#bond!au

[busarewski]

Happy Friday to us!!

[chipeppers]

“You wanna try a little harder to act like you’re in love with me?”

“Who says it’s an act?”

If President Camelia Claustra is the face of Insomnia, the Lucis Caelums are the backbone and the Amicitias the muscle, ruling the city with iron control. In the midst of a period of peace and prosperity, Noctis endeavors to clean up his family’s image, his bodyguard and escort Gladio at his side.

The Izunias have other plans.

Late @gladnoctweek sketch for Day 6 - Bodyguard, and a collaboration with @aliatori from her fic set in what we’ve been affectionately calling the Bond!AU. Wanted to do more for the week and then life happened, but I’m no where near done with playing in this AU, and you guys should absolutely check out her amazing fic!

[trickyarchangel]

Part 3 - Untitled - Bond!AU

Pt 1 and Pt 2

For those who want one: a visual aid to the italicized portion (4min vid) - I suggest reading first. (Beware the read-more) 

Steve watches Tony enter the ballroom, dressed in the finest of black tailcoats. He gains immediate attention from everyone in attendance; they flock towards him like moths to his golden flame. Tall and high-collared, blonde hair artfully styled, Tony is a commanding presence, but something about it settles like a stone in Steve’s gut.

Tony grins, smirks, charms the ladies as he passes them, endears himself to their partners. Steve steps into the light, feeling small and forgotten. He hates it, hates that Tony hasn’t noticed him yet. His hands fist at his sides; they’re rougher than he’s used to, fingers calloused in the wrong places. They tremble a little. 

Tony turns, and they come face-to-face, close, too close. Steve can’t breathe through the sheer force of Tony’s attention. It’s instant, electric. He looks up into Tony’s blue eyes and balks, heart stuttering as Tony looks him over, walking around him. He can’t look away from Tony, even as Tony’s attention is caught on the Queen. 

Tony goes to greet her, daring and flirtatious, and Steve feels the nausea roll thickly through his system. He forces himself away, back into the shadows where he can watch Tony without the prying eyes of the other guests. 

Tony moves away from the Queen’s audience and grabs a passing flute of champagne, which he downs in the same motion as a woman approaches him. She’s daring and demanding in the same way, and Tony takes the challenge. 

Steve swallows at the sight of her; confusion making it difficult. He remembers her, though; she was strong and determined, tall and dark. She laughed like rich liquor and had burned just as well. Ophelia Sarkissian. She’d wanted to poison the world. Instead, she’d been left behind in the dirt.

Steve’s knees weaken as Tony spins her into motion, the orchestra all at once loud and seductive, guiding Tony through the motions of an age-old dance. Steve sits heavily, uncaring of the distress it causes the fine silks of his suit. He sits, and he watches Tony press his mouth to her jaw until another pushes Ophelia away to take her place. 

Brock is short and angry, dragging Tony into the dance like he’s ready to fight. His movements, while practiced and acceptable, are forceful and meant to punish as much as please, and Steve can see Tony’s almost overwhelmed by it. He throws himself out of his seat, begins to circle the floor, and turns to face the balcony right when Brock pulls Tony to the floor. He doesn’t need to see this.

Steve knows that Brock had stained the floors; they were replaced with the polished, gray bamboo. Tony had picked them out himself. 

Tony’s dance partners blur together, and each one curdles in Steve’s stomach, but when he pays attention again -too close, much too close- Tony is flowing in slow motions, swaying with a willowy figure just as blonde as he. They move like a serene river, a brook that’s sure of its path. A hand smoothing down her leg, lifting and guiding, dipping her until she comes up with a breathless smile; she shines like a diamond, like a star. Celeste.

Steve pushes forward, jealousy flooding so profoundly, but tinged in fear, because he knows now what Celeste carries, and he can’t let Tony be hurt, but Tony stills, head turning slightly to the side. He’s aware of Steve, perhaps always has been, and knows that Steve’s restraint is snapping. 

And so he snaps first, throwing himself away from Celeste to move into a dance all his own. It’s frenetic and chaotic; it’s everything that Tony is, a force to be courted. Steve is shaken and shaking. 

Tony’s partners confront him one by one again on the floor, pushing him through to the end of the dance, taking him along for the ride until they’re spinning and stepping and the music is swelling, and Steve can’t breathe. 

