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THESE ARE THE FINAL LDWS DRABBLES!

For the finale, we asked our competitors to write exactly 400 words in which they had to use the phrase “we aim to please”.

The did an excellent job so come read and vote and help us decide THE ONE DRABBLE WRITER TO RULE THEM ALL...

HOW DO YOU VOTE?

Read all the drabbles. (they’re below the line)

Choose three that you like the most.

Fill out this VOTING FORM, telling us your favourites. (You can even leave anonymous feedback for the author).

NOTE: If you are a competitor, you CANNOT vote for your own fic. But please, do vote. :)

The voting period ends at 11:59 PM EST on Sunday night. Results will be posted and anonymous feedback will be emailed on Monday.

Title: Live to Serve Author: sorion Warnings: alludes to the current political climate in the US (and to a lesser degree the UK) Summary: Bond completes objectives. How he completes them is up to him.

Bond barely batted an eye when his solitary corner of the bar he'd chosen was invaded by another patron with his own drink.

"Felix," he greeted him.

"James. What a surprise."

Bond's smirk widened. "Tell the truth. You knew I was in the States the moment I set foot on the ground."

Felix's lip twitched sardonically. "When you got on the plane to come here."

Bond chuckled.

"I've learned that it pays to keep track of your movements." He tilted his head to look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Just in case."

"I'd be insulted if I didn't do the same thing with you."

They grinned at each other wordlessly and returned to their drinks.

"So," Felix interrupted their companionable silence. "What brings you here?"

"Is that American for, 'What havoc can I expect you to wreak on my home turf'?"

Felix pretended to consider that. "Sounds about right."

Bond's amused eyes wandered to the muted news on the television in the corner of the bar and darkened. "Not as much havoc as I'd like to wreak."

Felix followed his line of sight. "Tell me about it," he agreed. Then he straightened, cleared his throat, and added in a chatty tone, "What's your people's stance on overthrowing foreign governments, these days?"

Bond, fortunately, wasn't swallowing at that moment, or he would have choked on it. It still took all his not inconsiderable self-restraint to not laugh out loud. "Overthrowing governments of allies is sadly frowned upon." He pondered that for a second. "Yours?"

"Same." He leaned closer. "Any orders to such an effect, regardless?" he asked carefully.

Bond shook his head. "More's the pity. I live to serve, and I serve by completing objectives." He squinted at Felix. "How I complete them is my prerogative, however."

Felix nodded slowly, indicating that he was operating similarly.

"What I'd like to do," Bond continued, his lethal eyes on the news, "would be like trying to put out a fire with nitro-glycerine, so I was thinking something more subtle."

"Mhm..." Felix hummed, his voice thrumming with satisfaction. "Subtle is not quite your thing."

Bond's shark-like smile was all teeth. "I know a guy..."

"Smart, dark-haired, gorgeous, can kill from his bed in his pyjamas?" Felix guessed.

They shared a look like two bloodhounds catching a scent.

Felix held out his hand.

Bond took it.

"We live to serve. We aim to please."

Title: An Assist Author: Anyawen Warnings: Summary: Bond learns that he's been equipped with an unlooked-for advantage.

Bond paused, studying the bullet he was loading into his spare clip. There were scratches on the base of the casing. That was decidedly odd. Q would never send out ammunition with any sort of flaw that could impair its use, or worse, damage the gun — or the agent using it. He ran a finger over the base but couldn't detect the scratches. Turning it in his hands he looked again. Definitely there. And, he checked, also on all the other bullets in the clip. The chance of a bad bullet from Q-branch was staggeringly small, but not zero. The chance of an entire bad batch escaping notice, however, could be measured in negative numbers. If Q sent these bullets out into the field, then these marks were meant to be there. There must be a reason for them. There was something niggling at him. He’d seen this pattern of scratches before. He glanced over at his Walther. Picking it up he peered at it closely, turning it over and over in his hands. Ah. There it was. On the back of the trigger was a faint glimmer of markings. ... .||. .|.. .| |.|. . .|. . ... | ..| |.. . || ..| ... It took him a minute to recognize that the lines were dashes among a smattering of dots. After that realization the letters came easily. "placere studemus" Translating the Latin took slightly longer. A moment later he tapped his ear and heard the faint ambient sounds of Q-branch through the earwig. "Do you require assistance, 007?" Q asked. "Interesting numbers in your annual report." "Focus on the mission, Bond. We can discuss— " "Decreased stray bullet injuries on ops over the last year, but no noticeable increase in range scores," Bond continued, speaking over Q. "True." "We're hitting our targets more often without actually being better shots." "An impressive feat." "Very. I've not seen magic like it since my gran passed." "I- What?" "She was a hedge witch." "Oh. Are you ..." "No," Bond replied as he finished loading the clip. "Can't sense or cast magic. Recognized the marks as spellwork, though. Nice work. You're some sort of technomage?" "Something like that." "And the spell?" "Merely an assist." "An effective one." "Thank you." "Just one thing, Q." "Yes?" "Is that phrase really the best anchor you could come up with?" "Well. You can't deny it's apropos. After all, 'we aim to please.'”

Title: Marketing Research Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: sex? Summary: Bond discovers what Q Branch has been working on lately

“Well, well, Quinn.”

As Bond dropped the gunmetal grey box next to his laptop, Q felt a cold shudder spill down his spine. There were still a few secrets he’d managed to keep from his lover, though apparently he now had one less. “You should never have been able to access that part of the lab.”

“Mmm, so I was informed. Top Secret. I had to be quite persuasive. An interesting project though, Quinn.”

Q fought down a surge of jealousy at the thought of what that persuasion might have been. “You know that’s not my real name, it’s just a joke amongst the techs.” He crossed his arms in irritation. “Dammit, James, you were snooping! This prototype was meant to be a birthday surprise.”

“It’s certainly surprising.” Bond’s finger traced the embossed lettering lovingly. “And not at all an exploding pen, which I was rather expecting. However did you get this past the projects committee?”

Q sighed. “Given the proclivities of double-ohs, it was an easy sell as a test product. A quite unexpected way to deliver drugs or implant trackers, should the need arise.”

“The box is a bit of a giveaway, though, don’t you think? The logo is literally a Q with a tree branch entwined.”

“That’s not the final packaging! They were just having a bit of a joke!”

Bond raised an eyebrow as he opened the box, stroking a finger delicately over the contents. Q felt a twitch of reluctant arousal as he watched those so very precise fingertips linger on certain details.

“So delightfully unexpected, Q,” James purred as he picked up the creamy vellum card inside. “‘Quinn’tessential Ecstasies,” he read aloud. “Is all of Q Branch so prone to puns and in-jokes?” He smirked and dropped the card back into the box. “But don’t you think ‘We Aim To Please’ is a bit on the nose for a gun-shaped dildo?” James chuckled, picking it up and fondling it in a way that made Q’s trousers just a little more snug.

Q glared. “As if subtlety is your strong suit.”

James laughed wickedly. “I’m quite impressed with the trigger-activated vibrations. Whatever made you think of this?”

“It seemed natural, since an exploding pen is out of the question in the bedroom, and you do have a rather unhealthy attachment to your Walther.”

“It needs testing. And since you present such a tempting target, Q…”

Title: Double, Double, Toil and Trouble Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: None Summary: On an undercover mission, Bond considers the merits of murdering customers.

“Is the hazelnut syrup sugar-free?”

Bond bit back a sigh, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

“I’m afraid not. Only the cinnamon and vanilla syrups are sugar-free.”

It wasn’t the stupidest question in the world, but this had been going on for five minutes. Or maybe three. It felt like five hours.

First, it had been “what’s the difference between a latte and a flat white?” Which… fair enough. He’d had to quickly remember his crash course in coffee-making to bullshit an explanation without saying “the flat white is cheaper but costs more.”

Then, it was “why does the oat milk have a surcharge but the soy milk doesn’t?” prompting a lesson in the economics of non-dairy milk alternatives all the while considering drowning his customer in said soy milk.

So: not the stupidest question in the world, but quite possibly the stupidest customer.

“I’ll have a cappuccino.”

Seriously?

“Was that with soy milk?”

“Oh no, just regular milk’s fine.”

How was this his life?!

“Syrup?”

“No, thanks.”

He could feel his molars grinding with the force of his fake smile. Five minutes! For nothing!

“And what name is it?”

“Karen.”

Of course it was.

He had been stuck in this god-forsaken job for three weeks, and was seriously weighing the pros and cons of ‘accidentally’ causing an explosion. Things like that happened, right? He could probably get away with it

“No, you can’t kill her.”

Bond stifled a groan. Bad enough that he was stuck undercover as a bloody barista in Canada, without having Q in his ear all day judging his latte art and thwarting his murder plans. It turned out the Quartermaster was the bloody customer service police.

“I would never,” he muttered, too quiet for anyone else to hear. The last thing he needed was for his temporary “colleagues” to overhear him talking to thin air.

