#getaway car fic

[ranger-kellyn]

have another getaway car wip bc i'm feeling emotions today

----

Glancing in the mirror, Cynthia hesitated, hands still holding the hooks of her bra at the back. Diantha’s red lip for the day was a lipstick that didn’t smear too easily. The kind that would leave her lips stained for at least a few days after the last coat— but it wasn’t infallible.

Small smears of red adorned her neck and across her shoulders and chest. In a strange way, she wished she didn’t have to remove it. She liked seeing the evidence of how much they had loved on one another. She liked how just by looking at the spot, she could remember the way her mouth felt against her.

“Need help, darling?” Diantha asked as she stepped into the room with her, mostly redressed.

Cynthia breathed a laugh, quickly snapping the hooks before letting her hands fall back to her side. “I was just thinking about how I don’t usually wear this much lipstick,” she said.

Diantha laughed in turn, turning her to better look her over. “Did a bit of a number on you, didn’t I?” She asked with a cheeky grin that told Cynthia she wasn’t at all sorry. “It’s a good color on you.”

Cynthia grabbed her chin, pressing her thumb to her lower lip. “Like it even more on you,” she said, leaning in for a kiss.

[thearchercore]

Hi! It's anon here! I've just finished reading you story "nothing good starts in a getaway car" and i'm absolutely OUT OF WORDS. I freaking loved it! I found myself reading it with such naturality. The plot is soooo relatable with everything that is going on right now. And that makes it adictive. Can't wait for the next chapter! Send you all the love🫶

aw thank you! this made my day, the las vegas week and other work activities that came with it left me quite sleep deprived and the next chapter will be a big one so i want to make sure i give it enough effort so it's coming sometime next week when i'm back home as i'm travelling rn! thank you for being patient and leaving such a lovely ask <3

[fangirl-dot-com]

🏎Track 9 - Getaway Car

*for the people who voted an update for reputations first, here you go! we can all say thank you to George for getting me in a writing move and inspiring this chapter! sorry for all the lando lovers...he's not redeemed. thank you for reading and I hope this is what you've been waiting for!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

“Oh shit. I think I had contact with Leclerc,” you said over the radio as you felt a bump to your back right tyre. In one of your mirrors, you could see a flash of red trailing behind you. Your heart dropped at the thought of ruining Charles’s race, but you kept on going. 

There wasn’t much space for you to go any wider. And Checo had been on the other side of the Monegasque. It would have to be dubbed a racing incident, hopefully. 

“How’s the car?” your race engineer asked. 

You sucked in a deep breath. “It feels fine.” 

“Ok. Just keep your head down. There might be a podium if we stay on course.” 

Your head gave the slightest nod, even if no one would see it. You still didn’t want to be sole reason that Charles had yet another bad race. 

It seemed like the Monegasque’s luck ran out after Monaco. Someone must have sacrificed the rest of the Ferrari season just so that Monaco could be theirs, and it showed. A double DNF in Canada was downright awful, and Spain wasn’t anything to write home about. 

He had managed to pick up a couple of points in the sprint race, but that was it. 

Canada for you and Logan was a thing of the past. A similar double DNF wasn’t something that you would have liked on your record, but what was done was done. You and Logan were still P1 and P2 in the drivers championship and Lamborghini was leading comfortably. 

Spain was a bit better. 

The Spanish Grand Prix saw you and Logan on the podium, but Max took the first step. It was a tricky race with you, Logan, and Lando swapping places lap after lap. At one point, Logan had tapped Lando when the British driver tried to barrel down into a turn. 

Once it was over, you felt ready to be done with over the top races. You missed the beginning races when your car was able to finish the race with big gaps in front and behind you. The triple header had been grueling, and you were ready for a break. Silverstone didn’t exactly start up any excitement. The media and the atmosphere didn’t seem pleasant.

Your race had been predictable until the very end. You had just gone back into turn 3 when your engineer turned the radio back on. 

“Sargeant and Verstappen made contact, virtual safety car. Sargeant needs to retire, Verstappen has dropped down to fifth.” 

You wanted to groan. There’s no way that you and Logan had accidentally ruined races for two of your really good friends. 

“Who’s the leader and what’s the gap?” 

“Norris is currently P1. Piastri is P2. You’re running P3.” 

If you could hit your helmet on the steering wheel, you would. 

You pressed the radio button again. “And the gap?” 

“It is 4.201 seconds. But tyre degradation is bad. Don’t push as hard, just bring it over the line.” 

With a huff, you turned your radio off and kept going. When you crossed the checkered flag, you finally felt like you could breathe. There really was no competition who could have taken third from you, but your anxiety was already rising. 

Although there wasn’t any tension like there had been, your anxiety grew as you got out of your car. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of bright orange run into his team’s arms. Not wanting to get involved, you leisurely walked over to the Lamborghini team. 

Your race engineer gave you a quick hug, and many pats came down on your helmet. However, the person you wanted to be there was nowhere to be seen. As you locked eyes with many of the crew, none were the blue you were looking for. 

With a sigh, you took your helmet off and went over to the weighing station. You kept your head down, looking at the numbers so you wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. As you made your way to the cooldown room, George was able to congratulate you.

“Thanks,” you muttered, still not looking him in the eyes. 

The Briton sighed. He knew that when he saw Charles pull up in P11 and Max in P5, you and Logan were going to start closing in on yourselves again. It was his job, plus the others, to make sure that you two knew that it was just racing. 

Hell, Max was at fault for the tangle with Logan. However, the two of you seemed to take all fault on yourselves. If George ever met the people who had made you and Logan like this, they wouldn’t see the light of day. 

George put his hands on your shoulders, finally making you look up at him. His kind, blue eyes melted at the sight of tears in yours. 

“It wasn’t yours or Logan’s fault, ok? Max and Charles both know.” 

You shrugged. “Sure. That’s what they all say.” 

Not wanting to delay getting to the cooldown room, you turned on your heel, out of George’s hands and into the little room. You quietly sat down in the P3 chair, right next to Lando. Your eyes fixated on the screen when they showed what had happened between Logan and Max. 

“Aha, thank you Sargeant for that.” 

Your eyes widened at the sound of Lando’s laugh and voice. You quicky glanced over, just to see Oscar looking at him the same way. 

The Aussie let out a small scoff. “Mate, Max turned into him.” 

Lando rolled his eyes. “He shouldn’t have gone up against Max in the first place. If he can’t keep P1 then he doesn’t deserve it. Max did the right thing.” 

Was he being for real. You wanted to say something, but you were baffled. Lando’s win was definitely gifted. He couldn’t even hold P1 into turn 1 back in Spain when he was on pole. You just sat still, picking at your fingernails until the official called the three of you back. 

Lando jumped out of his chair and sauntered away. Oscar waited until you got close to wrap an arm around you. As the two of you walked, the Aussie’s head dipped down next to your ear. 

“It was all Max. Logan had nowhere to go.” 

You only nodded in response. The McLaren driver could sense that something was very off. He hoped that Logan was fairing a bit better. 

Back at the Lamborghini garage, Logan had locked himself in his drivers room after he got out of his car in the pit lane. His eyes were red as he continuously wiped at the tears that kept falling. Deep down, he knew that it was Max who turned a bit deep, but his head liked to say the opposite. 

A knock interrupted his down spiral. 

Logan sniffed loudly. “Yeah?” 

The door opened slightly and Benny popped his head in. “We’re going to the podium; do you want to come with us to watch your girl?” 

Logan sucked in a deep breath. How dare he come in and cry while you probably wanted to celebrate. He quickly shook his head. 

