#love the ‘got his computer stolen and didn’t bother to get another one’ bit…how much you wanna bet that was a lie to detract the thieves

[cruesuffix]

just found a whole bunch of mick interviews randomly…think this is the most he’s talked throughout the 80’s so i think we should consider ourselves lucky rn.

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumptober #10

Midnighter - #10 - Hospital

I am forever mad DC wasted their chance to let Midnighter and Dick have a moment when Dick lost his memory, so have this

*

Apollo put the car in park but didn’t turn it off. He reached over, placing a hand on Midnighter’s arm.

“I can go in with you,” he said.

“No,” Midnighter said, shaking his head. “I appreciate you coming this far, Andrew. But I…”

“Stop,” Apollo said softly. “You don’t have to explain it. I’m right out here if you change your mind. Take your time, M.”

Midnighter could only nod in reply, his throat suddenly tight. He pushed the door open and got out, slowly making his way into the hospital.

He’d debated coming at all. It was Red Hood who contacted him to tell him the news and answer his questions. It was the only reason Midnighter even knew which room to visit.

Still, he found himself dragging his feet as he navigated the hallways, following signs to find where he needed to be. He refused to meet the eyes of anyone he passed, keeping his head down for once.

Hospitals were usually an inevitable destination for crime-fighters. But with his ability to heal, and the fight computer usually letting him get through fights with little to no injuries in the first place, hospitals were unfamiliar to Midnighter. 

He didn’t like them. The sterile environment, the blank, white walls, the occasional dispassionate voice overhead calling out codes, the overworked staff bustling from room to room. No, he didn’t like hospitals.

Still, he forced himself to keep moving through the halls. Even if he was uncomfortable, at least he had the option to walk out of here any second he chose to. Some didn’t have that option. Some would never step foot out of here again.

That thought sent a shudder through him and he picked up his speed at last. He was here for a reason. Now was not the time for irrational fears to take hold. This wasn’t about him. 

Finally, he found the room he was looking for. He faltered outside of it, then steeled himself and stepped to the open door, peeking in.

A young woman looked up at him from the bedside. “Midnighter?”

“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said, cautiously stepping into the room.

“Barbara Gordon,” she introduced, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

He figured she was probably one of the many Batfam members or allies, but he didn’t really bother to puzzle out who at that moment. His eyes had locked onto the still figure on the bed.

“Has he-” He paused, his voice unsteady. He cleared his throat. “Has he regained consciousness?”

“Yes,” she said. “He was awake about two hours ago.”

There was another empty chair in the room, but Midnighter leaned against the wall, close to the door. He felt like he was intruding. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“Red Hood said he doesn’t remember anything after the death of his parents,” he said. 

“No,” Barbara said quietly, gaze drifting to Dick Grayson’s pale face. “No, he doesn’t remember any of us. Any of- any of it. Who he’s been all these years. The things he’s done. The people he’s loved. It’s all gone for him. We don’t know if it’s permanent.”

Midnighter stared at Dick for a long moment, his stomach twisting. Almost his whole life, gone just like that. Stolen from him in an instant.

“He’ll be okay,” Midnighter said at last.

“He-”

“Will be okay.” He said it more firmly this time, meeting Barbara’s eyes. “I’m not saying it will be easy. But he lived the life he did because of his strengths. Those won’t go away just because he doesn’t remember how he used them.”

She stared at him before giving a small, sad smile. “Some people thought he was crazy for trusting you as much as he did.” She stood up, gesturing to the chair she’d been in. “I’ve been here all day. I really should step out for a bit, get some lunch and fresh air. Keep him company while I’m gone?” 

Midnighter took the chair and Barbara left the room. He glanced nervously at the door, realizing that any of Dick’s family or friends could come in here at any moment. He really didn’t like the thought of coming face-to-face with Batman. At least he’d save time by already being in the hospital.

But his anxiety faded to the background as he examined Dick. It was a miracle the shot hadn’t killed him, and a cruelty that it had taken so much from him anyway. 

Hard as it was to watch Dick lie, injured and motionless, Midnighter did not leave his side. He chatted easily with any staff who came into the room, claiming he was a work friend of Dick’s. He sent a text to Apollo to keep him from worrying. He told Dick’s unconscious self what he’d been up to recently, just to fill the heavy silence. 

It was a long time before Dick woke up.

Midnighter stayed quiet as Dick came to, taking a few minutes to seem lucid. When he looked at Midnighter, an exhausted expression came over his face.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Midnighter opened his mouth to crack a joke, but all that came out was, “A friend.”

Dick eyed him carefully before slowly shaking his head. “I don’t remember you.”

Midnighter could detect the helpless frustration in his voice. “That’s alright.”

Dick looked up in surprise. Midnighter didn’t need to ask to know the others must’ve all tried to remind Dick who they were- with stories that meant nothing to him, inside jokes he was no longer part of, memories the bullet had torn from his brain.

Midnighter gave him a sad, knowing smile. “Probably for the best you don’t remember me. It gives me a chance to reuse some of my best pick up lines on you.”

“Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise. “Uh- maybe, don’t do that?”

Midnighter’s smile grew a bit more genuine. “See? You don’t even remember me, but it’s like nothing’s changed.”

He shifted a little to get more comfortable. “Everyone else has tried to tell me who they were. What they were to me. I don’t remember any of it.”

“And it’s frustrating,” Midnighter said. “A whole life you remember nothing of. You don’t want to hurt them, but you don’t remember them, so that pain isn’t actually reciprocated.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “They care. But they’re just...strangers to me.”

Midnighter leaned forward a little. “I know what it’s like to wake up one day with no memory of who you used to be. My memory was taken from me too, Dick. I never got it back. I learned to live without it. I’m happy with who I became, even without all those memories. You’ll be okay, whatever way this goes. I promise. Trust that I know you, so I know what I’m saying is true.” 

He stood up, realizing there was nothing he could do right now for his friend. When he got out of the hospital, Midnighter would check on him, help him adjust to his new reality if he could- if Dick wanted him too. 

“Wait,” Dick said. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

Midnighter paused. “Midnighter.”

“What?”

“Midnighter.” He glanced at Dick, giving a ghost of his usual playful grin. “It’s all I had when I woke up without my memories. I spent years finding out who Midnighter really was. It’s not easy, Dick. But you’ll get there. Hey, when you’re out, I’ll take you for coffee sometime, if you want. Won’t even abduct you out of a hot zone this time.” 

“...What?”

Midnighter laughed. “Some memories you’re better off without. I’ll check in with you when you’re out of here.” He looked around the room. “I’m not a fan of hospitals.”

“You and me both,” he said moodily. He hesitated for a moment before lifting his head a little. “Thank you. You’re the only one who hasn’t...expected anything from me.”

“I’ve been where you are,” Midnighter said. “I’ll see you around, Dick.”

“Yea, sure,” he said. “See you around, uh, Midnighter.”

Midnighter left the hospital room, making his way back through the twisting hallways of the place. He was unsurprised to find Barbara waiting at the entrance.

“Don’t expect so much from him,” he said as he passed her. “He needs time to figure everything out.”

She said nothing, just watched him go. Midnighter found Apollo waiting in the parking lot, sliding into the passenger seat of the car. 

“Well?” Apollo asked. 

“He’ll make it,” Midnighter said, reaching out to squeeze Apollo’s hand. “He just needs someone who loves him enough to let him go and find himself, be it the new him or the old.”

“Let’s go home,” Apollo said, but didn’t release Midnighter’s hand as he started the car. 

Midnighter didn’t mind; Apollo had let him go when it mattered. He just hoped Dick’s friends and family would be willing to do the same.

[4stars-uswnt]

If I Hated You [Alex Morgan x Reader]

requested by anon: Hey I love your works!! I was wondering if you could do a fic based on fletcher’s new song ‘if I hated you’ with Alex x reader, if possible with an eventual happy ending? If not I totally understand but thank you so much for all the fics you’ve shared and done for us.

requested by @eclipses77​: Hey I was wondering if you could write a fix based off Fletcher’s new song ‘If I Hated You’ with any person you want but with a happy ending if possible.

A/N: thank you to both of you who requested this! and to the anon: i’m so glad you enjoy my fics. i have a great time writing them for you guys. 

this isn’t really a song fic with lyrics and everything. it’s mainly just inspired Fletcher’s song, so i hope y’all still enjoy it anyways :) also i may have gotten a little carried away with it.

ps. thanks to @sauceysonny​ for talking through this prompt with me and letting me rant through my ideas

warnings: swearing

Listen to “If I Hated You” by Fletcher here

You throw the sheets off your body for what feels like the hundredth time that night. You had been tossing and turning, unable to sleep with the other side of the bed being so empty. You reach for your phone to check the time. 2:13 am. The photo on the lock screen makes your heartache. It was a photo of you and Alex that Kelley had captured in the locker room after the World Cup, your foreheads pressed together, oblivious to the rest of the world. Shutting your phone off, you turn over and stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out how you’d gotten here.

—————

“I can’t wait to see you this weekend.” You chirp, smiling at your girlfriend through your computer screen. There had been a week break in the NWSL season, so Alex had decided to visit you up in Seattle for a couple of days.

Alex gives you a sheepish look. Being able to read your girlfriend like a book, you feel yourself deflate with defeat.

“You’re not coming, are you?”

“Babe, I’m sorry. I have to go to LA for some meetings with the Olympics committee and with Angel City. I am so sorry.” Alex apologizes.

Her apologies felt useless at this point, as your girlfriend was always cancelling on you, putting you second. You look down at your hands, ignoring Alex’s gaze.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I’ve been really busy lately.” She tries again, hoping to get a response out of you.

“You’re always busy, Al.” You mumble.

“I know, babe, and I’m sorry, but there’s not a lot I can do about it.” Alex defends.

You roll your eyes, annoyed at your girlfriend’s excuses. “Yes, Alex, there is something you can do about it. You can tell them that you already have plans. Or that you have to go visit your girlfriend, who you haven't seen in almost two months. Or that they can fucking wait because Angel City isn’t happening for another year and the Olympics aren’t for another eight fucking years.”

Alex sits on the other side of the screen stunned by your outburst. In your arguments, you were usually the calmer one, Alex being the one with the temper, but you just couldn’t hold it in any longer.

You sigh, tired of fighting with the other woman. “Al, maybe we should just take a break.”

“What?” Alex sits up at that, leaning closer to the screen.

“Look, I know we love each other and everything, but recently it just feels like our relationship is strained by the distance and all of our commitments.”

“You mean my commitments.” Alex countered.

“I didn’t say that, Alex. Stop putting words in my mouth. We are both to blame here. I just feel like we need some time to ourselves to figure out what we want from this relationship.”

Your heart aches, as the words leave your mouth, and as you see tears form in Alex’s eyes.

“Are you sure? Because I don’t wanna take a break.” She whispered.

“Al, I don’t wanna take a break either, but all we’ve been doing lately is arguing, and I just think we should take a little time to evaluate our own lives.” You feel tears pooling in your eyes.

“Okay, if that’s what you want, love.” Alex nods, wiping her face.

“I think it’s what we need.” You swallow the knot in your throat. “This isn’t the end, Al.”

“It better not be.” She lets out a watery chuckle, and you fondly smile.

“See you later, Ali-gator.”

Alex smiled at your nickname for her. The two of you vowed you would never actually say ‘goodbye’ to each other because you always knew you’d see each other again.

“See you in a while, crocodile.”

—————

That conversation was almost two weeks ago, and since then, you had been an absolute mess. Although you were used to being alone in Seattle, being on a break from your relationship made you feel even more lonely. In the past couple of weeks, you had barely left your apartment, only going out for training, games, and the necessary grocery shopping.

Your phone had been blowing up with text messages from your national team teammates, who were all concerned about you after hearing the news. Not bothering to give any of them any details, you responded to the group chat with an ‘I’m fine, you guys. Please respect me and Alex’s privacy.’ Alex soon replied, adding ‘What (Y/N) said. We love you guys, but we need to work through this ourselves.’ Both of your texts received many hearts and likes, following with ‘We’re here’ and ‘Love you guys’ from the women, and the texts stopped after that.

In Orlando, Alex hadn’t been faring any better. After returning from LA, she spent most of her time moping around her house in sweatpants and a hoodie she’d stolen from you. Ali, Ash, and Syd would all stop by or invite her over to cheer her up, but Alex was heartbroken without you.

—————

The next morning, after having gone to bed at around 3 am, you slip on a pair of shorts and one of Alex’s Cal hoodies and drag yourself to training.

As you walk into the locker room, Allie and Megan exchange a look of concern, noticing the bags under your eyes and your hood pulled over your head. Your two national team teammates had been worried about you for the past couple of months, even more so in the recent weeks when you and Alex had decided to take a break. They knew the distance was causing you stress, and now the separation was causing you heartbreak. But every time either woman tried to approach the subject, you shut them out, insisting you were okay, when you clearly were not.

Towards the end of practice, after another one of your passes goes awry, Farid calls you over.

“(Y/N), you doing okay?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. He had heard the whispers in the locker room, your teammates voicing their concerns, and he could tell something was bothering you, so much so it was disrupting your play.

“Yes, coach.”

Not wanting to push you, he hums. “Okay, then you better start playing like you’re doing okay.”

You nod, embarrassed by your own unprofessionalism. “Of course, coach, sorry.”    

He blows the whistle, ending practice, and you scurry back to the locker room.

Back in the locker room, as you’re taking off your cleats and packing up your bag, Allie slips into the seat next to you.

“(Y/N), you wanna come over later?” Allie places a hand on your knee. “We’re having a barbecue. Megan and Sue will also be there.”

You snort. “And be a fifth wheel? I’m good, Allie, but thanks for the invite.”

“(Y/N),” she starts again, “even though I’m Alex’s best friend doesn’t mean I don’t care about you either. Megan and I, and the whole team really, are here if you ever wanna talk.”

“Thanks, Allie.” You smile, as you stand up, swinging your backpack over your shoulder. “Maybe I’ll stop by for a little bit.”

“Awesome.”

—————

Later than evening, you made your way over to Allie and Bati’s place, ultimately deciding that being a fifth wheel was better than sitting at your apartment alone with another box of takeout.

You enter through the side gate, heading into the backyard, where Bati is barbecuing and Megan, Allie, and Sue are chatting around the table. Hearing you open the gate, Bati looks up from the grill.

“Hey! Look who made it!” He gives you a big grin, opening his arm up for a side hug, which you accept.

“Hey, Jose. Thanks for having me.” You softly smile.

“Of course, (Y/N).”

“Aye! (Y/N)! Get your butt over here!” Megan calls from across the yard, waving you over.

“The queen is calling, so I must go.” You joke, making your way over to the table.

“(Y/N/N), I’m glad you could make it.” Allie gives you a brief hug. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Water would be great.” You thank her, before turning to Megan and Sue.

“Long time no see, Birdie. Good game the other day. You played, eh, okay.” You smirk at the basketball player, who just rolls her eyes.

“It’s good to see you too, (Y/N/N). Thanks. A triple double is okay. But I dunno if I could say the same about you. I hear you’re not playing like the superstar you are.” Sue teases, resulting in a slap from Megan, who gives her girlfriend a warning glare.

You ignore the pink-haired woman and the ache in your chest. “Just having a couple of bad practices. I’ll be tearing up the field in no time.” You boast flippantly.

Seeing past your confident facade, Megan narrows her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay, (Y/N)?”

“P, I’ve told you a million times. I’m fine.” You give her a tight smile, silently telling her you don’t want to talk about it.

Before Megan can ask you anymore questions, Allie and Bati approach the table with plates of food in their hands.

“Time to eat!” Allie cheers. “Oh, and, (Y/N), here’s your water.”

You mutter out a ‘thanks’, and take a large gulp, pushing down the knot forming in your throat.

—————

Dinner went smoothly the five of you discussing an array of topics, ranging from the upcoming NWSL and WNBA season to the election to the newest Italian restaurant that opened downtown.

By the time you all are finished eating, it’s dark out, leaving only the fairy lights to illuminate the yard. You go to clear your plate, but before you can stand up, Bati grabs it from you.

“Don’t worry, (Y/N/N). I got this.” He motions for you to sit back down, before reaching to collect the rest of the plates. “Why don’t I clean up and leave you ladies to chat?” Bati quickly pecks Allie’s cheek, before heading back inside.

Once it is just the four of you, Megan turns to you.

“(Y/N), seriously, how are you feeling?”

You internally groan. You should’ve known this was gonna turn into an intervention. Before you go to respond, the older forward continues.

“And don’t give me that ‘I’m fine. I’m good’ bullshit.” She raises her eyebrow, daring you to challenge her. “Because obviously you’re not fine, and you’re not good. For the past two weeks all you’ve been doing is moping around your apartment, wearing nothing but sweats. You’ve barely eaten an actual meal until today, nor gotten a good night’s sleep. And to top it all of you’ve been playing like crap!”

Sue hits Megan’s arm and scolds her. “Megan!”

The pink-haired woman faces to her girlfriend. “No! I’m not going to sugar coat it. (Y/N) needs to hear this, and she needs to talk about.” Megan turns back to you and softens. “(Y/N/N), you can’t keep bottling up all your feelings. We care about you, and we’re here to listen, so please talk to us.”

Both Allie and Sue nod along with Pinoe’s words.

“Honestly,” you take a deep breath, before starting, “I’m a mess. Like before, I was annoyed and angry that Al was making me a second priority, but now I’m just sad and heartbroken that she’s not here with me.” You finally confess to the other women, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your chest. “And, I mean, I didn’t want to take a break, but our relationship just felt strained. Like we weren’t communicating, and I think the distance was getting the best of us, especially with all of our commitments. I don’t know. Do you guys think I made the right decision?”

Not knowing what to say, the three woman look at each other, searching for answers. Finally, Sue speaks up.

“(Y/N), none of us can know if you made the right decision.” She reaches to squeeze your hand. “Only you and Alex can know what’s right for yourselves and your relationship.”

You nod in understanding. “I love her so much, and I wish we could just be together because all I want is to be by her side.” You whisper, your eyes getting misty. “Ugh, I just miss her so much.”

“I miss you, too.”

You whip your head around. There, in all her glory, stood Alex Morgan. She doesn’t look any better than you, your Reign sweatshirt hiding her muscular frame and dark circles forming under her eyes. Your lips part, as you’re completely speechless.

“You’re car wasn’t in your lot, so I assumed you were either here or at Pinoe’s. This was my first stop, and here you are.” Alex shifts uncomfortably in the silence, her usual confidence faded.

You turn back to face Allie, Megan, and Sue, your eyes narrowing. “Did you three know about this?”

“No!” They all exclaim, Megan holding up her hands in innocence. You continue to stare at Allie, not convinced she had no part in this.

“I swear, (Y/N), I had no idea about this.” She insists, as you relent your accusatory glare.

“(Y/N),” Alex comes up from behind you, “they had nothing to do with this, so please don’t be mad at them. I came here all on my own because I wanted to talk to you. I needed to see you.”

You nod. “Ok.”

“So, can we talk?” She sheepishly asks. “Alone, if that’s okay with you?” She adds, pleading her friends to leave you two to talk.

The three women take the cue and head back inside, leaving you alone with Alex, who sits in Pinoe’s seat across from you.

You sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing where to start.

You decide to break the silence. “How’ve you been?”

She looks up from her fidgeting hands. “Uhh. Good. I’ve been good.”

You smirk, raising your eyebrow. “Al, c’mon, I know you like the back of my hand. How have you actually been?”

Alex sighs. “To be honest, I’ve been miserable.” She looks up, locking eyes with you. “I missed you, and I just wanted be with you, or even just hear your voice.”

You nod, knowing the feeling. “I missed you too, Al.”

“But you were right.” She confesses, as you tilt your head, confused. “We, or at least I, needed this break. It helped me realize what was important in my life, and that’s you, (Y/N). I can live without all those brand deals and sponsors, hell, I can even live without soccer, because none of that means anything if I can’t share it with you.”

By that point, both you openly had tears streaming down your faces.

“So, I promise to be better and to be more committed to our relationship. And I’m sorry that I ever put you as a second priority because you’re not. You’re my number one.” Alex concludes, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

You let out a small chuckle at her cheesiness. “Thank you for your apology.” You take her hand. “And I’m sorry that didn’t make enough of an effort either.” Before Alex can protest, you squeeze her hand. “Al, a relationship is between two people. This wasn’t just your fault, okay? We both played a part.” You assure, quelling her guilt.

“So can we end this break and be back together?” Alex whispers hesitantly.

Beaming, you pull her in for a searing kiss, your first in almost three months. Her soft lips melt against yours, and you could taste the sweetness of her vanilla chapstick mixed with the saltiness of her tears. Before you could deepen the kiss, you hear Allie call from inside.

“No sex in my yard please!”

You rest your head on Alex’s shoulder, as the two of you laugh at your friend’s antics. Your girlfriend caresses your cheek, guiding you to lock eyes with her pleading blue orbs.

“Do you forgive me?”  

You nod. “Yes, Al, I forgive you.”

“Good. I thought you hated me.” She mumbles.

“I could never hate you, even if I tried.”

Alex smiles, leaning in for another kiss, before you hold up your hand.

“But, Al, your words are nice and all, but I have to see it. You have to prove to me that you’re committed to this relationship, especially if it’s long distance. And I will work to do the same. Okay?”

“Of course, (Y/N/N).” She nods her head eagerly. “So, I’m guessing it’s okay if I stayed here with you in Seattle for the next week?”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“They had to cancel training and matches for the next week because of some flooding issues at the facilities. So I’m all yours until next Sunday. That is, if you’ll have me.”

You jump off your seat and into Alex’s lap, pulling her in for another kiss. “Who am I to refuse such a pretty lady?” You tease, giving her nose a kiss.

“Alex and (Y/N) sitting in a tree…!” Allie sings, as her, Megan, and Sue approach the two of you.

“I take it you two made up?” Megan gestures to your position in Alex’s lap.

“Yes, we made up.” You grin, as your girlfriend kiss the top of your head.

“Good. I’m glad.” She returns a smile, and you mouth a ‘thank you’ to her.

“Me too.” Alex beams, turning to look at you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You bring her in for a sweet chaste kiss.

“Hey! What did I say about no sex in my yard!” Allie playfully scolds.

“It’s not my fault (Y/N) can’t keep her hands off me.” Alex smirks.

You gasp, jumping out of your girlfriend’s laugh. “Hey!”

“I’m only kidding, babe.” She rolls her eyes, pulling you back into her lap.

You cross your arms and pout. “I hate you.”

Alex chuckles, as she buries her face in your neck, giving you a kiss. “No you don’t.”

You smile, turning to the woman you love, and give her a quick peck. “You’re right. I don’t.”

[omegaandchaos]

Been watching cutscenes of Before Crisis because I wanted to know more on The Turks backstory and how Rufus fits into it as what I’ve read about it is quite vague in parts. Here’s some things that I’ve picked up and some of it is just how I’ve interpreted it or speculation. I haven’t really mentioned much about Veld (Verdot) story line involving his daughter Elfe cause it’s really long.

The Turks technically don’t kidnap Rufus, Rufus is in Turks HQ because the president ordered Tseng to keep him there. But when the president orders Tseng to find and kill Veld, Tseng and the Turks disobey the order and instead help Veld. Scarlet finds out and tells the President to get rid of the Turks for their betrayal and the President agrees but then remembers that they have Rufus so decided to be cautious in case the Turks use Rufus against him. The President and The Turks are the only people who know that Rufus is being held in Turks HQ everyone else is told he is on an extended business trip elsewhere. This ends up protecting the Turks for a while because the President doesn’t want any of the other executives to know the truth about Rufus’ whereabouts. So The Turks didn’t use Rufus on purpose he just happened to be stuck with them whilst all this was going on meanwhile, informing Tseng that they were idiots and were going to get themselves killed. The President does eventually decide to order Scarlet to capture Veld so he can trade Veld to the Turks for Rufus but with every intention of killing both Veld and the Turks. The funny thing is that all of this is seemingly going on in the same building which shows how much power The Turks have and that the President is hesitant to do anything because he doesn’t want people to know what he did to Rufus. Rufus meanwhile is trying to help The Turks , I believe because he likes them by this point but also because it’s another chance to get back at his father. It’s ironic because the President put Rufus in that position and now Rufus has managed to use it to his own advantage.

Rufus funds Avalanche and gives them information in the beginning, he uses them to ruin his fathers plans often to make him look stupid but also he plans for Avalanche to kill the President. Rufus even meets with Avalanche members in person. Rufus is aware that Veld suspects him and admits it was difficult for him to get away though I get the impression he was never all that bothered about being found out. When Avalanche eventually turn on him in Corel and tell him they don’t need his money any more, Rufus has no choice but to go back with the Turks and accept his arrest. The Turks, despite Rufus trying to kill them, are still prepared to protect Rufus and save his life at all costs as the building is about to blow up.

When Reeve comes to Turks HQ to help the Turks with Veld and gives them Cait Sith. Rufus listens in on their conversations whilst staying hidden so that Reeve doesn’t know he is there. When he leaves Tseng and Rufus both discuss and agree that Reeve can be useful. So Rufus is aware that Reeve has also betrayed The President and also about Cait Sith which impresses Rufus.

Before Rufus is captured by the Turks and returned to Midgar, he pretty much orders Avalanche to kill the Turks when they discover that it was Rufus helping them all along. Then after spending years in house arrest with the them, when the Turks betray the Presidents orders, Rufus realised that it is going to get them killed so steps in, covers for them and spares them from being killed.

