE as children, ROBERT FORD had you, as his HEIR.

• an heir intimately involved in various narratives within the parks. And the NEWCOMER favored by some of the hosts.

[thegeeksideofsr]

I did something similar once. Though it wasn't crime it was on roll to run a restaurant........

Trying to write Leverage fic is tricky, because if there's an evil mark involved, you run the risk of spending hours upon hours researching real-life crimes and injustices (only 2% of which are actually relevant to your story) and then getting sad that the characters are fictional and can't actually do anything about them

[doodlenoodleboi]

I'M SORRY BRO IS AS OLD AS MY GRANDPA AND I STILL WANNA HIT!

Edit: Follow the artist this got a lot of love but give the artist some!

(I just realized she had Tumbler I found these on Pinterest)

https://lydibug-art.tumblr.com/ Shop: http://lydibugart.bigcartel.com

[lucigooseart]

stanley pines

grunkle gilf brain rot is going crazy rn guys. pls enjoy

[tessxblxckthorn]

i just realised that the next time leia sees obi-wan he gets killed and i am not well.

[gay-dorito-dust]

What would be Stan’s brothers reaction when after Y/n helped them with stuff and they said “Well, what are you waiting for? Kiss on the cheek?” Or “what else do you want? A kiss on the cheek?” And reader fastly respond ‘Yes please’ without hesitation 🤑

Ford:

‘What are you waiting for? A kiss on the cheek?’ Ford said when he noticed that you were lingering nearby.

‘Yes please.’ You replied almost instantaneously.

The poor man was now blushing to the tips of his ears as his eyes grew wide. This wasn’t a response he was expecting and therefore not properly prepared to answer accordingly.

He didn’t expect you to eagerly agree even in the slightest and now he was racked with nerves, while his mind overworked on whether or not you were joking with him. Ford has never been in the situation before where someone shown active interest in him, so needless to say this man was imploding on himself over shat could only be a theoretical.

He hated vagueness and ambiguity, they were his biggest personal pet peeves. he much preferred things to be upfront and direct for he tended to look for deeper meaning in things they didn’t need to be looked at so intently or up close.

‘I- well if it’s okay with you.’ Ford says, finding the collar of his turtleneck a little tight and finding it hard to swallow the lump in his throat.

‘It’s more than okay.’ You said with a smile.

Ford had to steel his nerves that were running rampant within him as though he was still that teenage boy, he mustered the strength he needed to press a sweet, almost featherlight kiss to your cheek that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Stanley:

‘What are you waiting for? A kiss on the cheek?’ He asked.

‘Yes please.’ You said without hesitation.

Stanley, while taken aback but your straightforwardness, smirked in response as he leant closer to you.

‘Oh do you now?’ He says playfully with a raised brow, trying his hardest not to show just show affected he was by your words as he felt his heart in his throat.

‘I wouldn’t have said otherwise.’ You replied with a smile, taking a step towards him as he internally congratulated himself for not loosing his touch. (or so he liked to claim when in reality it’s you who holds the more power in this situation.)

Stan only said what he said because it was something his father said time and time again to him after he did something that he thought would finally make his father look at him. Only for that to not be the case as his father easily dismissed his efforts and managed to degrade him with a single sarcastic comment that felt like a dagger to the heart.

Here when he said it, you made it sound a lot sweeter when you gladly accepted the prospect of him kissing your cheek, almost as though it was the only thing that would make your entire day. You were far too sweet for Stan but you attract more with honey than vinegar or so they say and needless to say you had this man hook line and sinker with how sweet you were.

‘Okay honey just remembered you’re the one who asked for this.’ Stan said as he pressed a kiss to your cheek that made you want more in the future.

[sleeplessdreamer14]

If you honestly think Ford didn't keep a photograph of you on his person during his time in the multiverse like a soldier keeping a locket with a picture of their lover during a war, think again.

[midnightbears]

this but with stanford/stanley pines

[nenoname]

It's still interesting that TBoB called more attention to Stan's control over his mindscape (And if you go with the interpretation that the lost pages are partial truths that are heavily influenced by Bill, then he's the one insisting that only someone with training should be able to have that much control over the mind.)

Meanwhile we have a memory!Stan. Someone who apparently knows too much and is rather aware for being a simple memory.

From the Wheel of Shame, we know Bill was able dig up all kinds of dirt on Stan but... that wasn't why he was there in the first place, was it?

Bill couldn't find the code immediately despite a memory of Stan opening the safe being a few hours old at most and decided to have Mabel try find it for him (The original concept of the ep had it far more hidden but this was likely cut because of time constraints)

Ford did experiments on Stan's mind which likely meant using Project Mentem and actually looking around his mindscape, and his only reaction was to comment on his jokes-- despite what little we the audience know being enough to render us sobbing wrecks

(yes I refuse to shut up about this part cos the book's intro is extremely underrated)

Stan was able to replace his memories of Ford with the swingset instead and managed to hide Ford in his Bar Mitzvah memory. And that's not even mentioning the lack of visible Portal and Stan o' War which noticeably show up in Ford's dreamscape (the broken swingset manifesting anyway pains me tho)

He subconsciously has misdirects for his secrets that are both silly and manages to disturb everyone too

And while Bill-as-Soos being bored by the vending machine memory is a joke that's basically the crew's way of going "hey remember the thing way back in the first ep that's going to show up in the next one?" and in-universe appears to be Stan slipping up, it's interesting that they had Stan input the wrong code when it's consistent literally every other time its inputted (especially when it shows up correctly in the very next episode)

It's even possible that the safe code that Bill found could have been a misdirect too but we'll never know since the safe got blown open by dynamite.

Stan was able to buy time by making his mind blank despite being genuinely terrified when Bill enters his mind (to the point that he breaks character and uses his own voice to yell), and could conjure up his living room (in colour opposed to his mind's regular greyscale) to make sure Bill didn't have enough room to flee, slamming the door in his face before the effects of the memory gun kicked in.

(EDIT: Random door analysis here)

And maybe the twins eventually told him that Bill had already been inside his mind after their W3 reunion, but all we know was that his conscious self was left in the dark for ages and wasn't really aware of Bill until Weirdmageddon.

TBoB showing McGucket's dreamscape also brings up the idea of the effects of the memory gun manifesting differently to each person. To Stan's mindscape, the memory wipe manifests as blue flames which immediately brings to mind Bill's powers but it's a far lighter shade (maybe to more closely match the memory gun and its eventual fade to white?)

The end of TBoB and the website poem also firmly reminds us about Stan's connection to fire but there's also the question if Stan himself is actually aware of it...

[thegeeksideofsr]

Midnight Snack

Summery: Nate's daughter' period is a pain, literally and figuratively. Sent home to relax, and receives a late night visitor.

A/n: This is entirely self indulgence. I was on my period, had cramps and wanted cuddles. But alas. I am single. So this was made. Eliot might be a little OOC, but whatever. It's fluffy.

The kitchen is a buzz with activity. Kate works with the pastry chef and over sees the line cooks prepping at their stations, the prep cooks prepare ingredients and portioning them out, and the bussers setting tables up.

I sit at the bar talking with the sommelier, Alice, and bartender, Duncan, about the wine list, the drinks available, and the influx of minors trying to buy alcohol.

I try to pay attention to them, but my cramps are taking over, going from my waist to my lower back, I run a hand along my abdomen, trying to soothe the pain.

"Boss, you ok?" Duncan asks.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine, hun," Alice pipes in. " You look like you are going to be sick or pass out."

"I am fine," I stress. " It's just cramps. I've had them before and I'll have them again. Now the wine list-"

"Boss!" Yells Kate comes out of the kitchen in a trot. " Do you still want to do the- whoa! You look like shit!"

"Thanks, Kate. Just what every girl want to hear."

"Sorry, but you do." She turns to Duncan and Alice, "What'd you two do to her?"

"Nothing!" They exclaim.

"She has cramps and insists she's fine even though she looks awful." Alice's explains.

Kate turns to me, "You want to go home? I can hold down the fort."

"I can't. It's a Friday night, I can't leave you guys here while I'm at home."

"Ok, but how much help are you going to be of you are in pain all night. Have you taken anything?"

I nod. "Forty minutes ago. They haven't touched it."

"Well then I am pulling Soue Chef rank and sending you home." Kate's hand in her hips and a determined look on her face.

"I don't think that's a thing." Duncan mutters.

She ignores him and squints at me. "I will call your father and tell him you aren't talking care of you self."

I squint back.

"You wouldn't."

She reaches into her pocket, pull her phone out and opens to his contact. Her finger hovers over the call button.

"If you don't agree to go home in the next ten seconds I will call him." She says calmly then begins to count down.

I look to Duncan and Alice.

Duncan raises his hand in defense,"I'm not getting in the middle of Kate and one of her missions. I know better."

Alice shrugs. "While I don't agree with her tactics, you need a break. You have been here almost everyday for the past three months."

I glare at them. "Traitors."

"Five, four, three" Kate's finger hovers closer to the screen.

"Fine! I'll go home!" I relent. " What are you, twelve? Threatening to call my dad."

Kate shrugs as she put her phone away.

"It worked though. What's that say about you?"

I roll my eyes as I slide of the stool. "I hate you."

"I know."