“She probably doesn’t need me there.” 

Benny sighed as he recalled what George had said on his way back to the Mercedes. When the trainer caught Logan’s eyes, he smiled. 

“I don’t think she’s feeling like celebrating at all. How about this: I’ll call for a car so that you and Y/n can get out of here when you’re done with your interviews. I’ll let Michael know that you two need some time.” 

Logan didn’t say anything, but he stood up and brought Benny into a hug. He choked on a sob as his friend’s arms wrapped around him. 

“It’s going to be just fine kid.” 

Logan wiped his eyes one more time as he followed Benny out of his room. He could feel the sad pairs of eyes on him, reminding him of Canada after his DNF. It kind of reminded him about his time at Williams, but the smiles made it better. At the other team, all he got where sighs of disappointment and frustrations.  

When he made it to the media pen, he kept his cap low on his face. What he didn’t realize was that Max was standing next to him while he gave his interview. 

The Dutchman has seen Logan come up to stand next to him, so he kept one ear open. Logan shuffled on his feet as the lady asked the first question. 

“Logan, you were having a fantastic race. What happened?” 

A sigh escaped before he answered. “Well, Max and I went for a battle and we both went a bit wide. There really wasn’t room for me to go anywhere, but I should have gone a bit wider to have tried to not cause the collision.” 

Max wanted to smack him for thinking that he could have avoided it. 

The lady pressed on. “So do you think that Verstappen is at fault.” 

The American shrugged. “At the end of the day, we’re both drivers that want a win. When you go wheel to wheel, you need to expect some hard moves and be ready for them. I just wasn’t ready and I dealt with the consequences.” 

“Your teammate was able to score a podium. Is that a positive you can take from today?” 

A smile rose on his face at the thought of you. “Yes. I can speak for the team when I say I’m very proud of what Y/n accomplished today. Even with the bit of bumping into turn 1 at the beginning with Charles, she managed well.” 

The interview wrapped up quickly after that, making Logan turn to leave. Once he was out of the pen, he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He slowly turned around and was faced with a concerned Max. 

The Dutchman asked, “Are you ok, Logan?” 

The blond had a sheepish grin, almost borderline uncomfortable. “Yeah, I’m ok.” 

Max wasn’t convinced. 

“It wasn’t your fault, Logan. You need to know that.” 

“Oh look, Y/n is texting me. Better check out what she needs. Bye Max.” 

“Logan.” 

“I have to get going! See you at Silverstone.” 

“You’re being unfair.” 

Max’s last sentence died out as he watched the younger round the corner out of sight. He let out a groan as he rubbed his hand down his face. If Logan wasn’t going to listen, he’d have to corner him again. 

The Dutchman didn’t want to do that, but Logan left him with no choice. He had to call the big guns. 

You were currently rushing to lot 2 where Logan had said he would be. Your eyes landed on a convertible, navy Porsche. Logan’s blond hair shone in the lighting of the late evening. When you saw him wave, you quickly made your way over. 

As you got closer, Logan leaned over the passenger seat and opened your door. You rolled your eyes as you sat down. 

“What a gentleman.” 

He smirked. “Only for you darlin’.” 

Your arm reached out and turned up the radio as Logan put the car into gear. It didn’t take long before you two were out of the lot and on the main road. Your hair whipped around you as you sang along to the radio. Logan would glance at you often, just glad to see a smile on your face. He even tried to hit a high note, which made you burst into giggles.

You didn’t know where Logan was headed, but it seemed like he knew as he turned off the road and onto a back one. It didn’t take long before he parked the car in front of a park. The lake behind the grass reflected the reds and yellows of the sunset. 

Logan took this opportunity to place his arm behind you and gently pull you in. You let out a content sigh as your head rested on his chest. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there at the podium,” he apologized as his fingers twirled your hair around them. He wasn’t looking at you as his eyes were cast at the steering wheel. Your fingers began to draw shapes on his chest. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. I’m glad you weren’t there. Lando was insufferable. He said some things.” 

Logan sat up slightly. “Like what?” 

You chewed on your lip, not wanting to say. “He said thank you for hitting Max, and that you shouldn’t have tried to fight for P1 if you couldn’t keep it.” 

The blond was silent for a moment. 

“At least he said thank you.” 

You sat up all the way and turned to look at him. “Logan Hunter Sargeant!” 

“What?” a smile was on his face, letting you know that he was teasing. “I’m just going to team up with Max, and we’re going to win at Silverstone.” 

Your eyes looked down and landed on your phone which was blowing up with messages from your group chat. 

“Speaking of Max.” 

You and Logan read through the messages quickly before replying.

You put your phone back down before turning to face him. 

“Think we should head back?” 

“Yeah, or your ice cream might melt.” 

Before Logan went to shift the gear, you pulled on his shirt and brought him into a kiss. Behind your lips, he sighed as he leaned in a bit more. Your hands drifted to his shoulders while his rested on your hips. 

You would have leaned in more if it weren’t for the stick shift in the middle. When it pressed against your side, you disconnected your lips from his. Logan let out a soft whine and tried to lean back in. You put your finger up to his lips to press him back. 

“Nothing good starts in a get away car baby.” 

Logan turned and thumped his head on the steering wheel. “You did not just quote Taylor Swift at me for wanting to kiss you a bit more.” 

You smirked. “Ice cream is waiting.” 

“You and your ice cream woman.” 

Logan quickly backed out and whipped the car around. The drive to the hotel wasn’t as far as you thought it was as. Logan pulled up to the front, got out, and rounded to your side to open your door. This time you didn’t tease him and gladly took his hand. 

Logan went over the details with the chauffer before he was back at your side, leading you through the entrance. 

You two thought you would have a bit more time before Max and Charles showed up. However, when the elevator opened to your floor, you weren’t expecting them, Lewis, George, and Oscar to be sitting by your door. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, you guys are here early.” 

At the sound of your voice, the five of them sat up, eye wide at being caught. George scratched his head, Lewis looked at the ground, and Oscar smiled sheepishly. 

Charles bit his lip before holding a bag out. “Ice cream?” 

You took the bag from him as Logan swiped his card. “Ice cream.” 

Logan shouted from inside the room. “How long have you been here?” 

Max rubbed his face. “Maybe thirty minutes?” 

“My ice cream better not be melted Verstappen.” 

“Your ice cream? I think Charles brough enough for me too.” 

“Get your own Sargeant.” 

“Are they always like this?” 

“Welcome to the club Oscar.” 

lamborghini_racing has posted

liked by sargeantgirlie, venus2, presidentlogan, and 2,038,567 others

lamborghini_racing wasn't the result we thought we'd get, but it's better than nothing. the bees are ready for Silverstone 💪🐝

see all comments

lambo_duo logan, you did nothing wrong! I hope you know that we're still cheering for you!!

sargstappen I hope this isn't the end of Logan and max's friendship :(

leclercsdaughter I don't think it it

venus2 sorry team, we'll get it next time

phoenix95 OH YEAHHHH LET'S GO TEAM - THE BRITISH BETTER BE SCARED BEFORE WE RECREATE 1776 RAWWRRRR 🦅

lewishamilton I actually am scared now

georgerussell63 same.