Before his lockdown, Rufus constantly tries to undermine his father in board meetings, pointing out his failures and often argues against all his decisions particularly with the Space programme that does become a big failure though Rufus did sabotage it using Avalanche. This does however gain some respect from Reeve and from Heidegger who both consider that Rufus is ready to take over and will be a great leader.

I got the impression Rufus quite likes/respects Cid even though he doesn’t believe in Cid’s dreams of going to Space, Rufus does try to stop the rocket launch because he knows it will kill Cid.

When Tseng is in HQ after Rufus has been put on house arrest there, Rufus often watches Tseng, listening into his phone conversations with the other Turks and constantly gives Tseng his opinion on what’s going on and pretty much insults them often ‘sounds like that Turk is running wild again’. It’s interesting that the President put Rufus there as Rufus is able to use this to his advantage to keep track of everything going in Shinra and sometimes might even influence Tseng’s decisions. Rufus is also allowed full access to the Shinra network, supposedly The President gave permission for this, Rufus finds it amusing that his Father has allowed him this and it means Rufus can still keeps tabs and even carry on communicating with Avalanche which Rufus uses to help The Turks of his own free will. Rufus even gives intel to Tseng to save The Turks from Scarlet and tries to help him anyway he can.

This one is more of a headcanon than an observation but I can understand now why Tseng became loyal to Rufus after years of having the VP question his every move and give his opinion on everything I can see Tseng start to realise that Rufus is extremely smart and tactical and they form a bond. Rufus starts agreeing with Tseng more and more over time and they realise that they work well together. Also I always thought the idea of The Turks babysitting Rufus was a bit of a joke but actually it was clear that only the Turks were allowed to know that Rufus was being held there but were also told to keep him comfortable so they pretty much were his babysitters and probably had to do ridiculous errands for him.

Tseng was told to keep Rufus in HQ and Tseng either lets Rufus have free reign of the area or more likely Rufus just does as he pleases, as Tseng doesn’t seem to be bothered that Rufus is just listening in to everything and just letting himself into Tseng’s office. It does make me wonder what would happen if Rufus decided to just leave HQ, there must have to be a Turk watching him at all times. Tseng’s only orders are to keep Rufus in HQ so what happens inside HQ stays in HQ. However I also noticed that when Tseng and the other agent are talking to Rufus about Avalanche, Rufus is locked up again and the other agent seems to assume that Rufus never leaves his confined area so it would seem Tseng purposefully lets Rufus out when it’s just the two of them. As Chief, Tseng seems to stay at HQ the most keeping tabs on the other agents missions and giving orders so it really is mostly just him and Rufus alone most of the time. Tseng only really gets involved with missions if there’s a fuck up or an agent is in trouble.

I also imagine Rufus must have his own private gym and kitchen in his confined area, you don’t see much of it but it looks like it’s big and Tseng makes it clear that the layout is as per the Presidents instructions.

You never see SOLDIER females but there is mention of a SOLDIER female candidate. I think they mostly recruit males as when the Turks look and literally kidnap candidates against their free will they seems to just pick strong looking men/thugs. Most cadidates don’t make the cut and I reckon most probably don’t survive the mako bath that they are forced into and I reckon men probably react better to the mako baths than women. But that is my pure speculation I haven’t read anything else about it and let’s face it a lot of the women in FF7 are strong and can kick the guys asses.

When Veld is being held prisoner by the President, The Turks get their network access revoked, Rufus manages to hack into their system using his access to help them find Veld, at first the Turks don’t know who is accessing their computers but Tseng strongly suspects that it is Rufus and so isn’t surprised when he finds out that it was. So Rufus has very good computer skills but he also has a high security level of access which he uses to help The Turks but not for free. Rufus asks Reno and Rude to leave as he wants to speak to Tseng alone and says that he will tell him where Veld is being held but he wants something in return. You don’t really find out what Rufus asks for but I assume it was probably something along the lines of Tseng’s loyalty (or undying love) as Tseng even now is still unsure whether he can trust Rufus. Turns out Rufus’ intel was correct.

When the Turks have finally all left HQ to go find Veld, the President used this opportunity release Rufus from confinement, he then takes him back to the executive floor and comments that ‘it’s been a while’ and that Rufus now looks stronger. Despite Rufus being held in the same building, The President never visited his son as he didn’t want anyone to know he was there. I guess Rufus probably spent a lot of time working out also.

There’s a back story about Tseng’s feelings towards his duty being a Turk. Tseng often struggles with putting his personal feelings before a mission this happens a few times throughout Before Crisis, particularly involving Zack and Veld. I would also say this applies to Aerith as well as he seems to avoid capturing her a lot. This kind of makes me confused with his reaction to the Sector 7 plate fall but my head canon is that Tseng knew that he would be putting his personal feelings with Rufus before his duty to the President so he decided to play along so that the Turks would not be suspected of Treason. Once on a mission he was sent to rescue a Shinra guard that had been kidnapped and tortured, however when he found the guard the guard told him that the ship contained Shinra weapons that were being stolen. Tseng had to choose between the life of the guard and the weapons. He decided to choose the guard because that was his original mission and he would feel guilty if he died. However Tseng was told he chose wrongly as now the weapons were in enemy hands and Tseng’s duty should always be to serve Shinras best interests instead of his own feelings and guilt. Veld covers for Tseng but tells him he needs to take responsibility for his actions, he also tells Tseng to always put the mission first, this is the way of the Turks, and not to try and save him. Tseng really respects Veld and comments that he wants to be just like him. Veld then gets badly injured and Tseng blames himself and vows always do whatever he can for the sake of the Turks (changing loyalty to Rufus also gives the Turks a future). Of course when Veld later gets captured he chooses Velds life over his duty to Shinra until he finds a way to save the Turks by pretending to kill Veld. He also tries to intervene with Zacks re-capture and doesn’t want to help Hojo in Nibelhiem despite his orders.

When Heidegger is briefly put in charge of The Turks, all of the Turks show their disdain towards him and whenever asked what his strategy is Heidegger will often just hang up the phone.

Elena says she hates the Turks and doesn’t want to join them though this has more to do with her resentment towards her sister for choosing the Turks over their family.

This picture is from the Turks HQ (in the basement) and basically Rufus was being held in a room on the same level as here for four years (no daylight how cruel) although it’s possible Turks HQ was moved since they lost a lot of their comrades and lost favour with The President. Only The Turks and The President have access to the area though maybe Heidegger would but he seemingly never went there. Rufus is released from confinement around the time that Zack and Cloud are on the run from Nibelheim. He is only released because The President fears The Turks will use Rufus against him. Rufus tells his father that he did resent him at first but says he is now grateful because he sees things in a new light. Secretly he just means that he is now more prepared to take over Shinra because he has Tseng and the Turks loyalty. When Tseng thanks Rufus for stopping The President from terminating them, Rufus tells Tseng that he didn’t do it for them and that if they want to show their gratitude they could show it through their work. Tseng then acknowledges that The Turks are facing a new era and will continue to carry out their duty with pride. The game ends as Avalanche are breaking into Reactor 1.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanofff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Mentions of Death, and Smut

Side Note: This is the final chapter of Thin Line. Before you read I’d like to thank you so much for reading my fic and I’m assuming if you read this far you like it. Fee free to stick around for the many fics and imagines to come. Love You 3000❤️

Chapter 11

They had been flying for hours. Sam fell asleep, almost instantly, after he got on the jet. Wanda had fallen asleep an hour after Sam, her mind had been reeling far too much for her to settle at first.

Steve was piloting(technically the jet is in autopilot so he wasn’t) but that didn’t steal his air of authority. Bucky having just been left in Wakanda.

And Natasha.

The red head had firmly planted herself in a seat near the jets door an hour after boarding.

Steve spoke to her before then. He knows how much she loves you and had to make sure she was one hundred percent on board with leaving. She assured him she was.

While she still stands by that, her heart was seemingly screaming at her, aching at your absence and her decision to leave.

Those feelings is exactly why, for majority of the flight, she had been staring at a picture. The only picture she ever bothered to hold on to: one you had taken on your second date.

****Flashback****

“Natasha, babe, we fight lunatics and terrorists for a living, and you’re telling me you’re scared of a rollercoaster?” You stood beside her with a teasing grin, the large metal contraption in front of you.

She rolled her eyes and mushed your face,“ I’m not scared of anything. I just don’t want to get on.” Her eyes then skeptically watched passerby.

You, noticing that she was slipping into Widow mode, grabbed her hands and pulled her closer,“ what if we,” you stretched the word and looked around,“ go to the beach instead.”

She’s still hesitant. It’s not often that she subjects herself to being out in the open like this, but you had pouted and fucked her into giving in. Turns out your adorable face mixed with a mind blowing orgasm was the perfect kryptonite.

“Come on Natty,” you tried one more time,“ just for a couple minutes. I don’t want our date to end just yet.”

Once again, you pulled a pout, eyes softening just enough to make her groan and look away.

“Fine, fine,” before you could cheer she added,“ but only for a couple of minutes.”

“Perfect.”

The two of you had walked off Coney Island and down to the beach. You took her to, what looked like, the only secluded spot, and pulled her into your lap on the sand.

With the sun ending it’s appearance in the sky, stars scattered above you and pink and orange streams painted across the horizon.

“Picture time!” You exclaimed childishly, whipping your phone out, and holding it up.

“No.” Her quick response halted your actions.

Leaning back to look at her, you asked,“ do you not want to remember this moment?”

“I’ll remember.” She assured.

“But I might forget. This picture is for me!” You then smushed your lips on to her cheek and took the picture, but not before she could cover her face.

The stupid grin she pulled hidden by her hands.

****End Flashback****

Despite her not wanting to take the picture, she stole it from you the moment you had it printed off.

And now it sat in her hands, the top corners dogeared from her fidgeting.

She needs this picture, just in case. In case you don’t find her clues. In case you can’t crack her password and encryption. In case she never sees you again, intentionally or not.

She needs her memories of you.

“Romanoff!”

Her eyes linger on the picture, before she’s pocketing it, and going over to Steve.

“We’re ten minutes out, mind waking Sam and Wanda?”

Natasha simply nods and sets off to do just that. Her hand rests on Wanda’s shoulder, gently shaking the young witch.

“Maximoff, wake up.”

Wanda has never been much of a heavy sleeper so she wakes with that little effort, saying a small, sleepy, “alright” with a rub of her eyes.

Sam however doesn’t wake as easily. The gentle shaking just makes him mumble “five more minutes mom,” before drifting back off. Harsher shaking makes him groan and complain, rolling over to face the inside of the seats.

Natasha decides to just roll him off the chairs.

His body slams on to the floor and that just barely wakes him up. Still laying on the ground, he yawns and rubs his eyes with his fist.

“Wilson get up, we’re here.” Steve’s stern yet gentle voice says.

This has everyone moving to get the few things they did have.

Here is a safe house in Spain.

Steve had lifted a list of them from paper files at the compound, crossing referencing with the ones listed on the computer files. He narrowed it down to a few that could only be found on paper and took them.

It didn’t mean they were completely untraceable, but it would take a lot more than a look up to find them.

The small group walks through a span of woods were the jet is hidden, to the safe house. Before entering they survey the area.

Upon finding nothing, they go inside.

Feeling just the slightest bit safer, everyone slumps sigh exhaustion.

“We’ll move in the morning just in case someone managed to find us, but for now everyone rest up.” Steve’s voice rings over the small group with the same commanding tone he took with all the Avengers.

Everyone nods and heads into opposite rooms, except Natasha and Wanda, both seemingly frozen in the loss of the people they love.

It’s the brunette Witch who breaks the sad silence,“ do you think they’ll forgive us?” 

Natasha feels the tears spring into her eyes.

Leaving you was the last thing she wanted but the decision has been made. She can’t take it back now. She’s also a fugitive at this point.

“They’ll forgive us.” She tries to assure,“ hell they probably don’t think we need to be forgiven. Just,” the red head takes in a deep breath and places a gentle hand on her friends shoulder,“ shower, get some rest, you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Despite her saying that, she doesn’t believe it. Why should she when she knows it won’t work. 

Not having you is like not having her heart or soul, no shower or sleep could ever make that feeling better.

It’s why she cries the second she’s out of the shower and in her room. The tears she managed to hold at bay pour from her eyes as she nearly curls into a ball on the small couch. 

That sadness, however, is short lived.

“Awe, don’t tell me those tears are for me Pretty Girl.”

She hadn’t know what this felt like. To have her hope be fulfilled. Truthfully she’d never really had hope before but she hoped in you and this- this euphoria, it feels amazing.

She left you clues and you followed them because why wouldn’t you? She’s the love of your life and you’d be damned if you just let her get away.

You found her. Her trust in your intelligence was well placed. As was her trust in your feelings for her.

Wiping her nose with the sleeve of your (stolen) shirt, she sniffs, and looks up at you. Green teary eyes meet yours and you smile at how beautiful she is even when sad.

“You’re so annoying Y/L/N.”

You step closer, taking her deathly delicate hands in yours. The warm smile you pull still manages to be cocky in some way and it drives Natasha crazy.

Pulling her up and into your arms you say,“ as if I’d let you slip away.”

Her eyes are roaming over your body just to ensure that you’re actually here,“ I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

Natasha wraps her arms around your waist and hugs you to her. You return the hug, breathing in that cinnamon and vanilla scent you had begun to miss over those few hours.

But Natasha knows you, and she knows you won’t let the silence last, which is why she’s already smiling and shaking her head when you break it.

“How could you not, I’m fuckin awesome.” You over dramatically wink at her.

The red head rolls her eyes, a small laugh on her lips as she starts to walk away from you.

“That was a moment, and you ruined it.” She points out.

Feigning shock, you press a hand to your heart,“ I would never!”

Your heart soars as she laughs once again, sound lighter than the last. This beauty has been through a lot of shit recently and to make her smile and laugh despite it all is an achievement worth the highest medal.

Before you can step closer to her there’s a knock at the door.

Natasha quirks an eyebrow before going to it. Cracking it, she peeks outside, befor stepping back and fully opening it.

“I’m sorry for bothering you I just, I think I’m going mad. I keep hearing Y/N’s voice and I can feel Vision as if he’s right beside me.” Your witchy best friend stammers out the second she’s inside.

Your eyes widen,“ oh shit, Vision.”

Neither Natasha or Wanda have time to react as you’re out the window already.

Wanda blinks a couple times to not sure if this is real or if she has in fact lost her mind. One glance at Natasha’s uncontrolabbly smiley face and she knows that was actually you.

Her slight joy is wiped away as she realizes her presence just scared you off. That’s what she thinks anyway.

She’s proven wrong when you step back through the window, this time followed by Vision phasing through the wall.

“Tada!” You whisper/yell, hands gesturing to the red android.

“Viz.” Wanda’s shocked response whispers through the room.

“Wanda.” He smiles back with a nod.

“Wait!” You ruin yet another moment.“ Before you two get all lovey, I’d like to hug my best friend.”

Arms wide you step closer to Wanda. Her magic flickers through her eyes in fear.

No, she’s not scared of you, she’s scared that you hate her. That you’re disappointed in the choice she made to side with Steve.

“Uh Wanda, this is getting awkward.” You murmur.

“You don’t hate me?” The Witch asks, barely above a whisper.

“Woah! Hate? I could never hate you kid, I love you. And I’m not holding anything against you. We all did what we thought was right. I’m just really glad you’re okay.”

At that the brunette throws herself into your arms, wrapping her own around you tightly.

Her body relaxes the instant she’s in your arms. The comfort of your warmth is an unbelievable contrast to the cold of her cell on the Raft. The gentleness of you hand on the back of her head nothing like the harsh presence of her shock collar. Your hold tight but not restricting like her straight jacket.

“Please tell me they didn’t use that shock collar on you.” You whisper, praying they didn’t hurt your best friend.

She doesn’t answer. She can’t. Not when there’s the smallest of a burn mark on her neck, reminding her of the sharp sting of the electrocution.

And you know they did. It’s why you to tighten your hold just a little and blink away your tears.

“I’m strongly tempted to go back and kick their asses”

The girl immediately pulls back, brown eyes staring into yours. Your girlfriend also looks at you, waiting for an explanation.

“No. No more violence, please.” She whispers.

For the first time sense he came in, Vision speaks.

“I agree with Agent Y/L/N. They deserve reprecutions for their actions toward you.”

Wanda steps from your hold and over to Vision. Her hand just barely cups the androids cheek.

“That’s not necessary. I’m here, I’m safe now,” she pauses,“ and I’m with you.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Vision smile, until now.

It’s faint but it’s there, and it’s all cause of the girl in front of him.

“You guys are cute.” You smile.

Luckily the android can’t blush, or he’d be redder than his skin. Much like Wanda, who’s cheeks blaze.

Natasha rolls her eyes,“ okay, Wanda, Vision, I’m sure you two want privacy and rest.” She gestures to her door.

They both nod and leave with a smile to you and Natasha.

“You just kicked th-”

She shuts you up with a fierce, burning, loving kiss. Hands on both sides of your face, body flush with yours.

“You’re so very annoying.” Her lips brush yours with each word.

Grinning like mad, you pull the red head over and to the bed.

Once she’s in your arms, you sigh contentedly,“ I may be annoying, but you love me.”

Silence.

A deep breath in and a sigh out.

“Yeah,” she smiles softly to herself. Wiggling her body closer to yours,“ I do love you.”

*****

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[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (8/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: This will hurt. I am sorry.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3) Warnings: This chapter contains character death, some depictions of violence, depictions of poor and unhealthy coping mechanisms, as well as a toxic relationship. Any intercourse and physical touch in general is fully consensual, but emotionally the relationship may appear upsetting to some. Also there are some elements that may resemble emotional self-harm.

Word count for this chapter: 4k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 8: Killian Jones, October 19th 2011 – October 24th 2015

The kiss is deeper than he expected. Killian pushes the woman back, but gently. He was the one who gave her permission to kiss him, after all.

"I thought it would be a quick kiss. I have a girlfriend."

Her brows are going wild. "Shit. Sorry."

He's so stupid. What would Milah think? "'Salright. Go pee."

"Yes. That,” she slurs. “Thank you again."

Just as the woman closes the bathroom door behind her, Milah appears above him.

“You okay?” she says.

He looks at her confused, before he realizes it's not that normal to sit on the floor while at a club. “Yeah,” he says. “Just very, very drunk.”

She gives him her hand, he takes it, then she starts pulling at him. “Let's go outside for some air. There's too much smoke in here.”

“I wanna pee!”

She drags him up. “You can pee outside! Let's go!”

It feels better outside. The cool, clean air wakes him up a bit.

Milah throws her arms around Killian's neck and pulls him to lean his forehead on hers. He smells the martini in her breath, landing hot against his lips.

He closes his eyes. He could stay like this forever, and how he wishes this moment lasted that long...

“How sweet,” a sharp voice says from the side.

They turn together to see Gold staring at them, his hands crossed on the handle of his cane. There's two big guys flanking him, and Killian pulls Milah aside, stepping in front of her.

“What do you want?” Killian says.

“I did wait,” Gold says. “I held back, let you take my wife away from me.”

“Shut up,” Milah says, moving to Killian's side. “Our marriage was over long before I met Killian.”

Gold looks at her, hand grabbing the cane hard.

“You... you followed us here?” Milah says, suddenly realizing. “What the hell? Where's Jack?”

“You have no right to ask about him,” Gold says and takes a brisk step forward. “You went against my conditions for meeting him. You brought that bastard with you!”

Milah flinches, and Killian's left hand grabs onto hers.

“And you?” Gold looks at him. “Going behind my back to take my son on your side? Trying to buy his love?” His face seems to barely contain his rage as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a handgun.

Killian's hand squeezes Milah's as his other one raises up in defense. “Whoa, Gold, wait-”

Gold shoots.

Though Killian’s ears are ringing from the exploding sound, he hears Milah's trembling sigh. It feels like it's hours later that he turns to look at her, eyes going straight for the growing red spot on her chest.

And then she's falling.

“No,” he whispers and holds her, gently breaking her fall.

Her eyes are moving wildly, then she coughs and a thin trail of blood runs from the corner of her lips.

“No, no. Milah...”

She focuses on him. “I love you,” she whispers. She gasps one last time, then she's limp in his arms.

It's like even more hours pass. He feels her hot blood staining his hands.

Her eyes are closed. She's not breathing. Only her blood moves, dripping out of her body even though her heart has stopped beating.

“No,” he says.

He hears the tapping sound of a cane, and he looks up to see Gold standing above him, gun aimed at him. His henchmen also aim their handguns at him.

“What are you waiting for?” Killian says. “Finish it.”

What else can he say? It's not as if he'd leave him to tell the tale.

“Oh, no. You won't be so lucky,” Gold says, but he doesn't move.

Killian manages to hold himself back only long enough to set Milah down gently, then he lunges at Gold, grabbing the gun.

It all happens in half a second.

Gold shoots, Killian's ears are ringing again, and he sees two fingers fly off in a sudden fountain of blood.

He drops down to his knees. His left hand hangs limp in a way no hand should. The thumb and index finger are missing, and there's a gaping crescent hole, starting under his middle finger and reaching to the middle of his wrist.

The pain hits him suddenly and a scream erupts from his throat.

His vision comes and goes; one moment Gold is standing above him, the next Killian is leaning over Milah, the blood spilling from his hand onto her unmoving body.

There's more people screaming; people shouting; sirens, blue and red lights...

Then white. So much white.

Killian is just three days younger of twenty-eight when he once again thinks how he's cursed.

Milah is dead, there is no doubt about that. His hand was amputated, and he has to spend a whole week in the hospital before the doctors clear him for a transatlantic flight.

In the meantime he learns that Milah's body was sent back to England, per Gold's request.

At first, he finds it impossible; but the cops who'd questioned him about the assault soon inform him that Gold has solid alibi in London at the time of the murder.

Killian almost shuts down in the week he has to spend in there; Gold must have stolen Killian's phone before fleeing the scene of the crime, and Killian has no way of contacting Nemo, and he didn't let him know the specifics of his trip in the first place, like when exactly his return trip would’ve been.

If Nemo had known, he would have worried after not getting any news from Killian the day he was supposed to return. He would have contacted hospitals, would have found out about the assault. Probably would even honor Killian's request to attend Milah's funeral in his place, if Killian had the guts to actually ask him for that.

And to top it all, Nemo's phone at home is out of order. Why didn't he ever bother memorizing his cell phone? Now all Killian can do is lie in his hospital bed and do his damnedest to avoid looking at where his left hand is no more.

The blasted week goes by; Killian spends the rest of his savings into a new return trip, the only one he can afford has two stops in between.

He's dead tired, hungry, with fresh dog crap under his sole, and somehow he's not surprised to see his apartment has flooded.

It's three in the morning and he contemplates walking through the ankle-deep water anyway and collapsing in his bed.

He stands so long in front of the open door of his apartment that eventually the downstairs neighbor comes to complain about water dripping into his place.

One call to the fire department later, Killian picks up his two bags – he didn't have the heart to throw Milah's stuff away – and takes a taxi to Nemo's place.

Nemo obviously got out of bed to let Killian in, and of course, he asks Killian what happened.

It's like he's seventeen again, unable to react to one of the most life-changing news he ever received, only the opposite, in the most grim way that he never dared imagine.

He's hiding his handless arm inside his jacket pocket and silently walks the stairs up to his old bedroom. He doesn't answer Nemo's questions next morning, he doesn't even sit down to get breakfast. He goes straight to the lawyer Milah had during her divorce.

Gold is paying people to give false testimony, and Killian is gonna take him down.

Too consumed in his own hatred for the man, the whole week he spent planning his comeback he didn't think of the problems the lawyer is listing now; Killian was drunk – as evidenced by hospital records – enough for his testimony to be considered debatable; he also has motive to want to get back at Gold, stronger than Gold's motive to kill his unfaithful wife three whole years post their divorce which concluded in his favour; and of course, one has to prove first that Gold's witnesses are lying before questioning Gold's alibi of more than five thousand kilometers away from the scene of the crime.

Killian doesn't return to Nemo's place. His own apartment stinks, damp and moldy, half of his furniture and appliances were ruined, but at least his bed is functioning, and he can't deal with Nemo's sympathy right now.

He needs to take Gold down. He can't have any more distractions.

It takes him a month to remember his therapist. He checks his emails for the first time since the assault, and he feels he loses another part of him at the news of his therapist moving towns to study for a doctorate; she's suggested other therapists at him, followed by two more emails of asking if everything is okay, then nothing.

Killian looks at the names and phones of the suggested therapists as if they're threats to his consciousness. He actually laughs. Dr. Eriksen had him since before he was even an adult and she knew everything about his fucked-up adolescence. Where would he even begin with someone new?

He deletes the email.

For two years, his whole life centers around finding weak spots in Gold's armour. He quits from Shakespeare's boat rental and works at stock in the harbor. It's a tough, time-consuming job, but it keeps him in view of the sea and gets his mind off his pain. Alcohol takes over that job in his time off.

He stops drawing; Milah used to draw with him and it nearly breaks him to pick up a pencil to sketch. The last thing he sketches is the design for the tattoo with her name on it that is soon permanently inked on his arm.

Two years of trying, as much as his exhausted psyche and a mind always leaning towards booze can handle, and the best he manages is to break into Gold's house, hack through his computer and locate some suspicious activity between Gold's bank account and the one of one of his witnesses.

Thirteen years of no spots in his criminal record mean nothing to the law when there are spots in it in the first place, and he's arrested for breaking and entering.

Nemo responds to Killian's call to bail him out, even though Killian has barely spoken to him in two years. However, the disappointment is, for the first time since Killian met him, visible on his face.