I head to my office to get my phone and some paperwork, then to the wall of lockers in the back for the rest of my stuff.

I explain to the kitchen crew that I'm not feeling well and that Kate is sending me home, they all nod in understanding as they have also experienced her mothering, then stop at the bar again on my way out.

"Call me if you need me," I tell the trio. " I can still -"

"We will survive until Monday," Alice assures.

"Monday?"

"We discussed it," Kate nods, and gestures to the pair next to her. "And decided you need a vacation. You make sure this place runs smoothly and that everyone is ok. It's time you took care of yourself."

The thoughtfulness is touching, and she is right, a break would be nice.

"If you're sure."

"Go!" The three practically yell.

"Ok, ok I'm going."

I head towards the door, wave one last time, then open the door.

"Call the guy you told me about!" Kate yells after me. " The one with blue eyes!"

"What guy?" Duncan asks, a protective tone to his voice.

I roll my eyes and head to my car.

**********************************************"

Once in my apartment I go for a hot shower, hot as I can stand. My cramps are a bit better, but not gone, and the heat of the shower helps.

After the shower come the comfy pants, my favorite sweatshirt, and fuzzy socks.

I make my way to the kitchen and make a cup of tea. I place a bean bag in the microwave and turn it on for a few minutes to heat up.

Once it's done, I grab my mug and bean bag, then head to the couch turning off lights as I go.

Once in the living room I grab the remote and place it on the side table next to my mug, before placing the bean bag on my lower belly then tuck my blanket in around me.

I turn the TV on and pull up my comfort show, volume turned down low.

Cool autumn air flows in from the window, cracked open for fresh air, fairy lights line the ceiling of the living room casting a warm glow.

After half an hour my phone vibrates on the side table, my Dad's name across the screen.

I pick it up to answer.

"Hey, Dad. How are you?"

"Hey, kiddo. I wanted to check in, haven't heard from you in a while. Didn't expect you to pick up. Was gonna leave a message because you were working."

"I'm fine. Just busy with work. I wasn't feeling well so Kate sent me home," I explain.

"Are you okay?" His voice full of concern.

"I'm fine. Nothing a good nights sleep won't fix." I assure him. "I'm sorry I haven't called you or come by, but you and the team seemed busy. The last time I saw you all Eliot looked like he when toe to toe with a moose and lost."

"Yeah, we have been rather busy, but that doesn't excuse us not spending time together."

"I know, but it's not a big deal. We both have been busy. It happens. And what you and the team are doing is good work, I don't want to get in the way. The least I can do is feed you when I have the opportunity."

He goes quiet, neither of us speak for a moment.

"Can you come over tomorrow? Just us. So we can catch up?"

I smile. "Of course! What time do you want me there?"

"Ten?"

"Ten is perfect. I-"

I hear a yell in the background, I think is Eliot . Dad yells back that he's on his way.

"I have to go, kiddo. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow."

We hang up, I set my phone down again and go back to my show.

I start to dose after a few episodes. My bean bag long since cooled, but the blanket keeps the heat in. Thankfully the cramps have subsided.

A knock on my door breaks through the quiet.

A groan leaves me. I extract myself from my cocoon, keeping my blanket wrapped around me as I trudge to the door.

I look through the peap hole, to find Eliot on the other side.

Confusion floods me as I unlock and open the door.

"Eliot?" I ask him. "What are you doing here this late."

"Nate said you weren't feelin' well." He lift his arm, showing off a fabric bag. "I brought this."

"What is it?"

"Can I come in?"

I nod, stepping out of the way.

He step past me to stand in the entrance awkwardly while I lock the door.

I turn to him. He looks out of place in my cozy apartment. His leather jacket and hoodie over a Henley, work boots and blue jeans.

He in turn looks at me. Reminding me that I'm wearing a blanket as a cape and fuzzy socks.

"Where's your kitchen?" He asks.

"Down on the left." I gesture towards the kitchen.

He nods, goes to take a step but hesitates.

"Should I take my boots off?" He asks.

I look down to his rather dirty boots, then back to his face.

"Would you mind?"

He shakes his head.

"I can take the bag to the kitchen if you'd like."

He hands it to me hesitantly, then bends to unlace his boots.

I head to the kitchen, "Make yourself at home," I call over my shoulder.

I place the bag on the counter, then turn my kettle on for another cup of tea, or hot chocolate. That would be good too.

Foot steps pull me from my thoughts as Eliot comes to the counter and start to pull items from the bag to lay on the counter.

Two tupperware of something, two quart jars of what looked like broth, and a tub of my favorite ice cream.

"Can I borrow your kitchen?" He asks, leaning against the counter next to the items he laid out.

"Depends. What are you making?"

He opens and sets down one of the tupperware to reveal scrambled eggs and small bits of cooked chicken, repeating with the next container to reveal small elbows pasta.

"My mom's chicken noodle soup. Homemade broth is what makes it so good. Fixes any ailment you got."

Oh that sounded good.

"Eliot, as sweet as this is and how good it sounds, I don't think that soup will help me right now."

He shrugs. "Never know till ya try it. How ya feelin' any way?"

I hesitate and look away from him.

He steps closer, his hands rest on my arms, heat radiating through the blanket around my shoulders.

"What is it?" He asks.

"My period. The cramps have been really bad today. Kate made me go home because I looked like I was going pass out. I was fine, but it was nice to relax for a while."

"Have you taken anything for them?"

I nod. " Some meds. And a hot shower and a heated bean bag. It's fine though, you didn't have to come over."

He shakes his head, "I don't mind. Are you cramping now?"

"The meds are wearing off," I check the clock on the stove, "I can take more in half an hour."

"Alright. When's the last time you ate?"

That question makes me pause. Thinking back, I wasn't hungry when I got home, or after my shower, so that ment the last meal would have been lunch with Alice and Kate. Considering it was ten-thirty , it had been about eleven hours. Yikes.

"Lunch time," I mutter.

He sighs and give me a disapproving look.

I roll my eyes, "I know. You can cook if you agree to stay and eat with me and keep me company."

He lets a half smile cross his face. " Deal."

I nod then leave him to fetch my mug for a new cup of tea.

On my return I see he's pulled a medium pot from the cupboard, emptied the two jars into it, the container of eggs and chicken as well, the ice cream no longer on the counter, presumably tucked away safely in the freezer.

"Where'dya keep your herbs?" He asks.

"Left of the stove." I gesture towards the cupboard as I pour hot water into my mug.

He opens the cupboard, reading the hand written labels.

"You dry these yourself?" He turns to me, holding the jar of dill.

I nod.

"The building has a community garden. Some people grow fruits, others grow veggies. I grow the herbs and dry them. The landlord has a chicken coop and those ladies are egg producing machines," I explain with chuckle as I grab my mug and move to the kitchen table, tucking my legs under me.

"We share what we grow, like a family. There's only a six units in the building so it works well. It was nice when Dad was out in LA. And when Sam died. My neighbor's made sure I was ok during that time."

"Nate wasn't there for you?"

"Not as much as I would have hoped. He took it the hardest. He got really angry at the world." I look down to my hands. "I was just starting my restaurant when he got diagnosed. Kate was the only one who knew."

"I'm sorry." He says, looking at me with a sad look. "I met Nate when he was probably at his worst. He was reckless. He never mentioned you before."

I laugh lightly.

"I'm not surprised. He always kept work and family separate as much as he could."

He nods then goes back to cooking.

I watch him cook. His movements smooth and confident, adding herbs and stirring them in, adding the pasta and turning the heat down to simmer.

Watching him slowly gets taken over by pain encircling my hips and lower abdomen.

I lean forward over my lap, squishing my organs to relieve the pain. I must make some kind of noise, because Eliot's feet appear in front of me, then he squats down in front of me.

"You ok, darlin'?"

"I'm fine." I mutter.

"No, you're not. Where are your meds?"

"Bathroom, left middle drawer."

He leaves my view, I hear him rummage through the drawer, then his foot steps back to the kitchen.

He squats back in front of me, opening the jar and pouring out a few pills into his hand.

"How many?"

"Two."

He puts the extras away until two remain in his palm, held out towards me.

I sit up, and take them from him, I wash them down with my tea, now drinking temp.

I set my mug back on the table, Eliot's gaze following my movements, hand on my knees gently rubbing.

"Why are you so calm about this?" I ask. "Most guys are kinda grossed out, or do the bare minimum."

"My mom taught me to take care of people, especially women in pain. Plus I've been workin' with Parker and Sophie for two years, this ain't my first rodeo."

"Parker must be a handful." I joke.

"Yeah she is." He chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "You need anything else?"

"Not right now." I push my blanket from my shoulders to stand up. "I think I'll go back to my spot on the couch after a quick bathroom stop."

He nods, taking a step back allowing me room to stand.

I head to the bathroom, sounds come from Eliot moving about my apartment through the door.

Once I'm done I head back out towards the kitchen, but the living room catches my eye, the couch specifically.

My blanket it there, not on the kitchen chair, my mug on the side table, and two bowls sit on the coffee table in front of the couch, steam rising from them. The microwave hums is the kitchen.

I stand in the door way of the kitchen, starring at Eliot, leaning against the counter waiting for the microwave to finish.

He looks up at me.