“Of course not. Just like you’d never feed your gun to a komodo dragon.”

“You know damned well that was an accident,” he whispered, sprinkling cocoa powder through a bloody maple leaf stencil. “How much longer, Q?”

Q just hummed apologetically.

Straightening his shoulders and pasting another ‘friendly’ smile on his face, Bond handed over the drink.

“Well, at least you’re generous with the cocoa.”

“Fuck you, Karen.”

“We aim to please. Enjoy your drink.”

Bond wondered whether he could talk Q into blowing the place up after all.

Title: Distraction Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: paranoia can be a healthy attitude around some people

As a rule, Q always was rather suspicious of quiet - whether that was a side effect of working in espionage or just his nature, he wasn't particularly sure but he knew better than wasting too much brainpower on such considerations. Besides, a healthy dose of paranoia always paid off if the feeling was carefully kept on a leash. Hand going to grab his taser, Q entered the bedroom and his eyes immediately zeroed in on his lovers "What are you doing?" "Who - us?" James inquired with a shiteating grin, dramatically pointing at his own chest "Man of little faith" Q gestured at Raoul, lounging against the bed post "At least he has the decency to not try to fool me" he pointed out as he relaxed in increments, tension gradually leaving his body as he made his way to the bed to sit at its foot "So?" "What makes you think we are up to anything?" The younger man batted James' hand away from his calf "You always are up to something when you're quiet: it's not like either of you" Raoul's chuckle was satiny and dark - if Q hadn't found it ridiculous to compare a sound to food, his mind would have probably come up with some kind of stupid similitude involving a rich, dark chocolate cake "We aim to please, mi querido" "That awfully sounds like an admission of guilt" "Maybe" Raoul leaned over, finger tapping the point of the other's nose just to see the way it would scrunch up at the bothersome gesture "But who says I feel guilty about any of it?" Taking advantage of Q's distraction, their lover clearly too busy - and failing at - glaring Raoul into properly confessing, James wrapped his hand around his ankle and tugged firmly, a delighted chuckle escaping his lips at the little shriek Q let out "Let's talk about it later" he murmured, bending down to brush their lips together "There's funnier things to do" "Just tell me the place isn't gonna get swarmed by whatever international agency might be thirsting for our heads" Raoul palmed his cheek, gently turning his head to meet his eyes "I promise" Q sighed, eyes rolling even as he reached for the nape of the other's neck while he sneaked a foot between James' legs "Fine, but don't you think you can postpone this conversation for much longer" "Wouldn't dream of it"

Title: Souvenirs Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: mild BDSM themes Summary: Bond likes giving Q souvenirs of his travels.

Q examined the box squatting in the center of his desk, a cardboard enigma with a security clearance tag. The shipping label indicated it had originated from Elko, Nevada. Q closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The only agent recently conducting operations in the US was Bond. The joint operation between the CIA and MI6 focused on an information dealer selling military secrets from both Britain and the US. Bond had been pleased to be working with his old friend Felix Leiter. Q had been entertained by Bond and Leiter as the pair entered what Felix had described as a legal brothel.

Bond: “Only in America.” Bond's voice held a hint of astonishment. “All that neon makes my eyes water.”

Leiter: “Ah yes, one stop shopping for a certain type of client.”

Bond: “Felix. They have a gift shop. The souvenirs must be epic.”

Successful, Bond had returned and this had appeared. Q looked at the box reproachfully. Bond and his souvenirs. Being romantically involved with the man had only increased his penchant for gifting Q with odd objects. He carefully slit the tape and opened the flaps, prodding carefully at the packing peanuts. The first item was a six pack of seasonings and sauces intended for American style barbecue. Unusually practical. He resolved to investigate how to use them as he placed the jars on the shelf behind him and dug further. His fingers encountered a narrow object that flexed a bit as he removed it. He flushed with embarrassment although he was alone in the office as he withdrew a riding crop in a rather nice leather finish with the initials MHHP stamped on the handle in gold. He gave it an experimental swing, neatly sending a packing peanut flying. Digging produced a final item. He shook out the tee shirt, and read the logo that explained it all. 'Madame Helga's House of Pain, Barbecue Joint, and Rifle Range' was displayed across the front. The back had an image of an androgynous figure with a bullseye painted on it's pert derrière and the legend, 'We aim to please'. His phone pinged and he checked the text. Bond had sent a video which proved to be a short loop of the neon display at Madame Helga's featuring an animated dominatrix landing a crop in the center of the bullseye. The text accompaniment said, 'Care to provide a target, darling?'

Title: Timing is Everything Author: Iambid (Flantastic) Warnings: None Summary: James needs a new hobby.

YOU'RE EARLY AGAIN, said the Grim Reaper, with a hint of surprise.

“I am?” James asked, sounding a lot calmer than he currently felt.

He looked around himself. He’d been in Saudi Arabia, on the trail of an assassin, when everything had gone to hell. He’d been captured, beaten, tortured and then dumped in the middle of nowhere, somewhere south of Ash Shalfa. The last thing that he remembered was lying broken and bloody in the burning desert, baking under the merciless sun.

Now it appeared he was in a wood-panelled office, not unlike the one that M used.

Except M’s had never had a skeleton dressed in a black robe sitting at its desk. Well. As far as James knew.

YOU KEEP DOING THIS, Death said, shuffling through the thick paper file in front of him. Her. It. Whatever.

“I do?” James asked, still not entirely sure he knew what was going on.

MMMMM. AGED TEN, FELL HEAD-FIRST OUT OF A TREE. AGED TWENTY-ONE. GOT INTO A FIGHT ON THE HMS ALBION, PUSHED OFF THE FLIGHT-DECK INTO THE ADRIATIC SEA. AGED FORTY-TWO, SHOT OFF A NINETY-EIGHT METRE BRIDGE BY A… Death paused, bringing the page closer to their face. They seemed to squint, which wasn’t bad going for a skull … IT SAYS A ‘FRIEND’.

“That would be Moneypenny.” James explained.

THERE ARE COUNTLESS INCIDENTS LIKE THIS. NEED I GO ON?

“I shouldn’t think so.” James admitted.

COME WITH ME, Death commanded. They rose, and floated towards the door. James obediently followed them. The door opened and on the other side, they found themselves in a hospital room. The occupants didn’t seem to notice.

YOU SEEM TO THINK THAT RESURRECTION IS A HOBBY. IT ISN’T. DESPITE YOUR BEST EFFORTS, I SIMPLY CAN’T TAKE WHAT ISN’T MINE YET.

James stepped forward and saw that he was the man in the bed and the man in the chair next to him, the man pressing tearful kisses to the back of his bandaged hand, was Q.

YOU BELONG TO HIM. HE’S WAITING FOR YOU TO LOVE HIM. YOU’LL BE MINE ONCE YOU’VE GIVEN HIM A LONG HAPPY LIFE.

James jerked awake, his body suddenly screaming out with a hundred injuries. He gasped but Q was there, soothing him, calming him. He squeezed his hand and Q smiled.

“You saved me.” He croaked.

“Smart blood. Latest tech. We aim to please.” Q replied.

Title: The Problem With Retirement Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: retirement or reunion

The diner was full of quiet little noises this late at night. Silverware clinking, a pen scratching across a booklet of crossword puzzles, tired sighs of the late-night drivers, and in the corner a booth full of a tired family. Where had it all gone wrong?

The snap of chewing gum and their waitress’s voice drew him out of his musings. “Welcome to the Georgia Peach, we aim to please. What can I get you?”

“I’ll have a vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

A long-suffering sigh blew out of the wide mouth that had been until then, pinched tight in annoyance. “Just coffee for him.”

The waitress was a behemoth of a working professional, much like Bond, and simply offered Q a wide smile, showing just a hint of gold at the edges. “And for his lordship?”

Bond answered for him. “Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.”

“Okay, one coffee and hot tea for His Lordship.” She winked at Q and spun on her heel.

Q’s folded his hands under his chin and studied Bond for the minutes it took for their waitress to bring back a carafe of coffee, a mug of hot water on a saucer, and a pathetic excuse for a teabag.

Bond sipped at his coffee as he watched the disgust crawl across Q’s perfect, bony little face. He missed that face.

“Enough. Why am I here and why are you bleeding?”

“Am I bleeding?” Bond reached under his jacket, his fingers came away wet and red. “Huh, thought it was ketchup.”

“You’re supposed to be in the middle of Jamaica. Retired.”

“You could say that. I need your help. Madeline needs your help”

Q stared long and hard at Bond. “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Running off with her, abandoning m...MI6 taking the car-” He broke off his tirade when Bond reached forward and laid his hand on his, blood smearing along the pale skin.

Q’s eyes focused on the blood.

“I never said WE retired together. She’s been a good neighbor, a good friend. That’s all. She still had her secrets. They found her. Whoever THEY are and she needs your help.” Bond curled his fingers under and gripped Q’s hand tightly.