“It's your decision,” Nemo tells him after Killian is out. “Your path to choose, and your life to ruin.”

If it were anyone else, Killian would be flipping him off. But Nemo is the one who took Killian in as an assortment of broken pieces and put him back together, loving and patient all throughout. The one who has always been too good to be called a mere father.

“It's not just wanting to get back at that bastard,” Killian says, nearly shouting. At Nemo's small flinch, Killian breathes in and out. Among all his losses, it's the first one that has filled him with such rage. “That monster killed her in cold blood. And he's out there now, not paying for his crime-”

His voice is too unsteady now to accommodate shouting.

“It's not just personal. He killed her-” A soft sob breaks his sentence in half. “-and he's walking free.”

“The world is not fair,” Nemo says in a very soft voice, hand resting on Killian's shoulder. “Come home, son. This isn't what you need right now.”

“No. I need to see him behind bars.”

“You need to grieve.”

Killian scoffs, laughing mirthlessly. “It's been two years.”

“Exactly.”

He drops his gaze. If he looks at Nemo's face right now, he may crumble, and his efforts of two years – albeit not very successful – will be rendered pointless. The time he lost, the damage he's done to himself, to his relationships with everyone, Nemo, Shakespeare, Will and Tink, it will all be for nothing.

And worst of all, he'll be yet another one who will do Milah wrong. If he gives up, he'll be doing to her nothing better than what Gold did, and the very thought sickens him.

There's only one thing he changes. His drinking has reached new levels, and he needs, if nothing else, to survive in order to bring Gold down. So for now, AA meetings are something.

At first, he only talks about how he manages to stay clean, how he slips and how he tries to not beat himself up over it. His fifth meeting is on a particularly bad day; the story of watching the love of his life die slips from him, and across the circle he gets looks of pity that he hates.

If only he told everyone about the furious thoughts for revenge on Milah's murderer that have been plaguing his every waking thought for the past two years.

He slumps in his seat and stays silent for the rest of the meeting. He shouldn't have come today, he should have known he would be too emotional to think rationally before speaking.

The meeting ends and he's already made up his mind to look into other AA groups before he even exits the building.

“Excuse me,” a voice calls at him.

He turns. It's Eloise Gardener, one of the attendees.

“On the last meeting you mentioned that mental activities keep your thoughts away,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I'm hosting gardening classes, two evenings a week at the Bare Feet Greenhouse. I thought I could invite you to join, they're already quite cheap and I'll give you a discount.”

“Your name is Gardener, innit?”

She smiles. “And I am a gardener. Shocking, I know. But I've found it's a good distraction, especially knowing you're taking care of a life. You get the satisfaction without committing to... raising a child, let's say.”

Killian decides it's worth a try; unlike the AA meetings, raising a plant actually has visible proof of progress.

He stops coming to the meetings, but Eloise doesn't ask him why. She teaches him and guides him through providing a good environment for his plants.

One night after class, she helps him move the pots with his grown plants to his apartment. He doesn't truly invite her in, and when she initiates a kiss with him, he takes a few seconds of thinking before he realizes he doesn't mind that much.

It's just fuck, and Eloise doesn't seem to be thinking it's anything deeper than he does.

If he thinks it's any deeper, he'll just be haunted again by that miserable thought, that the last person he kissed before Milah died was not Milah herself, but a random stranger whose face he wasn't even sober enough to remember.

Eloise leaves and within minutes, he's left as well to search for any open store that sells booze. Rain is pouring down, cars splash him until he's soaking wet, but he finally gives up when he trips and falls, his leg hurting too much to take him too much further.

Even the couple of hours he stays in the hospital while they put a walking cast on him feel unbearable. Two years have gone by and the memories of hospital misery are still too raw.

Eloise doesn't comment on the cast nor his continued absence from the AA meetings. She invites him to her place and after they have sex he asks if he can stay the night. That way it's much easier to avoid looking for a drink to deal with how disgusted he feels.

Even the other people attending the gardening lessons wouldn't imagine Eloise and Killian are sleeping together – and Killian is attending two different classes side by side. Not that there's anything to show for it. They just fuck, sleep in the same bed, and that's all. She keeps him from running out for a drink in the middle of the night, better than any AA meeting managed, he gives her a person to have control over the way she wants, and they scratch each other's itches.

Nemo keeps trying to stay in touch with him, and Killian nearly blocks his number out of pure shame. Perhaps if Nemo realizes he's been blocked he'll stop bothering.

Killian has practically moved in with Eloise now, or she with him; in any case, they'll sleep in the same bed every night, whether it's the one in Killian's apartment or the one in Eloise's house.

He cannot connect who he was before with who he is with Eloise now. Before Nemo even adopted him officially, Killian had allowed him to pick up his pieces and make him a functional human. With Milah, it was Killian who was the whole, the rock she could lean on.

With Eloise, he can once again be broken, but without any expectation to get fixed back up – and he's too tired for unrealistic expectations. He can stay the mess that he is, sharing his body and his space with her so that he can feel something, even when the feeling isn't the best. Eloise is controlling and demanding, and Killian's feelings for her range from fear to disgust, but he prefers those over pain, grief, rage, and a continuously burning thirst.

It's easier to hate his... “partner” than to hate everything else in his life, including himself.

He's actually shocked to realize two years have passed since his first time with Eloise, and nothing at all has changed. Their feelings didn't change towards one way or another; they just kept fucking, sleeping next to each other, and going by their day without thinking about each other.

He almost hates it when she asks him to ride with her to a concert in Maidstone. Not only because she's making ensuring no-one assaults her sound like a chore, but also because he's still not ready to enjoy music he used to love. Especially not in her presence. Being in her company is not a circumstance that fits happy thoughts.

There's a lot of things he's been denying himself since Milah died. Everything that used to make him happy, even the company of his family, feels sullied now.

He doesn't expect to enjoy the concert. But Eloise buys his ticket and drives the car, so he decides that he can tolerate one night of being a boy toy to discourage sleazebags.

It doesn't even feel that special that his birthday is tomorrow; he lost Liam a few days after his fifteenth birthday, and Milah a few days before his twenty-eighth. Maybe it's just not in the cards for him to celebrate it again.

For three whole hours, he forgets everything. There's just the music, and the lights, and his throat getting sore from singing without a care.

There is, of course, the occasional groping, people stepping on his feet, even getting an elbow to the ribs, but for him it's all par of the course now. Including checking his pockets afterwards and realizing that twenty pounds are missing. And Eloise being... well, Eloise.

“You were supposed to stand by my side,” she starts complaining after the concert is over and people start dispersing.

“I can assure you I was touched against my consent far more than you were.”

“Is that supposed to be an excuse?”

Ugh, her arrogant, calm face she makes when she tells him off. He hates it.

“If you wanted an actual bodyguard, you should have hired one. I only have one hand,” he bites back at her.

“Really? I get you a birthday gift and you consider this an appropriate response.” There’s no question mark in her tone.

“Oh, piss off. As if you've given a fuck about my birthday all these years.”

Her lips purse together, but her voice keeps that cool tenor that irritates him to no end. “I wanted to make it a good one for you. Just because you don't care about it doesn't mean no-one else does.”

He sighs. He actually had a good time and he doesn't want it ruined by her gaslighting. He's experienced people actually caring for his birthday, and he knows Eloise's words are just words. Next, she'll say that she contacted Scorpions themselves and asked them to have a concert the day before his birthday.

She shakes her head and goes for the portable toilets. At last, he can have some time on his own. He turns his head away and back to the scene, now completely empty.

No One Like You wasn't exactly the song he liked the most tonight, but it's the one he can't stop humming. He's humming!

Maybe he does owe Eloise a bit. Just a bit.

"Catchy tune, huh?" he hears from the side.

He turns, seeing a woman with a wide smile on her face.

"Oh, which one isn't?" he says, smiling back. "What a night."

The woman nods. "Did you have fun?"

The words pour out of him like vomit. "A lot of people stepped on me, I got groped, pick-pocketed, and I got in a fight with my...” – How should he call her? – “friend, but you know what?" He shrugs. "Bloody worth it."

"Oh.” Her face softens. “Sorry that you were mugged."

"Ah, it was like, twenty quid. I've known better than to carry credit cards where hands can easily reach." A very dedicated hand, maybe. There's only so many hiding spots he has.

"Do you have a ride back home?" the woman says.

He stares at her, and he feels his jaw drop when he realizes. "Bollocks. I overshared, didn't I?"

She just smiles. "I mean, I have a car, and space for two... how many of you are there?"

He scratches behind his ear. "Don't worry. We've got a car. And we going right back to Brighton, anyway."

"Oh.” She seems to think for a moment. “I don't even know where that is."

He holds back a laugh. "Figured so. From your accent."

Her smile widens. "I'm Emma," she says, extending her hand.

"Killian," he gives his hand back, careful to keep his left arm inside his jacket pocket. She's still looking at his face when he drops his hand to his side. "So... you know that they're actually having a few concerts in the States for this tour, right? How come you decided to fly all over to here?"

"Well, today... or more like, yesterday," she pauses as she checks her watch, "was my birthday. This was more like a birthday gift to me, and of course I'm going to see them in-” She pauses suddenly. “What?"

She's obviously cut off by the expression on his face. "You're not kidding? Tomorrow- or, today, is my birthday."

"Wow. Happy birthday, then."

"Happy birthday to you too. Seems it was a great one."

Emma seems happy as she looks back at the now empty stage. "I'd say one of the best ones. Does your birthday seem promising?"

His chest feels twice its normal size when she turns to look at him. Somehow, with their birthdays being so close, it feels as if her having had a great birthday is feeding his own satisfaction for that day, for the first time in four- no, five years.

Some of her slightly messy hair is sticking to her face – she probably went all out dancing tonight – and her eyes seem to droop in drowsiness, but she's absolutely glowing.

Glowing and looking at him.

When she takes a step towards him, it feels like it's gravity that's pulling his own body to her.

"It seems that way, aye," he replies.

Her eyes close when she's a few inches away from him, but he waits for the moment his lips touch hers to close his eyes.

~

(A/N: I want to remind the readers that this chapter is told from Killian's point of view, distorted as it is from grief, rage and isolation from the people he loves. Emotional progress is almost never visible in the short term, especially regarding addictions. Killian might have thought the AA meetings didn't help him, but it doesn't mean that giving up and depending on a controlling person to keep him clean was the healthy thing to do.

I know it's a work of fiction but some lines are easily confused, so the message I want to pass is that if you or a loved one is trying to let go of an addiction, keeping up the effort when progress isn't directly visible may be hard, but it's worth it and will eventually help.)

[twistedsinews]

Hey! You're probably tired of seeing me in your questions box but here my request anyway LOL : 193. “Come on, this doesn’t even make it into the top 10 of stupid things I’ve done. You’re completely overreacting.” mucho love <3

[nooooo, if I didn’t love prompts I wouldn’t reblog prompt lists.  you’re fine!  <3]

Cyberpunk 2077; Jackie/V; PG-13

It calmed him down.  A little.  But she was still trapped in the server room and he was still on edge and they still had a handful of minutes at best before someone came to investigate why the mainframe they'd just sabotaged was down.

"You're makin' some of these up."

"Am not."

"Alright, make it easy: give me one thing dumber'n this, since I met you."

V could name half a dozen without putting any effort into it, and she was pretty sure Jackie could, too.  The plan part of the plan had gone off without a hitch.  It was merely the escape part of the plan she hadn't thought fully through.

"Falling in love."

Kinda like the words that were out of her mouth before she realized it.

There was a poignant silence on the the line to tell her how badly she'd fucked up, and when Jackie did finally answer his voice was low.  Flat.

"You think it's dumb, huh?"

"I didn't mean like that."

"How did you mean it?"

"I-..."

"Never mind."

"Jackie, I'm not saying-..."

"Not the time for this conversation right now, V."

And he was right.

V closed her eyes.

The security doors were linked into the mainframe.  Backup power was down, but this wasn't a matter of backup power.  Because linking through the mainframe would mean cutting through any time there was so much as a hiccup in the system.

Hunching down to better see, V followed the path of the lines wired into the databanks through the darkened room.  Near where they disappeared into the angle of floor and wall, her fingers brushed over a smooth, seemingly out of place indented square in the steel paneling.  A smaller hidden rectangle slid out easily, giving her a manual release for the hatch beneath her fingertips.

It was as good a lead as any, and she dropped through the floor into the crawlspace beneath.

"I found some kind of a maintenance duct," she told Jackie, twisting a bit under the cramped space to slide the hatch closed above her.  "See if you can figure out where it comes through on the other side."

"Yeah, sure.  On it."

Directly in front of her, she found a wall.  It took some flailing to get herself back around, but V nevertheless managed, and started crawling down the passage.

"Got it."

There was a sound up ahead of scraping metal.  Turning a corner, there was a dim flash of moving light in the distance.  Once she reached the end, she found Jackie waiting for her.

"See?" she huffed, taking the hand he offered to help drag her out of the gap in the floor.  "An oversight, not the end of the world."

Jackie grunted an acknowledgement, which settled poorly with the icy chill of silence in her chest.  He let go only to push her right along in front of him, and she took the hint.  The way out was the way they came, up a flight of stairs out of the basement, through some hallways, and out an intricate lobby.

As they made their way down the main hallway, there came the rustle of movement.  Killing her light and trusting Jackie to do the same, V spun right back around, grabbing for his jacket to haul him back again and into an adjoining hall.  Tension radiated off him as Jackie pressed close to the wall behind her; his arm settled on her shoulder, less for reassurance and more ready to throw her back if things lit up any more dramatically than a few heavy flashlights.  They crouched in the darkness, waiting for the security detail - headed by one computer scientist, frustrated it seemed to the point of negligence in his surroundings - to pass them by; the hired corpo soldiers scurried along behind him, no doubt equally frustrated by the clip at which he was walking straight into the unknown.

And then the light was gone, and the clomp of heavy boots faded into the distance.

V inched forward to peer around the corner, then stepped out into the dark.  Jackie bumped into her, and she froze, but he nudged her onward.  With security now behind them, they managed a much faster pace, and escaped out of the back rooms and through the moonlit lobby without incident.

On the street again, they fell into the crowd.  A couple of blocks up and one across, they caught the line with seconds to spare, paid the fare in cash, and even snagged the last empty seat in the row.

And sharing would never have been an issue, except for the stifling rift she'd caused.

Jackie made no complaint when she settled in his lap, but other than bracing her when they got underway, he kept his hands to himself.  After a mile or two of distance, she got to her feet and opted to stand in the aisle instead.  Gripping one of the lines overhead, she put all her weight on it and twisted in space.

A man slipped off one of the nearer seats, and didn't seem bothered when someone immediately claimed it after him.  He stepped up behind her, near enough to touch but didn't, and she stood a little straighter.

"If he can't do it for you," a smooth, unfamiliar voice reasoned over her shoulder, "maybe I can."

"Yeah, maybe you could," V mumbled in vague agreement, without any of the enthusiasm she'd have found in flirting.  Still, proximity and his touch on her arm at her answer gave her an excuse to fleece his pockets.  She froze as her fingers found a plate of metal, and traced the bumps on its face.  "And maybe again, not."

The man gave a gruff little hmmph at her drab dismissal, and drew his hand away.  Keeping her hand low, V flashed the badge behind her.  Under the notice of the plainclothes dick she hoped was cruising for an easy pickup and not taking note of two mercs that were hardly out of place in taking the public transit.

Regardless of which, she opted for a quick exit at the next stop, feeling her confidence ebb back when Jackie fell in behind her.  He stopped her from flashing the badge again, this time at the very cop she'd stolen it from, snatching it from her before the man could see it.

Once they'd stepped off again, Jackie whipped his hand and the badge skittered away down the sidewalk.

They made it down another block and halfway through the next alley.

With a huff, V stepped in front of him, causing Jackie to stop short of walking into her, only to jostle her all the same.

He blinked down at her.

"I wasn't saying you're stupid."

"Didn't think you were."

"And I wasn't saying loving you was stupid."

Jackie didn't answer right away, which formed something of an answer all unto itself.

"It's cool, V.  I'm over it."

Squaring her shoulders, V raised her chin as she studied his face.

"Liar."

Jackie hissed sharply.  Clenching his jaw, he bared his teeth in a thin grimace of distaste.

"Digging yourself deeper, chica."

Brushing past her, he kept walking.

V stood rooted to the spot.

When he noticed she wasn't following him, Jackie turned back around and stalled.  He sighed heavily, and came right back.  His hand settled on her shoulder, warm and familiar.  Some of the tension eased out of her shoulders, and V shoved her hands into her pockets.

"Mira..." Jackie said, only he didn't seem to know what else to say.  Whatever was in his head, he went with, "You go home and get some rest.  I'll go and collect our pay.  I'll catch up with you in the morning."

Her heart sank.

"Yeah," V agreed listlessly.  "Alright.  Great."

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, leaving her with only the shadow of his smile.

It helped.  And... it didn't.

"Hasta mañana."

This time, Jackie didn't look back.  Just disappeared into the next street.

V took one step and stopped again.

She didn't even know where the hell she was.

With a sigh, she scratched her eyebrow and pulled up her geodata.  Then, once she had a read, she started on again.  And each step felt heavier than the last.

***

Jackie parked his bike near as he could to V's car out of mindless habit, but it was a flash of color huddled in the backseat seized his attention.

It wasn't where he was expecting to find her, though not unheard of, and he knocked on the window anyway.  She stirred, squinted up at him over her shoulder, then twisted to reach the lock, followed by the latch.  Jackie stepped back as the door swung open under her weight, not anticipating for her to pour out on the floor of the parking garage like she did.

Grabbing the top of the door, two seconds too late, he winced in sympathy.

"How's that first taste of concrete, first thing in the morning, eh?"

V flipped him off.

A sign of life if ever he'd seen one.

Jackie clasped one hand firmly around her wrist.  Reaching down, he got the other into a hold on her jacket to lift her entirely off the ground, and set her onto her feet.

She combed her hair out of her face with her fingers, scrubbed her sleeve across her face, and regarded him with a dull, guarded expression that slipped a little near the corner of her mouth.  Her eyes remained narrow, more to do with her hangover than anything.

Jackie smiled.  And he meant it.

V's expression slipped a little further.  Losing ground, she turned and stalked away.

He fell in step beside her, keenly aware that it was her money sitting in his pocket.  

Among other things he was feeling overly aware of.

V survived the elevator on her own two feet.  She only opted to stop once, leaning over the low terrace wall in whatever solemn post-drunk contemplation it was she fancied this morning, and tolerated him rubbing a hand down her back before finally moving on.

They made it back to her apartment at last.  V immediately went for the sink; the mirror flickered on, and she turned on the water to scrub her face clean.

Jackie hung back, leaning into the wall as he watched her.  Trapped between feeling out the situation, and getting lost right down the subtlest play of the muscles under her skin and the patterns adorning her shoulders.

"Last night I was thinking..." V told his reflection.  "How far a full tank would get me, and I thought about three hundred miles.  Not very far, really."

Jackie didn't answer.  He didn't know what to answer.  Luckily, he apparently didn't need to answer, as she continued, "So I thought... maybe if I loaded up six or seven tanks, still have room for supplies, and I could get maybe a couple of thousand.  Still not far enough to get to the East Coast."

Ah.

Words.

Something would probably have been more appropriate than nothing right about then, but he still couldn't think of any, and careless words got them here in the first place.  Moreover, he was just smart enough to know better than to speak just because.

"I thought about it for maybe two minutes total," V admitted, without his input.  "But it wouldn't make a difference, would it?  No matter how far I could go, it doesn't change how anything feels."

Dipping her hand under the faucet, V combed the water through her hair.  Droplets caught between strands, and spattered on her ink.

"How come it's so much easier being your choom than it is being your output?"

"I don't know..."  Jackie had never really thought about it, certainly never saw it that way.  "Maybe 'cause you're thinking of it as two separate things, when really it's somewhere in between."  Her eyes narrowed as she mulled it over, and Jackie shrugged.  "Just my take on it, though."

The mirror flickered off, and he pulled back out of her way as she moved to step out of the sink cubby.  She breezed past him, and started picking through the cans on her desk.  Several empty ones went right under it, until she found an unopened one, which she cracked open for a long drink, abandoning the rest.

"But come on, really; it's not that bad," Jackie argued.  "I think... if a couple of dumb words is all that ever gets to us once in a while, we're doing okay.  Better than, I'd say."

V stared at him over the rim of the sodacan.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she stated.

Jackie blinked.

"I know."

"I'm sorry."

"I know that, too."

V sighed.  Still eyeing him, she took another sip, and, wandering over to the bed, dropped down, leaning her back against the outer wall.

"It was a stupid joke at my own expense, okay?  Falling in love wasn't part of my plan for when I got here."

Jackie scoffed.

"Implying you had a plan when you landed in N.C." he reminded her, easing down across from her to lean against the inner wall.  "Which as I recall, was not the case.  Not at all."

"Okay, but I wasn't even thinking of it as a distant possibility.  I sure as fuck wasn't expecting to trip and fall into your arms and for it to be all..." She waved her drink around in a vague pattern, encompassing the all of it.  "Isn't that stupid?"

"Love ain't stupid, chica.  Never is."

V stared at him.  Jackie stared right back, until at length he glanced off, and her gaze fell to the tab of her drink as she toyed with it.

Finally, draining the can, she set it down on the floor.  She kicked off her shoes, followed by rolling off her socks, and drew her legs up loosely onto the bed in front of her.

"...if it could have been anyone," she murmured, "I'm glad it was you."

Jackie smiled.  Then he chuckled.

"And you know what?"  He admitted, "you weren't part of my plan, either.  You fell right into my lap out of fucking nowhere, and I didn't have the first idea of what to do with that..."

As V listened quietly, her expression grew quizzical, until she shot him a very particular stare.

"...okay, you're right.  You're right," Jackie amended, "I had the first idea what I wanted to do with that, but maybe not the whole thing." Sighing, he continued, "But really.  I wanted to be the best out there.  And I wanted to do it all alone, to prove that I could.  Falling in love, tch - yeah, someday, definitely.  But having a partner?  Wasn't even on my mind.  Not until you came along.  Now I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Not even for what you want most in the world?"

"No.  Wanna know why?  'Cause you're part of everything I want most in the world."

V pressed her lips together.

Then huffed a small, shaky little breath.

She reached into her pocket to dig out her knife, opening it with a soft click.  As he watched her, she wound her braid around her fingers, and pulled it taut.  Closing her eyes, she cut it free in one concerted, jagged little effort.

Jackie found himself at no less of a loss when she crossed the bed and inched up to his side.  Reaching for his hand, she wound the braid around his wrist and fastened the ends together under the small clasp.

He glanced from the new splash of color encircling his wrist, and back to V as she closed the knife and set it on the shelf overhead.  She combed her fingers through her hair, threading out the form of another braid.  Jackie brushed his fingers through the loose strands on the other side, and her movements slowed.  Biting her lip, she reached for his hands, one after the other, guiding him to help her weave the braid together.

"This ain't some kind of Nomad marriage thing, is it?" Jackie teased, "'Cause I'm not sure I'm ready for that just yet."

"No... I'm making it up as I go along."

"Oh."

At length, the braid reached a point that he had to let her take care of the rest.  Holding the end in her mouth, she tugged free several loose threads from a tear in her jeans to tie it off with.

Jackie grazed her cheek with his thumb, and she grabbed his hand, holding it there for several long moments.  There was a sound in her throat, a softened lilt like it could have been a question that didn't quite form.

"V?"

"...are we okay?"

With a glance to the window, Jackie shrugged.

"We're fine, V.  You don't have to go riding off into the desert or to the East Coast or off to Mars or someplace lookin' for some kind of absolution."  After a thought, and he added, "And while we're on the subject, you don't need to go around tripping over yourself thinking how you got to make me feel better about gonk-brained shit when it happens.  I'm tough.  I'll survive."  And after another, "Ay, I almost forgot, but I got your money."

With his free hand, he found the roll of eddies that were stuffed in his inside jacket pocket, and offered it to her.  She snatched it from his hand, and it went...

...somewhere.

Flying into the laundry basket, he was pretty certain.

But he had other things to think of right then than money that wasn't his, like how soft her mouth was, and how she tasted like artificial kumquat-flavored corn syrup.  How soon enough, he wouldn't be thinking of much at all, and if he played his deck right, neither would V.

[reminiscing-writer]

Off The Deep End

-

3

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, pregnancy, sadness

-

-

“Isn’t she a beauty, Griffin?” Ace licks his chapped lips, running a thumb over his knuckles.

“She looks like- what do they say, Boss? A lady in the streets, but a freak in the sheets.” He cackles with his whole belly.

Spencer sat facing the two men, completely helpless. His one arm bound to the chair, and other arm lying limp on his lap. His hand was covered with a dirty rag which was now stained red. His eyes were bloodshot, and still streaming fresh tears every time his wife’s name was mentioned by his kidnappers. His mouth had been gagged for so long, his tongue had gone numb.

Worst of all, the two men never allowed Spencer to get sight of the screen they were watching.  A screen that was playing live surveillance of Amelia. 

After the little scenario with Spencer’s finger being forcefully amputated, and his ring being stolen from him, Ace had revealed that he had a man watching the dear doctors apartment from a secondary location. He’d had a man watching Spencer and Amelia for nearly three months now.

Just the thought of that had brought bile up to the back of Spencer’s throat (which he quickly regretted, due to the gag in his mouth causing the bile to sting his throat).