usaf1 let's get Norris on his home turf 😤

ln4fan this team has som incompetent drivers who need to be replaced (I'm looking at sargeant)

logan&co literally who asked you

lestappenlove bring it on 😈

phoenix95 has posted

liked by charles_leclerc, y/n.nation, LEC, and 1,403,286 others

phoenix95 totally destroyed them at mario kart 😈

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, georgerussell63, lewishamilton, oscarpiastri, and venus2

see all comments

loscarland glad to see Oscar has been adopted by this group ☺️

y/n.nation nothing but a girl, her friends, and some lec ice cream

americanf1duo can't wait to obliterate them in England

maxverstappen1 I WANT A REMATCH

venus2 I think you're just a sore loser

maxverstappen1 how was I supposed to know that George is awful at mario kart

georgerussell63 HEY 🤨

sargstappen233 I'm glad to see that nothing has changed 😮‍💨

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlm @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicore @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-su @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

[itslottiehere]

mors tua, vita mea — h.s

hello beautiful people 🤍 welcome back! i know, i know, it’s been a while, but i truly hope this story makes up for the lack of writing! i’ve had so much fun while writing this, and i hope you’ll like it as much as i do <3 please, let me know what you think! you can do so in your reblog, in your tags, or in my asks! if you enjoy the story, please consider reblogging! it really helps me and also make me want to keep going!! without further ado, happy reading! <3

— inspired by “getaway car” by taylor swift.

cw: angst, a bit of kissing, some swear words

word count: 6.5k

gif by @londonharry

masterlist | leave your feedback or requests here

—

the backstreet was dark, a few spots of light showing her the way to the car she hid before the heist took place. before chris could know that there was only one way that night could have ended, and that was with him locked up. 

she had been planning this for months now: their biggest heist, her biggest betrayal. 

she wasn’t sentimental about it at all, it was just pure business: she knew the cops were closing in on them, so she had to leave before shit hit the fan. simple as that. 

also, chris was becoming way too attached to her as it was, so it was really a two birds with one stone deal for her: she had always made it clear that their “relationship” was nothing more than work, but sometimes the nights in the safe house got boring and lonely, and the company was appreciated. 

still, a few nights of sex didn’t mean there were feelings involved or anything of that sort, and no matter how much chris said that he “got it”, she noticed the changes in his attitude, how protective of her he became, how his touch would linger for a second longer, how he would double and triple check with her if she got wounded, how he would always make sure she was safe before worrying about his own safety.

how he made it so easy for her to manipulate him.

the poor thing never saw it coming. the pink lenses of infatuation making him painfully oblivious to the fact that he was never gonna see her again. 

both her and the outside world, from her calculations: the cops would find plenty of evidence on him, in the safe house, that would tie him up with a pretty little bow and send him off to prison for god’s know how long, all the while making him the perfect scapegoat for her. 

she couldn’t know if chris would rat her out, — although she thought it not likely, given the lovesick puppy look he had ever since they slept together, — but even if he tried to, she made sure not to leave any trace of her identity in any document, in anything that had to do with any illegal activity. 

and even if she did, they wouldn’t have found her: the identity she used wasn’t hers, and she was gonna stop being the person chris knew as soon as she drove away, her new id card safely stored in the pocket of her jacket, the old one burnt to a crisp.

the soles of her shoes were scraping against the gravel, the ground wet from the light november rain, while she jogged to what would bring her into a new life, a new start. she had to get out of there, immediately. 

what she wasn’t expecting was a dark silhouette appearing on the other side of the alley, seemingly jogging towards her. 

fuck, fuck, fuck.

she was so sure she had locked the exit door on the back, so how did chris manage to get out? he would have had to figure out she was planning on framing him. 

if that was the case, this wasn’t gonna end well.

she opened up the door to her car, ready to bolt, when the unknown figure spoke slowly: “wait.”

that was not chris. the voice was deep, rough, and the way he pronounced just one single word made chills run through her body. 

or maybe that was just the adrenaline of it all, the fear of getting caught betraying her partner by said partner. 

“wait.” the figure spoke once more, getting closer to the car. “i need a lift.”

what the actual fuck? did he take her for an uber driver or something? 

she scoffed and got in the car, keys inside the ignition, ready to drive off.

which couldn’t be done since the tall figure decided to stand in the middle of the alley. 

she couldn’t really honk, not when the alarms inside the building were about to go off and the place was about to be stormed by cops. she had to leave, and if she had to run over him, then so be it.

she put her foot on the gas, put in the first gear and was very much convinced that the man would decide to move out of the way. 

but she had no such luck.

his hands hit the hood of her car, hard, while she pressed on the breaks with all her strength in order to not make him flat on the ground. 

so much for survival instincts, she thought.

“were you really about to run me over?” the man spoke — his figure now becoming clearer since he was nearer than before. a lazy smirk cut his face. “mmh. i like you.” 

and just like that he was opening the passenger’s door, seating down and buckling his seatbelt. 

she was utterly shocked, what the hell was going on, why was he- “who the fuck are you? and what the actual fuck do you think you’re doing in my car?”

the man chuckled lowly, casting two deep indents in his cheeks. “oh wow, they didn’t tell me the owl had such a filthy mouth.”

the name made her eyes go wide: the owl. working in the darkest hours of the night was her distinctive trait, hence the nickname she chose for herself while doing business. 

“‘m harry, by the way. don’t have a cool nickname like yours yet, but perhaps i should find one. what about the puma? what do you think?”

she scoffed, looking straight and finally driving away. “well, harry or the puma or whatever you wanna be called-”

“harry is just fine.”

“alright, harry, would you mind telling me why the fuck are you here?” her patience was wearing thin and she really didn’t want to lose any more time on this.

“oh right, sort of forgot to tell you, didn’t i? okay, well, my dear owl- hold up, don’t i get to know your name? i told you mine.” he turned his body to face her. 

judging by the deep frown of her eyebrows and how set her eyes were on the road in front of them, he assumed he wouldn’t get it that easily. 

“well, doesn’t matter for now. so, back to where i was: i have been checking you out for a while, saw your latest works and was very impressed. i’m in need of a partner, and from what i saw tonight, so do you.” he spoke, and in the far distance they could hear the police sirens and spot the blue and red lights: everything was about to go down.

harry coming to bother her on that particular night was really somewhat karmic, wasn’t it? she screwed over her partner, so fate had to bring an annoying man in her plans, once again. she cleared her throat, her tone dry.

“how did you know what i would do?”

harry turned once again towards the road. “i knew the police was closing in on you, so i thought that if you played your cards right you may have the chance to get away, and the better escape plan would have been to ditch your partner.” the man in her passenger seat stretched his legs, his arms raised up, his voice coming out a bit strained. “word on the street was that tonight something was going down, i thought to check it out to see if it was actually gonna be you. my lucky night, i’d say.”

harry had heard plenty about the owl’s operations and was extremely intrigued by her. the plans were intricate, but incredibly well thought out, and often went down without a hitch, and the chosen artworks to be stolen being invaluable masterpieces made it all the more admirable. he knew as soon as he saw one of her biggest heists go down so smoothly that he desperately wanted to be in business with her, so he began keeping tabs on her, which brought him in that alley, that precise night.

he didn’t expect to be so entranced to her. 

sure, he was in awe of her plans and the way she carried on her business, but he was struck by her. even more than her looks, it was the confidence she radiated from her stance, her set gaze, her clenched jaw, that was what drew him in immediately. 

he knew she was trouble, especially given her line of work. but it seemed like he couldn’t help himself to fall under her spell, and that was saying something, since she tried to run him over not even 20 minutes prior. 

oh, poor harry didn’t know what he was getting into.

she wasn’t dumb, nor blind: harry was a treat for the eyes, and obviously way more prepared than chris ever was. still to that day she couldn’t believe he didn’t see it coming, it was all so clear to her. she was sneaky, of course, but he must’ve had some clue, right? or well, she guessed that what people say is true: love makes you dumb. 

harry was another league, though. he kept track of her, which must’ve not been easy since she always took so many precautions to keep everything on the down low; he discovered her plan and also understood that the better route for her was to ditch her partner. 

he definitely had more experience than chris, and that could be an advantage: for once, she could have someone to bounce ideas off of, and since harry managed to find out her ironclad plans, it means that something wasn’t as hidden as she would’ve liked, and having him could help with that.

when she started her business, she swore that she had to be the one calling all the shots: being the perfectionist she is, she couldn’t relegate the responsibility of something so important like a heist to someone who wasn’t herself. she decided to get a partner — enter, chris — just because sometimes it was physically impossible to do it all on her own. that didn’t change the fact that he was merely a mean to an end, he had no voice whatsoever in planning anything, and not once had he complained about it, nor he had any reason to: the money was good, and once he even got to win her affection — or well, what he thought could’ve turned into something more — he was good with doing whatever she wanted.

she had the feeling it wasn’t gonna be like this with harry. 

or well, at least not that easy. 