Q made a weak attempt to look away. His eyes stuttered back when Bond’s finger brushed across his wrist and gave an answer Q was not expecting.

“Oh, how I missed you, Q.”

Title: Improvisation Author: AtoTheBean Warnings: None Summary: Turn-about is… unpleasant.

He nurses a scotch and watches the mark, Jason Abernathy, at a table in the corner. Businessman. Mid-40s. On his third round, a group of beautiful people laughing at his jokes. He’s ignoring the dance floor, despite the urging of the blonde at his table. And he’s noticed Bond watching, but hasn’t approached him. Another agent is on her way as back-up. Perhaps she’ll be more to his taste. Bond turns the card over in his fingers “Discreet Escorts: We aim to please!” It’s not subtle, but it has a certain charm. If it were just a high-end escort business, he wouldn’t be here. But if it’s a quasi-legal front for a human trafficking ring... “007?” R asks. Bond raises his drink to his lips. “Hmmm?” “Change of plans.” Bond surveys the room, waiting for clarification. It comes in the form of Q wearing skinny jeans and a tight purple shirt. Q smiles flirtatiously and moves around Bond so his back is to the mark. “New intel. 003 won’t be to his taste either. We had to improvise.” “Improvise?” “Reject me,” Q whispers. “Loudly.” Bond glances at the mark and sees his gaze fixed on Q’s arse. “You’re not what I want,” Bond shouts, pushing Q away. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand. “Is there a problem?” Jason asks, sliding in beside Q. Q levels a dazzling smile at him. “No problem. My new employer sent me to a potential client, and I’m not what he wants.” “Well, there’s no accounting for taste. Who’s your employer?” Q hands him a card just like Bond’s. “Oh, I am. Shall we see how well you take our motto to heart?” Jason leads Q to the dance floor. Bond is forced to watch them “dance” for ten minutes, until it’s really just grinding and snogging. They pass him again on the way to the loo, and Bond feels something heavy drop into his pocket. Jason’s phone. Bond moves to the door. “I have it.” “And the drive?” R asks. “Inserting now.” Within minutes, the data has been retrieved and Q’s bug is installed. Bond wanders back in the bar, dismayed to see Q is still missing. “He’s fine,” R assures. Bond doesn’t like it. He heads down the hall to the loo, placing the phone on the seat the mark vacated as he passes. The door is locked. “Stand down, 007.” He orders another drink and waits.

#10

Title: Echoes Author: Shush_MummyWriting Warnings: None. Summary: Five + One. Bond hearing echoes.

Bond was surprised at how relaxing it was at Q’s parents’ house. It was filled with homely touches, photos of Q and his brothers through the years, plants and knick-knacks on the shelves. There was even a hand stitched frame in the downstairs bathroom that declared “In this house, we aim to please. In this room, you aim too, please!”. It felt like a home.

It was the second fitting for Bond’s latest suit. The tailor was a genius, the way he managed to conceal the gun holster. “Anything else, Mr. Bond?” he asked. “Perhaps a touch longer in the sleeve.” Bond replied. “Of course sir, we aim to please after all.” Bond smiled.

Bond was actually using his office, studying for his upcoming mission. Eve sauntered in, perched on the edge of his desk and asked, “How much do you love me?” dangling an envelope between two manicured fingers. “It depends on what that is.” said Bond, taking it. “Travel documents where I, your best friend, have managed to secure first-class tickets for your Brazil flights.” “Thank you!” said Bond, who detested long hours in cattle class. As Eve strolled out of the office, she tossed over her shoulder “We aim to please!”.

As Bond entered the R&D department, he was met with the sight of Alec, waving a brochure in the direction of Q, who appeared to be ignoring him. “Seriously Q, just have a look at these specifications. It would be an asset. And it looks awesome! Did you see the clever headline for it?” Q grabbed the brochure, exclaiming “That headline alone is reason enough NOT to buy it. What kind of company would market a rifle sight with the motto “We Aim to Please!” Seriously! Now away with you, I have work to do.” and gestured Bond forward.

Q went over each piece of equipment, saving the best for last. “This is simple, press the top three times quickly, jam it into the keyhole and step back.” Bond took it with a look of wonder “Q, you’ve made me an exploding pen!” Q’s blush was adorable as he muttered “We aim to please.”

Bond settled his breathing, sighting on his target. It should have been an impossible shot - the distance, the weather, etc but between his skill and Q's equipment, another minor government official/major crime lord met his fate. "We aim to please." Bond muttered.

#11

Title: Flirting With the Wild Cat Author: scarytheory Warnings: angst Summary: Moneypenny has a secret.

We aim to please.

There are new documents on her desk, and she's feeling sick to her stomach.

Oh yes. We do.

They met when she was still a field agent.

“Miss Moneypenny.”

“Miss Galore.”

It would have been a standard honeypot mission if they didn't hate each other instantly. But there was something they needed, so they flirted, got drunk and angrily fucked on the balcony. In the end, Eve got the information and Pussy Galore didn't.

It should have ended there. But sometimes Mallory needed to contact Galore again, and Eve was the best agent for it – even after she became a secretary.

Eve honestly didn't mind; she loved a challenge, and Galore gave her just that. It was always a rush of emotions, it was hatred with a twist, a complicated game – who was better, smarter, wittier. The constant battle for dominance. Which was also a basis for incredible sex.

They started spending more time together, and suddenly they were laughing and talking about their lives. They didn't even need a mission for that – whatever that was. It didn't feel like they were enemies anymore.

Eve should have known better.

She never should have trusted her.

“You betrayed me.”

“And you are surprised, Moneypenny? This is what I do, what we do – me, you, all your agents and all my people. We aim to please, Eve. We were trained for it, we were trained to be horrible people. However, it’s our bosses we’re meant to please first and foremost. We're fucked up and you know it. There is no way you could disobey an order from M and I have my duties as well.”

“I would never use you.”

Except she already had. But that was before the laughter, before... everything.

“Honestly, did you believe that there was some miraculous happy ending for us? We are the same and yet different; a heroine and a villain. You should be glad it’s ending only in heartbreak and not with death.” She always loved big words and big speeches.

“I hate you, Galore.”

“Oh, but you don't, darling. That's the problem.”

And now Eve's sitting at her desk and staring at the documents. 007 got a new job. Eliminate a target who is no longer useful to them.

Yet, there is still time to warn her.

We aim to please. Until we don't.

#12

Title: A Pizza Pie Author: Ksan ( @starrboned-art ) Warnings: None Summary: Bond and Q are having a quiet afternoon together.

"James, that is not - stop that!" Q grabbed James' wrist before he could pour the sauce on the pizza dough.

"Q, that's how I’ve always made pizza." James gave his wrist an experimental wiggle, but the boffin was holding tight, eyes daring him to move.

"You need to oil the edges first," Q insisted, waving the brush and splashing oily drops everywhere.

James conceded, if only to not get his dark blue shirt stained.

"As you say, chef." James smirked, setting the hot pan aside. Q gave the dough a quick brush, nodding at James. "Now you can pour the sauce."

"Yes, chef."

"Stop it," Q said with a huff, but James spotted a quirk to his lips as he turned to the counter. A few plates laid ready with sliced vegetables and meats, all waiting to be added to the pizza.

"Just make sure that the champignons won't touch my side of the pizza." James scowled at the innocent white mushrooms.

Q gave him a smirk. "You are very particular about your food."

"I have a very particular taste," James countered with a suggestive smile. Q laughed, turning to put the pizza into the oven. James managed to steal a few sliced cherry tomatoes from Q's pile before he got caught.

"Go get the wine," Q said, "I'll get the glasses."

"So bossy today," James smirked, ruffling Q's curls. He escaped into the sunlit living room before Q could swat at him with a towel.

It was late noon on a Saturday, and for once none of them had any world-dooming emergencies to solve. The cats were basking in the late sun, the curtains swayed slightly as the evening breeze blew through the open windows.

James opened a red shiraz with a pop. With the wine ready on the table, he closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the quiet rustle Q made in the kitchen.

"Double-o agent, falling asleep?" Q's hand snuck around his waist, chin peeking over his shoulder.

"Before dinner?! You know agents, Q - we aim to please," James turned, kissing Q's smile. He had tomato sauce on his cheek, which James licked (to Q's astonished laughter).

"Pleasing will have to wait for later," Q purred, shoving the wine glasses at James. "What should we toast to?"

James swirled his wine, a habit born out of years of fine dining.

"To more sunny afternoons together."

#13

Title: game Author: azure7539 Warnings: canon typical violence

Summary: Hide and seek as usual, but it's interesting all the same. Just another day at work.

Nausea roils like a particularly stormy sea in the midst of a hurricane, and all he can hear is the whistling of his own breathing as his throat wheezes around air before it rattles into his ribcage and never truly fills up those burning lungs.

He’s been running for so long, he can no longer feel the screaming in his feet.