All he can do is watch and wait and follow along with Tony to the end. And as the music crests and Tony’s backed into the corner, their eyes meet over the others’ heads, and Steve knows that he’ll always follow.

~~

Steve doesn’t come awake with a jerk or a gasp. He blinks up at his ceiling, the exposed beams distant and without judgement. He hums once, short, just to test his hearing, and relaxes marginally when it doesn’t sound muffled. He presses an arm over his eyes. 

He knows he’s alone in his apartment again, knows that Tony had helped him to the couch then left, still just as angry. The device is probably long-since destroyed in the fireplace that’s still burning lowly to his left. The radio on the mantle is playing soft classical. That would explain the dream. Sort of.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He’s royally fucked up, and he wonders how long it will take to smooth everything over with... with Q, and with the inevitable shit show Fury is going to cause over this. He slowly, carefully sits up, feeling his stomach roll. He pauses, one hand on his knee, and draws in deep, steady breaths. 

As he breathes, fragments of the dream filter through his thoughts, and he grasps at them. It’s not easy; lucidity steals away most of the dream’s crazy subtext. He looks at his hand, the familiar lines and ridges of the callouses formed from his love life with guns. 

Q had had blonde hair and blue eyes, dancing with Steve’s ex lovers who had tried to kill him, most of whom Q had personally disposed of. He scoffs and buries his hands in his hairs; he’d been dreaming of himself from Tony’s point-of-view.

“I’m fucking crazy,” he decides. He already knows he’s in love with Q, has been since the first stupidly-big word out of the man’s mouth in that shitty little dive bar where he was still Tony. Steve had thrown caution to the wind and taken Tony home, to an apartment different than his current. 

The sex had been incredible, hot and heavy, and yet... They’d laughed and joked and drank, fucking through the night until Steve had been the one to wake up alone not long before noon.

He thinks back to that night now, remembers how he’d talked Tony into taking the job he’d been offered, not knowing then what he’d find out that next day. “007, meet your new Quartermaster.” Tony is gone, and in his place, Q faces Steve with a grim resignation and a hand held out in greeting. And Steve knows then that taking that hand means erasing the previous night. At the time, it seems an easy enough decision. He shakes Q’s hand, a blithe smirk gracing his expression. 

“Good to meet you, Q. I trust we aren’t keeping you up past your bedtime. I know folks your age like to watch their Jeopardy while tucked in their beds.”

With the barb came understanding, and Q had taken his hand back and shrugged slightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring the tele in next to your crib. When you want your bottle, just pitch a tantrum, and I’ll be sure to warm it up for you.”

Steve pushes to his feet, sways slightly, and scowls. He doesn’t want to think about the past right now. He’s not feeling in the mood for regret and mistakes, except for the one that had caused the headache he’s sporting. He walks steadily into the kitchen to take a few painkillers, and as he’s putting his glass in the sink, he finally notices the plate on the stove. It’s covered in foil with a note scrawled over it. 

-To help with the nausea. Eat. Slow.- 

Steve’s back curves forward, hunching him over the stove as he braces his hands on the counter. He closes his eyes and breathes, deep and counting. How is he supposed to play the good little agent when Q slips from his part too? 

Steve knows for a fact that no other Quartermasters cook food for the agents. Just like how no other Quartermaster kills for the other agents so freely like Q does, out of jealously like Q does, feels the deep down satisfying guilt of it like Q does. 

Steve takes the plate, steps out of the kitchen, and grabs a bottle of whatever liquor is closest on the bar -he notices the broken bottle is cleaned up and gone- before returning to the couch. He sits back and does as instructed, eating slow and aiding it with copious amounts of alcohol.

All of that fierce loyalty and possessiveness, bundled up and suppressed, burn like fire for Steve beneath Q’s sneering calm. Long has SHIELD accepted that Q will do as he wishes concerning Steve, and because of this, Steve knows he can get away with a great deal where other agents can only dream. 

So when, a few days later, Steve is facing Fury across the evaluation desk and hears, “We’re reassigning you,” Steve doesn’t worry. He smirks. 

“Yes, okay. For the five minutes it takes Q to find out? You know how this plays, Director,” Steve replies, idly tapping to fingers on the desktop. “You threaten and Q just blows the smoke away. Why are you wasting my time with this? I’m fine.”