“that was impressive, not going to lie. it mustn’t have been easy to keep track of my movements. so, bravo.” she spoke, her eyes quickly glancing towards him.

a smirk took place on harry’s face, the praise of such a pro stroking his ego. “it was, but very much worth it.” 

his voice was smooth like silk, and even the dumbest person walking on earth could’ve felt the flirty undertones of his words from miles away. 

she quickly thought about it, a new plan. a new, better plan.

“okay, pretty boy. if you can keep up, i can think about being partners. that is, if you prove worthy of my time.”

“deal.” he smiled, and again the dimples on his cheeks made an appearance. “pretty boy, huh? should that be my badass nickname?”

“still better than the puma.”

that night marked the beginning of a new era, four years of the most lucrative, crazy, exciting heists the both of them could have ever imagined.

and over the course of those years, the inevitable and not so unexpected happened: they fell for each other, and they fell hard.

endless night of planning, scheming, and building trust with each other turned them into real life bonnie and clyde, absolutely drunk on adrenaline and love. 

it was definitely not something she had planned, not something she had wanted either, but there was no denying chemistry: sometimes, things just happen, and you have no choice but to let them run their course.

harry was just as smitten: he was hooked from the beginning, and fought hard to win her over from day one. 

it started as a ‘business partners with benefits’ kind of deal, a way to ‘pass the time’, — at least for her, harry was already harboring feelings for the woman — but it bloomed into something more, somewhat organically. 

he still teased her that she became soft for him when he got injured during an escape: the rope attached to the top of the building didn’t hold up harry, who suffered a bad fall. his shoulder was dislocated, and she had to be the one who had to put it back in place, since hospitals weren’t really an option, and harry couldn’t ignore the look she held in her eyes, as if even just the thought of hurting him was physically hurting her.

he didn’t expect it, definitely not from someone like the infamous owl: she showed no remorse for her actions, no feelings for the first six months of them working together, and he made peace with the fact that that was just the way it was gonna be, but was pleasantly surprised when that revealed not to be the case. 

the world knew her as a scheming, logical woman, but harry had the privilege of being her soft spot.

he was always a pretty open guy, not scared of having big feelings or of falling in love. he had already felt it in the past, he just wasn’t prepared to experience how powerful it could feel with the right person: what he felt for her was something out of a novel, a perfect mixture of infatuation, almost obsession, adrenaline and maybe insanity, and it was so incredibly addicting.

the last heist was a perfect success, their biggest bag as a matter of fact. the artwork they managed to steal had taken months upon months of planning, but it all went down incredibly smoothly: 7 minutes, in and out, exactly like they had wanted. they were already far when the police arrived, harry behind the wheel, driving their getaway car.

with chris, she had never let him drive, ever: she had to be in control of everything, of every little aspect, probably because she never fully trusted him. but she did trust harry, wholeheartedly so. 

the drive to the dingy motel wasn’t too long, the night chill enveloping them thanks to the lack of a roof on their car. the adrenaline was running high still, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning in and leaving a kiss on harry’s smiling lips, their grins quite too big to properly kiss each other. but it didn’t matter, the feeling was all the same, the rush quite impossible to describe to someone who never felt it.

harry disconnected their lips, not before leaving a quick peck once again, and looked back to the barely lit country road ahead of them. 

“very risky to distract me like that right now, sweetheart.”

“couldn’t help it, pretty boy. you’re just too damn good-looking.” she smiled at the nickname, and harry did too: it stuck ever since that first night, and harry definitely never complained. 

“c’mon, we’re almost at the motel.” harry’s hand took its rightful place on her left thigh, softly squeezing the flesh, awakening a storm of butterflies and inviting them to bat their wings in her stomach. she rested her hand on top of his, gently toying with his rings.

the motel neon sign was missing a few letters, its occupants nothing less than unsavory, but she didn’t care: she wasn’t one to be scared in the first place, much less with harry by her side.

once they got to their room, she locked the door and quickly found her back pressed into it, harry’s lips straight on hers. she knew what was coming, it happened every single time after a hit: the euphoria of a successful heist was a very powerful aphrodisiac.

harry’s lips pressed slowly against her own, he was in no hurry now. after he felt her body relaxing in his hold, he moved onto her neck, and smiled against her skin when he heard a shaky breath falling from her lips after he sucked lightly on the spot he knew would drive her crazy. 

her hand went immediately into his hair, tugging on the curls she loved to play with at every chance she got, while the other travelled down his torso, heading towards his belt.

knowing where she was going, harry detached his lips from her neck and looked at her: flushed cheeks, her eyes — his favorite feature of hers — slightly glazed over, her lips full and a raspberry colour. he smiled at the sight.

“sweetheart,” he murmured. “sweetheart, hey.”

“mmh?” she hummed, her hands roaming under his shirt, feeling the expanse of his tummy and chest, pressing her lips in the dip of his throat. 

harry hated to have to tear himself away from her and her touch, but a shower was in order, and also making her wait made the whole situation way more intriguing, her getting antsy waiting for him really did a number on him.

her forehead rested on his chest, a small whine falling from her lips when he felt him trying to move away from her, which made harry chuckle. he softly pressed a kiss to the top of her head, slowly walking backwards towards the restroom, but her arms refused to leave his body, so she was stumbling along with him, her cheek still smushed against his chest.

harry reached behind his back to untangle her arms from his waist, not without her protesting. he leaned in and planted a wet kiss on her cheek, murmuring a low “be right back”, before leaving the room.

she felt drunk, as she usually did whenever harry was in near proximity, but there was nothing she could do about it.

she laid down on the dingy bed, eagerly waiting for her lover to be back and, to kill the time, she decided to turn on the tv.

what she saw sobered her up real quick.

the news were reporting a robbery at a famous gallery, two figures with their dark hoodies up filmed from a camera at the end of the alley.

a camera both she and harry failed to notice.

they were lucky the camera was at the opposite end of the dark and unlit alley, and caught just a glimpse of their backs, but this wasn’t good. this was not supposed to happen. 

never, in all her years of planning, had she forgot to notice a camera, and the fact that this happened with their biggest heist made the blood drain from her face. 

she tried her hardest to lower her heart rate and to focus on what the newscaster was saying: two suspects, no faces identified, probably left by car, all the other cameras in the block were somehow off during the escape — somehow actually being the work of one of harry’s acquaintances — and the police had no leads for the moment.

all things considered, it wasn’t bad at all.

so why couldn’t she seem to catch her breath?

the bathroom door creaked open, a bit of steam filling the room. harry stepped out, a towel hanging on his lower half, his body glistening with little droplets of water, hair matted and still dripping a little. 

he had a dopey smile on his lips, which soon fell once he noticed that she wasn’t ogling at him as she usually would when he stepped out of a shower.