The throng of people felt like a good idea at first, a thick crowd celebrating some local holiday, but now every face seems suspicious, every pair of eyes lingering on just a tad too long. The enemies can be anywhere, can be anyone.

Vertigo dips his world as he crashes into a phone booth, thinking, assuming, he’s managed to put decent distance between him and his chasers, spare change clinking as the coins spill from his shaking hands.

Fuck. Fuck, what’s the number again…

Eight, five, three, two—

The line rings. Once. Twice.

“Hello,” a posh voice he’s never heard before picks up, nonchalant and indifferent. “Identification, please.”

“S-SPCTR-6304,” he nearly trips on his own tongue saying the words.

“One moment.” Soft typing filters through, the calmness perforating through the mad chaos in his mind. But adrenaline licks at his heels—he’s finally standing still long enough to feel the way how wracking tremors are seizing up his overtaxed muscles—and he wants to scream and vibrate out of his skin.

His instincts are shouting at him to start running again, to keep at it until he finds a trustworthy point of contact, something more than just another voice on the other side of a line.

But that’s the thing. This ‘voice on the other side of a line’ is one of his last remaining trustworthy points of contact. The rest are just… gone.

Someone shrieks from over where the people have gathered at the end of the alley, and he’s one hair’s breadth away from slamming back into the wall.

His heart is beating too fast.

“Ah, Mr Roswell. Good to hear from you again,” the person says, pleasantly. A pause. “Did you enjoy your final game?”

“What—”

“At MI6, we aim to please, after all,” the voice drops into a low baritone. Dangerous.

Like the monsters of his nightmares culminating into one singular point of existence.

The last thing he sees before life drains from him are twin pools of glacier. As blue and unreachable as the sky above.

___

You wonderful LDWS writers, you! Thank you so much for writing us these!

And thank you, readers, for reading and voting! THANK YOU!

#ldws #james bond #james bond fanfiction #drabbles #writing challenge

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demivampirew · 4 years

Text

Keep Calm and go to London chapter 17

Synopsis: This is the story of (y/n), a successful actress, musician, musical producer and songwriter. After battling depression and breaking up a long relationship, she seeks for a change of air, escaping LA for a while going to visit some friends in London and there she meets Henry. -Disclaimer: some chapters are mostly smut.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 (smut)

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 (smut)

Chapter 8 (smut/roleplay)

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12 (smut)

Chapter 13

Chapter 14 (smut)

Chapter 15

Chapter 16 (smut/ s&m)

Triggers: Crying; talking about depression, low self-steem and body image issues; talking about toxic relationships.

Tag list: Here’s the incredible people who showed me support (thank you so much for that) and people who asked me to tag them too ☺️ (I think I will write a few chapters of this story, if you want me to tag you, tell me ☺️ ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo constip8merm8 penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen littlefreya wondersofdreaming alyxkbrl solariumss sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog @lunedelorient @michelle-1185

Henry was playing games while you played with Kal, making the little bear follow you around the house. It surprise you the amound of energy that the puppy had. While running, you got caught in the the door knob of one bedroom and ripped the t-shirt you were wearing, living a little hole in it. You cursed because that was one of your boyfriend's t-shirts. You were in trouble, for sure. You put your best sad kitty face and went to Henry to tell him about the t-shirt. He was sitting on the couch with his laptop and closed it after you sat next to him, pointing out that you have something to confess. He put his whole attention on you as you showed him his peace of clothing and apologized, assuring him that you'd tried to fix it. He looked at you with a cute smile and told you that was ok. He was not mad at you at all, "it's just a t-shirt" he said and gave you a kiss on the cheeks to make you feel better and proved to you that he wasn't angry at all. You hugged him and kissed him. He was the best. - I'm still sorry, though. I know you love this t-shirt.- you apologized once again. - It's kind of special.- he admitted. - Where did you bought it? I can replace it, I'll buy you the exact same one if I find it. - I didn't bought it; it was a gift. - From Charlie? Maybe I could send him a direct message in Instagram and ask him where he bought it. I will ask you his phone number, but we haven't officially met yet so he might find it weird if I text him. - No, it wasn't Charlie.- he answered and then took a deep breath before speaking again.- An ex-girlfriend gave it to me for a birthday. - Oh, I see.- you replied and went silent for a moment. - Was it Lucy? You questioned curiously. He raise an eyebrow and looked at you. - No, not her. - he said with a suspious tone. - Tara, Gina? -you asked again. -Sorry, I'm really curious - you said smiling - Tara. - he informed you - Wait, how do you know my exs's names? I never said her names to you? - he pointed out and you blushed of embarresment. "shit" you thought. - Have you been googling me by any chance? - I had to make sure you were not a serial killer - you joked, making an "ops" face. - I'm curious. I wanted to know how were the girls that you dated before me. - That's ok. I must admit that I googled you as well. - And what did you found out about me? - you were dying to know - That you have more money than me; that you're on the top 20 of Forbes lists of most influencial people; that people adore you on the internet. Basically, that you're ten times more amazing that I thought. Oh, I also found out that you have a college degree from Harvard. - Yep. While it cost me a lot. I practically did not sleep for like 5 years - you joked. It was kind of true, though. - Did you not expected you girlfriend to be the kind of person who goes to college? - I didn't imagine that giving all the work that you've done in your long career you'd had found to study for a degree. - he explained - I'm awesome - you said proudly - Giving my impressive career and my high grades in highschool, I was accepted at Harvard. I had to arrenge a few things to make the time, but I reached my goal. So, now you're in front of a Master of Arts and Doctor of Philosophy. - My baby is smart, damn! - he replied proudly. You gave him the brightest smile. - I found out that you were enganged once.- you continue the topic discused before. - Yes. It didn't work out, though. - Yes, I figured that out. Otherwise, it'd be an interesting situation the one that we're in right now. - Yes, it'd be for sure- he admited while laughing for your comment. - Do you missed them? - you questioned. He gave you a look, trying to see what you expected of him by those weird questions. - Come on, I know that you have a past. I have one too. I won't judge you. I just want to know how you feel about them. Do you still care for them? - Yes. - he admited.- But I don't do it in a romantic way. They were people important to me. Now they're part of my past, but I still want them to be happy. Sometimes I missed them a bit, more nostalgia for the good memories than anything, but I wouldn't go back with any of them, especially since I've met you. Now, I only have eyes for you. - he assured you, kissing your hand. - I understand.- you say smiling.- I still miss Jared sometimes. Like you said, I don't want to be with him at all and I only have eyes for you, but he was a great part of my life. He was the first man I've been with and, until you showed up in my life, he was the only one. - you confessed. You've talked before about having intimacy with few men, but never actually told him that was actually only one man before him. He looked at you surprise. - You are telling me that you only been intimate with two men and I'm one of them? -he asked you, speechless. - Yes. Before Jared I was afraid of being intimate with someone because I've always had body image issues. I didn't felt comfortable with my body and didn't want anybody to see me naked. When I started to date him, I wasn't ready to sleep with him and he respected that. He actually waited a whole year for me to finally be ready to have sex. I think that was another reason why even though it was clear he was not a good boyfriend, I stood with him. I always remembered that he promised to be patient and wait and not force me and he kept his word. After our first breakup, I was in that angry stage of "I hate all men", then soon enough I went to the "I don't hate men, but I don't have time to date either" I concentrated in study and work. Then, when I got back together with him, at first we'd had sex all the time, because despite the fact that I took care of my own pleasure during my time alone, I enjoyed to be intimate with another person that I cared about. But soon enough, things started to go South for us, and we barely had sex or was boring sex and I did most of the work. On one occasion, after a month of not doing it because he was working in his latest album, I put on a sexy lingerie and try to seduce him and he completely ignored me, like I wasn't even there. That broke me. By that point, I was already having body issues again, but that finally got to me and, until I met you, never again felt confident with my body or felt sexy. Knowing that a man like you was interested on me, made me feel great and then my confident side came back to me. - you explain, smiling at him. He kissed your hand again. - You know, I used to like him. I've met him twice and seemed like a nice guy. Now, I kind of want to punch him for hurting you. - He didn't do it un purpose, though. I know, so typical of me to deffend him, but that's true. I've known him for a long time. We were friends before and went through difficult times together until one day our friendship turned into something else. But now, I think those hard times we went through and that we've been surporting each other is the reason why he wanted to be with me. Why everytime we fought and I said that I was leaving he'd beg me to stay... because he knew that not matter what, he could count on me to be there for him. He clearly lost all the love and desire that he once felt for me, on the last period of our relationship I was just his support system; the one person he could count to help him when he need it. He's not a bad guy, but he was selfish. He concentrated on his needs and did not think on what I need it or what was the best for me. When I was diagnosed with major depression last year and was on those periods in which I would cry for entire days, for the first time in our entire relationship, he cancel a few plans to stay with me and hold me while I cried. But he didn't do it for love, no; he did it because he felt guilty. At that moment, he realized that he probably should have let me go, but he couldn't do that. As much as he'd love to have his single life back, he wanted me to be there for him, but he also knew that as soon as I walked out of the door, he would never see me again. So he kept me, unhappy and miserable until I finally realized myself from that toxic life I was living. - you finished and looked at your boyfriend's eyes. Henry was stroking your face and your hair. He looked worried and sad for hearing all you went through. - Your ex girlfriends were lucky. - you told him smiling - They had you. - I'm not perfect. I made mistakes as well, but I always try to look after their needs as well as mine. - That sounds like perfect to me. Perfection is not about not making mistakes, but recognize that you make them and try to correct them. Is not bad to look after your needs, we all need that, it's part of loving yourself, but, in a relationship, you have to care for your partner's needs as well. So yeah, you're the perfect boyfriend.- you assured him and he smiled. - I've seen photos of them and I must admit they're pretty, at least base on looks. The blonde one, Tara, if it wasn't weird, I'd totally high-five you for getting that chick. Even I must admit that she's hot. Although, I'm hotter than her.- you smile devilishly. - One houndred percent, baby. - he agreed. - They must have been really special to you. All of them. I saw the pictures. You'd take them with you to premieres and be by their sides, looking at them with proud. You'd post pictures or videos of them, and even if you're not longer together, you never deleted those things. That proved that they were special to you. I'm really jealous of them. - you admited - Not jealous because they were with you, like I said before, I know you have your past and that's ok, the important is that you're mine now. I'm jealous because I would have loved to be with someone that did those things for me. I'd had been great if my ex took me with him to an event or came with me to one of my premieres or award shows. Or took my hand in public. When I won my last two Oscars, he was there, but he didn't sat with me. I had to hug a friend to celebrate the fact that I won. You didn't get mad at them and ignored them for suggesting going out and getting caught by paparazzi. You would not tell them that you could spend time with them or have sex due to the lack of time and the hang out with your friends and former lovers instead. Why I could not have their luck once? Just once I'd love to know how it feels to be with someone who would proudly walk with me, go out with me or take me to places, happy to know that I'm by his side. Just one time I'd like to know who it feels not to be scared that your partner is going to be mad if someone for being seen together or acted as if he'd ashame and embarrased if people knew we're together, as if he could do so much better than you... just once I'd like to know how that feels. - you said and could not stop the tears. The tears covered your eyes and cheeks. The lump in your throat hurt badly. Henry grabbed your shoulders and pulled you closer, making you rest your head on his chest as he stroked your face and hair. He knew that you needed to let go of your tears in order to feel better. He promesed you would heal. He'd make sure that your future is bright and full of smiles instead of tears.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #demivampirew