“She’s clever.” Ace raises an eyebrow. “But, scared.” Spencer sniffles his snot-leaking nose, and looks up under his tired brows, “She’s kept her curtains drawn this entire time. She has your entire Geek Squad sitting front and center in your living room, and yet, she’s still pacing back and forth between the kitchen and back.” Griffin walks towards Spencer after receiving a nudge from Ace, “It’s almost as if she feels... unsafe in her own home.” Ace smirks.

Griffin takes out Spencer’s rag-gag, causing him to gasp at the sudden intake of oxygen. A dry cough later and Spencer speaks quietly, “Quite the profiler, aren’t you.” 

“I don’t blame her, Spencer.” Ace takes a step towards his captive, emphasizing his name, “She has a literal sniper on her head.” Spencer holds his breath. “And, whether she gets her fucking brain blown out within the next 48 hours, is all up to you.” 

“You’re a liar.” Spencer replies with a coarse voice, not wanting to believe him. Ace’s eyes darken within seconds, and he clenches his jaw hard. Noticing a slight change in the large mans behavior, Spencer antagonizes him further, “You have no control over anyone or anything in your life, so you’ve turned to blackmailing him,” Spencer tilts his head slightly towards Griffin, wincing to his fresh bruised cheek, “ and kidnapping me. You won't hurt her, Ace." he spits his name like venom in his mouth. "Because, you need this password. And, even you know, that if you hurt a hair on her head-" Spencer's threat is cut short by a punch swinging at his already battered and bruised face.

"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME A FUCKING LIAR!!" Ace’s voice booms throughout the empty building. Spencer’s mouth is drooling crimson red. Spencer receives another jab, this time at his left eye directly, causing a scream to come out of his mouth. “I have so much power that I can hurt her without ever touching her, you fool! Do not underestimate me,” Ace growls, pointing an accusing finger at his bleeding victim, “because, I swear to you Spencer, by the time I’m done with the two of you, you’ll be giving me the password willingly.” Ace growls grabbing a fistful of the half conscious doctor.

“Do whatever you will with me, please,” Spencer’s voice grows weaker with each word. His eyes can barely stay open as he pleads his captor, “please, don’t hurt her.”

Ace lets go of Spencer. leaving his weak body slump in the chair. “Please, don’t hurt her. Not my Amelia. Please.” Nonsense pleads ramble out of his mouth until a darkness succumbs him.

-

-

Back at the apartment, it was early in the day. Although, it didn’t matter much for the team and Amelia, because no one could eat, or sleep, or for that matter, do much of anything. 

To be precise, it was three in the morning. JJ and Morgan were in the kitchen trying to fix up something light for the team to eat. Garcia was getting in a quick nap before any new information needed internet seeking. Hotch had gone out to get the team coffee from any café that would be open at the bleak time of night.

Amelia, however was bent over the toilet puking whatever little food she’d eaten earlier that night. Unbeknownst to her, Emily was standing on the other side of the door. 

Morning sickness was getting the best of Amelia, and although this should’ve been the happiest of feelings for Amelia, because of the three years it had taken the couple to finally conceive, she couldn’t help but hate every moment of it. She had never gotten to tell Spence the big news. She didn’t get to share this happiness with anyone. She-

“You okay in there?” A knock at the door startled Amelia. 

She cleared her throat before speaking, “Yeah, I’m fine.” She sniffled, wiping the tears that had taken place on her cheeks. “Bad Chinese food, that’s all.” She forced a half smile as Emily entered the bathroom.

“You were throwing up before you ate, so it can’t be that.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, and sat on  the bathroom floor, beside her friends wife. Amelia lowered her gaze onto her hands in her lap. “JJ’s done this twice already, Amelia. She knew from the moment saw you.”

Amelia looked up, for some reason an odd guilt taking over. “I didn’t want to tell anyone.” She spoke timidly.

Emily watched her softly. She placed a kind hand on her new found friends knee. “I understand, and that’s okay. You don’t owe it to us to tell us everything-” She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Amelia’s shoulders shake as she started bawling.

“No- I, I wanted to, and he would be so happy to tell all of you. You’re his family. And, he’s been waiting for this moment for so long. But,” She hiccupped through a cry, “I can’t tell anyone if he didn’t even get to know.” She started sobbing even harder. 

The young lady’s cry attracted JJ into the bathroom, and when she saw her fellow colleague wrap Amelia into a hug, she knelt down on her knees. Emily and JJ spoke no words, but communicated all they needed to through their eyes.

As Amelia calmed down a bit, she took in a shaky deep breath, wiping her tears. Tucking a loose strand of her short brown hair behind her ear, she looked at JJ with watery eyes. “He didn’t know, JJ. I was going to tell him, but I never got a chance.” 

 The blonde gave her a sympathetic look, almost motherly, “And, that’s alright. He’ll be home before you know it. For now, the best thing to do, is try and take it easy, both for you and the baby. When Spencer gets back home,” JJ holds Amelia’s face in her hands softly, “Emily and I will pretend we don’t know, and you and him can announce it to us. Sound like a plan?” She earns a tiny smile from Amelia.

The three woman fix themselves up slightly, and head into the living room to be greeted by a very frustrated Penelope. Morgan stood behind her, peering over her shoulder, snacking on some crackers.

“Sugar, I don’t by any means mean to sound rude, and you know I love you and Spencer, but, Love,” Penelope starts typing furiously, just to stop and glare at Amelia from the tops of her glasses, “your internet is so slow. How do you get any work done? I can’t even get my laptop connected to a hotspot, nothing is working!” She exclaims, placing her computer next to her on the couch she sat upon.

Amelia apologizes, “Yeah, I know, sorry. It’s been bothering us for a few months now. Spencer never really uses the internet, so he wasn’t seeing the problem. I, however, do.” She sits on the floor next to Garcia’s feet, and takes the computer off the couch and onto her lap. ”For some reason, the hotspot on my phone connects pretty well, so I think that might work.” With a few clicks and clacks, she hands the laptop back to the eccentric woman who was once frustrated, now just confused.

“I- I just tried, I tried that- but-,” She stammers, but a very humorous Morgan hushes her as he pats her head and walks away.

On cue, Aaron walks in with two trays of 5 hot, and one cold (Amelia’s), coffees. Hotch passes everyone’s designated drinks around, and as the team slowly starts to ingest the heavenly caffeine, Derek starts pacing the floor, speaking aloud. “So, just a refresher. Spencer is gone, and all we have right now is the it’s a two or more person job,” he takes a loud slurp of his coffee, “he’s down one finger,” Amelia winces at the mere mention of the previous memory, “and…?” 

The team stares at each other blankly. They had no other information. He was kidnapped, he was hurt, but that’s all the information they had. They didn’t know who was doing this, they didn’t know where he was being held captive. And, although Aaron had a slight idea as to why he might have been taken, he wasn’t about to disclose this information until he had further proof that that was exactly why this was happening. 

Derek walks to the windows and starts to mess with curtain. Opening and closing and just peering over the city lights. Amelia watched him with slight gloom in her eyes. 

She fell back into a daydream of the couple sitting by the window one warm July evening. Fireworks were taking upon the Summer sky, and it was just about to get dark. “You know, my parents anniversary is on July fourth.” Amelia had said. “On independence day?” Spencer sipped at his cold drink.

She hummed in agreeance, “It was always a fun day for the family. We would a have a small barbeque, and my siblings and would gift them something, and then a then, as the night took over, we would go for a drive to the beach and watch the fireworks from there.” Amelia reminisced with her husband. 

Spencer watched her eyes glisten as she watched outside. The perfect golden hour sun hit her skin beautifully and he smiled as she gave him her classic toothy child-like grin. “Do you think we’ll have any family traditions like that?” He asked, tucking a hair behind her ear and giving a soft kiss on her cheek.

 “I would like to,” she smiled leaning into him, “you know, something the kids can grow up looking forward to every year. But,” she gave him a nudge, “I think we have some time before we start thinking of family traditions.” She laughed.

 “Well, you never know, Buttercup.” He stood, taking her hand in his as he got up. She giggled at her favorite nickname, “Our little one could enter our lives at any moment.” He tapped her nose, her scrunching it in response. He pulled her close by the waist and twirled her. 

The couples laughter and giggles filled the apartment. Amelia and Spencer spent the rest of the night dancing to music only the two could hear. They started making up more silly family things, like going out to get breakfast together every Sunday. Or, how if they had a girl, Spencer could teach her how to her hair and Amelia could teach their son how to play basketball (just for the laughs).

 Amelia’s daydream was called to a halt as Garcia started bickering with Morgan because his messing with the blinds was messing with the internet she barely had a hold of. She was cruelly reminded that her once lively home was now a silent hell. 

She zoned out all the team members in her living room as she pulled her knees up to her chest. She buried her head in her knees, and went back to her thoughts. Letting silent tears roll down her cheeks, she went back to thinking of her husband. At least, in her daydream Spencer was safe. He was smiling, and laughing, and the two were happy. 

-

-

Spencer was awoken abruptly by water splashing on his face. He panicked for a split second, forgetting the circumstances he was tied up in (quite literally).

“It’s show time, Dr. Reid.” Ace grinned ear to ear.

Spencer was disoriented for a moment. His body ached, and his left eye was swollen shut. Hair was sweaty and matted to his forehead, and his hand which was minus a finger was beginning to show (or rather feel, because it was still wrapped in a dirty rag) signs of an infection.

Breathing labored, he managed to croak out when he noticed Griffin set up a camera a few feet in front of him. “Another picture already?” He swallowed dryly.

“Something of the sort.” Griffin snickered from behind the camera. “We’re ready, Boss.”

Ace grabbed Spencer roughly by the jaw and forced him to look up at him. “This is a chance to give us what we want, Spencer.”

Spencer jerked his chin hard but failed to be free of Ace’s steel grip. “Go to hell.” He spat.

Ace squeezed his finger tight, pursing Spencer’s lips. Getting close to the doctors face, he growled in a low voice, “This, Spencer, is how I am going to hurt your dear Amelia, without even touching her.” He smirked. “And, best of all, you’ll be the cause of it all.”

“You are going to say what ever heartfelt bullshit you have for your little lady, anything you want,” Ace explained, letting go of Spencer, and stepping behind the camera with Griffin. “But, the minute you mention anything regarding the two of us, I will slit your throat and have your wife watch you bleed to death.” Spencer stared at the two men in front of him silently. He sees Griffin press a button, and a small green light starts flashing. “Whenever your ready, Spencie.” Ace chuckles the nickname.

Spencer swallowed hard, trying his best to think clearly. “Amelia,” he starts, trying to play strong. He fails, the mere mention of her name causing his bottom lip to quiver. “I am so sorry, Sweetheart. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and I would never have hoped you would be involved in this also.” He tried looking straight at the camera, but his swollen eye stung, causing him to look down onto his lap. “We’ll figure this out, Buttercup.” He says her nickname with all the love he has for her. “Just you and me, against the world.” He smiles small to himself imagining her.

“And, Amelia, I promise you,” he swallowed hard, looking back up once again, “once I get out of here, you and me, we’ll go on that date to Griffith Park observatory you’ve always wanted to go to. But, maybe we’ll skip the ending, I don’t like the end of the observatory.” Spencer began rambling, hoping he was making some sense without putting off his captors. “And, then, maybe we could watch a movie. Like, that one Jim Carrey film. What was it? Something, Ventura? It was top class acting, I know you said that.” Spencer held desperate eye contact with the lens in front of him.

“Please, Amelia.” He didn’t even know what he was pleading her for. “I love you.”

“Hey, Lover Boy!” Ace’s voice snaps Spencer’s attention. He walks slightly closer to him, keeping his back to the camera, “Would you like to give us the password now?”

Spencer knew what the game plan was now. He either give up the password or get beaten to a pulp on camera. That footage would be sent to Amelia, and Spencer couldn’t put her through that. The password was top secret. But, the girl never killed a fly. She cries at every Disney movie. She has a heart of gold and-

A punch straight to the gut knocks the wind out of Spencer, “Couldn’t hear you, dear,” Ace chuckles, cracking his knuckles, “speak up for me.” When Spencer doesn’t reply, Ace delivers another punch to the chest.

“Please stop.” Spencer pleaded, spitting blood.

“You know what I want. Give it to me, and I’ll stop.” Ace watched Spencer. When Spencer turned away, Ace walks back towards Griffin grabbing a metal rod. 

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut. He was trusted with the password by all of the BAU. He couldn’t just break trust like that. But, at the same time, pictures of Amelia flood through Spencer’s mind. Spencer and Amelia laughing, and kissing and dancing. Future imaginations of Amelia pregnant and the two growing a family and a future.

He opens his eyes to see Ace swinging the metal rod back, ready to swing. Just in time, Spencer musters up the last of his strength to scream out, “I’ll tell you!” Just something to keep me alive for my Amelia. My team will find you soon. he thinks to himself.

-

Tag Team!

(Drop a comment if you also want to be tagged when the next part goes up!)

@twentysomethingloser92​ @spencerreidsthings​ @mbowles23-blog​

@andiebeaword ord​ @dontshootmespence​ @notdisneychannel​ @tiktokslut

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Missin’ You is Terrible- Part 1: Missin’ You

Calum isn’t looking for deep feelings, just for some fun. But he’s pretty sure friends with benefits isn’t supposed to go like this. Black!Female Reader. 

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_______________

I’m in your city. 

It is not his smoothest line. Even as he drafts the message, he wears a doopy ass grin, giggling to himself. He can imagine her eye roll, the purse of her lips, the tsk of her tongue sliding over the roof of her mouth and the back of her teeth. He watches the gray bubbles appear on his screen, the circles shifting from light gray to dark gray as he imagines her fingers tapping away at the screen. 

What’s that supposed to mean to me, Hood?

Calum scoffs. She likes giving him a hard time. I have a day off here too. 

You still haven’t answered my question.

She’s already starting. She’s going to make him say it, make him beg for it already. He’d normally hate this. He was normally direct. If he wanted sex, he’d say so. If he didn’t, he knew how to open his mouth. But she made this different. She made this fun. She’d play annoyed, unphased, but he knows that deep down her gut twisted just like his. He knows that no matter how many times she faked annoyance, she’d crack. Her giggle would escape her in tufts and she’d snort sometimes. But only sometimes. He can see the grin on her face, the way she’s tugging her lip between her teeth. 

Her teeth, fuck. He loves the feeling of her teeth grazing over his bottom lip. Even better than that though is the feeling of her teeth sinking into his flesh, his lip, tugging it a little. The mere thought leaves him nearly moaning in the dressing room. He taps away to reply, It means you should be at the show and pick me up tonight. 

Well lucky for you, a very nice man sent me tickets. I will be at the show. 

Calum stares at his screen. He waits. Is she going to confirm that she’ll pick him up? He asked her to the show, but didn’t really confirm if they would see each other. He wasn’t sure what her schedule would look like and didn’t want to be too demanding. He groans when nothing comes through for a solid minute or two. You’re an ass. 

But you like my ass. 

I do. I really fucking do. Calum bites down on his lips, inhaling deeply as the bubbles appear again. 

I’ll pick you up after the show. But you’re going to have to either get me access to the back of the venue or hike your cute ass to event parking. 

Calum pushes to his feet. He’d rather not be seen walking to her car. It’s nothing against her. He just knows the second fans catch an ounce of suspicious activity, they will run a mile with it. He’s always kept a low profile, no matter how hard it was. He presses the phone to his ear, reaching for his bag. He rips a page from his journal. She answers on the second ring. 

“What kind of car do you drive?” he asks. She rattles of the brand and make. Calum writes it down. “Plate number?”

“What’s this for? You know my car.”

“It’s for security, so they know I’m not walking to some fucking strangers car. They’ll probably escort me, but still they might ask or want need it to make sure who are who you say you are.”

“Just tell them it’s the hella attractive girl.”

Calum laughs. “Yeah because that narrows it down so well.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I got you from the hotel in the morning,” she offers. 

Calum shakes his head, walking to over to one of the bodyguards. “That’s too long.”

“You’ll be exhausted after your show.”

“I’m always exhausted, babycakes.”

She exhales hard, the phone crackle a little. He knows what that nickname does to her. “You’re in for it now,” she whispers. “You’re dead in the water, Hood.” The call ends. Calum’s not even shocked. He slides his phone back into his pocket, handing over the information he has. He describes her, maybe a little too in depth but the guard doesn’t say anything about it. 

They talk to the head coordinator and event staffing. It’s not until an hour or so after soundcheck that Calum gets confirmation that a someone will be on the lookout for her car and will escort him. He’d fight against this, but knows he’ll ultimately lose that battle. 

“You’ll be back to the hotel in time for the drive right?”

Calum nods. “Of course.”

Then with a bit of smirk and a wink, the guard adds, “Just don’t get into too much trouble.” The laugh bubbles up in his chest, spilling past his lips. Calum shakes his head at the antic. If he only knew how much trouble, Calum would be getting into. 

Calum’s not sitting on the couch, more like laying against it, though is butt is still technically in a sitting position, Michael giggling at him. He flips him off, teasingly. “Leave me alone, Clifford.” Then in responds slides in further from his barely upright position. 

“It’s your back you’re breaking,” Michael chuckles and then goes back to his phone. 

Calum’s phone vibrates against his stomach. He pushes back up to see the notification. New iMessage- A-1. It’s an inside joke. She’a A-1 and he’s Steak Sauce, though in her phone it’s spelt like S-O-S a joke off the band acronym. She was way too pleased with herself over the pun. Calum doesn’t have the heart to tell her how cheesy it is, so he lets himself forever reside in her contacts as SteakSOS and gets a chuckle every time he happens to see it. 

He slides to unlock the notification and a shaky breath leaves him. Fuck, fuck, of course. It shouldn’t even make him this hot and bothered, but what he did not think would happen is that he’d open that message to a video. It’s just a video of her hand, pulling up fishnet thigh highs. But her nails are shaped into a point and painted a pretty yellow against the warm red depths of her brown skin. He watches as she flexes, gripping at unclothed thigh before the video ends. He can feel the way the sharp point digging into his shoulders now. He can imagine that way her fingers feel dancing across his skin. 

He plays it again, there’s no sound--he’s thankful. Another message follows it. Did I spend two hours at a nail salon just to send you that? Yes I did. Did I spend another thirty minutes trying to fucking record one handed? Sure did, angel.

Angel. His heart nearly stops as he exhales shakily again at the nickname. “You alright?” Michael asks. His tone rings with amusement. When Calum meets his eye, he can see the smile decorating Michael’s face. He knows, Calum figures. It’s not like Calum’s exactly hidden this friendship, friends with benefits relationship, from the boys. But he tries not to make it so obvious. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Calum says with a chuckle. It’s breathy and nowhere near convincing. But Michael doesn’t push it. He smiles with a nod. Whatever is happening, Michael knows Calum will be sporting marks come tomorrow. 

You’re not just trying to kill me. You’re trying to swallow me fucking hole huh? 

In more ways than one, she replies. 

Calum groans, throwing his head back into the cushions. “I hate her,” he laughs to himself. He sits there, reliving their last meeting. They were in his car, sitting at the edge of the beach, watching over into the water. Or more like the water was watching them fog up the windows. 

His brain wonders down all the random assortment of memories of them together. He lands on their first meeting. Calum started noticing her about a year and a half ago. She went to the same coffee shop that he frequented. She was always hunched over some stack of paper, always tapping away at her computer. He always wanted to ask her what she was doing. But he found himself afraid, always choosing to watch from afar as she typed away, as she scratched words onto the page. She looked endearing with three red pens stuck in her hair. 

Then one day, he caught her, head resting on her forearms. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he did notice some kids eyeing her things. So he went over and sat across from her while he waited for her drink. Make it seem like they were together. He didn’t have anything planned for the day. He just needed some coffee. He didn’t mean sitting there, just to make sure that her belongings didn’t get stolen. After about twenty minutes, he noticed her stirring, so he gathered his empty cup. Calum was sliding his phone back into his pocket when she spoke. “Well, I haven’t just woken up from a nap. I have died and gone to fucking heaven.”

He snapped his head at her, the heat flooding his cheeks. He couldn’t really blush, it never really showed up. But god, did his face feel warm. “I’m sorry. You were sleeping and some kids looked like they were planning something. I sat down to try to and deter them. They left, but then I was worried someone else would try and come up. So I figured I’d sit here until you woke up.”

“Thank you. You’re a literal angel.” 

They talked every all the time in the coffee shop. And then the coffee shop turned into bars. Bars turned into bedrooms. Bedrooms turned into the back of cars, the back of cars turned into her spending the night. Spending the night turned into baking at nearly two AM. Baking at nearly two AM turned into laying out in his backyard pondering the universe. Then she moved further up the Californian coast and out of the city to work for an independent publishing company; she’s happier there. Calum is glad for her. Just misses her two AM baking excursions. 

Now, they rarely get to see each other. Now it’s Calum texting her, I’m in your city as if he didn’t make that two hour drive anytime he wanted to see her. But it’s fun this way. Things feel more intense this way. They turn out all the stops. Which leads Calum here, eyes closed, grinning like an idiot, the ghost of her touch tickling his skin. He pops off the couch, heading to the bathroom, phone in hand. Payback’s a bitch, he hopes she knows that. 

He Facetimes her. No videos, no pictures. He has a strict rule against it. The call rings loudly, bouncing off the concrete walls. She picks up, only to see Calum’s tattooed hand rubbing over his crotch. He lets the sigh fall over his lips at the pressure. He’s needed this, he could feel tightness growing in his pants, the way his lower gut ached for release. He couldn’t give her that. But he could tease her; he could release some of the tension for his own benefit. A moan is building in him. He presses his lips together, refusing to crack just yet. But she knows. 

“Let me hear you, angel,” she commands. “If you’re going to sit there and be this much of a gotdamn tease, at least give me the satisfaction of hearing your sweet moans.”

Calum could. He could give her that. But he won’t. He ends the call, exhaling hard. His phone is about to explode with messages from her. One message comes in, he feels the phone shake in his hand. Then another comes in. Then another. A fourth. A fifth. A sixth one. Calum grins to himself, finally taking his hand away from his crotch and then running it through his hair. He’s in trouble now. 

It’s while the boys and he are eating a small dinner before the show that his phone buzzes again. It hasn’t buzzed in a while after her rant about him being “a motherfucking ass”. I’m at the venue. She describes where’s she’s parked, in a parking deck on the back side of the venue stating “if she were any higher up, she’d touch God and any further back she’d revert herself to the 1950’s”. Calum alerts a bodyguard who takes an event security guard to investigate where she is. 

That’s not very descriptive, you know, Calum replies. 

Another text comes in, about ten minutes later. Clearly it was, because I can spot two of your goons headed for my car. 

_________

Calum can’t spot her in the crowd. He tries, looking up the upper levels of the venue. But he can’t see anything clearly. He wishes he could but that’s not going to happen with lights. It’s when Luke gets a talking break that the flashing lights die down. But he can’t see through the haze. He takes out an inner ear, trying listen for her voice. But doesn’t catch anything. Then he gets to talk. “How are you guys doing tonight?” The crowd roars to life. He repeats the question. “I asked, how are you guys doing tonight!” he adds emphasis to the last word, shouting into the mic. 

Then he hears her, right as the crowd is starting to settle down. Just as clear as a bell, “I can’t scream any louder. I’m waiting for ‘Valentine’ to lose my shit.”

He laughs into the microphone, looking for her in the crowd again. He think he spots her, in a bright yellow shirt. “You’re going to be waiting a little bit then, ba-,” The nickname almost falls off his lips. He almost lets it slip through his lungs, but he catches it right on the edge of his tongue and swallows it back down. “But we’ll get there. I promise. Right now, we’re slowing it down. Is it okay to slow it down for second?” Calum jokes around a bit with the boys as Michael strums before launching into Amnesia.  

As they take their final bow, instruments still reverberating into the speakers, Calum looks out over the crowd for her one last time. He spots the yellow in the crowd again. But he can’t be sure it’s her. They exit the stage, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. High fiving each other, still breathing hard after the show. He can’t wait to have her beneath his finger tips. Calum showers first. He knows he ought to eat something. But he’s not worried about that. He just needs her. He wonders to the bus, gathering the last of his things. He walks back with his traveler bag in his hand. 

Ashton whistles. “Uh huh, who are you going to see?” He can smell the cologne on Calum.

“Nobody, man. Nobody,” Calum returns, nothing sliding his phone into his pocket. 

“Nobody seems like a hell of a somebody

“Shut up,” Calum huffs, a chuckle falling from his lips as well. 

“Still a lot of foot traffic. Might as well eat, give it another half an hour or so,” the bodyguard warns. Calum wants to say fuck it, but figures if he does, he’ll be spotted. “We’ll go the second it dies down.”

Calum nods and manages to get through most of his second dinner. It’s as the first drop hits his stomach that realizes how fucking hungry he actually is. True to his word, the second the venue is cleared, Calum follows behind the guard. He can hear as the stage is torn down, people’s voices echoing. Outside near the buses, they cut across the back, jaywalk over the shockingly clear road. 

As they approach the top of the parking deck, Calum spots her figure in the shadows of the lamp posts. He grins, picking up his gait. He might as well run as the pace he’s half jogging. She pushes up from the hood of her car, starting towards him. Calum wraps her up in his arms, rocking the both of them side to side. She was in yellow. He buries his face into the crook of her neck, smiling against her skin, inhaling the faint scent of her hair products. Calum melts into her touch, the way she squeezes him, the hum of her effort falling over her lips. 