“hey,” he called out to her, “something wrong?”

she didn’t even notice that harry had walked back into the room, so she slightly jumped at the sound of his voice. her head quickly turned towards him, as she just as quickly turned the tv off.

“of course, yeah.” she smiled. “missed you.”

“could’ve joined me, you know?” he grinned, “never would refuse a beautiful lady like you.” he got closer to her and pressed his lips softly against hers.

she reciprocated the kiss, disconnecting it quite a bit earlier than harry would’ve liked, and murmured still close to his lips, “can we cuddle for a bit?”

harry’s hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs slowly stroking the apples, “yeah, of course. want my shirt to sleep in?”

she excitedly nodded, staring at his back while he retrieved a shirt from his luggage.

sleep came quickly to harry, his arm holding her tightly against his chest, comforted by the feeling of having her safe in his arms.

she still couldn’t quite catch her breath.

.

harry woke up to an empty bed: the creamy rays of sun beamed through the worn blinds, rousing him awake. as he did every morning, he reached for her, looking forward to hooking his arm around her waist and feel her snuggle against his chest. but that day, his hand touched a cold piece of comforter instead of the warm, soft body of his girl.

his eyes opened immediately, trying to adapt to the light, his brows furrowed as he knuckled his eyes, trying to blink away the sleepiness. his slightly startled heart stopped once he saw her seated at the little desk the room provided, typing away on her computer, wrapped in his sweatshirt with her hair still damp from the shower she probably had just taken.

way too focused on adjusting the last details of the meetup with the buyer for that same night, she jumped when she felt two strong arms engulfing her.

“morning, love.” his morning voice was a gift straight from heaven, it never failed to make her feel warm and cozy. “don’t like it when i wake up without you.”

she could hear the pout on his face, and she smiled at the notion that he was so affected by her absence. “good morning, pretty boy. just had to take a shower and finalize the details for the drop off with the buyer tonight.” she turned around and looked at his still half closed eyes. she tilted her head up, puckering her lips a little, “kiss?”

harry didn’t miss a beat and laid his mouth on hers, moaning softly at the contact.

she hadn’t lied per se, she had to do all of what she said, but she also couldn’t stand lying awake in that bed for one more second: she had barely gotten any sleep the previous night, the video of them on the news flashing continuously in her mind. 

so she tried to focus on work, to get things right before they could go wrong. 

the day went by as usual, the two of them laying low, preparing for the meetup with this anonymous buyer. the sum of money this person was offering was definitely mind blowing, and there was no way they could turn it down. 

in the late afternoon, they left the motel to reach the location given to them: it was a rundown warehouse, obviously abandoned, and they were under strict orders to arrive at 8pm on the dot, to leave the car outside the main gate, and proceed by feet till they arrived to the container with the number 258: that was where they’d find an employee of the buyer. 

it was all routine, they almost never handled a deal with the buyer directly, and they understood the reason. she and harry never exchanged names as well, for safety reasons, or any other details, just informations about the drop. 

at 7:50pm, they were parked outside the warehouse. the chill of the desert air made the hair on her arms stand, a shiver running down her spine. 

“cold?” harry asked, after he noticed her shudder. it wasn’t that cold at the moment for him, and it was probably gonna be worse once the sun was set all the way, but nonetheless he put his jacket on her shoulders, his big hands running up and down her upper arms to give her some warmth. 

she smiled at the gesture, and tilted her head up, “thank you.”

he reciprocated the smile and took her hand, in the other one holding the bag containing the stolen piece of art. “of course, darling. now let’s go, wanna be back in that motel bed as soon as possible,” he cheekily remarked.

they walked hand in hand till they found the container 258, and knocked three times, as instructed. the shutter was pulled up, a man dressed in a suit, who looked to be in his forties, appearing behind it.

“welcome, you must be the sellers. please, come in.” the unknown man spoke, and she and harry made their way inside.

harry laid the bag carefully on the table, beside a briefcase, previously set down.

“thank you, sir. as per your request by email, the-”

“actually,” harry interrupted, “you didn’t speak with me. she,” he pointed to the girl beside him, who had a stony expression, “is the head of the whole operation, so if you want to explain something to someone, you can do so with her.”

this was also something they were both used to, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. if only they knew they were actually talking to the owl, they’d probably kiss the her shoes.

the deal was over in 5 minutes, the majority of which was spent with the two of them counting the money, making sure every penny was in that briefcase. after confirming so, they barely said goodbye to that sexist prick, and went back to their car.

the drive to the motel was quiet, but not uncomfortably so: harry’s right hand took place on her left thigh as usual, while her arm was stretched behind his headrest, playing mindlessly with his curls, scratching his scalp lightly. 

“hey, pretty boy.” she called, a soft smile on her lips.

harry smirked at the nickname, he couldn’t help it, “yes?”

“i really love you,” she softly said, taking her hand away from his hair and moving it to stroke his cheekbone, “you know that?”

harry couldn’t help but feel his tummy warm up at her words, his cheeks getting a bit flushed. “i do know, darling, but thank you for the reminder.” he snickered, “i love you too.” he said, and took his right hand off her leg to grab her hand, planting a soft kiss to her palm, and to every knuckle. 

once they finally reached the motel, harry turned off the ignition and turned to face her. his hand took a hold of her jaw, and pressed a kiss against her pouty lips. she sighed into the kiss, a thing that drove harry absolutely crazy. 

“what if-” she tried to talk, but was quickly interrupted by harry kissing her again, “we go to the room to-” another kiss, “put down our things and-”, yet another kiss, “then we have a drink at the bar?” she put her hand on harry’s chest to push him a bit further, or else she wouldn’t be able to finish the sentence. “if i’m not mistaken it’s right by the reception. sounds good?”

harry nodded, and to seal his agreement he kissed her once again.

after making their way down from their room into the motel bar, they sat down at the counter, harry’s hand on her back while she climbed on the stool. 

the bar was definitely empty, just a couple of old men sat in the corner of the room, a deck of cards between them. 

“two old fashioned, please.” harry asked the man behind the counter.

it was a sort of a tradition, getting that drink after a deal: the first time they did a deal together, he was the one suggesting going for a drink, which she — surprisingly to him — did not turn down. once they reached the pub nearby, she ordered an old fashioned, and asked harry what he wanted, to which he answered “the same”, and it became a tradition ever since then.

“oh wait-” she said all of a sudden, which made harry turn his head towards her.

“oh i’m sorry, did you want something else?” he asked, unsure of even his question, since she had never ordered something else.

she quickly shook her head, “no no, don’t worry, i just realized i forgot my phone in our room.” she stood from the stool, “i’m gonna go get it and i’ll be right back, alright?” after she spoke, she left a lingering kiss on his cheek.

harry hummed and with a little smile, he playfully said, “be quick, i’m gonna miss you.”

she returned his smile, and opened the motel bar door, “i’m gonna miss you too, pretty boy.” 

.

harry didn’t think any of it after ten minutes, she probably got caught up on something online, or had to answer to an email right away and couldn’t wait.

he didn’t think any of it after twenty minutes, thinking she may have had a call to make and it was taking a bit longer than usual. he settled on shooting her a message, asking if she was fine. the message was left on delivered.

but after thirty minutes, he needed to check on her. what if she was sick and he was there waiting for her at the bar like an idiot? what if there was a problem and she needed his help, even if she would most likely never admit it?

he left some banknotes on the counter, and rushed his way upstairs.

once he stood in front of the door, his blood run cold: the door was ajar. 

something was wrong, very wrong.

carefully, he pushed the door, reaching for his pocket knife; once it was open, his eyes darted around the room, looking for something out of place.

the thing is, it wasn’t that something was out of place, it was that something was missing: her bag, her clothes, her laptop, herself, they were all missing. there was no trace of her, as if she had never been there.