Fury closes Steve’s folder and fold sits back. His eye patch is slightly crooked, and it’s been driving Steve just a little crazy. 

“On the contrary, 007, this time, it’s at Q’s submitted request.”

Steve stares, expression unchanging, unmoving. He doesn’t breathe. “Pardon?”

Fury smirks. “You’re on suspension pending your physical eval. After that, if you’re cleared, you’ll be reporting to Quartermaster Hammer.”

~TBC~

[imaginedilestrade]

The Name’s Lestrade, Greg Lestrade.

Warnings: violence A/N: Ahhhh so this is the last chapter! Thank you do everyone who has read and enjoyed his fic! Don’t worry I’ll have another one replacing this VERYYYYY soon 😏😉 Have a great week!

————————— Chapter 9 ————— You hadn’t said a word after telling Greg what Mycroft had done. He eventually made it to the airport with you and drove on the runway to the jet Mycroft had sent. Greg settled on a seat across from you and prepared to take off “What will you do?” You slowly looked up to him, waiting for him to elaborate. “What are you going to do when you get back to London and see Mycroft?” “I’m going to kill him,” you bluntly replied and looked out the window. Greg let it a loud sigh and you snapped your head around “Oh Greg, you have so much to learn,” you shot him a fake smile “I’m not insane enough to kill, or even boycott for that matter, the British government. But I will get him back, he has a lot of pressure points…” “You know I have a duty to protect Mycroft Holmes.” “Yes, but he doesn’t give two fucks about you!” You snapped “Get my laptop and see for yourself.” Greg got up and grabbed your laptop. He accessed the file you had downloaded and scanned his eyes over the various documents until he stopped when he saw the numbers ‘007’ at the top of the page and then he saw the words ’PROCESSING TERMINATION’ in bright red. “This can’t be real…” he uttered out under his breath.

“I told you Greg,” you captured his attention “If only you opened your eyes sooner…” When you arrived back in London a car was already waiting for you. Greg stood and watched as you got in with a sour look on your face “Mr Lestrade?” The driver called out “He wants to see you too.” Greg involuntary gulped and entered the car. You shuffled yourself up a bit and pulled out your phone. Greg watched as your fingers quickly danced over the screen “Do you think he’s on to us?” He whispered to you. You turned and faced him “Of course he is.” Your answer made Greg raise an uneasy brow “He’s a reptile. A cold blooded, venomous, fork-tongued reptile…I hate him.” Greg saw your eyes darken and it sent a shiver down his spine, never had he seen you so vengeful. “Mycroft…he loves you…” Greg choked on his own words. You let out a loud snort of laughter “Oh please! Mycroft has the emotional range of a teaspoon. He doesn’t love anything.” You glanced out the window and noticed that you were outside Mycroft’s office. You stormed out the car, not bothering to wait for the driver to open the door for you. Greg quickly followed and struggled to keep up with your long strides. The doors opened the Mycroft’s office and he was sitting on his chair with a smug smirk. One that you would have happily smacked off his face. “Hello darling. How was France?” “Wonderful,” you replied with a gleaming smile. Greg burst in after you, pushing you forward slightly and making you stumble. You turned to him with a scowl. “And how was Croatia?” The colour drained in your face and you returned your attention to Mycroft with a fake smile “I wasn’t in Croatia?” “Oh how was Italy too? Mind you, you were just driving by. Nevertheless, still a lot of beautiful sights to see….” Mycroft stood up and your smile fell, you face contorted with anger. “Did you find what you were looking for, darling?” Mycroft spat out and you reached for you gun only to realise it was gone.