"Go sit down. I'll bring this over when it's done."

"What is it? My bean bag?"

He nods.

"Found it when I brought you blanket over. Thought I'd warm it for you while you were gone."

The thoughtfulness makes my heart flutter.

"Thank you, Eliot."

"You're welcome. Now go sit." He points towards the living room then turns to the microwave as it beeps.

I give a small salute then head to the couch, tucking my self into my blanket like a nest.

Eliot follows a minute later holding the bean bag.

"Over the blanket or under?" He asks.

"Under." I reach for the bag, move the blanket and settle it across my lap and abdomen.

I tuck the blanket back around me, leaning my head down to the back of the couch.

"Better?" He asks.

I hum an confirmation.

The couch dips next to me, he sits close enough to feel his body heat, but not touching.

He leans forward and pick up a bowl, passing it to me, then picking up the next for himself.

I thank him, then take a spoon full of the soup. It smells amazing, and the taste even more so.

"Eliot, this is amazing. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like it."

I watch him as he eats, sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward like he's really to go at a moment notice. Not relaxed at all.

"Eliot," I say to him. "Sit back get comfy."

He looks at me, almost like a dear caught in headlights, then shifts back and settles into his spot.

"Happy?" He grumbles.

"Very. Now," I reach for the TV remote and turn it back on. " What do you like to watch?"

"I don't watch TV much, but when I have the opportunity it's sports."

"Of course it is," I whisper under my breath.

"What was that?" He raises any eyebrow at me.

"Nothing! So sports, I think they are running some old baseball games -"

"Not baseball."

"What's wrong with baseball?"

"It's stupid. Can't score off defense."

I roll my eyes.

"Don't say that around my restaurant, you'd never make it out alive."

"I think I'd be fine."

I shake my head, turning back to the TV to find something we agree on, surprisingly it's old reruns of Magnum PI. At least he's got good taste out side of sports.

Soon enough the bowls a empty, ice cream replaces soup and is consumed. Empty bowls are left on the coffee table to be cleaned later.

During the third episode, I lean over to rest against Eliot's side, his arm moving from the back of the couch to around my shoulders, his thumb rubbing against my shoulder.

I feel myself start to doze off. The dimly lit room, the warmth from Eliot around me, and the comfort of his arm around it the perfect recipe for sleep.

I wake up a little bit as I feel myself being being lifted from the couch. I'm carried for a few seconds, then am gently set onto something soft. A hand cradles my head, guiding it until my head hits my pillow.

The blankets are pulled over me, tucking me in. A head brushes some hair from my face, then leaves. I look to catch the hand, I hold tight.

"I gotta go, darlin'. You need sleep." He whispers.

"Stay." I mumble back, eyes falling closed again.

He doesn't move, still holding my hand, he then squeezes it briefly and lets go.

"A'right, I'll stay."

He rounds the bed and climbs in the other side. I shuffle over to his side, his body heat like a magnet. I cuddle into his side, my head on his chest, arm draped across his stomach.

He's stiff, and his heart beats are rapid.

He soon relaxes, heart slowing, one hand resting on my upper back, the other coming to rest on the back of my head, rubbing my scalp, lulling me to sleep.

***********************************************

Sun through shear curtains shines on my face, pulling me from sleep.

I roll away from the window reaching to the side that was occupied the night before, but my hand lands on cool, empty bedsheets.

I sit up and glance around the room. Not a trace of anything out of place. I listen for movement, but the apartment is silent.

I toss the blankets of and slip out of my room.

The blanket on the couch is neatly folded, there are no mugs on the coffee or side tables.

The kitchen is the same. No tupperware or jars, no pots on the stove. The sink is empty, or in the drainer.

The whole house is baren of any sign Eliot was in my apartment, let alone my bed.

Except for the the pot of coffee on my counter, the light still on.

***********************************************

Taglist: @fictional-hooman @skyeofbees @kimberkingrivers @spencereliotwinchester @padawancat97

[fablesrose]

Ch 22 - The Scheherazade Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist 

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: A corrupt wanna-be politician leads to Hardison's pursuit of musical endeavors.

Words: 7.3k

A/n: Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy..... It's, uh, been a minute.... The last few months have been a bit hectic with the holidays and finishing my degree. And now with the job search, unfortunately I cannot guarantee frequent or regular updates, but I hope to be more frequent than recent months. Anyway, I really appreciate the support and patience and want to hear your thoughts! Much love!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Bzz bzz* 

I looked annoyingly at my phone as a message came in, momentarily quieting the classical music I had coming out of the speaker while I cleaned the apartment. 

Nate: I’m going down to the pub to meet with a client. Make sure you’re ready for the brief as soon as we’re done.

Me: Do you need some company?

Nate: No, I’ve got Hardison and Eliot coming with me. Don’t want to overwhelm her too much.

I looked at the message puzzlingly before answering. 

Me: Why both of them? 

Nate: Hardison requested to come. The client has had some physical safety concerns and people following her. That’s what Eliot is gonna be there for. 

Me: Is there gonna be a fight?

Nate: Probably

Me: Well, I’m coming for the show then

Nate’s typing notification popped up, but I sent another text before he could send.

Me: I’ll just stay in the back, you won’t even know I’m there. Plus, you might need a female presence at the ready, you never know.

I saw the typing indication go away and pop up again a couple of times before it vanished for an extended period of time. I took that as Nate not telling me no. 

I finished up my cleaning task and made my way down to the pub. I spotted where the group was sitting and noticed that I must have made it just in time as Eliot was acting drunk and approaching two very intimidating looking black men in suits. I grabbed a chair at a table in the corner where I had a clear view, but the others wouldn’t be distracted by me. 

The one who Eliot was directly speaking to downed his drink before punching Eliot in the gut with a level of finality I hadn’t seen in a fight. This didn’t last long, however, as the man’s face quickly turned to pain as Eliot rose up again, holding the man’s wrist at a painful angle that brought him to his knees with a long winded whine. While holding him there, Eliot punched the other man, who had yet to do anything, in the mouth. He tried to punch back, but Eliot quickly blocked and punched him again, hard enough to throw him into the wall this time. He did it again when he came back, all while the other man was still on his knees before Eliot seemed to become tired of it and punched him in the gut and threw him into the other one. 

Eliot took a break to approach a nearby woman and excused himself for taking a sip of her drink before handing it back to her. Eliot cracked his neck and made an… interesting move to say the least as if asking the men if they wanted more. 

I rolled my eyes at the dramatics, but knowing Eliot, he did it to prove a point. Likely to Hardison. And in my opinion, the point was probably made as the men both left the pub without further argument. My suspicion was confirmed as since the pub was so quiet after the fight, when Eliot sat back down at the table with a smile, I heard him ask Hardison, “Can your dog do that?”

I couldn’t help the snort that came out of me at the question. I hadn’t even heard the argument beforehand, but I could almost hear it in the moment. The noise I made must have been louder than anticipated as Eliot’s head snapped up a little bit and spotted me across the room. I smiled and gave an embarrassed wave. He smiled and gave me a half wink before looking around as if to pull up an empty chair. I quickly shook my head to stop him. He gave me a puzzled look. I contemplated how to tell him why I wasn’t coming over from across the room, but couldn’t think of any way to mime it out. I finally very obviously pulled out my phone to text him. 

Me: Nate doesn’t want to overwhelm the client with too many people. 

Eliot pulled out his phone and subtly looked at it under the table while also listening to the client tell her story. He looked at me with raised eyebrows as I received a text. 

Eliot: You sure? I don’t think she would mind your company. 

Me: Yeah, I honestly just came for the show ;P. I’m just gonna head back up to finish cleaning my apartment before the briefing. Thanks though.

I waited until he read it and gave me a nod. I was about to leave my seat when I decided to send another text. 

Me: Nice job, btw. 

I didn’t wait for a response this time as I left and got back to work cleaning my apartment.

I had expected a text from Nate when they were done with the client to head over for the briefing, but it didn’t come for a couple of hours, and when it did, it was for me to tag along with Parker and Hardison doing some leg work. Along the way I learned that Nate had gone to meet with the Italian to get some info on our mark, a corrupt businessman, looking to become the next president of Wadata, a small country in Africa. Our job was to canvas some of Moto’s properties to see where he would keep his valuables.

“Wait a minute,” Eliot said once Nate shared his info, “This guy makes money off the backs of children, and nobody goes after him because he feeds the CIA a bunch of names?”

“Sounds about right,” I commented through comms, looking over the building we had stopped at, trying to see what Parker was seeing.

“And what are the odds that these so-called ‘Jihadists’ aren’t terrorists at all?” Sophie pointed out, “They’re more likely Moto’s political rivals back home.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Nate said. “And if the government won’t go after Moto, we will. Now, he bought his real estate at the top of the market, so he’s leveraged up to his eyeballs. The only thing keeping him afloat from not going bankrupt is the steady flow of diamonds. And what’s the best thing about smuggled diamonds?”

“Oh, I know this one,” Sophie said. “It’s the way that they shimmer on the deck of a billionaire’s yacht in the moonlight.” I could imagine the dreamy look in her eyes as she imagined it. 

There was a pause as we all digested her fantastical answer before Eliot answered, “Because they’re uninsured.”