“what-” he rushed in, the door left slightly open behind him. he hastily opened the bathroom door, checking if maybe she was there, but, alas, she was not.

“what the fuck is going on?” harry muttered to himself, so confused that he was sure that his movements weren’t even making sense. his head kept turning from side to side, trying to find something, anything to help him understand what was going on.

he was never one to panic, always been a pretty clearheaded guy in every situation he’s found himself in, but not when his girl was involved, and especially when he was totally in the dark about what had happened. 

his eyes finally zeroed in on a piece of paper on the desk.

of course, of course she’d be smart and leave him some sort of trace, so he could find her and get her back.

he stumbled on his steps, his legs wobbling as if made of jelly and with frantic fingers, he opened the piece of paper, which showed just four, short words.

mors tua, vita mea.

“wh-what, no-”, he rambled, shaking his head energetically, choosing not to believe the reality that was downing on him. “no, no, it can’t-” he kept chanting, over and over, but his rambling was cut short.

in his peripherals, he saw the red and blue lights bouncing off the dirty white walls of the motel room, the sound of the police car doors closing and of the steps of the officers coming up the stairs, but the sounds were almost muted, the shock making his ears ring.

the door was pushed open, three officers coming in first, guns blazing, while the others were surely waiting all around the motel, pointing their guns at him through the windows. 

“put your hands up! over your head!”

harry robotically obliged, not in control of his body anymore. 

“harry styles, you’re under arrest. you have the right to remain silent, anything you say…”.

he didn’t hear the rest of the miranda rights over the sound of the faith he had in her shattering, puncturing his lungs and making it hard to breathe.

—

18 months later.

“styles, you have a visitor.”

harry’s eyes opened at the voice of the guard, the ceiling of his cell staring back at him. those were words he didn’t get to hear often, only two other times, and both times it was always a nosy journalist wanting to write a story about a pretty successful art thief. he laid still, pondering whether to go or stay in his shoe box of a cell for the rest of the day.

“styles, get up. i don’t have all day.”

harry dragged his feet along the corridor, and once he arrived to the designated room, he headed towards the seat the officer pointed. once he sat down, he grabbed the black phone receiver, and didn’t even bother looking at the person standing in front of him, his eyes closed already in annoyance.

“look, if you’re another fucking journalist, i’m not gonna say a word to you, so you wasted your time coming here and i’m asking you to leave.”

the person in front of him hesitated, as he heard a shallow breathe on the other end of the receiver.

“hi, pretty boy.”

harry’s eyes had never opened so fast, and his heart skipped a beat. 

no, no, this wasn’t real, this was just his mind playing tricks on him: stupid, fucking horrible and cruel tricks.

the voice didn’t match the exterior: the person in front of him had another haircut, a whole other hair colour, the eyes — the feature he most loved about her — covered by large sunglasses. 

but he knew. he knew it was her: the way her lips were set in her natural pout, the shape of her face, the freckle she had at the right corner of her bottom lip. 

the way his heart was going out of his chest trying to reach for her.

he was supposed to hate her — and he did, he so did — but the way his nickname fell from her lips lit up something in him, something that no matter how much he wanted it to be dormant, it was still there. 

his brain could only manage to ask her the one question that nagged at him ever since that day.

“why.”

he stared at her through the glass, green tired eyes boring into her soul. she knew it was risky, showing up at a prison under yet another false identity, but she knew she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye one last time. one real last time.

so she swallowed harshly, and opened her mouth, keeping her answers short in order not to break down.

“think about the place where you first met me, harry.” she murmured, while his stony expression was staring back at her. “i had no other choice.”

harry chuckled darkly, a grin so deranged that she felt her blood run cold. this answer of hers opened the gate to all the hatred that had been boiling in him for 18 long months.

“that’s such bullshit, and you know it. you had a choice — you  fucking did — and you made it. you chose to tip-off the police, you chose to leave your name out of every document, you chose to use a fake identity with me as well, and make it impossible to track you; you chose to pack your bags and steal the car, you chose to leave me behind and letting me take the blame for it.” his voice was laced with venom. “i spent 18 fucking months in this cell, with just one question running through my mind, all day, all night, every day: why did you choose to do this to me.”

“harry, i told you, i had-”

“bullshit!” he screamed, a prominent vein on his neck, while smashing his fist against the plastic glass, over and over again. “you ruined my fucking life, and you have the gall to give me that as the reason why you did it? tell me the truth! tell me the fucking truth! you owe me at least that.” 

the volume of his voice and the violence he was hitting the glass with made her stand up and hang up the receiver, scrambling to get away from him before his actions brought too much attention on her as well. three officers had to come in to stop harry from smashing down the glass and jumping on the other side of the window, and had to drag him away whilst he was still fighting with all his strength, his legs kicking and arms flailing trying to be freed, his voice repeatedly shouting just one word, over and over: why.

nine days later, harry found himself moved to a facility of a higher security rank: his violent act during the visit wasn’t an isolated episode, and basically opened the door to a side of harry that he never knew. he never knew such anger in his life.

the guard guiding him stopped in front of the nth same looking cell. 

“bradford, your new roomie is here.” the guard sarcastically said, making harry want to punch his face in, but unable to do so because of the cuffs on his wrists.

the man laying in the bunk barely scoffed and glanced at harry while he was walking into his new “home”.

once the guard went away, bradford turned to harry and looked him up and down, then returned to stare at the ceiling. harry could perhaps even manage to put up with the guy, if he always kept this quiet, but he felt like at least an introduction was to be done, to be the least civil. “‘m harry, harry styles. and you are?” 

his new cellmate groaned softly while standing up, putting his legs down from the bunk.

“i’m bradford, chris bradford. and i know exactly who you are.”

harry was definitely dumbfounded, “what? how do you-?”

“your case was all over the news, even inmates got to know about it. but most of all, i know you because i’ve been you.”

harry’s confusion must’ve been displayed clearly on his face, because chris just scoffed and kept on talking.

“we’ve been framed by the same person." he murmured, "and we’re gonna take her down together.”

—

the latin phrase mors tua vita mea, of medieval origin, means “your death, my life” (or: “your death (is) my life”).

beyond the dramatic tone of the literal sense, this expression is used when within a competition or in the attempt to reach a goal there can be only one winner: the saying indicates that the failure of one is an indispensable prerequisite for the success of another.

—

taglist: @a-strange-familiar @stilesissaved @harrysonlylover @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kittenhere @neverstaisfied

–

please, let me know what you think and please, please reblog! thank you so much for being here, it means the world <3 also, just a little fyi, there's no plan for a part 2!

[feelingsaph]

To anyone who's a swiftie and watches Saiki K, don't you think Kubosai is so Reputation coded??? They've got that rugged exterior but a soft and quiet kinda love on the inside.

And they've both got big reputations (that they're tryna flee lol)

[ye-olde-trojan-horse]

sirius has just sorta, inserted himself into my fic.

he wasn’t meant to be here much; a background character, there for vibes but not crucial to the plot.

but being the absolute queen he is, refuses to be ignored.