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natasha-cole · 5 years

Text

#1 Crush: Part 20

Chapter Summary: Reader is embarrassed about the incident with Liam. Rob’s concern isn’t making anything any easier.

Word Count: 2626

Warnings: angst, creepy fan, discussion of an assault incident, swearing probably

Notes: I’m still not in the writing mode really, but this has been sitting in my drafts like this for a long time and I figured I’d just post it as is. Hopefully it moves the story along a bit for you.

Series Masterlist

The following morning, you woke up feeling terrible. You hadn’t slept well, and even as you got ready for the day, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling that you had. It was almost a guilty feeling, as if you had been the one who had done something wrong last night.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way Liam had kissed you. Your skin crawled as you recalled it, still creeped out by advancement and the way he had looked at you when you told him to stop.

Even as you headed off to the convention, you berated yourself over the fact that any of it had happened in the first place. You couldn’t help but to think that it had been your fault in some way. Had you led him on somehow? Had you not been clear enough on the fact that it was supposed to be a professional relationship and nothing more? Had you crossed a line?

To make matters worse, you also realized that you were about to face the rest of the weekend without a bodyguard.

Conventions had become stressful and anxiety-inducing lately; and the only thing that kept you coming to them was knowing that you were at least protected in your work environment. Now, you were suddenly very vulnerable again as Liam was out of the picture and you didn’t even have Rob anymore.

Although you and Rob were no longer dating, you felt the need to just tell him about what had happened. Not only did you feel guilty about the possibility of having done something to make Liam do what he did, you also couldn’t help but to feel awful that Rob knew nothing about it.

Before you could even think of a way to maybe mention it to Rob before anyone else found out, it was Adam who seemed to be a lot more alert than anyone else that morning. You had arrived at the greenroom, enjoying your first cup of coffee and just thinking when he approached you first.

“Where’s your bodyguard?” he asked, glancing around in concern as he didn’t see the man who never failed to be at your side constantly.

He sat down at the table next to you, waiting for an answer.

“He’s not here,” you responded simply.

“Why is that?”

“Well, he just didn’t work out I guess.”

It was a half truth, but now that it had been brought up, you felt like an idiot for the fact that anything had even happened. You suddenly questioned telling Rob at all.

“Okay, but why?” He pressed. “Did something happen?”

“Can I tell you something?” You asked seriously. “And can you promise not to think of me as a huge idiot for it?”

“You’re not an idiot,” he smiled in return.

You took a deep breath and his features softened, watching you with slight concern now.

“He made a move on me,” you said, embarrassed to even be saying it out loud..

“He did?”

“Yes. I had to fire him. It caught me off guard and it was extremely inappropriate.”

“And… Rob?”

“What about Rob?” You asked in confusion.

“I’m just trying to make sense of it. Rob never leaves your side. He’s with you even more than Liam was.”

“Well, I suppose you're out of the loop.”

“I must be.”

You took another deep breath before you broke the news to him. It never did get any easier to admit to it.

“Rob and I are no longer together.”

“Oh… Y/N,” he responded, sounding surprisingly sad about it.

“Why do you seem all sad?” You joked. “I know you don’t really care.”

“I do care. Look, I know I was interested… and yeah, it kinda sucked that he asked you out before I could… but he made you happy. I can’t imagine why you two didn’t work out.”

“We were working just fine,” you replied. “I really love him. But, I felt like all of this was just- weighing on us, you know? For me, that makes sense. But I really couldn’t live with myself knowing that it was affecting him as well. I know I’m not safe, but that doesn’t mean that anyone else should also not be safe because of me.”

“So, what happened?” Adam asked. “You said this asshole made a move on you, what did he do exactly?”

“It was nothing,” you said quietly.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“I mean, I can handle myself with a guy who gets too handsy. I just- I was more unsettled with the way he looked at me I guess. It creeped me out.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” he sighed in return.

“I’m overreacting again, aren’t I? Like, I probably shouldn’t have fired my bodyguard during a convention weekend especially with everything that’s going on.”

“I think, given your current situation, it’s not overreacting.”

“Do I really just give off a vibe that calls out to creeps?” You asked with a chuckle.

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t say, just creeps…”

You laughed lightly, glad that you at least had him to talk to.

“Thanks for listening,” you said.

“Hey, I’m still your friend. I’m always here if you need me for anything.”

“You could talk to Rob about this for me,” you teased. “I’m debating if I should mention it or not, but something tells me he’ll notice something is up.”

“Well, I’m here for most things,” he laughed in return. “Really though, you should just tell him even if you’re not together. It would probably ease his mind when he realizes you’re without a bodyguard.”

“At what point do I stop worrying about what my ex boyfriend thinks?”

Adam huffed in return, giving you a look and you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Maybe when you actually want him to be your ex boyfriend,” he replied. “We both know you didn’t really want any of this though.”

He wasn’t wrong. Your first thought after that incident had happened and after Liam had been fired was what Rob would think about it all. He was the first person to cross your mind and the first person you actually wanted to talk to about it. You had been the one who had complicated everything though. At this point, you didn’t even know if it was worth mentioning to him.

***

You had passed Rob throughout the morning, wanting to talk to him, but remembering that you had hurt him. You weren’t sure if there was a good time to tell him that you were without a bodyguard for the weekend, or if it even mattered to him in the first place.

Gradually, most of your castmates had noticed Liam’s absence. Many of them approached you with concern, and you had to explain things to them. You made sure to leave out the part about him kissing you and being sort of aggressive about it. There were just some details that you didn’t feel comfortable with everyone knowing about.

Everyone’s concern over this situation was noticeable, but after an explanation on how it was being handled at least for the weekend seemed to be sufficient enough at least for now. Rich and Adam even reminded you that they were there this weekend as well to help out in any way they could.

Rob appeared to be the last to know, which made you feel all the more terrible about avoiding him today.

You wanted to tell him, but you also tried convinced yourself that he was too angry with you to care. Mostly though, you knew he was still hurt and the idea of talking to him about another guy making a move on you seemed sort of cruel when you had been the one to break up with him. It wasn’t that your breakup had been a horrible, messy split or anything; but you really did want to keep him at a distance especially now that things were starting to escalate again with your stalker.