“Right,” Nate agreed. “So, we go after Moto’s diamonds, and we end a political career before it starts. We just have to find out where the vault is… Parker?”

“Okay, we are on stop four of our tour of Alexander Moto’s Boston properties,” Parker responded, taking a break from taking pictures of the building. 

“Records show he just renovated the place with state of the art security tech,” Hardison said from inside the van, “but he wouldn’t put a vault in here.”

“Why?” I asked, contemplating the white stone, almost colonial style building. It looked solid to me as I trailed behind Parker, following her across the street to get a closer look at the building.

“It’s Raine’s Concert Hall,” Hardison answered, “where the Massachusetts Chamber Orchestra plays.”

“They have concerts here?” Parker asked. “Look at that foundation, I thought this was a bank.”

Hardison stuttered, “Like – like I said, it’s the perfect place for a vault.”

Parker and I shared a sly smile at his mixup. 

Parker laughed a little when we approached a utility box of some sort with a padlock that looked painfully easy for her to open. Looking on the inside, there were wires and tubes attached to what looked like an air tank. 

“Guys, they have a dedicated air line that goes straight down to the basement, used for storing extremely delicate items,” Parker described. “That’s where your vault is.”

We closed the utility box and headed around the building to see if we could see anything else while Hardison did some searching.

“I think I may have found his fragile item,” he said. “Moto just purchased a Stradivarius violin for $4.5 million.”

 “This all fits,” Sophie said. “Moto’s made himself a patron of the arts in Boston to, you know, up his profile with the old-money crowd.”

“And what’s his vulnerability?” Nate asked. 

“His ties to America,” Sophie answered. “His father sent him out of the country at an early age. He was educated in Europe, got his MBA at Harvard. His brother’s a national hero, but Moto doesn’t even speak his native language.”

“A foreigner to his own country,” I commented, brushing my fingers along the wall as we turned a corner.

“He’s gonna have to kiss a lot of babies…” Eliot said. “Or stuff a lot of ballot boxes.”

“So Moto’s problem is that he’s an outsider to his own people,” Nate concluded. 

“Yeah, well what about my problem?” Parker asked. “I can’t break into a vault without seeing the inside first.”

“Yeah, okay, so, you need a tour of the vault,” Nate thought out loud, “and Moto, our mark, needs to look good back home.” There was a moment of silence before he finally said, “Let’s go steal the man on the street. In Africa.”

I shared a look with Parker as we got back to the van to go home. An interesting plan was ahead of us it seemed. 

The next morning Hardison, Eliot, and I worked on setting up a smear campaign against Moto. Eliot called our client to get some additional information about him as Hardison and I worked on writing an article and finding a good photo to edit. Eliot found out that Moto does drink occasionally, so we edited a photo of Moto at a ribbon cutting ceremony to show him visibly drunk. We paired it with our article which had Moto insulting Wadata’s people in big block quotes. Hardison got that published and spread around before we made a fake news report. Eliot was green screened into the streets of Wadata in the middle of a protest as a reporter. The protest was due to Moto insulting Wadata’s national soccer team.

Now waiting until it gets back to Moto. 

Sophie called Moto’s office introducing herself as a PR agent, giving us an introduction to Moto. It didn’t take long for him to call for a meeting. 

“Go with Sophie,” Nate told me, “be her assistant, secretary, something, some extra eyes and hands.”

I nodded along, but couldn’t help but whisper as I went to change: “Feels as if I’m being typecast here,” thinking back to our last job.

Sophie cut in before I could exit the apartment, “That’s not necessarily a bad thing, y/n. While variety is good, this particular role type is very versatile and can fit almost anywhere. You’re doing great, dear.”

I smiled and hurried out so we could go meet with Moto.

“Kristi Connely, from Bulger-Maple,” Sophie introduced herself with her card once we got there. “And this is my assistant, Candace Jones.”

I nodded at Moto in acknowledgement and he nodded back. 

Moto put on some glasses and read the card before handing it to his bodyguard, “I appreciate your time Ms. Connely, but I am skeptical I could benefit from public relations.”

“Oh, I prefer the term ‘perception management,’” Sophie countered. “Perhaps you’d like to see a reference from one of my recent clients, the leaders of Uzbekistan or Myanmar.” Sophie showed her phone to Moto, showing contacts of the previously mentioned leaders.

“Those are two of the world’s most notorious dictators,” Moto pointed out skeptically. 

“Whom I am rebranding as effective CEOs, leading their country into the 21st century, just as I can rebrand you as a force for good in your own country.”

“Ah, yes,” Moto replied. “The ‘Oprah’ way. Open a school. Open a clinic. Get out the checkbook.” He waved his hand dismissively. 

I snickered a bit from behind Sophie. Moto snapped his gaze over to me before his attention was drawn back to Sophie when she did the same. 

“We’re much more sophisticated than that now,” she said. “Have you heard the phrase, ‘One death is a tragedy, a thousand deaths is a statistic?’ Well, the same holds true for acts of charity. Build a school, and you just remind people of your wealth. But, help one single child… And you’re a hero.”

I watched as Moto’s eyes changed ever so slightly in recognition. 

“It certainly sounds more affordable,” he relented. “What do you have in mind?”

Sophie smiled and gestured at me. I took my cue and opened the binder I was carrying with Hardison’s picture and fake details. I placed it in front of Moto as he slid on some glasses and started explaining the information contained within. 

“This young man’s name is Temi. He’s a taxi driver who immigrated here from Wadata-”

“With a dream,” Sophie interjected. 

“Yes, a dream,” I continued, trying to be unphased as if Sophie’s character did it often. “He wishes to attend the New England Conservatory to study the violin.”

“You,” Sophie took over again, “are going to make his dream come true.”

Moto looked at her over his glasses expectantly. 

“The poor need schools and clinics, but, what they want? Is heroes. You are going to give them what they want.”

Moto smiled a smile that I would not want directed at me in any other context. There was one thing that I could not deny in any lifetime: Sophie was a closer. I would hate to see the damage she could do to the stock market. 

Moto wanted to set up a meeting with “Temi” as soon as possible, and Sophie and I happily complied. The next thing I know, Hardison is sharing a couch with Sophie in Moto’s office, with Moto sitting across from them. I sat in a chair in between. 

“So, Temi,” Moto began, “I have read stories about you. They say you are a prodigy.”

Hardison opened his mouth with a smile to respond, but Sophie beat him to it. 

“He first picked up a missionary’s violin, aged five, and just knew how to play,” she bragged. 

“I’m here for my family,” Hardison insisted in an accent and with a smile, “The violin can wait.”

Moto turned serious, “Don’t make excuses Temi. You have been given an opportunity.”

“I must respectfully disagree, sir,” Hardison replied. “In my taxi I’ve been beaten; I’ve been robbed. What opportunity do I have here?”

I softly smiled at the, obviously to me, but well executed bait question. The smile only grew once I noticed Moto quirk a smile himself. 

“Come,” he said. “Let me show you what you can achieve in America.”

As we all stood, Sophie turned more towards me and mirrored my own smile. So far, it was all working. 

“Good work, guys,” Nate said through comms. “He’s taking you to the vault. Let’s find those diamonds.”

Just as Parker predicted, we pulled up to the concert hall and descended the steps to the basement. 

“Down these stairs, I think you will find something very inspiring,” Moto announced as we reached the bottom. 

“Okay guys, look inspired,” Nate commented. 

“Electric magnetic lock with retinal scanner. It can withstand two thousand pounds of pressure,” Parker narrated, watching through Hardison’s button cam. 

“You want to know what you can achieve in America?” Moto asked, providing a leading question of his own, to which Hardison nodded with a smile. Satisfied, Moto opened the vault and invited us in. When we entered, Moto gestured to the violin in a glass case on the far side of the vault, “Antonio Stradivari made it himself in 1705. It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”

We approached the case with wonder.

Once we stood in front of it Hardison began to speak but lost his accent, “With all the technology in the world–”

Sophie cleared her throat and I sniffled loudly at the same time to cover up and remind him to keep the accent. 

He quickly corrected himself, “--you couldn’t make a violin sound as good as that one. No one understands why.”

I bit the inside of my lip to keep myself from spouting off the recent opinions and research saying that much of that idea comes from confirmation bias. That actually, in many cases modern, and much cheaper, violins are just as good as Stradivarius violins. That isn’t to say that these violins weren’t still incredible, especially for the time that they were made. As Moto said, it was magnificent, a truly beautiful piece. I just had to keep reminding myself that that particular rabbit hole deep dive I did was not relevant or helpful to this job. Inside thoughts. 

“Sophie, I need you to zero in on the lockers,” Nate said, shaking me from my thoughts. 

“Security log shows a delivery from a Wadata a week ago that was placed in locker number Allegro,” Parker said. 

“Allegro,” Nate repeated. “Musical terms. So he’s named his lockers after musical terms. Sounds like our diamonds. Okay Sophie, what I need you to do right now is to stand next to locker Allegro so Hardison can get us a shot.”

Sophie obeyed, softly wandering over to the lockers on the side, standing near the requested locker. 

“I can tell from your reaction that we are a good match,” Moto said to Hardison. 

“I think you would agree with that, wouldn’t you Temi?” Sophie called from her spot near the wall. 