“I found everything and more…sweetheart…” your jaw clenched as well as your fists. “How about I just get this over with and slit your throat open with your fountain pen?” Greg watched the interaction intently. Mycroft was circling you and it looked like you were ready to pounce at any second. “And what about you Greg?” Mycroft looked up to the spy with a chilling smirk “Did you find what you were looking for too? Or did you just find yourself deep inside my fiancée?” “Well he was much better than you,” you scoffed. At the snap of his fingers Mycroft summoned two of his men and one held Greg back while Mycroft grabbed you harshly by the throat. You clawed at his hand, becoming desperate for air. Greg struggled in the mans grip, he wanted to get to you but he couldn’t. Mycroft let you go and you stumbled back, dizzy and seeing black spots clouding your vision. Mycroft pinned you against the wall as your crushed windpipe struggled to take in air. “You’re not getting away with this Mycroft,” you wheezed “I’ll take you down even if it the last thing I do.” “Breathing will be the last thing you do my dear…” Mycroft placed a kiss to your cheek and- as much as it antagonised your throat- you growled. “What is she to you Greg?” Mycroft asked, not removing his gaze from you. You looked over to Greg out the corner of your eye “The death of me…” he whispered with a half smile. “Yes,” Mycroft mused “She will be.” Greg saw nothing but black after that. And all he thought about in his unconscious state was you. Wondering, and hoping, that you were still alive. He woke up in a dingy room with a groan “Ahh he’s finally awake…” Greg’s eyes snapped open and he almost didn’t recognise the voice it was so broken “You’re alright?!” “I think he has other plans for us…” you breathed out. Greg noticed the scratches and bruises on your face that weren’t there before. He tried to hold your face but it was then that he noticed his hands were tied behind his back. You were in the same situation, facing him in a chair with your hands bound. The two men from earlier were keeping a close eye on the both of you. “Well Greg I hate to say I told you so-” He cut you off with a sigh “Then don’t-” “But I told you so.”

Greg rolled his eyes and slumped back slightly in his chair. “Don’t be like that!” You snapped “If you had opened your eyes sooner and woken up to face reality we wouldn’t be here!” “I’m sorry alright?!” Greg gritted out. “Kick my chair back,” you softly whispered, changing your tone completely. What were you up to? “But you’ll fall?” You nodded and Greg understood your plan. He did as you asked and your back crashed to the floor with a thud making your groan in agony. One of the men sighed and dismally went to pick you up off the floor. You were quick to react and pointed your legs upwards, grabbing his neck with your calves and crossing them to snap it. The other man rushed over but Greg managed to trip him up. He fell flat on his face and Greg leaned forward, swivelling his body around and breaking the chair on the man as he attempted to stand. Greg freed his hands before helping you “What you…um…did uh…with your legs…um…” he stuttered out. You bashfully smiled “I can do much more with them than that…” you teased. “Oh I know,” Greg gave you a knowing look “We have to get back and arrest Mycroft.” You nodded in agreement “I know some friends that can help us out.” — “Thanks for this Moneypenny,” you cocked your gun that she had brought “I appreciate this.” “Not a problem, Y/N. the sooner you take him down the better. M is on his way with backup. The evidence on your laptop is enough to incarcerate Mycroft for life.” She turned to Greg “You’ve got a good one here.” “I know…” Greg trailed off with a smile and you turned away with a blush on your face “Keep us updated.” You and Greg made your way to MI6 headquarters were Mycroft in an office on the top floor. When the lift doors opened you were face with him, he was leaning in his umbrella with a file in his hand. “I expected your here sooner, you’re both lagging in your old age. Perfect timing to replace you both.” You aimed your gun at him with a sneer. “You killed my parents.” “You were so sad,” Mycroft breathes out before a smile overtook his face “It was wonderful.” You let out a loud growl and stepped closer to him but Mycroft swiftly raised his umbrella and knocked the gun out of your hand. It landed by his feet and he grabbed it, pointing it at you. Greg held out his gun and Mycroft sniggered “Put it down Lestrade or I’ll kill her.” Even if he was bluffing Greg didn’t want to risk it so put the gun on the floor and kicked it away from him. Mycroft glanced over and smirked “Oh 007, you’re stupidity never ceases to amuse me.” A gunshot fired and you fell back. Greg saw blood oozing out your stomach. Your looked to Mycroft and saw him not pointing the gun at Greg. You screamed for him to run but no words left your mouth. Another gunshot went off. But this time Mycroft was the target. M had reached the office and shot Mycroft in the leg, enough to take him down and not harm him too much. The elder Holmes was quickly put in cuffs and taken away. “Y/N!” Greg rushed to your side and pressed his hands to your bleeding stomach “You’re going to be fine, I promise.” “Don’t lie, Greg. I’m a professional I know when you’re doing it,” your breathing became more rapid with each word. Greg let out a small sob of laughter as tears welled in his eyes “Well I’m not lying, you need to brush up on your skills.” “Thanks for helping me,” you placed a bloodied hand to his cheek “You helped me get justice.”