Rich had apparently talked to him on your behalf though, and while it would normally annoy you, it actually made the conversation between you and Rob come up a little easier. You were waiting to head to photo ops when Rob came through the door. He eyed you immediately and walked right toward you. The sight of him made your heart break all over again, but you knew you had to have this conversation.

Rob stopped abruptly in front of you, looking around as if he expected to see something.

“Where’s Liam?” He asked as his focus landed on you once again.

“Oh,” you replied. “He’s not here.”

Rob pulled back, looking at you questioningly.

“I know he’s not here. Rich told me that you fired him. Why?”

If there was one person in the world that you could be honest with, it was Rob. Even now that you weren’t even together, you still felt comfortable telling him everything.

“I had to let him go.”

“In the middle of a convention weekend?” He nearly shouted. “Why?”

“Because… I just- had to.”

“Y/N, you can’t be without security,” he reminded you. “Shit always happens at conventions, and you just thought it would be smart to get rid of your bodyguard on day one?”

“I have security,” you pointed out as you gestured toward the extra help. “I actually have more security now than before.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he replied. “You need a real, legitimate bodyguard.”

“Well, I no longer have one this weekend. My manager is working on finding someone else though.”

“Why would you fire him right now? You couldn’t wait until you got back home?”

“He made a move on me, okay?” You replied softly, hoping that maybe he wouldn’t actually hear you.

He did hear you though, and he looked even more shocked by this.

“He did what? Why?”

“I don’t know. He said that I gave him the impression that I was interested in him. He kissed me in my hotel room and it made me really uncomfortable. I asked him to leave and I fired him.”

“Why was he in your hotel room?” He asked, eyes narrowed as if he were trying to understand why he had been there in the first place.

You instantly felt sick, realizing that Rob was thinking something that you resented him for even considering.

“Really?” You asked sarcastically. You felt your eyes well up with tears, offended that he had even asked this. “I tell you that the guy made a move on me and you immediately ask what I did wrong?”

“That’s not what I’m asking,” he replied. “I just- did he hurt you?”

“No,” you answered. “He didn’t hurt me. Just- he just freaked me out a little is all.”

“I’m gonna be honest, I kinda need some clarification here…”

He looked almost hurt. You understood that it sounded bad when you said it out loud; this other man being in your hotel room and all.

“It was nothing, Rob,” you sighed. “I get a little freaked out about being alone now. He walked me to my room as he always does and when I got scared about going in, he came in to just make sure no one was there, even though I knew no one was there. He misread that and some other things, thinking it meant I was interested in him or something.”

“And he just… what did he do?”

“He kissed me is all.”

“He kissed you?” Rob asked, now looking pissed off as he tried to clarify what you had just told him.

“I pushed him away, and he kept trying... until I told him to leave.“

“Why in the world would he think you were interested?”

“I don’t know. I asked him the same thing. He thinks that I like, dumped you for him.”

Rob stayed quiet, eyes carefully examining you as if to ask if that might be true. Your leaving him hadn’t made any sense to him anyway.

“That’s not the reason,” you explained. “You know that right?”

“I know,” he replied, shaking his head. “I know. I’m just- I’m pissed that he did that to you. Are you okay?”

There he was. This was the Rob that you knew and loved. He wasn’t blaming you for anything. He was simply trying to understand why this man had tried to take advantage of you. His concern wasn’t over the fact that someone else had stepped into your room, but rather if he had forced his way in.

“I’m fine,” you assured him. “It was just a shitty situation and he had no reason to misinterpret it. I handled myself pretty well though. I even fired him right away.”

“I wish you would have told me about this right away.”

“Rob, why would I?”

“I know that you don’t want to be with me for whatever reason,” he began sadly. “But I care about you so damn much. This… this is really hard and the fact that this guy did this… I’m pissed. I guess I shouldn’t be because you’re not mine anymore, but I can’t help it. I should have been there...”

“Hey, please don’t ever think that this is because I don’t want to be with you. I just- I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what this guy is capable of, and I can’t be okay with allowing you and our friends to be mixed up in it anymore. Threats to me are one thing, but if he doesn’t have a reason to see you as a threat anymore, then I can keep you safe.”

“Forgive me if I don’t think that that’s a reasonable excuse, Y/N.”

“I know it doesn’t make sense to anyone else, but it helps me feel better.”

“I miss you,” he said softly. “So damn much. I know we had that argument, and I’m sorry for that. But, I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Rob.”

“I will never understand then…”

You wanted to explain your reasoning to him. You wanted to make him understand. But, as if on cue, your handler interrupted, reminding you that you had to leave for photo ops.

You looked at Rob in frustration, now not even sure if you could make him understand. You had tried to reason with him already and he still didn’t get it.

“Can we just talk more about this later?” He asked. “Please?”

“There’s nothing else to talk about. I told you what happened. I promise Liam is being replaced soon.”

“That’s not what I mean, Y/N,” he replied.

Of course he wanted to discuss your break up. You knew that he wanted to reason with you, remind you that you had left him for a stupid reason and that you should probably just work it out like normal couples would. But, it was never about the little fight the two of you had. It had simply been about the realization that anyone who was close to you could also be in danger.

He knew that, but he wasn’t accepting that. Regardless, you didn’t want to discuss it further. You knew that you were weak for him and all it would take was spending time with him to make you cave. You couldn’t be with him right now. No matter how much you loved him, you refused to make him go through this with you.

“We’re done talking about this,” you said. “Excuse me. I have work to do.”

You moved past him to follow your handler out of the room, not even giving him a second glance even though you wanted to. It would never be easy to walk away from him, but you knew that you had to if it meant you were protecting him.

***

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iphoenixrising · 6 years

Text

For 600 Followers: The Surgeon, The Captain, and the Soldier

From the Dr!Tim Universe: civilian!Tony, Captain America!Steve, and Winter!Bucky Barnes. Mr_Flamingo said he would read the shit out of this. Welp, there you go.

Dr. Stark is a busy, busy man. Even without the weight of Stark Industries on his back (thank-you Miss Potts), he still runs from one emergency to the next.

This one just happens to be to The Captain America.

Which is so Classified even the top level brass don’t know the guy’s real name. Probably because his files have been sealed longer than most of them have been alive, which is just grand. If there’s anything Dr. Stark likes, it’s a challenge.

When Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D came to him because honestly, he the best surgeon they’re going to get in this half of the hemisphere anyway, Tony tried to throw him out for approximately twelve seconds–

Until the file was tossed over his desk and a picture flops out pretty much in his lap.

And that picture is of a beautiful man.

With a star on his chest.

“I don’t put Cosplayers over people with real problems, Nick.”

“Stark, when I say he’s the real deal, that’s what I motherfucking mean.”

Mmhm. And he graduated from Med School yesterday. “Captain America has been dead for only seventy years, give or take. Looks spry for his age, good for him. I bet he’s Osteo’s wet dream, right?” Because he really does enjoy having witty banter with his rejections.

That’s when Nick Fury leaned over his desk, “you’re the only civilian the Black Widow has ever let work on her, and you think I’m bringing you someone in a costume?”

Some of the incredulous is creeping out of this exchange with the way Fury’s remaining eye is focused. “Seventy years? Nick, that’s–” but when Nick hasn’t moved a muscle, hasn’t blinked, probably hasn’t so much as inhaled.

That’s when the possibility becomes reality.

“Holy shit.” Tony’s eyes blow wide and the run-of-the-mill play date in the lab to make something to help with those pesky arteriovenous malformations is right on the backburner. “You’re kidding me.”

“Would I be here if I was kidding, Stark? He is the real World War II veteran. You save his life and I will give you what we have on a certain reason he survived.”

Dr. Stark stares for approximately thirty seconds, judging. The next instant he’s in his sharp coat and red shades, riding to DC in an Apache helicopter.

(Once upon a time, he would have told the engineers how he could make it better, but since his Dad died, he didn’t have to build for SI anymore. He could build for his passion and not feel one fucking bit bad about it.)

Forty-five minutes and he’s scrubbing in, the situation crucial. Agent gave him the run-down without giving him any real information on how this happened. He got a glance at scans of the cranial fracture and hemorrhaging. Shards of skull had been embedded in the grey matter (which makes no sense how he survived this long except as another shred of proof he’s the real deal. Captain Fucking America… his inner fanboy is screaming behind his calm, cool, surgeon demeanor.)

The team S.H.I.E.L.D gave him for the procedure are obviously all military, and in such need of a good laugh. Dr. Stark is sure they’re under order to watch every twitch of his fingers just in case he’s going to try making Captain America a drooling moron or something while poking around in his brain. So, he has to pull out the old SI CEO song and dance, being an unrepentant witty smart ass and talk fast before any of the sternly gowned agents can threaten him with horrible dismemberment if anything should happen to their delicate snowflake.

He gets the one called Barton to crack a smile while they’re scrubbing up, and it’s all going to be fine.

All is right with the world, except when he comes into the nice, sterile OR–

Where he finds the patient awake.