Hardison didn’t acknowledge her, still looking at the violin, so she repeated his name. 

I put my hand on his shoulder from where I was standing next to him and firmly, but subtly, started to turn him to face her. Hardison finally got the hint and turned toward her so the button cam could see where she was standing and where the locker was. 

I listened to Nate and Parker discussing the impossibility of breaking into the vault due to the seismic sensors that Parker picked up on and that it was apparently unhackable. Looking through records, they found that there was a time where these sensors were turned off: when a certain symphony was performed. Nate quickly changed the play when this new information was uncovered and requested Sophie to relay it.

Sophie gave a laugh of realization as she reapproached the group, “I’ve just had a thought: the story of you helping Temi is going to raise your profile in the cities, but what about the rural areas? They don’t have televisions or newspapers.”

“No,” Moto agreed, “only radios.”

Sophie smiled, “which is why this is perfect. Your brother is visiting in two days, you’re going to host a concert in his honor, in your concert hall, and Temi… Temi will be the star!”

Hardison made a noise that he quickly tried to cover with a smile, but the look that he had was nothing short of horror.

With happy congratulations on a well formulated plan, we parted ways with Moto and headed back to the apartment. The ride back was alternating periods of tense silence and Hardison rambling with anxiety, frustration, and down right anger of the position Nate and Sophie had put him in. Sophie tried to comfort and reassure him at first, but quickly found that it was futile so she and I sat in silence as he raved. 

We all decided to call it a night, though Sophie and I discussed doing our own research into loud enough pieces to be suitable for the job. I spent a couple hours pulling up youtube and various classical music playlists, compiling a few that I liked and that also were loud enough to feel the vibrations through my skull.

The next morning, Sophie and I headed back to meet with Moto’s, each with a short list of possible pieces. We sold him the idea that the piece to be performed had to be loud and grand. Nothing less for his brother or for Temi. The piece had to leave an impact on his people listening in. 

“Of course,” Moto readily agreed. He gave us access to his music library, pulling a few pieces that he thought fit the bill.

We looked over the sheet music, comparing our individual lists. After some discussion, we all decided on Scheherazade, much, it seemed, to Sophie’s delight. 

Sophie and I expressed to Moto that we would pass along the sheet music to Temi and inform him of the rehearsal time.

“Also, Temi is the first person who I have met that is worthy of it. Please let him know that I wish for him to play my violin. I look forward to listening to him,” Moto said as we were on our way out. 

“He’ll be thrilled,” I expressed at the same time Sophie said, “Fantastic!” We glanced at each other before thanking Moto for his time and exited the building. 

Sophie relayed the story of Scheherazade on our way back to the apartment. How she was history’s all time great grifters. The Sultan would marry a bride everyday and have her killed by morning. Scheherazade was saved from this fate by telling the Sultan a story so compelling and leaving him on a cliffhanger every night so he dare not kill her and never know the ending. She kept this up for one thousand and one nights until the Sultan fell deeply in love with her. The piece was also gorgeous with loud instrumentals and a beautiful violin solo to complete the piece. 

I stopped by my apartment for a moment to grab a snack while Sophie crossed the hall to Nate’s to relay the news to him and Hardison. When I went to cross the hall and join them, I saw Hardison muttering to himself and looking over the sheet music as he descended the stairs. I popped my head into Nate’s apartment to see him talking to Sophie.

“You know, I always like to pick up an extra wrench here or there for the old tool box,” Nate said cryptically. “You said it yourself, uh, he’s the best candidate.” He then almost forcefully started the metronome that I had only just noticed was sitting in front of him. 

Sophie’s continued eye contact with him caused me to slowly close the door and retreat back to my apartment for a while. 

It was later that afternoon when Eliot popped by with the equipment bags and rifle we would use to frame Moto for an assassination attempt. It was going to be my job to get it set up in the screening room during the concert. 

“Do you need any help figuring it out?” he asked once he gently set it on the table. 

I picked it up and opened the action to make sure it was empty, “I mean, I’m sure I could figure it out, but I haven’t taken apart this particular model, so I wouldn’t mind a hand.” I walked to a cupboard and pulled out a towel to drape across my table so neither it nor the gun would get scratched. 

Eliot raised an eyebrow at me as he took a seat, “You seem like you’ve done this before.”

I sat across from him and set the gun back down between us, “Eliot, what country do you think we live in?” Before he could sigh in annoyance or answer I continued, “I’m just kidding. With Grandpa Jimmy’s background, Nate and my dad taught me some minor gun safety and maintenance as a kid. And there was this guy I dated who would always do those contests with his friends of who could take them apart and put them back together the fastest. He taught me how. He wanted to make sure I could handle myself around them, just in case something happened.” I smiled at the memory of us trying to race and he would beat me every time, but I started to get close after a while. 

“Sounds like a nice guy,” Eliot said cautiously as he pulled out some simple tools.

“He was,” I confirmed. “We were just awful at communicating with each other, so we drifted apart. We parted ways amicably, I still see an occasional post of his pop up on social media.”

“Do you miss him?” Eliot asked. 

I stopped what I was doing, looking over the rifle, and looked at him puzzled, “No, not really. We both had our separate lives to follow. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about a random guy I dated, so let’s get this gun figured out.”

Luckily the scope just popped off with a slide and a twist. The rest was a little more difficult, finding the screws and pins that needed to come out in order to take the gun apart. Eliot and I quietly chatted about the job and random odds and ends as we tried to figure out how far apart we needed to take it. 

“So what music do you listen to?” I asked as we tried to figure out how to pack it into the bag most efficiently and disguised properly. 

“Is it not obvious? Country mostly, I don’t mind some classic rock every once in a while,” he answered, sliding the packing foam over the gun. 

“I didn’t want to assume,” I replied. Eliot and I looked at each other and nodded, deciding that we had determined how to take the gun apart and pack it properly. We took it back out so I could practice putting it back together. 

“What about you?”

“Little bit of everything,” I responded. “It’s kind of funny actually, I was going through a classical phase the last couple of days. Seems it paid off.”

We both chuckled and continued chatting as I took the gun apart and put it back together a few times. The final time I took it apart, we made sure to wipe every piece and part down to ensure that no fingerprints were left behind as we packed it up once more. We left the bags there, ready for tomorrow as I walked him to my door. 

Eliot turned towards me before he fully exited, “You know, I, uh, I like it when we hang out like this.”

He paused, looking like he wasn’t sure what to say next, so I reached up and placed my hand on his shoulder, letting my hand slide until I was just holding his arm. I wasn’t quite sure why I did it, and I had to swallow as I could just feel his warmth under my hand through his shirt before I said anything. 

I finally drug my eyes from where they were staring at my hand up to his eyes, where I saw that he was staring at my hand too. “I do too. We should do it more often.”

I wasn’t sure if he liked my hand being there, so I let it fall. Right as it fully fell off his arm and brushed his hand, his hand caught mine. We stood there for a moment, his eyes still looking at our hands.

He hummed in what I took to be agreement. He squeezed my hand once before letting go and clearing his throat, “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mhmm,” I hummed, watching as he made quick eye contact before turning and walking down the hall, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he went. 

I closed the door and let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. I lifted the hand that he was holding to my chest, feeling my heart beat. I wasn’t quite sure what to think. Maybe I shouldn’t think at all. 

And I tried not to think about it the rest of the night until the next morning when Sophie, Eliot, and I headed over to the concert hall.

Parker was going over the plan at Nate’s, looking over blueprints. “We have three main obstacles,” Parker said when Nate asked how the plan was going, “two doors and a guard. At the first door there’s a six digit keypad.”

“Have the code yet?” Nate asked. 

“Let’s find out. Sophie?” 

“Minutes away,” Sophie replied as we hauled in the recording equipment and gun through the front doors. 

“Oh, Ms. Connely and Ms. Jones, right?” One of Moto’s guards greeted us as we walked in. Another guard walked up and insisted on helping us with our bags. 

We thanked them as they took the bags and set them up on the counter. 

“We’re helping to organize the concert,” Sophie said explaining the bags, “I just wanted to check the acoustics, we’re broadcasting it on the radio–”

The first guard interjected, “I hope you don’t mind, we have to check your bags.”

“Oh, not at all,” I said as he began to open the bag with the gun in it. “We’re also filming for the television,” I explained as he began to lift the scope from the case. “That lens is very delicate,” I insisted tensely, putting my hand on his arm, not unlike what I did with Eliot last night, as if to stop him, or at least steady it. The guard paused, looking over the lens for a moment before looking at me, his eyes glancing from my hand to my face. He smiled at me and gently, but firmly used a single finger to press the scope back into the protective foam. “They are very fragile, thank you for being so gentle with it,” I smiled at him and batted my eyelashes a bit. 

“Of course, I apologize,” he said, eyes lingering on me before turning back to the bag and looking at the other odds and ends we threw in on top to disguise the gun parts as camera equipment. 

Eliot snuck in the room behind us, dressed as a maintenance man towards the locked door to try and get the six digit code. I caught the dirty look he gave the guard out of the corner of my eye. I gave him a wink when the guard wasn’t looking, but I wasn’t sure if Eliot saw it. After the guards were satisfied with our equipment, they let us through to set it up in the screening room. The guard then went downstairs to where Eliot was. After a verbal confrontation between the two, Eliot was able to get the numbers to the combination, but not the order.