This is a goddamn home away from home, here in her arms, Calum thinks to himself. They release each other. Calum stares down at her, lips turned up into a smile. His hands slide down her side, stopping at her hips. Her nails drag over the veins in his hands. “It’s been too long,” he whispers. 

“Well Mr. Rockstar. My address is still the same.”

“I’m sorry.”

She grins, nails digging a little into the flesh of his hands. “You can make it up to me,” she states, pulling her hips from his grasp. Her boots make a soft clacking sound as she struts to her car, backwards. Her fingers slide over his. Calum hooks his middle finger around hers, so the contact isn’t lost. She readjusts the grip, hooking her pinky through his as they walk side by side. “You realize I nearly called you babycakes in front of the audience tonight right?” he asks, watch the light and shadows cross over her face. 

“I know.” 

“That would’ve been embarrassing.”

“For you, not for me.”

The inside of her car is warm, he notes. Very warm. She shrugs out of her jacket. “What were you cold or something?” he tease, poking at her thighs beneath the gaps in the fishnets. The black and white houndstooth pattern skirt looks flimsy. It’s all for the aesthetic, he figures, and he likes it. He just likes her, if he’s completely honest with himself. But he never is. Not in love anyway. He can’t afford to be completely honest. 

“I didn’t want to greet you with a cold car. And my legs are freezing. I didn’t think it’d get this cool.”

He rubs his palm over her inner thigh, after putting his seatbelt on. She doesn’t shudder, doesn’t moan. She just smiles, her cheeks lifting as her bottom lip falls victim to her teeth. Calum leaves his hand there, buried in the heat of her inner thighs meeting. She descends the parking structure. “Long way home or sit through traffic?” she asks stopped at the exit. 

“Long way,” he shrugs. He has nowhere to be right now of course. She squeezes his fingers with her thighs. 

Calum brushes his thumb over the skin, also brushing up against her thinly covered sex. She mashes her lips together, making a left turn. He can’t feel anything. He won’t push it now. He’ll wait. “What made you decide to wear yellow, huh?”

“Wanted to stand out.”

“I was looking for you, you know?”

“Bet my big mouth was the fastest way to look for me.”

He chuckles, “It was.” His thumb hooks into the side of her panties. Her gasp is audible, she grips tighter at the steering wheel. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she hisses softly. Calum doesn’t listen. He’s done with it. They’ve been driving for a few minutes now. He should’ve picked the traffic. At least she could’ve stopped. Not that going that way was completely risk free. Even though it would’ve been the tail end of it, they still could’ve gotten spotted together. 

Dragging his middle finger up, he groans at the slickness coating his finger. “You really did miss me.”

Her laugh strikes him odd. It’s sad, quiet. This is unlike her. But she doesn’t speak. Calum teases his finger at her entrance. Slowly, he lets the digit slip inside. She shifts, the softest sound leaving her parted lips. “Talk to me babycakes,” Calum urges, pushing his finger as deep as he can. He’s breathless at the feeling of her sitting on his digit.  She sits around his finger so well, pulling him deeper almost. He wishes it was his cock, but he’ll have to wait.

“I’d rather misbehave,” comes her response before she adds on, “Besides, you know it’s killing you. Have a taste.”

He already knows well enough what she taste like that slight saltiness. He can already taste it. He wonders if she remembers the way she tastes. Because if not he’s about to remind her. “Pull over,” he demands. 

“We’re on back roads. The shoulder is very narrow.”

“How much longer?” he asks, curling his finger. 

She hums, a chuckle falling over her throat. “Another ten, fifteen minutes if we don’t encounter any critters.”

Calum chuckles at the term. She might have left her home town, but her hometown has not left her. He decides not to risk it. “Can you handle this? Can you just still on my fingers?”

“Finger,” she corrects just like he knew she would. Calum pulls the one finger out before pushing a second one alongside it. Expelling all of the air in her lungs, she does her best not to make a sound. It’s not the first time he’s had his fingers deep in her while driving. Besides she has more important things to focus on like this fucking road. If she could spare the glance to Calum to throw daggers at him with her glare she would. 

But she keeps her eyes on the road, his fingers deep in her aching core. He must love this, she thinks. Loves her wrapped around his fingers, whether it’s her tongue or her heat, it doesn’t really matter. As long as she is somehow wrapped around his finger, he is in heaven. She tightens her pelvic muscles, squeezing around his digits. Calum groans, head falling into the headrest. His stomach jumps. 

“Do it again, please,” he breathes, rolling his head to look at her. She glances over. His face is a tad pink. He’s flushed already. She tightens around his fingers again. He is putty in her hands though his hands are the only that are milking her with his lazy curling inside. 

It’s the longest five more minutes to pull into the driveway of her house. It was left to her in her grandmother’s will. Also another reason why she moved. The house isn’t much, one story but with a lot of space. The engine cuts off and Calum is leaning over the console, fingers still buried in her. His mouth brushes over hers. He doesn’t have the words, the breathe to speak his next thought. But it’s like she knows as her mouth seals over his. She pushes all the right buttons as her teeth sink into his bottom on. Calum hisses, pushing his fingers particularly hard into her. Her legs fall even farther apart. 

Her nails dig into the muscles of his shoulders as they kiss. The points of pain are like small fires in his skin. Calum trails the tip of his tongue up her lips as he pulls away from the mess of lips, bites, teeth, and tongue. She pulls his fingers out of her, bringing his hand to her mouth. Through her lashes, she watches his face. Calum’s gaze is trained on the way his fingers glisten before the lights in the car go out. 

He laughs, a huff of a chuckle. It’s silenced as she sucks his digits into her mouth. Calum’s mouth falls open, a moan falling from his throat. She runs her tongue between his fingers, cleaning every inch of them. He wants to kiss her. But he doesn’t want her to stop sucking on his fingers. Calum leans in, pulling his fingers from inside her mouth, but leaves them resting against her pouty lips. 

“I wasn’t done,” she sighs. 

He doesn’t respond, instead he kisses her, the tips of his own fingers brushing against his lips too. It’s nice for a moment and then she brings one digit back into her mouth, leaving Calum’s lips hovering over hers yet again. This is ridiculous. He wants to kiss her, just wants to feel her supple lips against his again. Who gives fuck if his own finger is in the way? Calum kisses her, over his own knuckle as her tongue massages the pad of his finger. 

Calum’s not even sure when they made it inside her house. His senses too full of her, her scent, the way her skin feels, her moans, her groans, her sighs, the way his name sounds from her lips. He drops his bag in front of the her couch. “Thirsty?” she asks, toying out of her shoes. 

Calum unzips his boots, watching her hips as she walks to her kitchen. His socks are a little slippery against the tile she has down, but he manages to catch up to her, taking her hips into his hand and pulling her back into his chest. She grinds down into his crotch, feeling the bulge. Sliding them down to the hem of her skirt, he pushes it up until the band of her panties are exposed. “The only thing I need is you,” he whispers, yanking at the flimsy material. She shudders, but steps out of them. 

Calum steps away, hooking his pinky through hers. “Fix yourself. And c’mon.”

It takes  a few seconds for her to get the skirt back down her legs, but she follows behind Calum as he wanders down the main hallway.  As they enter her bedroom, she slides in behind Calum, wrapping her arms around his waist. Her fingers trail up underneath the sweatshirt. It should tickle, but Calum tenses for different. Her fingers trace the line of his pants and underwear until she pops the button. Her movements are slow but precise. 

She pulls the material up. Calum helps her pull it up and over his head. She tugs at the t-shirt too. “I’ll be underdressed,” Calum laughs. 

“Take it off, please?” She presses kisses through the cotton of the shirt. Calum pulls it up, tossing it to the heap with his sweatshirt. 

Her nails run down his back ad Calum shudders. The pain will be coming next and the anticipation is killing him. He needs it. He needs it like he needs her to suck on his fingers again; he needs it like he needs to kiss her. He needs the pain just like he needs her, to be beneath above, beside her. It does not matter. Her touch is light, the pads of her fingers just barely touching. Then her nails are digging into his lower back. He grunts, fingers curling into fists. She doesn’t let up either. 

With a growl, he spins around and pushes her into the wall. She collide with the wall with a particular loud thud. Calum cups the back of her head. “You okay?”

She nods. “But you’re not going to be,” she grin, hand running up his stomach and chest. 

“What does that mean?”

Her fingers dance across his lips and Calum opens his mouth. Her eyes twinkle. He knows what order is next. Two of her fingers slip over his tongue. “Suck,” she whispers, staring into his warm brown eyes. They’re hidden a little behind a cloud of tiredness, but a thick layer of lust. His moan shakes against her fingers, but he hollows his cheek, pulling his head back a little. The tip of his tongue tickles against webbing of her hands, but he loves it. He loves the weight of her fingers on his tongue. He the slight string as she runs the tops of her nails over the rough of his mouth. 

Calum grabs onto her wrist, holding her still, so he can run his tongue over each one of her digits. With her free hand, she reaches into his pants, grasping his length. Calum’s jaw falls slack at the grasps. He forgets all about her fingers in his mouth, placing his hands on the wall on either side of her head. She runs her hands down to his pants and pushes them down. Kneeling she tugs the pants down and helps him step out of them. “I am severely underdressed,” Calum pants. 

He reaches a hand down and tangles his fingers into her hair, pulling her gaze up to his. “Strip, leave the fishnets.”

Still on her knees, she buttons the blouse, letting the material fall down her arms. She sit on her but, pushing her hips up with her core and heels. The material slides down over her calves. She sits propped up against the wall, legs spread open for Calum. Her core is soaked, leaking, creating a shine to her skin. Calum groans, dropping to his knees between her legs. He goes to lean in when she stops him with a foot to his chest. Calum runs his fingers up her skin. She plays at the necklaces hanging from his chest with her toe. 

“Please don’t toy with me,” he begs, squeezing her thigh. “Please, babycakes.”

She drops her foot. Calum scoots back, pulling her into his lap. Her lips find his immediately. One and tangled in the hair at the back of her neck, Calum drifts his fingers to her clit. She shudders at the first contact, moving to his earlobe and biting down. “Fuck,” he whispers at the slight twinge of pain. 

“I wanna ride you,” she whispers, kissing down his neck. 

“Of course, babycakes. Just come around my fingers once. You know how much I love it.”

With a nod, she pushes off his lap. “I can do that, anytime, angel.” Pushing to his knees, Calum grabs her thighs and nudges her against the wall. Using his fingers he pulls back her labia and licks a stripe up her, sucking on her cit. “Goddamn,” she sighs. Calum inserts two fingers into her, pumping and curling at the inside of her. He needs her to unravel around his fingers. He needs to feel that squeeze one last time. He hasn’t felt that in so long. She moans from above him when he starts to kitten lick the bundle of nerves. 

Nails scratching at his scalp, Calum moans against her mound as she tightens her grip. Her legs tremble. He presses her harder into the wall, curls faster, hits deeper inside her. “Fuck. Calum.” Her voice is strained. The muscle in her legs starts jumping, legs bouncing. Calum grins. This is it. This is it. She comes around him, a grunt falling over her lips. “Cal--” she chokes on her own breathe. 

She contracts and releases around his finger. Calum groans, slowly his lapping. But leaves his fingers buried deep in her heat. When he pulls his fingers out, she sags, sliding down the wall. Fuck, she can’t breathe. God. She feels like she’s floating. It shouldn’t take thing long to come back down. Calum strokes her cheek with his clean hand, kissing across her face. If it doesn’t work, he’ll find a way to do a cold compress. “Come back to me, babycakes. Deep breathe.”

Her eyes slowly blink back open. Calum grins. “There you are.”

She laughs. “Unfortunately.”

“I need some help.”

Inhaling deeply, she lets her close drift close before opening them and exhaling. “What’s up, angel?” 

Calum taps his fingers coated in her arousal against her lips. “Can you help me clean these?” 

She opens her mouth, resting her tongue flat against his fingers. Calum bends down, licking off the otherside. Together they clean his fingers, tongue brushing every so often. Calum pulls his hand away. She captures his lip between her teeth again, pullling hard. He groans. “Can I ride you now?”

“I would say you you don’t have to ask twice, but you just did.”

He’s always like this. Always still sassy. “Just get the fuck on the bed.”

Calum stands first, helping her up. “You sure you can handle it.”

Playfully slapping his ass, she laughs. “I’m sure I can.” He acts like he hates this, sending a glare to her over his shoulder. But Calum loves this, loves that they can still be playful in sex. Opening her bedside drawer, he pulls out a condom. Her birth control is right on top of the nightstand. She’s still taking it. When he turns around, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. She’s just watching him. Her gaze makes his gut flip again. What is she looking at? 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he chuckles, tearing opening the package. 

“You said no to pictures. Lay back,” she comments, patting the mattress. Calum rolls the latex on and reclines into her plush pillows. 

“Tell me,” he starts, watching her crawling up the length of body, pausing to kissing his thighs. “What were thinking about in the ride over here? When I asked--” the question stops on his tongue as her lips near his crotch. “When I asked if you missed me?”

“I’ll explain later, okay?” she whispers, lips ghosting over his cock. Calum goes to speak again until her nails dig into his hips. He moans. She continues to kiss up his body. She kisses and sucks a hickey onto his each collarbone. 

“Please, God, please,” he whines. That’s all she needs before sinking down onto his length. “Fuck,” Calum swears, grabbing onto her hips. She grinds her hips against his, holding herself up by pressing her hands onto his chest. 

“Tell me, angel, how’s the view?” she grins. 

Calum reaches up for one of her breast, rolling the brown bud between his fingers. “It’s like heaven,” he pants. Calum wants more, but he knows to wait this out. His body feels like it’s on fire, but it’s a fire that continues to get stronger. Moving his fingers from her breast to her clit, he tries to help build her to faster to her second orgasm. The moment he touches her nerve, she snatches the hand away. 

All movement is paused. “You want to fuck me huh? Is that what you want to do?”

“I want you to feel good. I--I want to make love to you.”

The phrase leaves her speechless. This hasn’t been about love. Or at least not on the surface, not with a label. It’s been a physical connection for sure. But the mental one has also been under the surface. Always felt, never talked about. Calum sees the shock on her face and takes this moment to get the upper hand. He hugs her close, before rolling them over. Her beneath him, still buried in her velvet heat. 

“Can I?” he asks. 

She nods. “Yes-yes.”

Calum kisses her, open mouthed before pulling out and slowly thrusting back inside her. She releases a small sigh in his ear as he thrusts inside. That’s a new sound. He thrusts slowly back into her. She releases it again. “Shit, you make the most beautiful sounds,” he whispers. He can’t get deep like this. So he pauses and places a pillow under her hips, brushing her knees to her chest. 

She grips the sheets as Calum re enters her. “God, fuck.” She can feel him everywhere. Not just inside her, his body is pressed firmly against her. She can feel his chest against his, his breath ghosting over her skin as his face is buried her into neck. His hips roll at just the right angle that he brushes over her cit. 

With very little warning, she cums beneath him, muscles tensing. Calum lifts his head to watch her face. The way her eyes screw up shut, the o she makes with her lips, the way her back arches off the bed. He loves this. He loves watching this. If he could record it, he would. To watch it over and over and over. Calum’s own orgams washes over him. He gives a final two thrusts before spilling over into the condom. 

They stay meshed together, the metal brushing over her brown skin. He loves the way it looks. God, how he could stay here forever. But he can’t. “Can I kiss you?” she asks, not sheepish, but concerned, but hesitant, unsure. 

“Of course.”

This kiss isn’t a clash of teeth, tongue or biting. It’s slow, and sensual. Almost loving. They part, Calum slowly pulling out of her. She pulls him alongside her into the bathroom. They clean themselves up, use the restroom. She leans up against the counter as Calum washes his hands. “I didn’t answer you when you asked if I miss you because I don’t just miss sex with you. I miss having you around.”

Calum pauses, hands still resting under the warm water. “I miss you too,” he whispers. 

She shakes her head. “Not the same way.” She shouldn’t have been vulnerable with him. He can’t do it. It’s not his fault, fully. It’s the road, it’s the constant travel. It’s the always being away. It’s the past too. It’s the people before, it’s the cruelty of being of being so invasive, it’s this life as a person of color. It’s not all his fault, but some of it was, like the shutting people out, bottling up. 

Calum quickly dries his hands, before following into the bedroom. She starts picking up her clothes and his. Calum stands bare at the threshold. “I know how you like your tea. 2 parts honey, one part sugar. You prefer black fruity teas. You despise coffee. But drink it because it’s the only thing that keeps you up for deadlines. You edit in coffee shops, but like writing in your backyard best. You prefer early morning to late nights. You like tequila over vodka which I’ll never understand. You hate twisting your hair, but like the way the curls look in the morning. You do pineapples when you’re lazy. You still can’t perfect the slicked down ponytail, but you still try. You’ve thought about doing a blow out but are too scared it’ll ruin your curl pattern again. You prefer shea butter moisturizers. You shop black owned every chance you get. You hate the fashion world, but still like designer shoes. 

“You’ll shop a sale every chance you get. You donate half your closet twice a year to the domestic abuse shelter in honor of the women in your family. You volunteer at hospitals during Christmas because you like walking in as Storm and having the other black kids staring up at you in awe. You wished you cosplayed more. You play the piano well for someone that’s never learned a scale. Your voice is so fucking soulful and if I could get you to sing on one our songs, I think I’d die in the studio before you ever opened your mouth. I miss you too. I am listening. You’re one of the first people I want to tell good news too. You’re the first person I think of when I see a cute dog. I miss not being to talk in my backyard.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you say anything.”

“I didn’t know how. I hate being so far away from you. I like this--being normal. I wish I didn’t have to miss you. But I’d rather miss you than not have you at all.”

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Mile High Job

leverage 1.08

Nate: We need a key card.

Eliot: And I hate to say it, but you know who we could really use --

Nate: Don't even say his name. I don't want it spoken aloud

eliot begrudgingly admitting they could use hardison because although they may bicker all the time, he knows to appreciate him

- - - - - 

[Leverage Headquarters]

(Hardison is watching a microwave, which dings)

Hardison: Yeah, buddy!

(he tries to pick up the pizza pocket but it is too hot and he drops it)

Hardison: Damn it!

(he blows on it and picks it up to eat it, then takes a watering can and heads out of the kitchen)

why do we (and parker and eliot) love this fucking idiot so damn much ???

- - - - - 

(Hardison walks through the offices watering plants)

he’s such a nester + he’s probably watering parker’s plant too which is adorable

- - - - - 

Eliot: All right.

(open the door to the hall to find Parker waiting)

Parker: So, what are we waiting for?

Eliot: How does she do this?

Nate: I don't even ask anymore.

Hardison: Don't bother with the stairs. I got you a ride down.

(elevator dings and they enter)

we love to see parker defying all laws of physics and logic and the team being baffled by it e v e r y time

- - - - - 

(Nate, Parker and Eliot run into the lobby, headed for the door)

Nate: No, it’s right behind us, it’s right behind us!

(guards put their hands on their guns)

Parker: It’s furry, it’s big, it’s chasing us, get down now!

(they grab Sophie on the way out the door, leaving the guards confused)

Nate: Come on, we need to get to the airport, now!

that’s actually a really clever way to escape a situation ??? it was very effective to distract the guards ???

- - - - - 

Hardison: What I.D.s have you got on you?

[LAX Airport]

Nate: Let's see...

(team begins looking through their pockets)

Nate: We got, Peter Davison, Sylvester McCoy, and I have a Tom Baker. Yeah.

Sophie: Ooh, yeah, I have a Baker. Sarah Jane.

[Leverage Headquarters]

Hardison: Perfect. I now pronounce you man and wife. (typing on keyboard) Now go on and kiss that bride.

[LAX Airport]

(Sophie hands Nate a ring that he places on her finger)

hardison bases their ids on doctor who characters, what a fucking nerd

also, we gonna talk about how sophie carries a bunch of different wedding rings with her at all times or ???

- - - - - 

Sophie: How did you both know there'd be an extra uniform in the bag?

Nate: Everyone knows flight attendants are required to carry extra uniforms in case they get called to work unexpectedly.

Eliot: Or if something happens to the one that they're already wearing.

Sophie: How does "everyone" know that?

Nate: Worked airport security.

Eliot: Slept with a flight attendant

sophie being exhausted + eliot never mentioned the gender of the flight attendant so let my bi heart dream okay

- - - - - 

(security guard opens Nate’s luggage to find many BSDM items inside. Nate gives Sophie a look)

Sophie: What? We needed luggage. Lost and found.

Nate: You didn't check the bag first?

Sophie: We were in a bit of a hurry. (to guard) Yeah. Cuffs are his. Whip's mine. (slaps Nate’s butt) Second honeymoon.

Eliot (picking up his bag): Idiots.

me watching this scene: part horrified part secondhand embarrassed 

- - - - - 

Hardison (on computer): Let's see what we can learn about Nathan Ford today. Online poker? Online chess? Sudoku. Crossword. What... Damn. Somebody needs to get laid.

y i k e s

- - - - - 

[Coach]

(Parker on P.A. while another stewardess demonstrates)

Parker: Place the mask over your mouth and nose and breathe normally. In the event of a water landing, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device. But let's face it, if this thing goes down in the water, more than likely the impact will kill you. 

(Eliot grabs the bridge of his nose while the other passengers get alarmed)

Parker: Please take a moment to locate the nearest emergency exits, because if this plane's on fire, you're gonna want to get out quick. Jet fuel burns at over 1,000 degrees. That's hot, folks.

Eliot: All right, Nate. We're here. Now what?

eliot looks exhausted like 300 different times during this episode

+ bless the other flight attendant that just carried on with the crazy white chick being crazy over the speaker 

- - - - - 

poor eliot with the guy sleeping on him, he’s so exhausted already lmao

- - - - - 

Steve: Nothing. It’s just... I could've sworn I saw a maintenance guy get in that elevator.

Hardison: A- A maintenance guy? Wow. Real nice. I bet you think we all look alike.

Steve: That's not what I meant.

Hardison: You know what -- If I have to go to one more of those damn sensitivity seminars, I know who I’m blaming.

Steve: No, no, no.

Hardison: I know who I’m blaming.

Steve: It's not what I meant.

Hardison: I blame you! You! (walks away)

hardison using societal tendencies of racism is iconic every (every) time

- - - - - 

(Eliot gets up and begins going through luggage in the overhead racks. One of the passengers watches him suspiciously)

Eliot (to passenger): Can I help you with something? Watch the movie.

what would you even do in this situation ???

- - - - - 

Marissa: I know. It's just -- It's like a placebo effect. It's not really working, but it makes you feel better anyway.

Parker: Yeah? So, when's that supposed to kick in? (she moves forward) Look. Flying isn't really all that scary when you think about it. I mean, there are a lot more likely ways to die than on a plane. Car crash, house fire, electrocution, drowning, autoerotic asphyxiation. I mean, the fact is, death haunts us every day. No matter where we are.

(Parker smiles and moves away)

Y I K E S

- - - - - 

Hardison: You kidding? Did you get the new expansion pack? Woman, I was up all night. Now, look, I mean “Burning Crusade" was great, but this new one is mind-blowing.

Nate: Hardison…

[First Class]

Nate: …you bailed on the job because you were up all night playing a game?

[Genogrow Break Room]

(Hardison turns aside and opens a cabinet door to hide his face)

Hardison: First off, "game" is hardly adequate, okay

hardison is DONE with them not taking his “games” seriously ,,, also LMFAO that’s why he was late 

- - - - - 

Hardison (opens door): The meeting's starting, sir. (closes door)

Haldeman: What meeting? (sighs and puts on his jacket)

that is such an effective tactic tho ???

- - - - - 

Parker: Hatbox full of Euros, pouch of uncut diamonds, and a stolen Stradivarius. Now, I’ve never lifted one of those.

Nate: Parker..

let! her! steal! it!

- - - - - 

Eliot: Ms. Devins, those payments were not made in error. They were bribes. He was trying to pay off the researchers so they would not testify.

Marissa: What are you talking about? What the hell is going on here?

(Parker sits down next to Marissa)

Parker: The guy in 1D wants to kill you. Ginger ale?

Eliot: Just – sh-she--

that poor lady is NOT having a good time

also eliot looks sO DONE WITH PARKER LMFAO

- - - - - 

Eliot: Erlick's a pro. He had a ceramic knife. If anything was going down, he'd sniff 'em out when he saw them coming.

Nate: How would they do it?

Eliot: Easiest way? Take 'em out in transit.

Sophie: You mean bring down the plane they're on?

(everyone looks at her pointedly)

Sophie: You mean bring down the plane we're on?

Nate: Yeah

that’s interesting meta to know but we hate to see it

- - - - - 

Nate: Okay, Parker, I -- Parker, I need you – (to Eliot) All right, we got to talk to Erlick now.

[Plane Bathroom]

(Dan is still unconscious on the toilet as Eliot and Nate come in)

Nate: Geez!

Eliot (patting Dan on the face): Hey!

(Dan does not stir, Eliot sighs)

Eliot: When I knock people out, they tend to stay knocked out.

Nate: Hey!

(Nate taps the guy on the face)

Nate: Luggage tags.

(they search Dan’s clothes and take his luggage tags. Eliot grabs the ceramic knife before they leave the bathroom)

eliot doesn’t fuck around lmao

also he did the flippy thing with the knife

- - - - - 

Hardison: Parker, the device you found -- is it anywhere near an orange box?

Parker: Yeah.

[Haldeman’s Office]

Hardison: Oh, god. They tapped into the black box.

[Cargo Hold]

Parker: No, no, it's not black. It's orange.

[Haldeman’s Office]

Hardison: Yeah, the black boxes, they're orange.