“Hey there, big guy,” he pats the shoulder of the utterly stunning blonde (who is apparently as old as his great-grandpa and has abs for miles), “we probably shouldn’t be meeting this way, considering you’re apparently the biggest secret in the Modern World, next to Big Foot sightings and the what is that gross ring around the tub really made of debate, but still, it’s nice to make your acquaintance. I’m Dr. Stark, and I’ll be your surgeon for the evening. Let me guess, gurney for one?”

He’s talking but checking machines, supplies, and sliding the special eyewear, taking the opportunity to review the site opened at the scalp to show the skull fracture at the side of Captain America’s head. While he watches, the skin is trying to heal around the clamps and a nurse apparently familiar with the Captain’s rate of healing is constantly re-adjusted to keep the wound open enough for surgery.

(The impact should have killed him. How did it not kill him? “Time is of the essence, Dr. Stark. You need to pull the bone fragments while he can keep his skull from healing over it.” Christ, Agent Tight-Ass, full work-up next time for Project Super Soldier Sandwich.)

“Hm…” slurred from behind the oxygen mask, and if Dr. Stark wasn’t one hundred percent invested on making sure he had everything he would need to fix the oddly not healing bleeder in the Captain’s temporal lobe (with things like Wernicke's aphasia hovering in the background), he would have shuddered. “Got that reference, Doc. S’funny.”

Watching the electroencephalography to monitor the Captain’s brain activity, Tony glances over as S.H.I.E.L.D’s people start filtering in around him and the ones with guns watch him closely through the observation windows.

“Never doubted you for a second, Captain. Guy that punched Hitler should be right above a Yeti in my opinion. Anyhoo,” and Tony, gowned, gloved, and masked, comes around to look at the very, very blue eyes and hold a hand close to the Captain’s blonde eyebrows to check the dilation. “The nice esthetician over there is going to hit you up with something to make you very, very sleepy so I can fix that terrible headache you’re probably having right now.”

And Captain America looks up at him from under those lashes, quirks a small shit-eating grin, “ssorry, Doc Stark. Knockouts...won’t work on me. S’ ‘causea the Serum. Gonna be awake no matter how much they gimmie.”

Blinking with his heart in his throat because he can’t imagine the pain the Captain must be in right about now, Tony gets himself back with, “oh? Then I have your witty repartee to look forward to while I work, don’t I Captain?”

“SSteve, Doc. I’m SSteve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m Tony, and I’m going to save your life.”

“Soundss like ya gotta plan, Tony.”

And when the slightly familiar red-headed nurse gives him the thumbs up and it’s time to start, he has to step back around to the site being kept open for him.

“I always have a plan, Steve. Fortunately for you, part of my plan involves great music and nice conversations while we discuss your vitals.”

AC/DC starts in with a little Back in Black. And since he is who he is, him mouth moves on autopilot while he works with a delicate touch, fast and efficient, getting side-tracked from his running monologue with Captain Awake and Alert and Answering to accept vitals and updates from the other staff.

It’s been hours, and he’s on up-to-date knock-knock jokes.

They’ve run the gambit of must-see movies (and no he doesn’t see Agent Tight-Ass writing down the ones Steve asks about in detail because yes, he should see Firefly. Alien cowboys, Captain. Alien cowboys), and spent so much time on just the 60’s.

He’s gotten some stories that are absolutely hilarious (because Steve was so curious about the most oddball shit, ATMs, Fitbits, Twitter…) and is closing the wound in Steve’s scalp before he realizes he’s...done.

“Feels so much better, Tony, thank-you.”

“Hey, glad I was in the neighborhood. You’re quite the conversationalist when I’m poking around in your brain.”

“Could say the same. Thought ya might re-wire me to do something silly. Bark like a dog when someone says bell or something.”

And the staff is cleaning up around them, giving Tony the space to ease down just a notch, and wink, “sorry Captain, something I save for the bedroom, not the operating room.”

The sparkle that lights in Steve’s eyes–

–is really his undoing.

Riding the high of saving Captain America’s life got him all the way home and to his bed, still churning over the events of the surgery. Butterfinger and U were happy Daddy made it home in one piece (he’d kept the failed surgical bots, unable to decommission his first attempts at independent AI just because they’d rather play fetch than learn procedures...besides, they’re his creations and with their capacity to learn, they’re still evolving), and absolutely pampered him with coffee while he told them about why he was so late.

Butterfingers booped and patted his knee lightly while U rolled back and forth in excitement. Their favorite part was about the Apache, of course. His children were Philistines (but what would he do without them?).

Waking up at one am to Agent Tight-Ass leaning against the bureau in his bedroom was probably the fright of his life.

(Probably not, but no one needs to know that. Few people knew about his kidnapping in Afghanistan from a Medical Conference five years ago.)

“The Captain won’t let another doctor examine him.” Agent Tight-Ass said without even a hello or the decor is nice. “He’s asking for you.”

Tony completely blames it on sleep deprivation when he almost says my Captain? but shakes himself out of it at the last second.

The implications of Agent being here strikes him in the very next second and he’s throwing the covers off and climbing out of bed fast. A clean pair of purple scrubs and Agent knows he goes commando under his expensive and stylish pj pants. “Post-Op complications?” The litany of problems Steve could be experiencing after such a difficult and delicate surgery flash through Tony’s frontal lobe, a slideshow of problems he should have been able to catch before anyone else.

(They shouldn’t have made me leave him. He needs to be under close observation.)

“No. But, S.H.I.E.L.D needs to verify the Captain is physically fit for duty. He won’t let another physician check him out. We’d like you to come back to DC just to make sure.”

And, well, he’s Tony Stark, so he tries to play it off in front of Agent just to be a pain in the ass to deal with, but even before he’s had a single cup of coffee, Tony is riding in another Apache with his leg bouncing in anticipation.

He’s thrown a Henley on under his scrub top, cuffs up to his elbows and probably looking like a derelict resident, but dammit, at least he has good hair.

The damn corridors are long and Agent Tight-Ass is silently striding beside him while Tony desperately holds a cup of coffee in one hand and the Captain’s chart in the other, taking in every detail and plotting out all the worst case scenarios. What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to see the gorgeous man in dark jeans, red t-shirt, terrible trucker hat, and a single black-gloved hand standing against the wall like he’s the only thing holding the building up. Tony manages to keep his tongue in his mouth when Agent Tight-Ass stops to introduce them.

“Sergeant Barnes, this is Dr. Stark, the Captain’s neurosurgeon.”

And those eyes are like winter, grey and cool, taking him in from dirty sneakers to the half-curl just above his temple. It’s terribly frightening and arousing at the same moment and Tony is absolutely, completely out of his depth in hot men.

(And in-between relationships, isn’t he? Why are the Gods so damn cruel?)

“Very nice to meet you, Sergeant. I understand you’re an unapologetic smart-ass that can kill pretty much anything a mile away and make the worst borscht known to man. Pleasure is all mine, really. Borscht is already terrible, but making is worse? That has to take substantial talent.”

What he doesn’t expect is the tall, intimidating brunette with the sexiest stubbled jaw to blink down at him, head cocking sideways like an inquisitive cat, “s’at so? I think the pleasure is all mine, Doll. After all, Stevie ain’t quit talkin’ ya up all night. ‘Preciate ya taking good care a’ him fer me.”

Ah. Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes. Always thought those stories were exaggerated.

Tony absolutely does not, does not (think about them together), lick his bottom lip while staring up into those eyes. “Anything I can do for the red, white, and blue, Sergeant Barnes. Just showing my...patriotism.”

Tony grins wide when he gets the Sergeant to laugh out loud, ruining his intense I will murder you vibe.

“Speaking of the Captain,” Agent Tight-Ass interrupts smoothly.

Both of them give the agent waiting with a patient, pleasantly neutral expression, and when Tony looks back, he can see the tension in James Barnes, and lets himself be his usual kind of confident.

“Honestly, I’m going to take good care of him. If the slightest thing deviates from absolutely normal, you will be the first person to know.”

“Thanks, Doll. Good t’ know he’s in the best hands,” and the gloved one squeezes his bicep, right above his elbow (and he is completely imagining that hand has absolutely no give whatsoever) before he turns to where Agent is holding the door open.

The Captain is awake at this ungodly hour and apparently more chipper when he wasn’t in horrible distress from bleeding all up in his grey matter. It was really nice to see this side and observe his handiwork, amazed the staples had already worked themselves out and there wasn’t even a scar to show surgery had ever taken place.

(Steve’s hair is soft and unfairly naturally fluffy. Tony’s bare fingers are threaded in it while his thumbs press lightly over the surgical site to test the healing and be fucking amazed.)

Sergeant Barnes is there for the examination, back in a corner, with that sensual bad boy thing going on, arms crossed over his chest, eyes sweeping the room every few minutes (like he wouldn’t notice?).

And once he checks the normal vitals and signs, looks for all abnormalities, any hint of a complication, Tony Stark–

–lies through his teeth.