“K, that means I need to punch in all the combinations,” Parker replied to the news, “that’s gonna take time, and there’s a guard.”

“Well, Eliot can take care of the guard, right Eliot?” Nate said. 

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, but not enthusiastically. 

Nate then mapped the route verbally to the vault. Parker pointed out the retinal scanner at the vault, citing that we didn’t have time to hack it, so she would just blow a hole in the floor above it. 

“Okay, great, so we get to the vault through the ceiling, we get the diamonds, wait for the concert to end, and we slip out through the crowd,” Nate summarized. 

“Nope,” Parker replied matter-of-factly. 

“What do you mean no? That’s what–”

“Our only window to break into this vault is during the concert when the motion sensors are turned off, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay well, this is a concert for a foreign dignitary with a full secret service detail,” Parker described. “Which means we have to take out the guard, blow a hole in the floor without anybody hearing anything… It can’t be done.”

“Maybe we should have chosen Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture,” I commented as we set the bags down in the screening room. 

“Why that one?” Eliot asked.

“If I remember right, they use cannons in that one, it would cover the explosion,” I said hypothetically. 

Hardison disregarded my comment by insisting that he was out of the con too because he couldn’t do the violin solo. 

“How much time do we need for the break-in?” Nate asked, ignoring both of us. 

“Seven minutes,” Parker answered, “minimum.”

I heard a ruffle of paper and Nate narrated the different markers of the heist, “Of course depending on the tempo.”

“What are you talking about,” Parker asked. 

“You’re trying to time the heist with the music,” Hardison said. 

Nate and Hardison then alternated saying Yeses and Nos.

“We would need to be in sync, perfectly in sync,” Hardison pointed out. “We would need our own-”

“Conductor,” Nate exclaimed quite excitedly. 

I wasn’t entirely sure how he was gonna do that, but I had faith in him. Now all that was left to do was wait, at least for Sophie and I. Hardison was practicing, Parker and Eliot were establishing their covers by walking the building, and Nate was finding his own conductor, which I think took the form of a computer with music timing software. 

The concert hall slowly began to fill with the musicians and then guests, the noise in the room growing from near silence to a dull roar. Sophie and I stood on the balcony, observing the masses and giving Hardison reassuring looks when Moto approached with his brother. 

“Oh, Ms. Connely, Ms. Jones, allow me to introduce my brother, President Simeon Moto,” Moto said. 

“Ah, Mr. President, I think you are going to be so impressed with what this young man achieves tonight,” Sophie gushed. 

“It will be nice to read something positive about my country for a change,” the President replies with a controlled optimism. 

I gestured to the seats next to us with an invitation to sit, which the Moto brothers accepted. Sophie and I took our seats on the other side of the aisle. We scouted the area, looking for guards. 

Sophie and I turned towards each other as if to chat in order to relay what we saw to the others, “We’ve spotted Secret Service guys on the balcony.”

It didn’t take long for the concert to begin. Hardison was spotlighted at the introduction before the music started. 

“Okay guys,” Nate said shortly after, “Buckle up. You have seven minutes, but it depends on how fast the conductor leads the orchestra. I’ll follow his pace and cue you.” There was a short pause before he continued, “Alright, on my mark… now.”

At his cue, I gathered a binder that I had tucked away and rose from my seat. I feigned flipping through it, nodding at the President and our mark as I exited the balcony and headed to the screening room to set up the rifle. 

I pulled on some gloves and listened as Eliot beat up the guard and Parker was able to gain entry through the first door. 

“It’s a faster tempo, I’m moving up the timetable,” Nate said. “You guys have four and a half minutes.”

I finished putting the gun back together and made sure I wiped it down again to ensure that no fingerprints of mine or Eliot’s were left, making sure that the clean print from the guard on the scope was left alone. I set it up to aim at where the President was sitting, putting a few rounds in the magazine, but making sure none were chambered. As I left the room to head back to my seat, the sounds of fighting resumed. I was sitting in my seat for a minute or two before the loudest part of the piece was played and Nate cued the explosive. Sophie and I both quietly let out a breath as everything was on cue and went unnoticed. 

Soon, Hardison’s solo came, and he looked at us with quiet resignation and a shrug, but stood to play it anyway. What came out of his fingers and that violin was probably the most beautiful sounds I had ever heard. A chill flowed through my body and my hand snuck over to Sophie’s and we held each other’s hands as the world seemed to fall still, like time had stopped to listen to the strings in Hardison’s hands. 

As the music came to a stop, the crowd roared with applause and a standing ovation. Sophie and I shared a wide smile and joined them. Hardison looked baffled at first at what he had accomplished, but quickly a wide and excited smile spread across his face, bowing to the crowd. 

After a moment, I could hear the alarms start to blare through the comms. I turned to Sophie, “Did they not get out?” 

“I don’t know,” she replied, keeping a soft smile on her face as she looked down at Hardison in the pit. 

“What are you doing here?” Parker asked. 

“I’ll explain later, let’s just get out of here,” Nate replied. 

“You got an exit plan?” Eliot asked. 

“Working on it. Sophie, Y/n, any ideas?”

“Stall,” she replied. 

“Alright guys, Moto and his brother just left,” Hardison said, “and I don’t know about y’all, but it wasn’t me, cuz I just rocked it. Ya know.”

“Okay listen, Hardison, just stay where you are, don’t blow your cover,” Nate said. 

“Roger that.”

Sophie and I listened as Moto and the President entered the vault and discussed Nate, Parker, and Eliot breaking into the vault. Moto expressed that it wasn’t necessary for his brother to follow him and that his men would take care of them. That’s when Nate spoke up. 

“Mr. President, wait,” he said, calling attention to himself, “Can I tell you a story about your brother here, and how he lured you here to assassinate you?”

“Oh, the thief speaks!” Moto exclaimed. “Who knew we would be entertained twice tonight! Please, go on.”

Sophie and I looked at each other and started making our way to the vault to join them. 

“Think about it,” Nate said, “last minute concert, in the hall your brother owns? Him wailing over your bleeding body, live on the radio? Instantly bonding himself to the thousands listening back home.”

Moto laughed, “And who would foil this plot? You, and your team of burglars?”

“Burglars?” Nate replied, “No, we’re not in it for the money. We wanted this…” He paused, apparently showing something. “You see Mr. President, this envelope contains names of terrorists living in Africa that your brother supplies us with, at his leisure, for a price. This is what happens when you play with the CIA, Mr. Moto. We take what we need.”

I glanced at Sophie as we descended the stairs, Secret Service agents quickly passing us down the stairs. It was a compelling concept Nate was spinning here. 

“You can’t be serious,” Moto replied. 

“I turned a blind eye to these rumours about you for too long,” the President fired back. 

“This is insane,” Moto insisted. “Can’t you see, this man is telling you a story! Every detail more outlandish than the last.”

“If he is lying,” the President said, “then go ahead, open the envelope.”

Nate agreed. 

“It is not what he says,” Moto insisted, but much less confident now. “I can’t open it, it doesn’t belong to me.”

The Secret Service agents entered the room and approached the President while Sophie and I slipped in behind them, walking to stand behind Nate and Eliot.

“Mr. President, there’s something you should know,” the agent said. “We just found a rifle in the projection room, with a clean print on the scope.”

Eliot glanced at me and I gave him a wry smile which he returned before turning back to face the Moto brothers. 

“It was my brother,” the President said with betrayal, “he is responsible!”

Moto was then arrested by the agent while sputtering and spewing accusatory claims at Sophie and I specifically. He finally left the room while saying that his brother was being duped by us. Which he was, but being duped with partial truth. 

The President then wordlessly nodded at us and directed Moto’s men to leave the room. 

“How’d you know what was in the envelope?” Parker asked. 

“I didn’t,” Nate replied simply. “It made for a good story, though, right?”

“Scheherazade would have been proud,” Sophie said with a smile.

Nate thanked her and then said he had to meet with the Italian, which was apparently why he had that envelope in the first place. It didn’t take as long as I thought, though, for him to meet back up with us. 

At the pub, Nate and Eliot sat at a booth with the client, telling her the good news and passing along some compensation to help the country. The rest of us sat at the bar, talking about how Hardison pulled that solo out of his ass. 

“You had a recording of the solo,” Parker theorized, “and a gizmo that made it come out of the violin.”

“No, no, Parker,” Hardison denied, “you don’t just jam a gizmo into a Strad, okay? I just… I let it rip…”

Parker scoffed, “I still can’t believe you can play like that.”

Nate slid into the stool next to me. I glanced back at the booth to see Eliot and the client still talking. While I did feel that familiar pang, there was a little part of me that seemed to notice that he wasn’t leaning in as much as he usually did with some of the pretty, flirtatious clients. The moment I was watching them, he actually leaned back a little before he felt my eyes on him. He flashed me a soft and shy smile, raising a couple fingers off his glass in a wave. I returned the smile and Eliot returned his attention to the client, his smile falling slightly, if I didn’t know any better. As much as I wanted to continue to analyze the situation, I couldn’t when the most shocking sentence I’ve heard Nate say in a while fell out of his mouth. 