I love it when characters write themselves and give me absolutely no say in the matter /sar 🙄

[daughter-of-melpomene]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆… 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐎 “𝐀𝐉” 𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐒

❝ While the vast majority of the United Kingdom’s criminal world could say they had some kind of connection to the Shaw family, AJ was perhaps the only one who could say he had friends in that family and actually mean it. He’d known the three Shaw siblings since they were all kids, what with his parents being favored lackeys of Queenie Shaw and her husband (now ex-husband, and possibly dead ex-husband, but good riddance to the old bastard, really), and for as long as he could remember he’d gladly trailed after them and joined in on their respective schemes, occasionally using the gadgets he liked to come up with and tinker with to help them out further. He wasn’t much of the planning type himself, but like his parents with Deckard, Owen, and Hattie’s own, he was happy to come along and help out, occasionally even taking the blame and suffering the punishment whenever higher powers (their parents) found out what they’d done.

And though he hadn’t followed any of the Shaws into the military or spy game, that didn’t mean AJ’s pattern of following along with their less-than-legal plans died off. He and Owen may have broken off their on-again-off-again hookups when the latter had left for service, but when Owen returned and decided to start his own gang of criminals, it had picked right back up when he’d called up AJ, the best and most inventive mechanic he knew, and offered him both a spot on his new team and the resumption of their bed buddies arrangement. And AJ should have known better, really, should have known that Owen wasn’t as sophisticated at planning as his parents or his brother and sister and that he wouldn’t remain uncaught, but he’d never quite shaken either his follower tendencies or the feelings he had for Owen against his better judgement. So, also against his better judgement, he said yes, falling back into Owen’s schemes and back into his bed, ignoring the feeling in his gut that screamed that none of this was going to end well.

Now it would seem that feeling in his gut was right all along - Owen has been growing steadily more ambitious and less reasonable as time has gone on, and how he wants to get his hands on a device that could potentially end the world as everyone knows it, despite AJ’s desperate protests. So now AJ is forced to do something he’d never imagined doing: betray a member of the Shaw family, the one just a bit in love with no less, and offer his services and knowledge to the crew of driving outlaws led by Dominic Toretto, the only people who might be able to stop Owen.

They don’t trust him at first, of course, which AJ finds is completely fair - but Letty, Dom’s girlfriend whose amnesia Owen has previously used to his advantage, is willing to stick up for him, and slowly the rest of the team seems to be warming up to him, even the bald loudmouth named Roman who was so staunchly against accepting his help at first. And, well, this crew may be very different from anything AJ is used to, but they’re all still incredibly skilled and intelligent and nice once you’ve gotten past their walls, which is more than AJ could ever say for Owen.

AJ may have just betrayed a man he’s known and trusted and even loved since childhood, a member of the family he’s always been loyal to, and he may have just gone against his core nature as a follower… but it seems like he might get a brand new family, and possibly even a new, much better romance than what he had with Owen, out of the deal. ❞

General Taglist: @hiddenqveendom, @auxiliarydetective, @foxesandmagic, @artemisocs, @reyofluke-ocs, @endless-oc-creations, @stanshollaand, @ginevrastilinski-ocs, @luucypevensie, @ginger-grimm, @arrthurpendragon, @fakedatings, @impales, @claryxjackson, @dancingsunflowers-ocs, @eddysocs, @lucys-chen, @ocappreciationtag. (Also tagging @xoteajays.)

[slytherinshua]

DRIVE

genre. runaway bride. getaway driver. fluff. set in early 1900s? warnings. profanity. blood mention. pairing. taehyun x fem!reader. wc. 1k.

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, your heels haven been thrown away long ago. You saw him at the end of the street, just like he had promised. The faint shouting behind you alerted you more and you forced your legs to move faster along the cobblestone.

“Drive, drive, drive-” You hurriedly said as you slid into your seat. Taehyun didn’t waste a second, as he hit the gas and sped off into the night.

You sat back in your seat, catching your breath from all the running, your brain processing what had just happened.

“Holy shit.” You turned to Taehyun, “I just did that. We-” 

His lips turned up into a smile, and you returned it, letting out a relieved laugh.

“This is the best day of my life. Besides the wedding part. But this.” You gestured to the scenery that lay before you both as Taehyun continued to drive away from the old town.

“This automobile is so old. I’m surprised it could go as fast as it did back there.” Taehyun told you with a laugh.

“Of course it did. You fixed it. The one and only, Kang Taehyun.”

“I’m not ‘the one and only, Kang Taehyun’.”

“You’re my one and only Kang Taehyun.”

“You are so annoying with your pickup lines-”

“But you love them.” You teased.

“But I love them.” He glanced at you with a smile on his face before focusing back on the road.

“Fuck, where did that come from?”

“What?” Taehyun asked, concerned, sparing a glance at you when it was safe to do so. You looked down at your dress, finding some stains of blood on it.

“Did my hand get cut…?” You squinted at it, but couldn’t see much given the lack of light.

“What happened??” Taehyun’s voice grew more alarmed after the mention of injury.

“We’re almost there, right? I’ll tell you once we stop driving.”

Within 6 minutes, Taehyun pulled up to a small house.

“This is it.” He shut off the car and got out, walking over to let you out as well.

“Such a gentleman.”

“Only for you.” He laughed. You smiled, knowing that was true as can be. Taehyun around other people was scary. You grabbed the small bag filled with your possessions and followed Taehyun to the house.

He knocked at the door and a tall man opened it, giving Taehyun a dimpled smile.

“You made it. I hope everything went… smoothly?”

Taehyun nodded, “Thank you, Soobin.”

“Beomgyu and I prepared a room for you. Go all the way up the stairs and it’s on your first right. There’s some supper there as well.”

“Thank you so much.” You said, smiling at Soobin and two other guys that stood behind him.

“Oh uhm- Everyone, this is y/n. And y/n, this is Soobin, Beomgyu, and Huening.” Taehyun introduced. “Yeonjun is… sleeping?”

They nodded and Taehyun turned back to you. “I guess you’ll meet him tomorrow then.” 

You followed Taehyun up the stairs and into a cozy room. It had a double bed and a small table with the aforementioned supper, along with big windows outlooking the night sky. 

He closed the door as you sat down on the bed.

“Gonna explain the blood on your dress now? I was so worried.”

“Shut up, it’s nothing. Well actually, I don’t know what it is? My hands are…” You looked down at them again, this time in the light. “Oh.”

“Y/n, why are your hands cut!?” Taehyun rushed to you, taking your hands gently in his.

“Relax. I think it’s just from the glass.”

“The glass?”

“I had to hit some people over the head with bottles… I guess my hand got cut in the process.”

“You knocked people out?!” He asked in disbelief. You just nodded nervously, regretting it now. It wasn’t that necessary to be fair.

“I didn’t want anyone to follow us. I thought, ‘if I have to do this, I need to make sure it’s done well’.” You tried to explain yourself, but the events were a blurry mess in your mind. 

“I only hit him cause he threatened me. You know he’s abusive. And I’m sure they’re fine, I mean it was just-” Taehyun’s lips cut you off as he kissed you suddenly. You kissed back right away, not being able to stop the smile that crept onto your face. When Taehyun pulled back, he was smiling too.

“What were you saying?” He asked.

You burst out laughing, “Oh my god I love you-”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Always.” You shared another short kiss, before you pulled back and looked down at your dress.

“It doesn’t matter really. My hands are fine. I would like to change out of this though, do you know how uncomfortable wedding dresses are? Or at least this one.”

Taehyun passed you your bag and you got out a change of clothes.