“It was mostly you,” Greg assured and placed a kiss on your forehead, it was freezing. You shook your head with a smile before the smile faded and your hand slowly fell from his face “No, come on Y/N wake up! Don’t mess about!” Greg sobbed. “Please, wake up…” Your eyes opened “Don’t you tell me to wake up when I’ve been telling you to open your eyes for ages…” you sat up and Greg’s face crinkled with confusion. You kissed him and although he was confused, he kissed you back “Wake up,” you smiled. — “Wake up!” Greg groaned and opened his eyes. He sat up in bed and looked around as he tried to catch his breath. “Finally!” He turned and saw you lying on your arm beside him with a sleepy smile “You’re going to be late for work.” “You’re alright?” He asked and tossed the covered off you, trying to find a bullet wound in your stomach.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Greg glanced around the room and squinted his eyes at the tv “You fell asleep last night when we were watching it…” you trailed off noticing Greg was looking at the screen in front of you that had the title screen for ’Spectre’ on it. “I-I did?” He asked with a confused tone before letting out a tried laugh “I must have dreamt about it.” “What was your dream?” You asked as he settled back down in bed and you wrapped an arm around his waist. “I had a dream that I was 007…you were a spy. A really good one, but you got shot-” You let out a giggle “Thanks! You dream about me and I get shot? Some husband you are…” “Yeah but you were still like a Bond girl,” he smirked and you placed your chin on his shoulder before pecking his lips. “Well if you were James Bond technically I’d be a 'Lestrade girl’. I like the sound of that one better, as long as I’m the only one.” Greg smiled and brushed your cheek with the tips of his fingers “Course, I wouldn’t want anyone else.” Greg turned his head and checked the time “I better get ready for work.”

Greg left you alone in the bed and jumped into the bathroom to shower. When he got out, you went in. When you emerged again you found Greg posing by the mirror, making a gun shape with his fingers and posing in different positions “What are you doing?” You asked with a giggle. Greg turned and went wide eyed noticing that he’d been caught “N-nothing!” “Were you pretending to be Bond?” You teased and walked over to him with a smile. “Maybe…” he mumbled. You stood behind him and looked into the mirror with him “You may not be Britains best spy, but you are Britains best detective inspector.” Greg found a burst of self confidence in your words “You better head, Mr Lestrade…” you purred his name. “I love you,” he kissed you with a smile. “I love you too, now hurry before you're late!” You waved him away but before he left he turned on his heel. “Who did you say you worked with again…?” He asked with a furrowed brow. “A guy called James, we help each other out from time to time…” you slipped off your towel and slipped into a black dressing gown. Greg went to open his mouth again but snapped it shut. He walked away out of your view before taking a few steps back. “You’d tell me if you were a spy wouldn’t you?” You raised a brow and burst into a fit of laughter “I am not a spy!” “That’s the sort of thing a spy would say…” you could hear the hint of serious laced in between his words. “You’re going to be late,” you folded your arms over and gave him a condescending glare. Greg rolled his eyes and left, you peered out of the window and watched him get into his car. Your phone rang a few seconds later “Hello….I’m fine….Greg just said the funniest thing to me,” You looked out the window again “He asked me if I was a spy….” you watched the car pull away and you smiled to yourself “Maybe he’s onto me, he said he dreamt it….nothing to worry about…I’ve got that notebook you wanted….I’ll see you soon, Jim. And don’t worry about Greg.”

You saw his car at the bottom of the street and smirked.

“He hasn’t got a clue.” THE END ——————— Tags: (Let me know if you’d like to be tagged/Untagged)

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[imaginedilestrade]

The Name’s Lestrade, Greg Lestrade.