“You need at least a week of rest. No strenuous activity at all. No punching Nazis, jumping out of planes, or potentially dangerous anything. Watch terrible daytime TV, eat your weight in bad food, and take it easy. The possibility for complications, or of re-opening the bleed site is high, even for a Super Soldier. Normal downtime would be months, I’m giving you a week. No arguments Captain.”

He turns to look at the Sergeant over his shoulder and they exchange a nod, but he sees James Barnes rolling his lips down like he’s trying not to smile.

“A week? A whole week?” The Captain honest-to-God whines, looking up at him, sitting up with perfect posture that makes his chest thrust out in such a distracting way.

(Those eyes should really be illegal.)

“Absolutely. I’m saying only a week, okay? That is very, very good news for you. From the scans taken less than an hour ago, you’re healing quickly and well. Still, we’re not going to take anything to chance.”

He grins down, completely confident he’s giving Steve the chance to get out in the world more, maybe get out from under all the Agent-Agents around here.

It’s all too soon he’s being ushered out the room and back to his Penthouse in New York, his heart thundering in his chest. The last twenty-four hours seem like some kind of dream, some kind of forbidden fantasy, something he couldn’t have really done, and being set back at his place with his bots and his lab, his nice office in Stark Medical waiting for him tomorrow, with endless calls from Pepper about the Board really wanting him present for the Quarterly Meeting this time, all of reality lays so heavy on him that he thinks maybe Agent Tight-Ass messed with his memories somehow so he’d never be able to tell anyone why S.H.I.E.L.D really wanted him in the first place.

He goes back to bed for an hour of sleep, thinking about Sergeant Barnes’ hand and Captain Roger’s eyes.

Dodging Pepper’s calls the next day between consults, residents, trips to the robotics, and some time spent in the lab, he’s in his office for a whopping fifteen minutes when his secretary knocks on his door.

“I’m sorry Dr. Stark, but they said they know you and he’s your patient–”

When Captain America and Bucky Barnes appear over her shoulder, looking a devilish mix of sheepish (Steve) and smary as hell (of course, the crackshot), Tony wonders how much effort it would take to clear his schedule completely–

–for the next seven days.

#crossover #tonystevebucky #tony stark #steve rogers #bucky barnes #Dr!Tim au #my drab #my writing #for 600 followers

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knightsparrow · 4 years

Text

Strays (working titel)

Tbh I don’t like writing down or drawing characters in such an early stage of a project. because I will change so much about them and writing it down feels so final?

but I like them a lot for the month they exist and I know it will take me a couple of years until mi make an actual story/comic out of this and I kinda want to keep record of the changes I make

so here we go:

Story

The story is set in an alternative superhero universe very similar to the dc one because that’s my biggest influence right now. So basically I’m taking the universe rules and bend them how much I want (sorry not sorry). The story will take place in europe in a big city and it’s surrounding cities. So we have skyscrapers, old buildings, lots of parks, small suburb areas and good old industrialized apartment blocks.

The whole story kinda came to life through the thought of “why are there so few european superheroes” and “who is taking care of the rest of the world if all big heroes chill in America?” Also going into the whole idea of not so big heroes working for the people instead of battling world threatening situations.

Which makes me come to the next point all of the characters in this story aren’t that freaking powerful. They are either too young to be big heroes yet or they simply have very basic abilities that make them not really op.

The whole story is set to be rather funny and light in comparison to all the dark shit I’m usually writing ( I needed a soft story to work on for once). There will still be epic battles and dramatic plot twists and the likes but overall it’s supposed to be rather uplifting and funny (think marvel movie like, which will be hard because I’m bad at coming up with funny jokes)

Format

I was thinking about cutting the story into multiple short arcs each around 100 pages. The idea behind that is to be able to release them as individual volumes you can pick up in the middle like a good comic series. And I wanted to do this as a side project while working on my bigger stuff as some kind of break… Who knows when I’ll actually start to draw this

Characters

this stuff will change a loooooot

especially names. Names are usually the last thing I decide when creating new ocs so yeah there might be a lot of things that will change in the future

Superboy clone

(who still needs a proper name)

He is in his early 20′s and currently studying law. His hometown is a small village so he lives in the big city in a tiny way too expensive flat and has to work a lot besides studying to pay for his living expenses. His family is very conservative and religious so he’s more than happy to live in the big city where he can be his real self (yeah very generic so far).

Powers: He is extremely strong and will later learn to fly (you could say he is a quarter kryptonian or something)

Dragon Boy

(Who also needs a new name but than again the name is dumb enough to pass as an actual super hero name)

Grew up in the city under harsh circumstances. So your typical low class guy who gets into trouble just for the way he looks and where his family is from. He still lives with his family and makes money through being a pizza courier and being an errand boy for his big brothers.

Powers: He is a demon vessel which so far just makes him hear voices. But thanks to dia he learns to control his powers and he eventually will learn how to turn himself into a beast that looks like a dragon. So yeah again he can fly, is super strong and can breath fire

Dia Mond

(Dia Mond Is her human name. I still need to come up with a demon one)

A demon summoned into the dead body of a prostitute who’s work alias she adapts. She helps dragon boy with his demon voice problems but decides to stay with the group after her job is done. She has her own motives and her overtaking the body of a supposed to be dead person will make a lot of trouble for the group later on

Powers: well basically all kind of demon powers. She can speak and understand every language, can easily manipulate people and can fight as well as her earthly body allows her to. If she wants she can even summon lower demons or hell beings. But most times she just watches the others and makes snarky comments. So technically she is the most powerful of the group but she hardly ever uses her powers

Witch

(she needs a proper name)

A well known witch that lends her dark powers to everyone who pays her. She helps the others because she feels pitiful for dragon boy (and they pay her) by summoning dia. She thoroughly regrets that later ‘cause dia takes a liking to her and she is kinda stuck with her. Her hideout becomes the first base of the group.

Powers: all sorts of dark magic. She owns several books filled with powerful spells but every spell has it’s price

Pigeon

(yep that is her superhero name)

A french girl who is obsessed with cute and pastel things. She is always in a good mood and lifts everyone up. She also hates conflicts and wants everyone to get along.

Power: she has a special connection to pigeons and can see whatever they see. Which sounds very useless is actually very powerful: pigeons are everywhere in the city and so common nobody really cares about them which makes her the perfect spy.

Shikari/Falcon | Anzu

(not sure which name I should pick for her, but I really wanna go down the road of the Hawk/Dove vs Falcon/Pigeon pun)

Anzu is very quiet and shy. She let’s her girlfriend pigeon do most of the talking.

Powers: Anzu has a pet falcon which she is able to share a mind with. So her ability is very similar to Pigeons which made them close in the first place. Compared to pigeon her ability is limited to this one bird and it’s more of a mind controlling ability while pigeon can only see and hear what the birds let her see and hear.

Lancer

He is a huge nerd studying economy because his parents want him to inherit their business (he hates his study through and would rather spend 24/7 with his 2D waifus). He lives in a huge house in the country side and spends most of his money on his “becoming a superhero”-project. Because of his rich upbringing and him being a “know-everything” type of person he comes off as very arrogant.

The rest of the group find out about his family and that he’s rich waaaaay later into the story ‘cause he never tells them. He provides their second hideout eventually

Power:

Uhmm he is rich and has too much pocket money to spent on high-tech toys and body armor. When he was younger his parents gifted him a horse to teach him responsibilities. That horse is his best (and only) friend and he is a pretty good rider who also won a couple of tournaments

Archer

She works for an animal rescue and through her work meets a parasitic alien that lives inside a horses body. The horse and the alien are getting along pretty well and so she adopts “them” to keep their secret. (I have no clue how to introduce this mess of a character into the story but oh well here they are)

Powers: Archer is a great well yeah archer combined with her alien-horse buddy they are unbeatable

Bellerophon

(yeah not sure if I keep that name because no one will remember that one)

Her father was a famous engineer who created a ai horse for her. So of course, Bell follows into his footsteps by becoming an programmer and engineer herself. Over the years she optimized her robot horse Pegasus into an actual winged horse that can fly.

Powers: She is pretty much the brain of the group. Bell doesn’t has any special superpowers besides being extremely smart and good at crafting and creating technical and non-technical things in minutes

Titania

(an old x-men oc that deserves to see the light of day again)

Titania is a superhero apprentice. When she comes back to her hometown, she has to realize that a group of smalltime heroes are running wild in her city. She finds their hideout quickly and confronts them with how stupid and dangerous what they are doing is. The others pretty much ignore her and at some point, she has to realize the only way to stop them from doing dumb things is by joining them and spending her home vacation training a group of wannabe heroes.

Powers: Titania can manipulate any type of metal. She is still young and learning with actual heroes how to use her powers. She is the only one of the group besides superboy clone with actual superpowers. And also the only one with affiliations to actual superheroes.

#very early wip #maybe new series #brain pls stop #working title strays #my universes

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