“That’s because I hypnotized you.”

My head snapped towards him, “Say what now?”

There was a long pause by everyone else.

“You serious?” Hardison eventually asked. 

“Yeah, I put you in a deep trance state,” Nate replied, almost proud, “and regressed you to when you could play the violin as a teenager. I mean, you knew how to play all along, but I… cleaned out the cobwebs. I just gave you the confidence to be the best version of you, I knew you could be.”

I nodded skeptically over my drink at the sketchy compliment Nate seemed to be paying Hardison. 

“A Vegas hypnotist can pick a candidate out from a crowd,” Sophie said, “and so can I.”

Hardison’s expression grew hard as he stood from his stool, “Nate, hypnosis is something you do to a mark, not your own crew.”

“No no no, it’s exactly what you do to your own crew,” Nate rebutted. “Yeah, you push whatever button you need to, to get them to do what needs to be done. You wanted to know what other quality you needed to run your own crew, well that’s it, and you don’t have it.”

Hardison gave a tight smile, knocked on the bar top and left the pub. Parker hesitated a moment with a blank expression before following. 

Sophie looked around me at Nate with a somewhat hard expression of her own, “Alone again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you like it like that.” She then also left the bar. 

I glanced at Nate, “It’s like I’m not even here.”

He shrugged, looking where Sophie had left. 

There was a pause before I said, “So… Any chance you teach me hypnotism?”

“Probably not,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. 

“Rude,” I quipped, finishing my own before following the others out, heading back to my apartment. 

A/n: Hey everyone, I've seen that this series has been gaining some traction with strings of likes. I appreciate the love for it so much!

Reblogging helps share the series to a wider audience and it along with comments can let me hear your thoughts, which can be incredibly motivating!

All I ask is that you consider adding one (or both!) of these to your reading routine at the end of this chapter (though it is entirely optional, just very appreciated). Thank you for reading!

Tags: @instantdinosaurtidalwave @kniselle @technikerin23 @kiwikitty13 @plasticbottleholder @wh1sp @who-actually-cares-anymore @romanreignsluver1 @fictional-hooman @nothingryuu

[mooooonnnzz]

Platonic ask for gravity falls 🩷

The twins with a mother figure? Those kids are all around saving the world, someone needs to seriously worry about them and make a little fuss lol maybe the mother figure is Stanley or Stanford new wife? I just imagine the twins coming back next summer and boom new mother/aunt

Heartbreak, Heartbreak

Stanford x Reader / Dipper & Mable x Mother!Reader

✦ your stanfords wife whaatt?!

✦ i feel like this is one of my weaker works, i apologize

✦ 2,5k words

✦ fem reader

✦ gulp i hope i did ur request justice 😭

✦ mable goes "stop fighting!!" at some point

✦ requests r still deliciously open

꣑୧ Coming back to Gravity Falls was a dream come true for the twins. What they weren’t expecting was to see their Great Uncle Ford walk in the Mystery Shack hand in hand with you. Mable was the first to bombard you Grunkle with questions; which stemmed from “Oh my god, when did you guys meet?” to “Oh my god, oh my god, am I going to have Great Cousins? That sounds weird, doesn’t it?” Ford had to calm her down before she got too rowdy with their questions and overwhelm you. 

꣑୧ Once Mable was calm enough to sit down in the same room with you, without bursting in her seat with excitement, was when Ford broke the news. “Mable, Dipper. This is my wife,” He said, wrapping his arms around you, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. You introduced yourself to the twins who were more than happy to meet you. 

꣑୧ “Did our Grunkle by some chance, manage to hypnotize you into dating him with a book?” Dipper asked with an analyzing stare. His lips were puckered, pointer finger and thumb on his chin, tapping it curiously. Not expecting a question as absurd as that, you let out a laugh. Shaking your head, you smiled at Dipper. “Not at all,” You respond, taking Ford’s hand with yours, intertwining your fingers together. “He just won me over with his nerdy charm.” You say, your eyes locked on Ford. A rush of blood swarmed Ford’s cheeks. A chorus of groans echoed in the shack. Stan appears behind the kids, resting his arms on the top of their chairs. “See, kids,” He motions over to you and Ford with a swipe of his hand. “This is what I had to deal with while you guys were gone.” With a sympathetic look, Mable rested her hand on his arm, shaking her head sorrowfully. “I’m so sorry, Grunkle Stan.” 

꣑୧ After the initial shock wore off, Dipper and Mable began to grew skeptical of you. What if you were one of Bill’s goons disguising yourself as a human? And your goal was to take down their Grunkles and start Weirdmageddon 2?! Rushing up to their room in the attic, they pulled out their trusty 8-ball, the one they used the first day they arrived at Gravity Falls and when they were unsure if they were safe to stay with Grunkle Stan. They both sat down on the floor, 8-ball in Dipper’s hand. “Okay, magic 8-ball!” Mable boomed loudly with a weird amalgamation of a British and French accent. “Mable, keep it down.” Dipper shushed. “Oops,” Mable giggled. “Okay, magic 8-ball,” She whispered, her head uncomfortably close to the 8-ball. “Is Grunkle Ford’s wife evil?” With a rapid shake, Dipper and Mable peered into the ball. A pyramid accompanied with words appeared. “Don’t count on it.” The twins read out loud. “Huh…” Mable slowly nodded her head, eyes squinted in thought. “Well,” Dipper tossed the 8-ball behind him. “The magic 8-ball never lies.” 

꣑୧  Getting along with the twins wasn’t hard. All you had to do was grab your car keys from your purse, jingle them as if they were a bell and wait. Few minutes later, you’d hear their feet stomping down the stairs and a flash of colors swarming the living room. “I heard keys jingle, I heard keys jingle!!” Mable’s eyes darted around the room in search of the keys and when her eyes landed on you, her eyes sparkled with joy and anticipation. “Are you taking us somewhere, Great Aunt [Name]?” You smiled, spinning the keys around your finger. “Depends,” You pretended to think for a moment, just to keep them on their toes. “Where would you guys like to go?” A laugh escapes you as Dipper and Mable attack you with where they want to go. “Alright, let me tell your Grunkle that I’m taking you guys out.” Digging through your purse, you fish out your phone. You turned it on and went to your contacts. With a tap, you dialed his number. He picked up almost immediately. “Yes, dear?” You could hear his pencil scribbling on a piece of paper. “I’m taking Dipper and Mable out for the day.” You tell him, mouthing to the kids to get in the car. They scampered out of the living room and to the hallway. You could hear the door open and their hushed voices as they made a beeline to your car. “Okay, be safe when you’re driving and call me whenever you can, okay?” You hummed in response. “Of course, I’ll keep you updated on the kids.” You say, walking out of the shack and to your car. “I want updates on how you feel too,” You could feel the love dripping from his tone. “I will, my love.” You blow a kiss into the phone, wishing Ford goodbye. He blows one back and the call ends. Entering the car, you look behind you to see the twins all buckled up and ready for their adventure. “You guys ready?” “Yeah!” 

꣑୧ “So, Dipper, what’s with those dots on your arm?” You point at the four dots on his arm with a fry. Dipper looked down to his arm. His eyebrows rise in shock. “I-I completely forgot I had these,” Dipper’s thumbs the scars, an uneasy look on his face. Your heart stops in your chest. “I’m so sorry, Dipper. I didn’t mean to make–’ Dipper’s hands raise up to his chest, waving them side to side, dismissing your concerns. He assured you that your question didn’t make him uncomfortable. “No, no! It’s just…” He rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “He got possessed by a demon!” Mable blurts out, stuffing her face with a greasy burger. “Mable!” Dipper whines. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t handle you beating around the bush any longer.” She says with a mouthful of chewed up food. You leaned yourself back in the booth, trying to assess what Mable just said. “Dipper got possessed?” You repeated in a question. “Yeah, I kinda did.” Dipper said with a slight voice crack. “Can I know how?” Disbelief was thick in your tone. You didn’t know whether to laugh or walk away in shock. They don’t look like they’re telling a joke? The way Dipper has his head slightly hung low and a tiny frown on his face proved that. But Mable seems as jolly as ever. You fight with yourself, trying to make sense of what happened when Dipper spoke up. “Have you heard of the name Bill Cipher?” Shaking your head no, the twins dove straight into a very long story pertaining to Bill Cipher and how he tormented them throughout summer last year and ultimately led to the world almost ending. “Wow,” Was all that you could mutter. You never got your question about Dipper’s scar answered that day. 