Warnings: some violence A/N: Sorry for the delay! Next Weil will be back to normal 😁 as always feedback is appreciated! Have a great week! ————————— Chapter 8 ————— Greg woke up the next morning under warm, silky sheets. He extended his arm out to find you but he felt nothing but a cool empty space beside him. He shot up and looked for you, letting out a sigh of relief as he saw you stepping out the bathroom with that robe you had on in Monaco. You coyly smiled and sauntered over to him “Morning Mr Lestrade, sleep well?” You asked while lying yourself on top of him, placing your chin on his chest and fitting your legs between his. “Very,” he sleepily smirked and brushed back a piece of your hair behind your ear. You looked away as you smiled sillily, Greg simply laughed at your shyness. You certainly weren’t shy with him last night “You sleep a lot, Lestrade…” “Are we referring to each other with last names now Miss Y/L/N?” He smirked and you bit down on your lip. You leaned towards his face “Greg it is then. Lestrade or Mr Lestrade on occasion. Now you really must get changed, as much as I love you being naked in my bed we have a stick to collect.” You stood up and slipped off your robe, causing Greg to rise a brow in surprise and delight “Now if you hurry, Greg,” you drawled out his name “You can share a shower with me.” You turned on your heel and walked off, as soon as you did you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, picking you up and rushing you to the bathroom as the room filled with your laughter.

After a shower- that lasted longer than either of you had anticipated-you had changed into all black stealth attire while Greg had opted for his trademark suit. You left the hotel and walked down the grey cobbled streets to the chapel in silence. The ground was dusted with snow and there was hardly anyone around, they weren’t mad enough to be out in the freezing weather. You entered the chapel with Greg, your steps echoed throughout the empty, cold building. It was old, at least a hundred years. The sun was starting to shine though the stained glass windows, dotting your clothes and skin with a rainbow of colours, it was iridescent as you moved. You look out the book and slowly walked forward “It says it should be…” you paused and looked down “Right here.” You looked over your shoulder to Greg before kneeling down and brushing your fingers over an irregular brick on the floor. You punched it with as much force as you could and it crumbled into hundreds of pieces, the shattering noise filled the chapel. Your hand rummaged through the rubble and that’s when you found it. A small, relieved smile graced your lips and you pulled out the bright red USB stick. “Is that it?” Greg asked, sounding unimpressed.

You narrowed your eyes and tucked away the USB into your pocket. “What do you mean ‘is that it’?” You mocked his words “That USB is probably worth more than your life…” you walked back to Greg who had folded his arms and rolled his eyes at your comment. “I need to get my laptop out of your car and download the files. I need to be back in Paris to catch my flight…in other words we need to leave now.” You attempted to walk off but Greg grabbed you by the arm. “What are you going to do when you get back in London and see Mycroft?” He asked. You shrugged “That all depends on what I find. I need to make a few calls first. If the USB is encrypt, which it very well might be, I’ll need Q’s help…he owes me a few favours.” “Oh yeah? What did you do for him? Murder some enemy of his? Knock out an annoying neighbour? Poisoned an agent that was annoying him?” Greg joked. You turned to him with a smug smile “I watched his cats…” Greg’s jaw slacked slightly at the revelation before it turned into a smile “What?” You giggled. “Nothing…” he breathed out and moved closer to you “You’re just full of surprises.” Your smile was a genuine one and you placed your hands on the back of his neck to kiss him but before either of you knew it a car had screeched to a halt outside.

Greg hand defensively pushed you behind him and you rolled your eyes while grabbing your gun. A group of six masked men burst through the door and you and Greg crouched down behind the seats while you blindly fired. “I didn’t see you with that today! Where the hell did you hide it?!” Greg shrieked, grabbing his own gun. You smirked “Full of surprises,” you winked and stood up expertly shot two of the men while dodging bullets. You crouched down and stretched your leg out, taking the man down completely before killing him. A bullet grazed your arm and you yelled feeling the pain shoot through your entire body. Greg was quick to react and killed the person who had harmed you. Your pressed your hand against the wound, your hand was getting warm and wet as the blood oozing from your wound covered it. There was still one more mercenary and he was extremely skilled. Greg shot at him blindly as he tried to get to you. You noticed the agent struggling and stood up holding onto your arm while successfully shooting the last man. “We have to get out of here…” you breathe sour and double checked that the USB was secure “Someone knows we’re here and I have a feelings it’s Mycroft.” Greg raised a brow at your allegation before becoming more concerned in your wound. He gingerly brushed his hand over it “I’m fine. Just a scratch. Come on Greg we have to get back to Paris.” Greg followed you out of the car, leaving the bodies where they were. You quickly grabbed his laptop from the boot before getting in the passenger side. Greg drove frantically whist you tapped away on the laptop “The USB isn’t encrypted…” you trailed off and steadied the laptop on your thighs as the files downloaded. You searched the car for something to bind your arm with to ease the bleeding. You found a shirt belonging to Greg on the backseat and wrapped it around your arm.