[Cargo Hold]

Hardison: Makes them easier to find in the debris.

Parker: Oh. Oh…

[Haldeman’s Office]

Hardison: They've hacked into the flight's computer, which means they have access to the system, which means they can spoof the black-Box data all at the same time.

[Cargo Hold]

Parker: Crash the plane without anyone knowing it was sabotaged.

[Haldeman’s Office]

Hardison: Exactly

that’s terrifying

- - - - - 

Nate: Listen to me!

[Haldeman’s Office]

Nate: You can do this! I trust you!

(Hardison looking very unsure of himself)

[Cockpit]

Nate: No matter how many times you goof off or screw up, you always come through in the clutch.

[Haldeman’s Office]

Nate: You're the only guy I can count on in a situation like this.

Hardison (cracks his neck): You know what? I-I-you... You're right. 

You're right. I got this.

[Cockpit]

Nate: Yes! Yes! Yes, you can!

Hardison: You're right. You're -- I'm the man.

[Cargo Hold]

Hardison: I'm the man. I got this. I'm gonna do this.

hardison is amazing and they need to appreciate him more

- - - - - 

[First Class]

(Nate and Eliot stumble into seats and belt up)

Nate: Sophie?

[Coach]

Sophie: Yes?

[First Class]

Nate: You okay?

[Coach]

Sophie: Yeah. You?

[First Class]

Nate: Ask me again in 10 minutes.

[Coach]

Sophie: You're gonna remember this one, aren't you?

[First Class]

Nate: Oh yeah.

everyone else on the comms: ,,, y’all have to flirt right this second ???

- - - - - 

[Haldeman’s Office]

(Hardison watching footage on the Internet of the plane landing)

Announcer (on monitor): …emergency landing on the seven mile bridge…

Hardison: Whoa! (gets up and dances) Baby! Unh! Age of the geek! Smooth! Too smooth! Lord, I was so scared, I wanted to cry, call my mama. Y'all cool? Y’all cool?

Nate: Yes, cool.

Hardison: Family. All right.

hardison is baby + HE CALLED THEM HIS FAMILY !!!

[axiumin]

BTS Reaction | Cuddle Bug

Sometimes, when all was said and done, all you wanted to do was cuddle up with the person you loved. 

Jin

Seokjin’s eyebrows knitted in concentration as he played his video game. Clothed in just his hoodie and sweats, brow pinched with focus, and lips just the tiniest bit pouty, he looked far too cute. He looked far too cozy. And you? You felt like being cozy, too. 

You had the good graces to wait until an unskippable cutscene before you padded over and unceremoniously climbed onto his lap, burrowing into the soft fabric of his hoodie. 

Seokjin chuckled and automatically wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you. “What’s this?” he asked. 

You rested your head on his shoulder and smiled up at him lazily. “Just cuddles.”

He shook his head fondly. “‘Just cuddles,’ you say. And I suppose you just climb into anyone’s lap whenever you feel like cuddles on your own terms?” Yet there was no heat in his words, and he settled back against the couch cushions to give you more room on his lap. 

You sighed happily. “Not anyone’s lap,” you corrected. “Just yours.”

Seokjin chuckled again, and you watched with fond amusement as the tips of his ears tinged pink. 

“Yes, well,” he said picking up his controller as the cutscene ended. “You bring me good luck, so I’ll let you stick around.”

You dozed happily against his warm chest as he continued to fight his way through baddies and bosses alike. Every time your good luck helped him win another battle, he thanked you by dropping a sweet kiss on the crown of your head. It was a win-win.

Suga

Everyone knew that a sleeping Yoongi was not to be disturbed. You’d seen plenty of empirical data telling you how bad of an idea it was to disturb a sleeping Yoongi. However, there were other things to take into consideration as well. Namely, 1) he looked really soft and warm, curled up on the couch as he was, and 2) he was your boyfriend, and that surely had to afford you some privileges, right? 

It was a risk, but it was a calculated one. You thought you’d take your chances. 

You stood beside the couch, waiting to make sure he looked perfectly asleep before delicately resting your knee on the cushion beside him. You watched, holding your breath, as the cushion sank beneath your weight. His face didn’t so much as twitch. 

Slowly, you lowered the rest of your body onto the narrow strip of couch beside him. It wasn’t a comfortable fit and you were keenly aware that you were at risk of falling off the edge if you weren’t careful, but it was all about baby steps. 

Just as you were evaluating how to best work your way under his arm, Yoongi spoke. 

“What are you doing?”

You froze and looked at his face. He still looked like he was sleeping, but when you didn’t answer immediately, he cracked open one eye to glare at you. 

“Uh,” you said intelligently. “Cuddling?” 

Yoongi stared blearily at you. “You call this cuddling?”

Your body chose that moment to overbalance and nearly slip off the edge of the couch. Yoongi sighed and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you away from certain doom and right into his chest. 

“Stop waking me up,” he grumbled. But he tightened his arms around you and you thought you saw the beginnings of a smile before he buried his face in your hair, so you figured he couldn’t have minded the disruption too much. 

“Not a peep from me,” you promised, happily snuggling into his sleep-warm embrace. You stifled a grin into the fabric of his hoodie and tried not to be too obvious about congratulating yourself for a risk well-rewarded. 

J-Hope

Movie nights were the worst— not because of the movies and certainly not because of the company, but because you were the worst. All it would take was just a few minutes of you sitting on the couch, cozy and warm and close to the person you loved, for your eyes to start drooping closed. 

Hoseok had tried everything to keep you awake and engaged during movie nights— horror films, comedies, delicious snacks— but to no avail. Tonight, he’d even let you put on a movie you’d been begging him to watch with you for ages. You barely made it through the opening credits before your eyelids started to feel heavy. 

See? The worst. 

You tried to be subtle about curling up closer to Hoseok and snuggling into his chest, and at first he did nothing but wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you closer. But perhaps after the second time you nuzzled into the fabric of his hoodie, he finally caught on. 

“Babe?”

“‘M awake,” you mumbled sleepily, on the verge of nodding off.

Hoseok pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re cute even when you lie so obviously,” he said, voice soft and teasing. 

You grumbled in protest, but he just kissed you again and rested his head on top of yours. You quieted, and it didn’t take long for the warmth and comfort of his familiar hold to lull you to sleep. 

Somehow, you never thought to ask yourself how you could sleep so soundly beside someone as energetic and loud as Hoseok could be. The answer was simple: he was a sleepy cuddler, too. 

Movie nights were the worst. But nap nights? Those were the best.  

RM

You hesitated in the doorway of Namjoon’s studio. He was busy at work— as he had been for hours now— and you were reluctant to disrupt his focus. But as you watched him sigh and rub tiredly at his eyes, you figured that maybe a disruption was exactly what he needed. 

You walked into the room and closed the door gently behind you. Namjoon was wearing headphones and clearly couldn’t hear you, so rather than call out to him, you decided to stand behind his chair and drape your arms around his shoulders. Without missing a beat, Joon slid off his headphones and turned his head to smile at you. 

“Hey. What brings you here?”

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You.”

He chuckled, face tinging with a pleased blush. “Well, it’s a good thing you came by when you did. I’m not too sure about this one part of the song, and I wanted some feedback. Can you…?” He held up the headphones, and you stood up at attention. 

It was incredibly rare for Namjoon to give you even a hint of any of his songs while he was still working on it. You’d had the chance to listen to his works in progress maybe three times throughout your entire relationship, and one of those times was an accident. And now for him to not only invite you to listen, but to seek your opinion? You were touched. 

“Yes!” you cried, reaching for the headphones. 

Namjoon chuckled. “Here, the cord’s kind of short. Why don’t you—” He pushed his chair away from the desk and patted his legs. 

You wasted no time moving around the chair to settle in his lap. He waited until you were settled in, back leaning against his chest. He wrapped an arm around your waist, not because you needed the steadying, but just to hold you close. You took the headphones from him and put them on, and he reached over to his computer to press play. 

The music washed over you. The steady beats and the familiar lilt of Namjoon’s voice grounded you in the moment just as much as the warm arm around your waist. You rested your head on Namjoon’s shoulder and looked up at him. He smiled back at you. 

He didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need him to. You could already feel his love.

Jimin

Target acquired. He was sitting on the couch, about three meters out. Doing— something. You actually couldn’t tell from this angle, but whatever it was, it surely wasn’t too important. He was sleepy, relaxed. His guard was down. Easy prey. 

The muscles in your legs coiled, ready for action. You started a mental countdown— three, two, go!— and made your move. 

You darted around the corner and pounced before he could so much as flinch. Jimin yelped as your body collided with his, sending you both sprawling sideways on the couch. 

“Got you!” you crowed, wrapping your arms around him. 

Jimin recovered from the shock and laughed. “Yeah,” he said, somewhat breathlessly. “You sure did.” He wrapped his arms around you in return. “What are you going to do now that you have me?”

You hummed and made a show of thinking about it. “I think… I’m just going to cuddle you for a bit.”

Jimin’s face bloomed into a smile, a happy, lovely thing. “Oh yeah?”

“Yep! I gotta choose a befitting prize, after all.” You rested your head on his shoulder and smiled, as if to prove how pleased you were with your befitting prize. 

Jimin chuckled. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

He pulled you closer, nuzzling against the crown of your head. You may have claimed a prize, but as far as he was concerned, you were both winners. 

V

“You comfortable down there?”

You’d found Taehyung in so many unexpected situations by now that you weren’t really surprised to find him lying flat on his back in the middle of the room, basking in a patch of afternoon sunlight. All the same, you couldn’t help but stop in your tracks when you saw him.

“Definitely,” he replied, not even bothering to open his eyes. 

You considered this and, after a moment, shrugged. “That’s enough for me.” 

You padded right on over and sprawled out on top of him, taking delight in the way he huffed when you settled heavily across his chest. You chuckled and nuzzled into his sun-warmed shoulder. “Wow, so comfy!” 

But before you could get too settled in, he stirred beneath you. 

“Ah, look what you’ve done!” he cried, lowering his voice to a dramatized rumble. “You’ve awoken me from my slumber! You must now pay the price.” His arms shot up, pointing at the ceiling for just a moment before swooping back down to wrap around your waist. A moment later, you found yourself lying on your side, Taehyung’s arms and legs wrapped around you. 

“Oh, what a price to pay!” you chuckled, wiggling in his hold to no avail. “What ever shall I do?”

“There’s nothing to be done. You violated the law. Pay the court a fine or serve your sentence. Your stolen goods are now forfeit,” he said, voice still deep and mock-solemn. He graciously ignored your snort in favor of pulling you closer and burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

As you lay there, pleasantly warm from the afternoon sun and the feeling of Tae’s smile against your neck, you decided that there were worse fates than this. 

Jungkook

He was just sitting on the couch, watching some videos on his phone. He looked perfectly content, even chuckled occasionally. There really was no discernible reason for you to go interrupt him. None whatsoever. 

Except for the fact that you were utterly bored and he looked wonderfully warm and you kind of wanted to know what he was chuckling at. Conveniently, you could address all three of those issues at once. 

So, you set your own phone aside and got up from the armchair you’d been draped across to pad over to him. Jungkook looked up and had barely started to form a question when you settled yourself onto his lap and wiggled into the circle of his arms. You fidgeted until you found a comfy position, sitting with your back pressed against his chest. 

“What are we watching?” you asked, looking at his phone. 

Jungkook didn’t reply. He didn’t even move. You frowned and craned your neck to look at him. He was staring into the middle distance, eyes wide and face tinged pink even as a smile slowly grew on his face. 

“Kookie?” you asked, eyebrow quirked. 

He snapped out of it and looked back at you. Were you imagining it, or were his cheeks even redder now?

“Oh, yeah. Uh, we’re. Just. Watching some puppy videos.” He smiled, and you felt his muscles relax as he eased back against the couch cushions. He was still blushing, even as his expression turned from bunny-in-the-headlights to endearment. 

You chuckled. “You know you’re going to have to get used to this eventually, right?”

Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close. “Get used to what?” He buried his still-warm face in the crook of your neck. 

You chuckled and settled comfortably into his hold, taking the hint. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

[twst-oc-ask-blog]

🎧 Music for the Nervous & Anxious 🎧

While I wait for asks, I’m going to make some short little stories of the girls either interacting with one another, or with one/some of the boys.

Also, gonna thank my friend @wolken-himmel She didn’t suggest this story, no. But she was the one who inspired me to write these. So, thank you Wolkie!

Anyways, enjoy!

Humming to herself, one side of her headphones over its respective ear, Lotus was messing with a music app on her laptop. Her free hand’s fingers lightly drumming against the device to a rhythm only heard though Lotus’s headphones, or even just in her head. At a sudden noise, Lotus looked up to see a certain small, fire haired android flying towards her, causing her to smile.

“Hi Ortho-chi. How are you?” Ortho landed near the tall female, who was currently seated at a table in the lounge of Ignihyde. Ortho looked at her then tilted his head and closed his eyes, as if to smile, giving a reply.

“Hi Lotus-chan. I am doing well. Are you by chance working on some new music?” He started floating again and peered over her shoulder at her laptop screen.

“Yeah!” came her reply, louder then she wanted, causing other members of their dorm to turn toward them. At this, Lotus flushed and looked at her laptop for a quick minute before turning back to Ortho, removing her headphones. “I’m just about done with this new piece, if you want to listen to if for me? I could really use the criticism.”

“I would love to!” Lotus smiled but a look of nervousness washed over her quickly afterward with what the young android said next, “I’m sure Oniisan would like to listen too, Lotus-chan!”

Lotus quickly grew pale and started shaking, as her nervous overtook her mind. Quickly Ortho cought on that something wasn’t right with his tall friend. “Lotus-chan? Are you alright?”

At his voice Lotus was broken from her mental state of fight or flight, but she put on a half hearted smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just stop by my room later to come and listen... and please don’t drag your brother over to my room. I’m sure he’s already extremely busy with dorm head things. I really don’t want to bother him.”

Ortho looked at her confused, but nodded his head as she saved the file, closed her laptop and stood up to her full hieght, with her headphones securely around her neck.

“See you later Ortho. I’m going to head to my room to work on some homework.” Lotus waved bye and started to head to the dorm rooms.

After floating in place for a moment, Ortho chose to head back to his and Idia’s room, curious about his friend’s reaction.

Awhile Later

Lotus was seated at her desk, her headphones on, and humming as she worked on her song again. Her homework was seated beside her on the desk, already completed. As her door was pushed open by Ortho, Lotus leaned back into her chair as her humming ceased.

“It’s still missing something....” Lotus started drumming her fingers against her arm rest, not noticing the young android had joined her. Suddenly she sat up and chose to start a new recording layer on the song.

As the music started playing, Lotus started singing to the music heard through her headphones. Ortho had never heard the girl sing before, even though he had heard her music. From what analyst he could get from her voice, many would claim it beautiful, and some among them would say it is angelic, with even a slight some fewer comparing her to a goddess of music, or even a muse.

Once Lotus was done singing and was finish with the recording, she sat back with an accomplished smile. “That’s what was missing.”

With a tap to her shoulder, causing her to stiffen, Lotus turn around. Seeing the young android, she calmed down. “Ortho. You startled me. How long have you been here? How much did you hear?”

“The whole thing, Lotus!” At his statement, Lotus’s cheek brightened. “Your singing was beautiful, Lotus-chan! You should sing more often!”

“Oh, no. I’m not that good. This is just a demo, when at can I’m going to get Netta to sing instead.” Lotus started to write down the lyrics she just sang, after saving and exporting the file of music. “It’s done for the moment. Just save a copy of the file, or files, and listen to them when you can.”

As she was writing, Lotus felt the young android settle by her laptop and assumed he started saving the files he wanted. After a short little while, he exited the room. With a smile, Lotus looked up from her lyric writing to her computer.... only to then notice that it was gone. Paling, Lotus shot up from her seat. “Ortho!”

Quick as she could, Lotus exited her room and started looking around in the halls for the young android. Sadly he had already disappeared, with her laptop and demo-reels. Muttering under her breath, Lotus approached another member of her dorm. Gently tapping him on the shoulder, she asked, “By chance do you know where dorm leader Shroud’s room is?”

Normally, Lotus would crouch down as to not intimidate those she talks to who are shorter then her, but she was too nervous to do so. The male pointed in the direction of the room she desired. With a quick thank you, Lotus sped her way to Ortho and Idia’s room.

Meanwhile

Ortho had arrived in his and Idia’s room, having already closed the door again. Floating over to his brother, Ortho put Lotus’s laptop on the desk beside Idia. “Niisan! You’ve got to listen to-”

Ortho was cut off by a knock at the door. He quickly grew quiet as he knew who is was and why they were knocking.

“Shroud-senpai, have you seen Ortho?” At this, Idia finally looked away from his game, and turned to the android- who remained quiet at the female spoke again. “It’s alright if you haven’t. I’m just looking for him because he took my laptop, and I really, really need it back. I understand you are probably busy and you don’t like to leave your room, so I’m sorry to bother you. But if Ortho does come back with my laptop, please tell him to return it to me. Thank you....”

As she walked away, Idia looked at the stolen device then at the android. “Why did you take her laptop?”

“I wanted to show you Lotus-Chan’s music! She’s really good, Niisan! Especially her newest piece!” Idia looked at Ortho, then at the laptop, then back with a blank and unamused facile expression. Ortho looked at Idia with a pleading look. “Please just give it a try!”

Finally Idia relented, and hooked up Lotus’s laptop to his computer and started to save copies of Lotus’s demo-reels.

A Few Days Later

Lotus is walking through the school library, a book on music and the first four parts of a manga series in her arms. Her headphones where resting around her neck, while her laptop and other items were securely in her bag. Re-adjusting her glasses, Lotus spotted Idia a little ways down the row of manga with his headphones on over his ears.

Lotus smiled, and chose against approaching him. After all, his headphones were over his ears, even if he wasn’t listening to something- Lotus didn’t want to risk it and make him annoyed with her. Still, she needed to walk past him to get a book before she checked out what she had.

After walking towards him for a short little bit, she could acutely pick on the fact that he was indeed listening to some kind of music. She couldn’t quite tell what it was exactly, as he wasn’t blasting the music, but she figured she made right choice as she passed by him, then spotted the book she desired.... which was on a shelf above his head. With a sigh, Lotus crouched a tiny little bit, and gently tapped the male on the shoulder.

When Idia turned towards her, gold eyes meeting aquamarine ones, causing him to stare at her like a deer in headlights. Lotus motions that he can continue to listen to the music, & indicated she was going to be grabbing a book on a shelf above him. Idia only stared at her, causing her nervous to flare up, so she quickly grabbed the book she wanted and booked it out of the isle, her cheek flushing, embarrassed as she tries to figure out a way to apologize for bothering him.

Meanwhile, Idia was still standing in his place, shocked because he thought she just realized he was listening to her demo-reels. Not only was he listening to them, but that he had been listening to one specific one at this moment in time. The one with her singing. He would never admit, not even to Ortho, but he did find her voice soothing to listen too. He often listened to the reel with her voice when he need to calm his nerves (or temper) or was having a hard time falling asleep. He had been thinking about anonymously purchasing her a microphone for better audio , as the thought of her thanking him was terrifing. But now, he’s to scared to even do that as she might realize he was listening to her music without her permission, if she didn’t realize it just now.

Later that day

Lotus is standing outside the Board Game Club’s room, a small box in her hands. She did have permission from the head of the club to enter the room, but she chose not to, instead asking for the club head to have Idia exit the room for a real quick bit. As he exits, Lotus quickly shoved the box over to him. Idia stated at her, as he tentatively takes the box.

“W-what’s this-”

“I’m so sorry I bothered you earlier, Shroud-senpai. I was just trying to get a book on the shelf above you, and didn’t want you getting scared if I had just leant over you.” Idia stared at the girl, dumbfounded as she bowed. “This is an apology gift for startling you. I’m very sorry to bother you, I promise it won’t happen again!” Lotus stood up and quickly headed to the mirror hall, not even waiting for a reply from Idia.

After a moment, Idia went back into the room and sat down at the small box. Azul looked up from his game of Solitaire at Idia.

“Why were you called out of the room? An admirer by chance?” Idia looked over at Azul flushed, and with wide eyes.

“No. Lo- I mean Ariti-san gave me this as an apology gift for bothering me earlier in the library...” Idia and Azul both looked at the box as Idia opened it. In it was a lotus flower preserved in a sphere of some kind of opaque light pink crystal. The stand was green in color and was formed into vines, with the resting spot of the sphere was three leaves. Idia stared at the it for a period of time, then looked into the box again, to find a note.

‘I know I’ve probably already said my apology, but I just want to reiterate it by gifting you this. My father made it for my mother so many years ago, she gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. I’ve had it with me ever since. This is not a confession of any kind. I just want to give you something precious as an apology.’

Idia stared at the item in disbelief, even more so at how sentimental it was to the girl. Careful, he tucked the note, stand, and preserved flower back in the box, and recovered it.

“So, what did the note say?”

“Nothing important. Just something she had that she thought would be of interest to me.” Azul glared at the response but huffed and let him be, after all Netta might know about the item Lotus gave to Idia. As for Idia, he was mentally sighing in relief that she didn’t realize he was listening to her songs. He was greatful he could stay a secret fan of hers, thanks to his little brother’s meddling.

[himbowelsh]

Valentine's day alphabet for Lewis Nixon, pretty please! I love your writing! :)

valentines day alphabet  ( accepting! )

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

Gifts. When it’s someone he cares deeply for, he’ll shower them with gifts. He’s just that sort of person, and it’s his way of giving back to people who choose to stick with him. When it gets too much, he’s got to be told to cut it out. He also enjoys being close to people, even if that doesn’t always translate to cuddling; he likes curling up next to his partner on a couch or in bed, he likes touching his friends casually to show he’s there and he cares. It seems a bit careless, but that’s just his style.

B   :   BOUQUET.   does your muse like flowers? which ones are their favourite?

This man is masterful with the bouquets. He has a really sharp aesthetic eye, and knows exactly what will look good in a certain spot, exactly what’s appropriate for a certain occasion...   he doesn’t ask the florist for help, the florist asks him. Nix would never garden by choice, but he’s a bouquet connoisseur.

C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

It’s called a guilty pleasure, leave him alone.

D   :   DATE.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

Why must one...  do things? Is it not enough to simply spend a night in, maybe in a nice hotel, ordering room service and watching a movie, before passing out next to each other? Honestly, Nix doesn’t need to go places  ---  he’d prefer a quiet night in, not around people, so long as he and his partner can spend time together.

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

Honestly, they make him a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t hugged as a child, it does not compute. He’s tricky about physical affection in general, so he definitely won’t be the one to initiate hugs...  and honestly, might stand there like a board if he’s the one getting hugged.

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

Oh, he can. He can, he will, and he’s good at it. Nix is a pretty natural flirt; when he bothers to lay on the charm, it can be overwhelming. He’s great at disarming people, and quite shameless when he’s interested in someone.

G   :   GIFT.   is your muse good at gift - giving or do they struggle to get it right?

He’ll literally just hand out money, man. “Here you go, don’t spend it all too fast.”   That’s for the people he likes. When it comes to someone he loves, like a partner, Nix is very, very different  ---  he enjoys spoiling them, even if he doesn’t trust himself to get it right all the time. Jewelry, tickets to shows, new hats, new shoes...  the amount of things he showers his partners / best friends with it a little alarming. He’s definitely bought Dick a puppy before. A whole-ass puppy. Dick didn’t even ask for one, Nix just gave it to him, and suddenly, wow, looks like Dick is now a dog owner.

H   :   HEART.   is your muse quick or slow to give their heart away?

He definitely doesn’t make a habit out of it. When it happens, it’s usually unintentional, and he ends up caring more than he ever means to, or knows what to do with. Nix’s heart is a fickle thing. It goes where it wants, he’s got no say in the matter.

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

Oooooh, buddy. He’s not gonna say it first. He’d never dream of saying it first. He is legitimately terrified that he’ll say it to his partner and not hear it back; he has nightmares about it, and that’s honestly the moment he realizes how much he loves his partner. He’ll probably freeze up the first time he hears it ---  just for one telling second, before covering it up with a smirk and a half-serious  “aww, love you too”, like it’s nothing.  Nix won’t be able to really say it for a long time...  and even then, won’t be able to breathe until he hears it back. It’s a big thing for him, and he honestly needs to hear it a lot.

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

Yeah, and he’s not even subtle about it. If someone’s monopolizing his partner, he’ll either insert himself into the conversation and completely take it over, or...  just take his partner and lead them away. No explanation, nothing, just ‘c’mon, time to go.’

K   :   KISS.   is your muse a good kisser? why / why not?

Nix’s ability to kiss is firmly tied into how much alcohol is in his system at a given time. The drunker he is, the bolder he is...  but way sloppier, too, and needier. He’s trying his best, but that might not be a good thing. When he’s sober, he’s a lot more...  deliberate about it. He pays more attention to where he puts his hands, cupping his partner’s face and holding them like a precious thing. His sober kisses are almost chaste, not very adventurous, not demanding anything from the other person...   but the more comfortable he is in a relationship, the more he’s able to put into a single kiss. Lots of touching  (he loves getting his hands in a partner’s hair), breaking apart just long enough to gasp for breath, pulling them into his lap and just...  kissing the hell out of them. Nix needs to get lost in a kiss.

L   :   LOVE.   who does your muse love?

He adores his sister Blanche, has a soft spot for his mother that she may or may not return, loves his kid (even if he doesn’t know how to show it), loves his friends, loves Dick to the moon and back... Nix has a big heart, and more love to give than he realizes.