꣑୧ Laying in bed, you eyes drifted over to Ford who was brushing his teeth in the bathroom. “You wanna know something crazy the twins told me earlier today?” Ford spat out the toothpaste into the sink. “What did those knuckleheads tell you?” He said, cupping his hand under the running faucet and filling his hand up with water. “It was this really crazy story,” You started. Ford nodded, dunking the water in his mouth and sloshing it around. “They told me about this interdimensional demon named Bill Cipher?--” Ford spit out the water in shock, spraying it everywhere on the mirror. You sat up in surprise. “Ford?” You pushed the blankets off of you and walked over to Ford, your hand on his shoulder. “You okay?” With a forced, “mhm,” he wiped the dripping water from his lips with his forearm. “Y-yeah, no. I’m fine.” He waved you off, nodding his head vigorously, almost as if he was convincing himself that everything was fine. “Are you sure?” Concern laced your voice. Someone who’s fine wouldn’t spit out their water like that at the mention of…Bill Cipher? That’s when it clicked for you. “You have history with this demon as well, don’t you?” Ford groaned, running his hands down his face. “Those kids can’t keep their mouths shut, can they?” He mumbled to himself, his head turning to face you. “What else did they tell you?” That night, you spent it horrified with the tales he told you regarding the past summer and his time with Bill. “And you never told me this, why?” Ford nervously pushed his glasses up, his eyes looking everywhere but you. “Because I…” He trailed off. “I don’t know,” He stops for a moment, inhaling deeply before continuing. “I didn’t want to scare you off. My past...isn’t something I could easily tell you without having a second thought.” A frown pulls to your lips. “Were you ever going to tell me?” You ask, your voice frail and quiet. “Yes?” His tone was full of uncertainty. You didn’t know what to think. One side of you wanted to be mad at him for keeping all of this from you, but on the other hand you felt sympathetic. You knew this wasn’t an easy topic to discuss normally. And you could tell it took him a lot of courage to admit a side of him that he wasn’t fully ready to reveal. But you were deeply hurt that he kept such secrets from you for a long time. And considering how he responded to your question, you weren’t even sure he was going to tell you any time soon. “What are you thinking about?” Ford’s voice ripped you out from your thoughts, grounding you back to reality. “I’m thinking about how crazy all of this is. I didn’t know. The kids went through so much at a young age. A-and you act like it was nothing, they could’ve died Ford.” Your hand rested on the side of your forehead. “You also made a deal with a demon? I…” You let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Stanford.” Ford cringed at the use of his full name. “I can go, if you’d like me to.” You raised your hand up to stop him. “No, I don’t want you to go. I just need time to process this,” You offer him a weak smile. “That’s all I need right now my love, just time.” 

꣑୧ “You what?!” Mable and Dipper both screech at the same time. “Yeesh, Ford. And I thought I was a screw-up.” Stan chuckled, elbowing Mable to see if that got a rise from her. It did not. “I thought I was protecting her from all of this madness!” Ford’s elbow rested on the dining room table, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Grunkle Stan tried doing the same thing, did you see how that almost ended for us?” Dipper said. “I know, I know.” Ford weakly muttered out. “Then, why did you keep such important details away from her?” Stan argued. “Because I was trying to protect her!” Ford yelled, slamming his hands on the table. That seemed to get a rise from Stan. “Well, maybe you weren’t trying hard enough! Now, look at what you did. You fucked everything up.” He shouted. “Oh!” Ford stood up from his chair. “That’s hilarious coming from you!” Scrambling up the table, Mable slammed her foot down, gaining the attention from Ford and Stan. “Fighting isn’t going to fix things, guys.” She said, “Ford had his reasons, like how you had your reasons for hiding Grunkle Ford from us, Grunkle Stan.” Ford adjusted his sweater, sitting back down on his chair. “Now, Grunkle Ford. What did she tell you?” She asked, turning over to Ford. “She told me that she needed time.” Sitting crossed-crossed, she nodded her head intently. “That’s good, right?” In return was silence. “Right, guys?” Both Dipper and Stan agreed. “Great! Now while we wait, can we apologize to each other for acting so mean and for swearing.” She directed a look to Stan who scoffed. 

꣑୧  And wait they did. After a couple of days, Ford’s phone randomly started ringing. Rushing to pick it up, he lifted his phone to see you calling him. He gulped nervously, suddenly second guessing himself. Should he pick up the phone? If he does, what if it’s you telling him that you want a divorce? Or that you need a break, or that– “Grunkle Ford!” Dipper snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Answer!” He pointed to the phone. “I got it!” Mable sang out, swiping her finger to the right. There was a beat of silence. Mable and Dipper anxiously waited for at least you or him to speak. One of them was about to intrude, no longer able to withstand such silence when you spoke up. “My love?” Your voice was timid. Ford’s heart lunged to his throat. How he missed your voice. “Y-Yes?” He mentally punched himself for stuttering like a complete fool in front of you. “Can you open the door for me? It’s locked.” Without a second thought, Ford practically ran over to the door and whipped it open for you. The twins watched you and him silently talk to each other from a distance. After a few tearful words and hugs, they recoil in disgust when they see Ford swoop you in for a kiss. “Oh my eyes!” Mable dramatically exclaimed. “Gross.” Dipper made a face in disgust. 

꣑୧ “I’m still mad at Ford for roping you kids into all that madness.” You tell the kids, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. “Dawww, don’t you worry about us.” Mable put a hand to her cheek bashfully. “We can handle it.” You found that hard to believe. “Is Gravity Falls still…crazy?” You whisper the last part, in case Bill Cipher is listening. You’ve only heard stories of him, but hearing what he has done rooted a new fear in you. “Kind of? There’s still weird things that happen here, but not as bad as last summer.” Dipper said, jotting down a few notes in his journal. “How come I’ve never seen anything weird?” You wondered. “Because you’re too busy making out with Grunkle Ford to notice anything!” Mable chirped, kicking her feet as she drew on colored piece of paper. That elicited a laugh from Dipper and a “What!” Ford walked in with an eyebrow raised and breakfast in hand. ”I heard I was mentioned in a conversation. Are you guys talking crap about me?” Ford places his food on the table and pulls back a chair. He sits right next to you and before he dives in on his breakfast, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips. “You wish!” Mable says, flipping her paper on its backside. “I do not.” Ford said quietly. “So, kids saving the world, huh? That has to count as some kind of child abuse.” You half said seriously, half said jokingly. Ford rolled his eyes. “What? Are you gonna arrest me?” You glared at him. “I might…” 

[blabberoo]

I am not ok

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Please, write something about facesitting with Stan and Ford, cuz with those giant noses I know its good.

A/n: 👀

Warnings: Oral sex, female receiving.

•Stanly Pines•

Stan love's nothing more than to eat you out though the moment you let it slip that you want to try something knew the man tease's how can he ever go back.

You're adorable, so adorable,

Stan can't help but smirk at your shy request, feeling his cock twitch in anticipation. He loves when you take control like that, it’s so damn hot.

"Anything, for you angel, though who knew you were such a naughty one."

He purrs, gently guiding you to straddle his face. His strong hands grip your hips as he eagerly starts to devour you, his tongue expertly exploring every inch of your dripping pussy.

Your cries only fueling his own desire as you tried to move, Stan's hands clutching preventing your movement as he held your hips tightly.

He moans softly against your folds, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. Stan's fingers dig into your skin as he worships you, determined to make you feel good. He loves the taste of you, the way you squirm and moan above him only fueling his desire.

You can feel his hot breath against your sensitive skin, his tongue flicking and teasing your clit with expert precision.

Stan's hands roam up your body, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples as he continues to eat you out with fervor. He’s completely focused on giving you pleasure, lost in the moment as he worships you like the goddess you are.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good, baby,”

Stan groans, his voice thick with desire. He’s completely under your control, eager to please you in any way you desire. His cock strains against his jeans, desperate for release, but right now all he cares about is making you feel good.

•Standord Pines•

It all started in High School for Ford, he was tutoring you well doing his best as you complained about your boyfriend refusing to eat out which lead to you dumping him. You didn't know why you told him, maybe it was because you had a soft for him a crush and you were hoping that he would notice your feelings despite you being popular.

Though it didn't take long for you to try it, neither of you had experience and looking back on it, you couldn't help but chuckle at your first time with Ford though that night lead down the road of your experience with your six fingered lover.

Ford had gotten better, more experienced with sex when it came to you. One particular memory came to mind, you two were running from some asshole on some planet and one thing lead to another as the man had you pinned to the wall. Bottom's gone, panties hanging off your ankle as your legs draped themselves across your lovers shoulders.

You head hitting the wall as your eyes closed shut as your fingers wove through his hair. "That prick in the bar said he could eat me out better?" You had a teasing tone to your voice but you wanted to see Ford's reaction.

Ford's eyes darken with possessiveness and desire as he hears your words, as his glasses nearly slip off his face . His hand tightens on your waist as he adjusted your legs so you were more comfortable

“Like that bastard knows you like I do! I am going to show you what it’s like to be worshipped properly,” his voiced muffled by your thigh, his breath hot against your skin. The hunger in his eyes is undeniable as he eagerly waits for you to take control and give him what he craves.

Ford groans softly as you settle on his face, feeling the warmth and weight of you on him. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you into the perfect position as his tongue eagerly darts out to taste you. He moans in delight, the vibrations sending shivers through you as he starts to worship you like you deserve.

His tongue explores every inch of you, licking and sucking with skill and precision. He's relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, making sure you feel nothing but bliss under his ministrations. The sounds of your moans and gasps only fuel his desire, and he's determined to make you unravel completely with his touch.

Your fingers gripping his hair, tugging at the silver strands, your eyes squeezing tightly shut.

He devours you with a hunger that matches his possessiveness, wanting to show you just how good it can be when you're with someone who truly cherishes you. And in this moment, with you on top of him, he's proving just how much he adores you. He may no longer be that fumbling teenager but Ford loves you and he'll always make sure you know.