“I’ll be charging you for the dry cleaning,” he uttered under his breath. You rolled your eyes and finished binding your arm before he spoke again “What you did back there…” “What about it?” Your eyes flickered over to him. “Incredible…” he breathed out. You smirked “All in a day’s work…” you uttered before returning your attention back to the laptop as it finished downloading the files. It’s made a beeping noise and you remedied the stick, safely tucking it away into your jacket pocket. You tapped away before your fingers froze over the keys. They slowly began to curl with anger and your eyes began narrow tightly. Greg glanced over and raised a brow before returning his eyes up to the road. “What?” He asked “What is it? Is the USB not working?” “No, it’s not that.” Your voice cracked and you slammed the laptop shut, making Greg jump. “Y/N?” You could hear the concern in Greg’s voice “What is it? What’s wrong?” When you didn’t say anything he pulled over and turned to you, grabbing you by the arms and shaking you as if he was trying to reawaken your voice “Tell me!” “He killed them!” You screamed and that’s as the first time Greg had ever seen you cry. You crashed your head to Greg’s chest and loudly sobbed into it. He slowly wrapped his arms around you and placed his chin on top of your head. “What do you mean?” Greg asked with a trembling voice. You were making him emotional. You sat back and Greg wiped away the streams of tears that stained your face “Mycroft,” you managed to breathe out before rage engulfed you. You eyes darkened and your jaw clenched, Greg was getting terrified. “Mycroft Holmes didn’t just stop the air strike that killed my parents…he was the one that ordered it.” ——————— Tags: (Let me know if you’d like to be tagged/Untagged)

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[trickyarchangel]

Pt. 2 - Untitled - Bond!AU

previously

Steve fully understands his mistake when Q -how could Steve ever let himself slip- freezes in the doorway. They are, both of them, suspended in time, and the outcome of the moment is dependent on how stretched thin Q might be feeling that day. Being the most sought-after quartermaster in SHIELD is enough to run anyone ragged.

Steve drops his hand from the mantle as Q steps back and shuts the door. He doesn’t turn around, just stares at his glove-covered hand on the doorknob. Steve’s stomach attempts to flip as he lets himself focus on that detail. Q always boasts callous-covered fingers and work-roughened palms, no stranger to hard work where his inventions are concerned; he finds no shame in showing them off.

To have them hidden now, it’s a reminder of why Q is here in the first place. Steve knows those gloves; they’re elbow-length to protect the palm print, nitrile, custom fitted to Q’s exact specifications.

“I took the liberty of showing her out.”

Steve knows he’s an asshole, has known it since the first girl’s heart he’d broken his sophomore year in high school. He’s crossed the line, a line they both established at the beginning of their working relationship. He wonders absently how many bags Celeste had been carried out in, and how many times Q had apologized as he’d worked.

Steve also knows there’s a large bottle of whiskey in Q’s future. He wants to prevent that, has always wanted to prevent Q drowning out the memories of what he’s done for Steve, things that no other quartermaster would ever get their hands dirty doing. It’s a bond only Steve can claim with Q, and he will fight for that bond until he draws that last breath.

The expression on Q’s face when he finally turns around tells Steve that his last breath might be sooner than he anticipated.

“I’m sorry,” Q says, dangerously flat. The USB is clutched tight in his fist. “I don’t think I heard you correctly. What did you call me?”

Steve is the best damn operative SHIELD has in the field. He’s not afraid of his quartermaster. He’s not trying to guess how many different things Q can kill him with just by the foyer’s side table. He is, however, trying anticipate the landmines ahead of him.

"I said 'don't go, please'," Steve replies, stepping down into the living area. He can see Q's desire to kill him written in the bitter lines around his mouth, the bags under his eyes.

Q turns his head, looks to the door in hesitation, and Steve sees the hard plastic aid nestled in his ear. It's a reminder that Q's field activity is always monitored. And Steve has slipped.