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   is morning or night a more romantic setting?

Nighttime is where it happens, baby! Mostly because he resents getting up before noon.

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

Naughty’s a very good word for it! Again, this depends on his level of sobriety at the time. When very drunk, he’s been known to just...  stop working in the middle of the act, sometimes even passing out. (Let’s just say Kathy had her reasons for that divorce.) A more sober Nix, however, is very attentive. Talk about a tease. He likes to hold, to caress, to feel his partner. Definitely has a few kinks, and is tentatively eager to experiment; he really digs encouragement in bed, which is probably a fun topic for therapy. His hair is a thing, okay  ---   twist it, pull it, run fingers through it. He loves doing the same to his partner. This man is horrible when it comes to leaving marks in visible spaces, and has basically no shame about it  ---  one of Nix’s greatest turn-ons would be seeing his partner fully decked out in eveningwear, with a hickey he gave them just visible at their collar. Sometimes does a weird sort of thing in bed where he’s massaging his partner in the middle of the act? Because god forbid they had any tension in their back or shoulders while they’re legit on top of him! He’s quite vocal, murmuring a running commentary the whole way through, but doesn’t get loud until the very end.

O   :   ODE.   does your muse have a way with words?

He’s an eloquent bastard, but 78% of what he says is sardonic. Don’t trust him.

P   :   PARTNER.   what does your muse look for in a partner? looks / personality?

He wants a keen mind, someone who he can have discussions with; someone dynamic, open to new ideas and out-of-the-box thinking, with their own opinions they’re not afraid to express. He’d kind of love a partner he could debate with, honestly...  but definitely one he can bounce off of. A person capable of reading between the lines, because he often doesn’t say what he means. Someone who gets his humor  ---  someone who likes to laugh. A good appreciation of music would be great, especially if his partner was a good singer! And definitely...  someone patient.

Q   :   QUESTION.   would your muse ask the big question or expect their partner to?

He’s asked it enough times at this point, with a progressively bigger succession of rings; at the same time, he doesn’t expect anyone will ever ask him, so, what can you do?

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

Romance is for people who’ve never had their dog stolen by their ex-wife.  (He can be super romantic, if the incentive is there  ---  like, astonishingly romantic, candlelit dinner and bedclothes strewn with roses. He’s got a romantic spirit, but needs a good reason to put that effort in, and the damn right person.)

S   :   SWEETHEART.   did your muse have a childhood sweetheart?

Bold of you to assume he had a childhood. Nah. Nix was raised by a succession of nannies and all-male prep schools. He never really had the chance. He never really dated until college.

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

Heh heh...  no. No way. That’s a stupid question.  Love’s just...  it happens for some people, and they’re able to relish it, and thrive in it. For others, it’s distant and difficult and never quite what they want it to be. For some people, it’s right there, but they’re not allowed to seize it. There are lots of different types of love; Nix has known (or dreamed of) them all at one point or another. Nothing about any of them is true.  There’s no such thing as ‘meant to be’.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

He’d say no, but Kathy’s divorce definitely took him by surprise. Like...  it wasn’t as if he loved her then, he hadn’t loved her for a long time  ---  hell, maybe he didn’t love her when they married  ---  but they had an understanding. She swept the rug out from under him, and Nix rushed into a relationship with his English bride to sort of...  bounce back from that. That ended in heartbreak too.

V   :   VALENTINE.   how does your muse feel about valentine’s day?

Commercial and stupid, but you bet he’s booking the best seats at the fanciest restaurant in town. It’s what his partner would want, right? (He’d need someone to actively tell him, “no, let’s not, we can stay at home and I’ll be just as happy”, otherwise he feels like he needs to please.)

W  :   WEDDING.   would your muse get married? why / why not?

You’d think he’d have enough of that after Kathy, but...  nope, he keeps making the same mistake. Glutton for punishment.  

(Marriage is an institution he honestly doesn’t believe in, but he’ll keep trying until somebody proves him wrong. Nix has a certain need to be in a relationship, to be bound to someone else in a way that feels permanent. Deep down, he has the feeling that everyone leaves, especially the people who make the mistake of getting close to him. Putting a ring on it makes things feel more permanent, like they won’t just up and run as soon as things start to get difficult. Nix isn’t afraid of commitment  ---  he just doesn’t feel like anyone can, or should, commit to him.)

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

“Sweetheart” is his big one, and he’ll whip out the occasional “darling”...  or “dear”, which is nearly always sarcastic. He’ll sometimes get creative with them, (ex:  “Guts 'N Glory here applied for a transfer...”) but never use those more than once  ---  heaven forbid he become boring.

Y   :   YOURS.   does your muse get protective easily?

Yes, and it’s completely removed from his jealous tendencies. Nix does not like to see the people he cares about threatened under any circumstances. He’s a lover, not a fighter...  but he’s a lover with a lot of money, and a big brain he knows how to use. He has the resources at his disposal to publicly obliterate someone, and could find dirt on a saint. Just give Nix a reason. In the moment, he’ll diffuse the situation as best as possible, maybe warning someone off or leading his loved one away. The real show happens after the fact.

Z   :   ZZZ.   how many people has your muse slept with?

Okay...  okay. Listen. He went to Yale. He was away from home. He was partying...  a good portion of nights. Like, he’s not a womanizer, but he’s been around, okay.

[dettiot]

Fic: Anakin vs. the Feelings

Title: Anakin vs. the Feelings Author: dettiot Summary: Anakin tries to cope with how he feels for Padme as their mission shifts.

Notes: Written for Anidala Week 2020, Day 7: Free Day. This is set just after my story Don’t Freak Out, which was a gender-swapped fusion of Star Wars and Chuck. I have a bit of a recap at the start of this fic, but if you’re not very familiar with Chuck, you might want to give the first story a read before this one. Find it on AO3 or on Tumblr!

XXX

Hi, I’m Padme, and here’s some things you might need to know. 

My life is filled with spies, car chases, computer-stealing ninjas and me saving the day. You see, everything changed when I got an email from my college best friend, Sabe. I thought she was an accountant from Connecticut--but Sabe had been working for the CIA when she stole a whole bunch of government secrets. Big, important secrets. Really scary, nasty, you-get-killed-for-having-them secrets. Next thing I know, these super secrets are downloaded into my brain. Which means every moment of my life is in danger.

Fortunately, the CIA sent their best agent to protect me: Anakin Skywalker. 

[montage of Anakin wearing a tuxedo, charming a woman at a cocktail party, taking out six bad guys effortlessly, looking at Padme and smiling] 

Yeah, I know. 

The NSA sent their best agent, too: Ben Kenobi.

[montage of Ben cleaning weapons, arguing with a roomful of terrorists, giving Padme a blank, judging look] 

Yeah, he’s . . . he’s not so nice. 

XXX

“You know this isn’t going to work.” 

Heaving a sigh, Anakin Skywalker, CIA Agent, did his best not to think about all the ways he could kill Ben Kenobi without breaking a sweat. 

It was a long list. Which gave him enough time to actually come up with some good reasons to counter Kenobi’s negativity. 

“Look, it’s just as easy to bring Dr. Zarnow here as it is to take Padme to him,” Anakin said. “The Ring is crawling all over D.C., looking for Sabe. This way, we keep Padme off their radar.” 

“That’s fairly cold, sacrificing the woman you used to be in love with,” Kenobi observed, an eyebrow going up as Anakin shifted his feet. “Because you weren’t just partners with Sabe, after all.” 

It was true: he wasn’t just partners with Sabe. But . . . they hadn’t been much more than partners in a long, long time. 

“Sabe betrayed the CIA by stealing the Intersect,” Anakin said, gathering some papers so he could hide his face from Kenobi’s piercing stare. “ Padme is a civilian. And a good person. She helped save General Stanfield when she didn’t have to. And all she’s asking is that we let her stay with her friends and family. It seemed like a fair trade-off to me.” 

Kenobi tutted. “Intelligence agencies generally aren’t interested in fairness. But Yoda agreed with your crazy plan, so I’ll back you.” 

“Thanks,” Anakin said, holding the papers against his chest, his arms folded over them. 

“Don’t thank me. I’m just doing my job.” 

The tone of Kenobi’s voice made it clear he thought Anakin wasn’t, which annoyed the hell out of him. But he had spent a long, long time holding his emotions in--and he wasn’t going to stop now. 

So when Kenobi saw he hadn’t gotten a reaction, he grunted softly and left their quasi-office, also known as the home theater room at the Buy More. 

He was probably going to his hotel, sharpening some knives or something. Not that Anakin didn’t have his own weapons to take care of, but . . . 

Sinking down on the sofa, Anakin dropped the papers on the coffee table and leaned back, trying to get his thoughts straight. 

His thoughts and his emotions. 

If there was an agent he thought would turn out to be a traitor, Sabe wouldn’t have been his pick. She was smart, determined, dedicated. But also guarded, secretive, and slightly too prone to violence. 

But even if she was a traitor, he wouldn’t have expected her to draw an innocent person into her web. But that was what Padme was: innocent. 

It bothered him, seeing Padme involved in all this. Anakin couldn’t remember the last time he had so much contact with a civilian. He would have thought it would be boring. Grating. He had long ago accepted that his job meant sacrifice, meant keeping people safe so they could go about their normal, everyday lives. 

But spending time with Padme . . . it wasn’t boring. There was something about her--a glow. She looked like Sabe, just shorter, but she was also so different from Sabe. 

She was the last person he could imagine fitting into his life of secrets and shifting loyalties. He hoped Dr. Zarnow would be able to get the Intersect out of Padme’s head, so her life could go back to normal. 

And he would be back to his normal life, traveling all over the world and kicking ass and . . . 

Anakin shook his head. That was what he wanted: to get the hell out of Burbank and back to work. 

XXX

There was something about Dr. Zarnow that Anakin didn’t like. The man came off as too glib. But it didn’t really matter what Anakin thought of him--not as long as he could extract the Intersect from Padme’s mind. 

He stood at the Nerd Herd desk with Kenobi and Zarnow, listening to Padme and watching her on the cameras as she went through the testing to confirm the presence of the Intersect. Which seemed stupid to Anakin, but he hadn’t been asked. 

“Amazing,” Zarnow breathed out. “The amount of data inside her head . . . how has she not injured herself?” 

Injured herself? What? The Intersect was supposed to be safe--before Sabe had stolen it, it had been slated for implementation. Would the CIA and NSA endanger an agent by frying their brain? 

And did that mean that Padme could--

Giving himself a bit of a shake, Anakin said, “So you can remove the Intersect from the subject’s mind?” 

“Oh, yes. Quite easily. As soon as tomorrow night.” 

Anakin looked at Kenobi, who nodded. “All right,” Anakin said, looking at Zarnow. “Agent Kenobi will take you back to your hotel. We’ll pick you up tomorrow night at ten.” 

“Agree,” the doctor said, shaking Anakin’s hand before Kenobi escorted him out. 

As he watched them walk away, he wondered at the strange feeling he had. What made him not trust Zarnow? There was absolutely nothing to say the doctor wasn’t to be trusted, but Anakin couldn’t help it. Sometimes, you just had to work on a gut feeling. It was what made him trust Kenobi, even though they barely agreed on anything.

It was his gut that made him trust Padme.

His eyes were drawn to the video screen, watching Padme. She was rubbing her temples, her shoulders hunched. When her hands fell from her face, it was easy to see the strain from the flashes. 

The last thing he should be doing was staring at Padme, letting her hurt, when he should be taking her home and putting her mind at ease. After all, she would be excited to know that soon, this nightmare would be over for her. She could be safe, her loved ones would be safe, and she would never again have to think about Agent Anakin Skywalker. 

And why did that make something inside him twist?

Shoving all the unhelpful emotions aside, Anakin stepped over to the home theater room. “Okay?” 

Padme nodded, her face pale. “Yeah . . . did I do all right?” 

“You did great,” Anakin said, reassuring her. “In fact, Dr. Zarnow thinks by this time tomorrow, you’ll be free of the Intersect.” 

“Really? Wow,” Padme said softly, her soft brown eyes locked on his for a long moment before she looked away. 

What was going through her mind? Gratitude, probably. Relief. 

Or . . . could she be sad about an end to all of this? Seeing the last of him?

A sarcastic voice inside his head snorted. “Yeah, right, Skywalker.”

“This is a good thing,” Anakin said, not sure whether he was trying to make her feel better or himself. 

“Yeah--yeah, of course,” Padme said. “Um, what time? Sola wanted to have dinner as a family. And . . .” 

Anakin looked at her, noticing how she was gnawing a little on her lower lip. “What is it?” he asked softly, lowering his head a little to be closer to her.

“She said I should invite you,” Padme said, looking up at him. “I mean--I can tell her you can’t make it--”

“No,” Anakin interrupted quickly. “I can be there. I mean, I have to eat, and--and I’ll have to pick you up anyway, so . . .” 

A soft, dazzling, disbelieving smile lit up Padme’s whole face. “Really?” 

He had to swallow before he could reply. “Really.” 

“Oh, thank you! I mean, I know you’ll be leaving as soon as the Intersect is out of my head, but it’s made Sola really happy to think I’m dating someone,” Padme said. “And she’s kinda mad that Jar-Jar had met you even before she heard about you. You’re saving my life.” 

“No problem,” Anakin said, leading Padme out of the store and to his Porsche. 

Padme kept chattering as he drove her home. Anakin stayed silent, trying to figure out the odd feeling going through him. It wasn’t until he was nearly to his hotel that he realized what it was. 

Sadness. 

XXX

Grimacing, Anakin used the toe of his boot to push aside a burned clump of metal and plastic, then turned to look at the remains of a late-model sedan. 

“You’re sure Zarnow was in the car?” 

“Security cameras show him driving away from his hotel in this car,” Kenobi said, drawing up beside Anakin. “Looks like the good doctor wanted to do some sightseeing and ran off the road.” 

“But why?” Anakin asked, not really talking to Kenobi. He walked around the burned-out car, moving past crime scene techs. He nearly stepped on another piece of plastic, but something made him stop at the last moment. 

“Kenobi!” he said, crouching down and pulling out a pen to push at the object. 

“A cell phone?” Kenobi asked from behind and above him. 

Anakin nodded, turning over the phone. “How much you want to bet there’s explosive residue on this?” 

“No bet,” Kenobi said, folding his arms over his chest. “I never bet on a sure thing. So someone wanted to kill Zarnow.” 

“Looks like it,” Anakin said, before his head jerked up to meet Kenobi’s eyes. “Padme.” 

Kenobi’s eyes widened, and then in one movement, they each began running towards their cars. 

XXX

When Padme opened the door of the apartment she shared with Sola and her husband, her eyes widened. “Anakin!” 

“Hi, hi, sorry I’m late!” he said quickly, leaning down and kissing her cheek. He held the bouquet of flowers in his hand out to her. “These are for you. I brought wine, too.” 

“Oh . . . thanks,” she said, still looking surprised. She put her hand on his chest and pushed him out of the apartment a few steps. “I thought, with the doctor being dead--” she whispered, glancing back towards her sister and brother-in-law. “I thought you weren’t coming,” she said.

“I’ll explain later,” Anakin said, desperate to get her inside. To get her under cover, away from anyone with a sniper rifle who wanted to take her out. 

His stomach had been churning for the last hour, ever since he realized that anyone who killed Zarnow might want to move against Padme. Making himself stop at his hotel and change into a suit and button-down shirt, getting flowers and wine--doing everything to play the part of a boyfriend meeting her family--had been agony. Because whenever he thought of Padme with a hole between her eyes . . . 

Padme looked confused, but she rolled with the punches. “All right. Come on in and meet everyone.” 

Nodding, Anakin rested his hand on Padme’s back, feeling her warmth through her soft dress. He stepped inside the apartment, feeling instantly welcomed. Padme’s sister, Sola, and her husband Darred were both nice people. Jar-Jar was a little strange, but he was Padme’s best friend. 

It all felt so . . . normal. Passing over the bottle of wine, exchanging small talk with Darred, watching Sola and Padme talk in the kitchen. Padme’s cheeks flushed at whatever her sister said, and Anakin wondered what they were talking about. 

A knock on the door made Anakin tense. Darred called out cheerfully, “I’ve got it!” and had the door open before Anakin could get into position. He relaxed slightly when he saw Kenobi, although he still felt a spike of annoyance at the older man not trusting him to protect Pamde adequately. 

“Hello there!” Kenobi said with a genial smile. “I’m Ben, a coworker of Padme’s. She invited me over for dinner, and I brought one of my famous chocolate souffles for the occasion.” 

Anakin blinked. Well, he hadn’t seen that coming. 

“C’mon in!” Darred said brightly. “Any friend of Padme’s, etc. etc. I’m Darred, Padme’s brother-in-law. That’s Anakin, her boyfriend, although as if you don’t know! Padme talks about him all the time, am I right?” 

“All the time,” Kenobi agreed, smirking at Anakin.

He gripped his glass of wine tightly and tried not to blow his cover. 

“And right over here is Sola, the light of my life,” Darred said, introducing Kenobi to her. “This is one of Padme’s coworkers, babe.” 

“What are you doin’ here, Ben?” Jar-Jar asked, sounding suspicious. 

“Oh!” Padme said loudly. “Silly me. I forgot I invited Ben. Let me take that souffle from you--doesn’t it smell great?--and we’ll get you some wine.” 

And here he thought Padme could roll with the punches. She certainly was thrown by Kenobi’s arrival. Although Anakin couldn’t blame her for that--he would be confused by Kenobi just showing up, too. Especially with how he was acting. 

Somehow, they all got through dinner, souffle and all. All too soon, Sola shooed Padme out of the apartment, telling her to walk Anakin to his car. 

Echo Park was quiet as they stepped out into the courtyard. “So what happens now?” Padme asked him as soon as the door closed behind them. 

“I don’t know,” Anakin said with a sigh. “Dr. Zarnow was the only one who could remove the Intersect.” 

Padme scuffed the toe of her flat against the ground. “So . . . is it time for the bunker?” 

“No, Padme,” he said, turning to face her. “I’ll figure something out. Something that will let you stay here. I promise.” 

In the moonlight, her eyes were luminous. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

Anakin opened his mouth, wanting to make all kinds of promises to her. Promises that went against everything he thought he wanted. 

But then he felt a sting against his neck. Padme’s eyes widened, and then she lifted a hand to her neck. “What . . .?” she slurred. 

There was just enough time to see her hand drop, revealing a tranquilizer dart in her neck, before Anakin felt the same drug run through his system. Then his eyes closed and everything went dark. 

XXX

If there was one thing Anakin Skywalker hated, it was waking up after being drugged. 

Correction: waking up after being drugged and finding himself chained up. 

Grimacing at the cuffs around his wrists, Anakin yanked again, trying to break the chain loose from the ceiling. But it was no good: this setup was solid. And the cuffs were latched so tightly around his wrists, he didn’t think breaking his thumbs would let him get free. 

He ran his hands up the chains, then jumped, bringing his feet up. If he could brace against the ceiling, he could definitely get the chains loose . . . 

But even at just over six feet tall, his legs weren’t long enough for him to reach the ceiling. 

His curse was muffled, thanks to the duct tape over his mouth. Anakin dropped back to the ground and made his peace with waiting. 

Padme!

The thought of her made the last fog of the tranquilizer clear his mind. Looking around quickly, Anakin realized she wasn’t here. There weren't any other restraints in view, so . . . where was she? 

Anakin yanked again on his chains, trying to get free. He had to find her--he had to protect her! 

It felt like the chains were looser, but before he could try again, the door of the dark warehouse slid open, revealing a small woman in a soft dress. 

“Padme!” he barked against the duct tape. “What are you doing here?” 

And why was he talking with the gag over his mouth? Maybe it was how angry he was at her being here. Because what the hell was she thinking?

She hurried up to him. “I know, I know, just shut up!” She reached up for the edge of the duct tape and winced. “Sorry!” 

Then she yanked the tape off cleanly. 

He grimaced at the sticky residue and the pain, then shook his head. “What are you thinking?” he hissed. “Go home!” 

“No!” Padme said. “When I woke up, I flashed--Dr. Zarnow has been working with North Korea. He faked his death to throw you and Kenobi off the scent.” 

“So he could take you and sell you to the highest bidder!” Anakin said angrily, glaring at Padme. “And so you came running after me?” 

Padme glowered back at him. “I had to! You were in trouble!” 

God, her desire to protect people was going to get her killed!

“I can take care of myself,” he said firmly. “Before Zarnow or anyone else shows you, you’re going back to the car. That’s an order, Padme.” 

“Good thing I don’t take orders from you!” Padme said. A sound from outside made them both look in that direction, then Padme gave him an apologetic look. She plastered the duct tape back over his mouth before he could say anything more.

It was wrong to be . . . a little bit impressed, right? To admire how strong and determined she was, even when she was doing incredibly idiotic things?

She looked around and found a rusty crowbar, then hurried over to one side of the door, crouching in the shadows. He could see her readying the crowbar, even as he mentally tried to tell her to run, to get out of here. 

And then Kenobi stepped through the door and Padme lifted her weapon to strike, only to stop just in time. “Kenobi!” she cried.

“Yes, yes, it’s me,” he said, holstering his gun. “C’mon. I’ve got Zarnow locked up in the car. We gotta get out of here.” 

Kenobi showed no problem with yanking the duct tape off Anakin’s mouth. The older man smirked at him. “Nice job, bein’ bait.” 

Anakin shook his head. “Thanks, I guess. How did you find me in the first place?” 

“Trackers in the souffle,” Kenobi said. He reached up, wrapping his hands around the chains. “On three.” 

Together, they pulled the chains free and within a few moments, they were all in Kenobi’s SUV, Zarnow unconscious, bound and gagged in the back seat. 

Rubbing a hand over his face, Anakin looked back at Padme. “Are you all right?” 

She nodded. “I’m fine. Kenobi found me, and then we found you. He took care of Zarnow while I looked for you.” 

“I can’t believe you brought her with you,” Anakin grumbled to Kenobi.

“And leave her passed out in the courtyard? She woke up in the car on the way,” Kenobi grumbled right back. “Not my fault she’s got a scary-fast recovery period for such a little shrimp.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Padme said in annoyance. 

Anakin turned in his seat to really look at her. “Yes, you are. But it was luck alone that allowed everything to work out. If this arrangement is going to continue, you have to listen to Kenobi and I.” 

Padme’s eyes flashed. “Or you could teach me how to take care of myself.” 

What? There was no way Padme could defend herself. She was so small, so soft . . . 

“It’s not the worst idea,” Kenobi said. 

“Kenobi!” Anakin said in shock, staring at the NSA agent. “You can’t be serious.” 

“And why can’t he be serious?” Padme asked, sounding hurt. “No one would expect me to know what to do in a fight.” 

Kenobi nodded as he parked outside the apartment complex. “She’s right. Being a damsel in distress only works in fairy tales.” He looked back at Padme. “We won’t go easy on you.” 

She lifted her chin, her jaw set. “Give me your worst.” 

“I haven’t agreed to this!” Anakin protested. “And I doubt Yoda will agree, either.” 

“Then we won’t tell him,” Kenobi said smugly. “C’mon, Skywalker--afraid that the girl will kick your ass?” 

Anakin grimaced. He could care less about Padme, or any woman, beating him in a fight. But Padme . . . she wasn’t cut out for this. She was normal, a civilian. She shouldn’t have to defend her life with punches and kicks.

But then he looked at her. At the hope in her eyes, at the courage in her face and body. And he knew he couldn’t stand in her way. 

He had a feeling he would never be able to tell her no.

It was another strange, unique feeling that Padme brought out in him. 

With a sigh, Anakin nodded. “All right.” 

Padme’s face lit up with one of those smiles he would kill to get. “Thank you! Thank you!” 

“All right,” Kenobi interjected. “Get inside. It’s late. See you tomorrow, Amidala.” 

She gave them both another bright smile before hopping out of the car and hurrying into her apartment. 

“This isn’t the right thing to do,” Anakin said quietly.

“It isn’t the right thing for you,” Kenobi corrected. “But then, it doesn’t matter what either of us want--it’s about what she wants,” he said. 

And Anakin couldn’t argue with Kenobi on that. 

He would do everything in his power to give Padme what she wanted. No matter what it was--he wanted to give her everything. 

Even if it broke his heart to do so.

End.

[vagrantblvrd]

mavinwood with werecat michael would be love

Oh my God, yesssss.

Just like.

Werecat Michael who never admits to being a werecat?

He’s careful with who he tells and everything because people tend to react badly when they realize the world’s weirder than they thought? That there are things and such out there science and logic can’t explain away and also hey, you know. Think twice before inviting some stranger you met at a club inside because vampires are real and that bit is true and anyway, tangent.

So.

Werecat!Michael who is just. So very Michael about being a werecat?

The whole bit with werewolves and other creatures and the lunar cycle isn’t completely untrue - but it doesn’t control their lives. They might get a bit more restless, short-tempered and so on closer to the full moon because it messes with their heads a little but it’s not like the movies say.

But, again, tangent.

Once he learns he can trust the Fakes with what he is he doesn’t bother trying to hide his secret from them but he also doesn’t outright tell them.

Because why would he, is the thing.

Sure, it’s partly to fuck with them because they’re all assholes and he’s no different. Also, it just never occurs to him to do so because it’s not all that important in the grand scheme and such?

Like oh, hey. Sure he can shift forms and turn into a cat pretty much at will, but it’s not like that means anything. (Can’t fucking use a gun or a knife without opposable thumbs - well, okay, there are probably ways around that but a cat would look pretty dumb like that so whatever.)