“How the fuck do you take this off?? Why are there buttons at the back!?” You complained, finding it impossible to reach and undo the tiny buttons at the back of your hated dress.

You sighed in defeat, “Help me. Please.”

You turned around and moved your hair out of the way, waiting for Taehyun.

“Are you sur-”

“Just undo the buttons. I can’t reach them.” Taehyun nodded, hands moving gently to undo them.

“Thanks.” You turned around, smiling in gratitude at him. He was blushing furiously. 

“You’re so pretty.”

“Enough of your compliments. You’re gonna make me turn into a tomato. Do you want to date a tomato?!”

He giggled, “No, but you really are so pretty.” He said, staring up at you, his eyes so full of love that your heart swelled and butterflies danced in your stomach.

You were so in love with him.

[vigilantempathy]

OFMD Ed/Izzy “Getaway Car” by Taylor Swift AU????

Ed and Izzy are lone-wolf grifters who develop a flirtatious rivalry that becomes “professional admiration” for each other’s cons until they finally decide to become partners in crime.

If it was about getting rich, Ed would marry one of the “sugar daddies” he’s extorted with sordid pictures of their intimate moments together. If it was about becoming notorious, Izzy wouldn’t have built his gambit on the anonymity of uniform disguises at luxurious events—rich people notice when their valuables go missing, but they don’t remember the face of their waiter, or their porter, or their valet.

There’s an odd sense of justice to who they each choose as marks. They both have a strong sense of honor amongst thieves. They’re both too ambitious to stay two-bit criminals forever.

And the game gets lonely if you get too good at playing it alone.

Playing it together, though…that’s how legends are born.

The authorities call their mysterious criminal syndicate “Blackbeard”. The reporters joke that Blackbeard’s crimes were executed with the goal of becoming clickbait. They’re Robin Hood for the internet era, easy to publicize and hard to completely hate.

And under the jetset Bonnie and Clyde lifestyle, they want to give each other the world and know no other way to try aside from stealing it.

And they don't say they love each other, exactly, not in those words, but they try to show it.

Izzy steals a priceless tiara for Edward and crowns it reverently in his curls because he doesn’t know how to tell him, Fuck the royalty who inherit the world as birthright, I would only ever kneel for you. Edward sighs and hands Izzy the keys of a Porshe Turbo he just rightfully stole them and would be entitled to drive and doesn't say, I trust you with my life.

Edward buys Izzy the house Izzy used to pass on his way to school (before he ran away at thirteen) that made Izzy understand the difference between being rich and being poor, what people meant when they talked about being "from a nice family" because his own family certainly wasn't nice, because Edward can’t just tell him, You deserve beautiful things, or What they did to you was wrong or I wish the world had been kinder to you.

There's intimacy built over the years in secrets told between them when they hold their breath together as sirens pass too close by where they're hiding. They'd ride for each other and die for each other and it's a pact they know in their bones even if they never acknowledge it. It rides along with them like a passenger in every getaway car, on every plane, curled in bed between them in sleeper cars on international train rides. It's the two of them against the world, and they finally get to see how beautiful the world can be once they can afford beautiful things.

Edward takes them on a museum vacation to Florence because he saw how Izzy pored over a tourist pamphlet on a flight once when he thought Edward was asleep and secretly booked them tickets. There's a month they spend on an island where they sleep in a tent and swim in the ocean and and cook over a campfire and don't see another human being the entire time and it should feel suffocating, but it's the happiest either of them have ever been.

Except for Edward's demons that drag Izzy like they're leashed with his own. Except for Izzy's demons that pull Izzy fiercely away, over and over, the gap widening between them with every touch restrained, every word not uttered. Izzy starts to hate the world for making them what they are, for making Edward crave a comfort and reassurance and openness that Izzy can't give; for making Izzy hold back everything he wants to tell Edward, for making him see love as weakness and hate that weakness in himself.

This isn't a world for people like them, no matter that it was the world that made them like this. They were never meant for beautiful things, and love is the most beautiful thing of them all.

Izzy holds Edward's hair back in hotel bathrooms and at resort poolsides, watches him vomit the kind of top-shelf liquor neither of them ever thought they'd be able to drink, frozen helpless while he snorts an entire con's worth of winnings. He stays when Edward screams in his face, trying to make Izzy understand that he's a monster, trying to convince Izzy that he's unlovable. Izzy holds him while he cries, doesn't let Edward see how it breaks him every time Edward quits for a day or a week or an hour, when he makes it twelve gruelling hours into the physical hell that is detox, sends Izzy to refill the ice bucket to make a compress for his migraine, and by the time Izzy comes back Edward's dragged himself over to the hotel bar to put an end to his misery.

Izzy doesn't know how to tell him I'm worried about you, or please don't, or am I the part of this that will never be enough for you?, or I don't know how I could go back to what I was if I woke up one day and you weren't here. He tries showing him, over and over and over, but it's not enough, it's something that Edward needs to hear and that Izzy cannot say. They hate themselves for what they can't be to each other.

The calls are too close and Izzy's made a career of being a gambling man but Edward's life is never going to be worth the risk in betting. And there are ultimatums, of course, but Izzy can't carry any of them out because they all involve leaving and he could never leave Edward willingly.

So Izzy turns them in.

He knows Edward will hate him for it. But Edward will have to sober up in the drunk tank or with medically-assisted detox in the prison infirmary, and that means he'll live long enough to hate Izzy. Izzy can accept a world where Edward hates him, but he can't accept a world without Edward.

It turns out, they're the only cellmates in the institution who can tolerate being roomed with each other.

There's nothing beautiful for them here, but there's time. There's nothing for them now but time. The walls keep the world shut outside as much as they keep the two of them shut away from the world. And eventually they learn to talk to each other, how to say everything unsaid that festered between them and forced them away from each other. Eventually Edward tells Izzy what he meant with every stolen gift he gave, and eventually Izzy tells Edward why he stayed all those times, why he didn't trust himself to leave.

Perhaps there's still one beautiful thing left to them here after all.

[streaminn]

THAT WAS THE LAST TIME YOU EVER SAW MEE

[ranger-kellyn]

have a getaway car wip ovo/

----

After some more goodbyes and assurances that they knew what was expected of them for the evening shoot, Cynthia and Diantha headed off back to their dressing rooms. As they usually did, they came to a stop at the T to talk over any plans for the day.

“What do you say to a late lunch, darling?” Diantha asked, distracting herself with folding Scarlet’s coat in her hands.

Cynthia nodded. “Sounds good. Wanna go out to eat?” she asked, unable to keep the grin out of her voice, watching as Diantha’s hands dug into the wool coat.

As good as August had been on set otherwise, they both had come to the conclusion that her “getting out of character” exercises needed some work.

“It’s like you read my mind,” Diantha said as casually as she could manage. “Let me get changed out of this. Text me if you have any ideas.”

[thearchercore]

next chapter of getaway car before xmas??

not before christmas as i got on a little winter break myself but here you go! an extra long update is up!

[forsungie]

mas nauna ko pang tapusin yung getaway car kesa sa the way i loved you kaya yun muna ipopost ko mamaya xD sorry po 😝

[dylanaz]

Incendiary but make it Getaway Car.

[simmerandcry]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last ten people who reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals & followers!! <3

AW i love this!! sorry I am late on the reply here. thank you for asking, friend!! five things that make me happy??? okay, let's dig in.

the way my cat cuddles against my pillow every morning

cooking with my forever plus one

playing crib with my best friend

a crispy diet coke on a hot day

the little 'take one, leave one' book libraries in my neighbourhood!!

[andthebubbles]

i long for a quiet house/place in the afternoon