Anyway, anyway.

Michael who goes about his life like everything’s normal (and to be fair for him it is?) and every so often he just turns into a cat because why the fuck not?

It fucks with his mood when he doesn’t shift forms for a while, has him snapping and snarling more Makes him meaner when he doesn’t have to be or even wants to be.

So.

He runs around as a cat, wanders the city at night and the whatnot. Sniffs around the borders of the crew’s territory to make sure things are alright there. (None of their rivals getting greed or ambitious or whatever.)

Snoops around to see if he can pick up anything interesting in the way of rumors and such to bring back to the crew if it has anything to do with them.

Run around just to run around, kitty parkours his way around the city’s rooftops and alleyways and all that until he runs the restlessness that tends to build up when he’s in his human form for long out of his system.

Before he met Gavin and Ryan he used to go back to the little place he keeps in a quiet neighborhood when he doesn’t feel like using the rooms at the penthouse. (Spent too much time around the others and needs some quiet or whatever the hell and it’s just. Nice, you know, having a place of his own that isn’t a shitty little apartment now he can afford better and all that.)

But he did meet Gavin, and Ryan and it’s just.

Christ, those assholes.

Gavin’s one of Burnie’s people that Geoff poached right under his nose years ago. (Burnie and Geoff bicker about it to this day like an old married couple and goddamn they need to figure their shit out because it’s sad watching them pretend they’re not head over heels for one another, but tangent? Tangent.)

Ryan’s this creepy bastard Michael met way back when. Way before the Fakes, before the whole Mogar thing started or Los Santos heard about the Vagabond.

This idiot on a roof with a sniper rifle in the dead of winter - as much of one as Los Santos ever got, but it was particularly cold that winter. Snow and everything and this idiot, this goddamned moron wearing all black on a snow covered roof of all fucking things.

(Sure, sure, not like anyone could see him from that angle, what with him being on the tallest building around but Jesus Christ, okay.)

He was careful about it back then because who the hell knew if the idiot was the sort to hurt an animal for shits and giggles, but he couldn’t not investigate.

(It always pays to know as much as you can when it comes to what goes on in Los Santos, including idiots like this guy.)

Lucky him (or not, depending on how you look at it), Ryan’s not the sort to hurt animals.

Seemed surprised to see a stupid cat prowling around and started talking to him, because he’d been on that roof or a while before Michael came along. Got bored.

Talked to Michael like he could understand him, which odd but not unusually so? (Some people are just like that, which. Whatever. Means Michael hears things he wouldn’t normally and that suits him fine.)

Ryan isn’t dumb enough to talk about why he’s up on that roof, because he thought Michael was just a cat, sure, but had no idea if anyone else might be listening. (That, and he’s careful as fuck about shit like that, so yeah.)

No, Michael got to hear about how fucking cold it was and how Ryan wasn’t a fan. Like. Snow’s pretty and all? But he was a nice southern boy (only part of that’s ever been true) and wasn’t Los Santos supposed to be warm?

Got to hear about some shitty little car he stole off some poor bastard and the noise the engine was making and did Michael think that meant the engine was bout to explode on him or something?

Just.

Ryan talked a lot about a whole lot of nothing and Michael got to hear all about it.

Started sitting a few feet away from Ryan, overhang of a vent exhaust/whatever those things are called my brain is not working right now out of the wind but found himself moving closer after a while.

Ended up curled up next to Ryan at the end there, paws tucked under him because Ryan was right about the cold.

Didn’t startle when Ryan’s target finally showed and he fired his sniper rifle, no,

Michael looking over when Ryan stopped being an idiot and got serious, his quiet “Showtime,” right before he did his job and whatever poor bastard he was hired to kill got dead.

Michael watched as Ryan packed up after that, quick and efficient and not such an idiot after all. Followed along behind him as he climbed off the roof and made his way over to that stolen car a few blocks over before going his own way.

After that, well.

They just kind of kept finding one another, didn’t they.

Michael out aimlessly wandering as a cat or working for one asshole or another and oh, hey, would look at that. The fucking Vagabond. (Before the name, and then afterward right up until the Fakes approached him for a job and Michael’s life got a little more complicated.)

Gavin happened to Michael a year or two after he started working for Geoff. This little asshole that swept into town with that dumb smirk of his and stupid gold-framed sunglasses and looking like a fucking disaster waiting to happen.

Little idiot who had trouble with not being a complete piece of shit and Geoff fucking loved him. Thought he was hilarious as shit and please don’t kill the fucker, Michael, it’d be more trouble than it’s worth, trust me.

And Gavin, the asshole, latched right onto Michael and never let go. Thought he was hilarious with all his snapping and snarling and never once intimidated when Michael played up that reputation he’d picked up over the years.

Mean fucker, and one hell of an anger problem. Rabid bastard who needed to be put down but Ramsey kept holding out on that one, happy to set Michael loose on the crew’s enemies like a bullet from a gun.

No.

Gavin just ginned and laughed and fucking poked at Michael like he knew it was all for show. (It wasn’t, really, but for whatever reason Gavin’s wasn’t entirely wrong about Michael and goddamn him anyway.)

Gavin’s not as stupid as he acts and Michael knew it even back then.

(Geoff’s made mistakes, had lapses in judgement, but Gavin wasn’t one of them. Talented fuck with a knack for computers and not bad behind a sniper rifle. Prone to making bad decisions - reckless ones - when he wasn’t laser-focused on whatever he was dealing with because he’s smart as fuck and a bored Gavin is a dangerous Gavin.)

Michael found himself looking after the little idiot when he couldn’t be bothered to. Workaholic if they let him be, and once Michael found out he was a goddamned soft touch when it came to cats (or any kind of animal, really) that was the beginning of the end, really.

Because Michael liked Gavin pretty much from the start, right? But he didn’t like the way Gavin would work himself into the ground for the crew or some private project he was working on, didn’t matter.

Hand him something to do and if it was important enough or just interesting enough, he’d go at it until he couldn’t anymore, even - especially - if it wasn’t necessary.

So.

Sometimes Michael would go small and furry and visit Gavin at his apartment or his rooms at the penthouse. Wherever Gavin was holed up working himself half to death for no good reason and Cat at him.

Sprawl over his keyboard or stolen files or whatever the fuck he’d be working on refuse to budge until Gavin took a proper break.

Give him the sad eyes and non-stop wailing until Gavin got off his ass and got something to eat. (Feed Michael, really, but he always forgot to get actual cat food and would make him chicken or eggs or whatever he had on hand and once he started cooking realized how hungry he was and made himself food too, so. Yeah. Roundabout way of doing things but it worked.)

Or he’d just pester him long enough that Gavin couldn’t pretend to ignore him any longer and call it a victory when Gavin decided maybe he didn’t need to go back to his project afterward.

Just.

A whole lot of that over the years, and then Ryan joins the crew and Michael.

Fuck.

Michael still has two idiots to look out for (aside from the others, but tangent). Two idiots who need someone to look out for them and it’s.

A mess, for a little while.

Because it’s easier for him to keep an eye on them with them so close now, but also?

He realizes there are FEELINGS.

Because Ryan and Gavin and oh, fuck, suddenly he realizes why he even bothers looking out for them?

Like.

It started out nice and simple and just. Things got complicated all on their own.

Because he thought it was bad when the two of them had never met, but once they did?

God.

They got along like a house on fire (in every possible meaning) and it was terrifying/fascinating to watch happen because.

One, Los Santos is in very real danger with the two of them. And two? Michael’s stupid fucking heart is nowhere near as confused as it should be.

Because Ryan and Gavin and Michael has no time for love triangle bullshit, okay.

He knows what he wants - or would like, really, but no knowing how they’d feel about things and anyway, anyway, he’s never been that lucky.

SO.

Pretend he doesn’t know what he knows and everything will be fine.

Really.

Only, that bit about his life being a fucking disaster after Ryan and Gavin happened to him and just.

Yeah.

He watches the two of them get all nice and cozy together and figures that’s that, you know? Which is fine, really, because he’s happy that they’re happy and other cliche things.

Doesn’t change the fact they still need someone looking after them because God knows they can’t do it to save their own damn lives and all.

And then there’s. 

Gavin’s overworking himself or Ryan’s off being Ryan for a job Geoff sent him on and someone needs to check in on Gavin.

But.

He doesn’t realize Ryan got back to town early, finished whatever job he was sent on and hightailed it back to Los Santos because he’s spoiled now, you know.

Gets to come back to someone waiting for him instead of an empty apartment and that’s a hell of a lot better than some shitty motel room somewhere. Wroth driving all night to get back to it.

And wouldn’t you know it, Gavin’s playing with a cat when he gets home.

This oddly familiar little bastard he’s known for years now. Kind of grumpy, little bit cranky but soft and sweet and what are the odds Gavin would also know this cat?

Michael is just watching Ryan process things. Also aware of Gavin doing the same and being all oh, fuck in his tiny werecat head because he done fucked up, didn’t he.

Got used to pestering the fuck out of them as a cat because it was easier? Like. He did the same as a human, got them out of their heads or whatever was needed and all that, but it’s always been different when he was a cat.

Because cat, really.

Only now he’s got the two of them giving him these Looks and it might have been different, being around them as human!Michael and cat!Michael, but not as much as you’d think.

Whichever form he’s in, he makes sure Gavin eats and drinks and fucking sleeps. Doesn’t let him get stuck in his head or get (too much) of a swelled head when he’s riding high.

For Ryan, well.

He’s never been scared of the stupid bastard. Wary, sure, before he got to know him because people will surprise you, but he’s never been scared of him.

(Also, the whole looking after him because goddamned idiot and all)

Gavin picks him up - and Michael lets him because what is he going to do at this point, scratch the asshole? - and studies him closely.

Cat!Michael’s not much to look at really.

Brown tabby with white markings and you’ve see one, you’ve seen them all, or however that saying goes.

Still.

Gavin’s looking at him like he’s something special.

Looks over at Ryan who’s gone all kinds of quiet and thoughtful and just as Michael’s about to start squirming out of Gavin’s hold, the asshole starts talking.

Something, something, something about this matter the two of them have been meaning to talk about for a while now. This problem they have because wouldn’t you know it, they’re happy little relationship isn’t quite?

Michael is Conflicted because he shouldn’t be hearing this, like for real?

And while he could slip out of Gavin’s hands and fucking run for it, he just.

Doesn’t.

Lets Gavin pull him close, hold him against his chest while he and Ryan go on and on about this problem of theirs and most of it’s not registering because he’s having a moral and ethical quandary and such?

But then one of the assholes says his name and Michael - the idiot he is - looks right at them.

And Gavin - because of course it was Gavin - grins a little and asks Michael what he thinks about things and Michael doesn’t get it right away.

No.

He just stares at Gavin who looks back, this dumb little smile on his face. then he looks at Ryan who looks.

Well, the bastard looks amused, and that’s as annoying as it always is, until what they’ve been saying finally, finally fucking processes and Michael realizes they’ve been talking about him?

About how they’ve been trying and trying and trying to woo him the past however long, Inviting out on on dates - which, to be fair, neither of them came out and said and he just thought they were grabbing lunch or going to see a movie they were all interested in and so on and oh, fuck, did he catch their stupid somehow?

It’s painfully obvious in hindsight they’ve been wooing him and he’s been so in denial about such a thing ever happening he never realized?

Just.

Pining like an idiot while they’ve been fucking wooing (attempting to woo?) him and wow. wow, he really did catch their stupid not to pick up on any of that.

Oh, and also the thing where they know Michael’s the asshole cat who keeps popping into their lives, but mostly it’s the wooing thing he completely missed.

And then, you know.

Gavin and Ryan being bastards and telling cat!Michael all about how dumb human!Michael is like they’re not the same person to the point Michael’s tempted to scratch the fuck out of Gavin’s stupid couch.

But that would be stupid, because Michael actually likes the couch - it’s super comfy - and also for all the two of them are being assholes about things?

They’re super fucking nervous, scared.

And Michael, okay.

He gets it, he does.

It’s scary as fuck and God knows if it would work, but it sounds. It sounds nice, like something he’d love to make work if they’re willing to try? (And they obviously do, because the wooing thing? So.)

Michael wriggles out of Gavin’s hold and bumps his face against Gavin’s and meows because that’s not a completely terrible idea, this whole relationship thing he’s been talking about? And then he does the same to Ryan, because for really reals, Ryan and just.

Kind of weird, what with Michael being a cat at the moment? But somehow they make it work.

Also, the three of them seeing how long it takes everyone else to realize Michael’s a werecat because they’re horrible, horrible people. >:DDDDDDD

[andersunmenschlich]

Episode 14: Piecemeal

Not fully settled in yet, but I do have intermittent access to an internet-connected computer, so....

In this week’s episode I get the statement of one Lee Rentoul, who (in stark contrast to Trevor Herbert) apparently very much minds whether his crimes are reported to the police. Thanks to the experience of a pal of his named Hester, he’s hoping the fine folks down at the Magnus Institute will tell him there’s a perfectly normal explanation for whatever’s going on with him. Given that this statement’s one of the ones being recorded on cassette, I’m guessing they won’t be able to tell him what he wants to hear.

...Well, not honestly, anyway.

According to Lee Rentoul, he killed a coworker in crime by the name of Paul Noriega. “Stabbed him in the throat and left him to bleed out on the dockside,” he says, which does sound fun, though not being able to stay and observe seems a bit of a shame.

Apparently Lee Rentoul and Paul Noriega were picked up by the police after kicking in the head of someone called McMullen. Lee blames Paul for the escalation from assault to grievous bodily harm—whatever the case, Paul walked free while Lee got five years in prison, which led to a certain amount of resentment on the part of our statement-giver.

Stabbing Paul Noriega in the throat was, it seems, not Plan A.

Lee Rentoul got out of prison in June 2010. Being on parole meant if he wanted Paul hurt it’d be easiest to have someone else do it. He did try to get a face-to-face with his ex-partner, but ended up confronting Paul Noriega’s hired security instead.

So Lee Rentoul goes to visit his victim, Toby McMullen... who’s been having trouble turning his head since the GBH five years ago.

Unexpectedly, Toby also has it in for Paul.

It seems Paul, previous to his arrest, visited Toby in the hospital and promised him all the narcotics in the world if he’d only tell the police Lee kicked his head in, not Paul. Ah, so it was premeditated betrayal! How lovely.

Paul Noriega, however, did not deliver on his promise. Toby McMullen, therefore, has been plotting revenge.

...His planned revenge is magical in nature.

Lee, understandably dismissing this as useless druggie nonsense, punches Toby in the stomach and turns to leave. But Toby is persistent. Following Lee, “doubled over and struggling for breath,” he insists that this is for real, that he knows someone with real power, that all he needs is the money.

Lee Rentoul (for reasons unknown to himself, it seems), listens.

There is, Toby claims, a powerful person named Angela. He was told about her by an acquaintance who used this Angela’s services on a “particularly unpleasant ex-boyfriend”—who was never seen again.

Lee figures this Angela is a killer for hire who likes to pose as a magic user, which is fine by him. So he lets Toby take him to Angela’s place.

Angela’s house is in the suburbs. It has faded floral print wallpaper, dark oak furniture, and threadbare carpets. The walls are decorated with framed jigsaw puzzles (which is a thing I’ve seen often in retirement homes; I’ve even contributed to a few; jigsaws are fun). The living room features a worn cloth sofa, and a coffee table with another puzzle in the works.

The fabled Angela is an apparently sweet old lady in a lilac dressing gown.

Lee Rentoul is furious.

“I was so angry at this massive waste of my time that, when she offered us a cup of coffee, I almost put McMullen face-first through the glass table in front of us,” our statement-giver says—but personally I find this all very convincing. A truly dangerous person may put off an aura of danger, yes... but many won’t. Be wary of the pleasant, soft-spoken and polite people you meet; you don’t know what they’re smiling at.

“When she asked if I wanted Paul Noriega dead, I nearly choked.

“She asked it very matter-of-factly, like it was a question on some form she knew the answer to but had to fill in anyway. I glanced at Toby, who nodded at me, and I thought what the hell, I might as well play along. So I said yes. Yes, I did want him dead. And more than that, I wanted him to suffer. Angela smiled when I said that, a warm smile that suited her round face, and said that that wouldn’t be a problem.”

This is precisely what I expected from a powerful person who wears a great many years and a lilac dressing gown, lives in a nice house in the suburbs, and does jigsaw puzzles. Pleasant, polite, straightforward competence.

She doesn’t want money.

Angela says she’s well-compensated for the work she does (which sounds nice). No, what she needs is an item taken from Paul Noriega—not a gift, something taken.

She looks Lee Rentoul in the eyes as she says this, and despite his statement to the contrary (”not scared, okay, I wasn’t scared of this old woman, but being around her was... bad”) I suspect that he’s deeply afraid of her. “Bad,” he says, making a point of distinguishing this from “dangerous.” He is dangerous, he thinks. She is something else.

Lee Rentoul gives this powerful person a worn lighter he took from Paul Noriega before they were arrested, and she says it’ll work just fine.

Angela tells the vengeful pair that Paul Noriega won’t be bothering them much longer—they just have to wait until she’s finished. With what, exactly, she doesn’t say. Lee and Toby, it seems, are fine with not knowing.

Personally, I’d very much like to know.

Three weeks go by, and Paul Noriega’s still walking about apparently as healthy as ever.

Impatient, Lee Rentoul decides Angela’s a waste of time, and upon hearing that Paul’s going to be meeting a fence named Saleesa down by the docks—a fence he knows is paranoid enough Paul will have to meet him alone—he decides to go down and take care of his vengeance himself.

Saleesa, the fence (who mainly deals in stolen art and curios) arrives first. He’s “a big Samoan guy with close-cropped hair, flanked by four men in dark suits, who carried a square wooden crate between them.” Paul Noriega arrives five minutes later, and Lee Rentoul watches as he limps inside the dockside warehouse. Lee has picked up a combat knife at an unnamed army surplus store which apparently makes a habit of selling dangerous people dangerous things under the counter. That seems like a useful store to be familiar with.

About an hour later, Saleesa and his men leave. They still have the box with them, and don’t seem happy, so I suppose the deal didn’t go as hoped.

Lee Rentoul takes himself and his knife inside.

Paul Noriega, leaning against a pile of bricks, is smoking. He turns when he hears Lee enter, saying something about reconsidering and lowering the price (which I suppose means he couldn’t afford what Saleesa was selling), then sees that the person he’s facing is Lee Rentoul.

“A look passed over the face of Paul Noriega that I will treasure forever. No matter what happens to me, the memory of that look of panicked terror will stay with me.”

Ha. I know precisely what he means.

Paul tries to run away, but his leg betrays him and he trips over the bricks instead. Lee grabs him by the collar, knife already out, and drags him up while he pleads with his old coworker to wait, to listen, not to stab him. He has his hand up, and Lee notices that he’s missing two fingers (and has, apparently, been missing them for some time... though Lee doesn’t remember him being down any fingers when they worked together).

Lee Rentoul does not, however, pay much attention to this at the moment (which is understandable, I think). He says he stabbed Paul multiple times—so I suppose he was understating when he said he cut Paul’s throat.

Once he’s calmed down a bit, Lee notices that his unfriend is missing more than a few fingers.

Paul Noriega’s left eye is glass, he doesn’t have all of his teeth, and though Lee doesn’t mention it I wonder what caused that limp. Strangely, the corpse seems to be smiling.

Lee Rentoul, I gather, did not leave Paul Noriega to bleed out. After stabbing him repeatedly and breaking his head by dropping him onto a pile of bricks, it looks as though Lee chopped Paul’s body up and scattered the pieces. “...even if the cops did find any piece of Noriega’s corpse, they wouldn’t be able to pin it on me,” he says. Paul’s hired security looks for Lee for a while, but Lee lies low and eventually they leave it and look for someone else to pay them.

But five days after the murder, Lee gets a package.

He’s out and about, in a place he doesn’t usually go (Tottenham Marshes near the reservoir, wherever that is), and finds a small box wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string sitting in the middle of a metal bridge. It’s addressed to him.

“Lee Rentoul, for immediate consideration.”

He opens it to find a black cardboard box containing cotton wool... and a single severed finger.

Now, that’s interesting! Lee assumes it’s a threat from someone or other—but who would know to put it right there, right then? Too early and someone else might take it; too late and Lee would never see it. Too on the dot, and the delivery might be seen. No, this doesn’t seem like average human work to me. And I do appreciate how tidy it is! Such neat packaging. It deserved better, I think, than to have the finger thrown into a canal and the box set on fire and discarded.

Heading home, Lee keeps his eyes open and his hand on his knife. He’s so busy looking around him, in fact, that he fails to see the hole in front of him until he’s tripped and fallen; and he must have been gripping his knife rather incautiously, because he manages to cut his pinky finger clean off.

Lee Rentoul screams, and immediately begins tearing up his shirt to improvise a makeshift bandage that’ll stop the bleeding.

I admire his presence of mind. I like people who see a situation for what it is, accept it, and immediately take steps appropriate to their new circumstances. This is a thing I find eminently admirable.

In this case, however, it’s bafflingly unneeded.

The bleeding has already stopped. In fact the wound is closed: healed as though the injury took place years ago.

Oho! Now, isn’t that fascinating? I believe we may have stumbled upon the explanation for Paul Noriega’s missing bits. And how wonderful that the finger, for at least a little while, existed in two places at once: on Lee’s hand and in the little black box. He doesn’t mention what happened to the lost finger. Did he not look for it? Did it simply vanish? Did he leave it on the ground? I’m inclined to think it vanished, but it would be nice to know for sure.

Not knowing what to make of this, Lee Rentoul decides to go home and deal with things after he’s had some sleep. Upon arriving at his apartment, however, he finds another brown paper package tied up with string.

This one contains two toes.

Lee Rentoul tries very hard. He is very careful. But his flatscreen falls off the wall while he’s adjusting settings, lands on his foot, and....

In two weeks, it seems, he’s lost four more fingers, most of his toes, an eye, a whole lot of teeth, and—wait, a hand? Then he’s lost nine more fingers, hasn’t he? Unless the hand he lost was the one already missing a finger. All five fingers, then the hand... yes, that would make sense.

Each time the loss is preceded by the arrival of one of Maria von Trapp’s favourite things.

“Lee Rentoul: for immediate consideration.”

Oh, and one day he actually forces the curse (or whatever it is) to operate outside the realm of apparent coincidence! Now, that’s fascinating. “Spent the day in my bedroom—nothing sharp, no edges, I’d taken out everything except the mattress. It didn’t matter: I woke the next morning with an agony in my foot far sharper than any knife could cut, and the big toe missing; just like the one I’d received the morning before.”

He goes to see Angela. I can guess what she’s going to tell him. “You didn’t wait.” Really, he should have waited. Didn’t she say to wait until she’d finished? Perhaps he ought to have asked “with what” after all.

She lets him in when he arrives, of course. Is polite and sweet. Offers him coffee.

Lee Rentoul is not polite.

Lee Rentoul swears at Angela, which doesn’t seem like a reasonable precursor to begging, despite the pronunciation of the word “precursor.”

And she shrugs. Well, what else can one do?

“Some hungers,” she says, “are too strong to be denied.”

Oh, that... I like that. I like that very much. To whose hunger, I wonder, is she referring? She’s well-compensated for the service she provides, she says.... And she likes jigsaw puzzles. Does killing people this way feed her, I wonder? Oh, I like this Angela—I like her extremely. I hope to see her again, and often. She is a wonderful character.

Lee Rentoul is less taken. (Or, perhaps, more....)

He reaches for her, intent on murder. And then something happens. What, Lee Rentoul is not particularly clear on.

“I went for her. I was going to strangle the life out of that curse-flinging bag of bones. But as I reached for her, I… I don’t know. I don’t know what happened. I know that that’s how I lost the hand. I know I chewed it off.”

Now, isn’t that interesting?

So many of these injuries appear to be self-inflicted. That’s quite a power. I’m not sure how Lee Rentoul thinks the Magnus Institute can help.

Ha—and apparently they didn’t. The box Lee got just before coming to the Institute had a tongue in it. He lost it at the Institute. No details given! How frustrating. I’m not at all surprised to hear that he “became violent towards Institute staff,” though. That sounds like Lee Retoul’s style. But how this could lead to losing a tongue—!

Whatever the case, he had to go to the hospital... and did not return to the Institute afterwards.

Mr. Sims’s unbelievably competent research assistants confirmed that Lee Rentoul and Paul Noriega were indeed criminals, that Paul vanished from any and all official records about two months before Lee’s statement, while Lee abandoned his apartment about one month previous to his statement.

Lee Rentoul’s landlord said that when he went to clear out the abandoned apartment, all he found were “hundreds and hundreds of small cardboard boxes.”

No word on the contents.

Angela, meanwhile, was apparently unfindable. The supposedly incompetent Martin was assigned to find her, and “spent three days looking into every woman named Angela in Bexley over the age of 50. He could not find anyone that matches the admittedly vague description given here, though he informs me that he had some very pleasant chats about jigsaws.”

Jonathan Sims calls Martin a useless ass here, which seems rather unnecessary to me, especially as Lee Rentoul can’t be found either.

The timing of the Magnus Institute’s processes confuses me slightly. Does Mr. Sims read the statements to himself before recording them? I’d been assuming his research assistants did the reading and followup before giving the statements to him, but he keeps saying he sends different assistants to research different things....

I suppose it would make sense for the head archivist to read the statements and assign research before doing the official recordings.

And that’s that for this episode!

With decent luck, I’ll be able to listen to another before the month’s out, at least.