He'll need to be prepared for a psych evaluation in the coming week. Fury will want to test him, make sure he's still fit for duty. Fury might even threaten to pull Q from Steve's corner, but in the end, it will all be hot air and bluster.

Q will never allow Steve to go into the field without his personal backup. It's that fact that Steve takes advantage of, slinking forward with the grace of a prowling lioness.

"The mission is over," Q states, shoving aside the flap of his suit jacket to drop the USB into the pocket of his tweed waistcoat. He buttons the pocket shut then begins to peel the gloves off his hands.

Steve has no problem admitting that he'd like to kneel at Q's feet and free each of his fingers with his teeth. He's even asked once, receiving nothing more than a bland look, a barbed retort, and a new gun. He knows not to ask this time, watching instead as Q reaches up to pull the ear piece out. He splints it open with his thumbnail, and it parts like the skin of a grape. Steve is insanely turned on in that moment.

Q glances up at Steve and sucks his teeth briefly. "I think we're done here." He comes forward, and Steve bravely stands his ground, but Q only walks around him and casually, purposely, presses his bare finger against the power switch for the fireplace, leaving a fingerprint behind. The flames burst into life, and Steve supposes this means he'll have to burn the apartment down and find a new place to live.

A shame; he quite likes the view.

Q tosses the gloves and the earpiece into the fire and doesn't even offer them the courtesy of watching them melt. He faces Steve again and shoves his hands into his coat pockets.

"Do you know why you need me?" Q asks, and the question catches Steve off guard. He breathes in the scent of the gloves burning as he sifts through a couple of possible answers.

"Every now and then, a job requires no triggers be pulled," is what he answers.

The flames lick at the slate tiles behind Q. He's illuminated from behind, light dancing through his dark brown hair and catching on the silver coating his temples and the longer locks artfully tucked behind his ear. He doesn't look like a hidden-away special ops. Steve sees him more as the model come to life from the cover of a women's magazine.

"It's because you are a spoiled brat," Q corrects him flatly.

Steve crosses his arms and watches Q focus on the brass buckles of his suspenders. "Well, that's just unfair," Q's gaze flashes up to Steve's, "and blatantly true."

Q regards him in silence after that then looks at his own shoes. He pulls his hands free and walks towards the other end of the couch. Steve doesn't move, doesn't want to give in to the urge to match the restless pacing.

"Sabin," Q says, the word sliding from his tongue in an accent Steve's not familiar with in Q's voice.

"Excuse me?"

Q purses his mouth and shrugs. "Her brother's name. He goes to school in Tuscany, wants to be an artist. An artist, of all things, in a world like this."

Steve is tense, his fingers digging into his palms where they're hidden beneath his arms. "I didn't force her into this life."

"No, you didn't," Q concedes. "But neither would you have ever cared enough to know."

It's a wonder Steve's jaw unclenches long enough for him to retort. "I don't have the luxury or, yes, the desire to learn the history of every opposing agent that wants to be the one to take down 007."

"But, as you claim, you have the luxury of - how did you put it - enjoying yourself, of fucking any of them that catches your fancy, or your dick."

Bingo. Steve relaxes his stance and laughs a little, letting his arms unfurl as he saunters to the wet bar in front of the kitchen divide. He's sure to keep Q in his sightline, grabbing a bottle of scotch and popping the cork with a satisfying echo around the room.

"You know, Q, if you spent less time thinking about who catches my dick, I'm sure that pile of junk in your lab could be our next spec car."

He's lifting the bottle to pour when he loses hearing in his left ear, experiencing a high whine in his right. The bottle slips from his grasp, smashing against the bamboo flooring. He follows it, dropping to his knees and clasping his hands over his ears.

It feels like hours pass before the ringing stops and the pressure against his ears releases. He blinks, not remembering closing his eyes, and see Q is crouched in front of him, an expression of sad resignation adorning his features.

Steve blinks again and has to look at his hands to see if they're drenched in blood.

"Are my ears bleeding?" He knows that his mouth is moving, but it takes a few seconds for sound to register again. Too long. Dangerous. He's disoriented, and also nauseous. "Damn."

Q huffs, his breath stirring the fringe on Steve's brow. He looks down at Steve's held-out palms and then places a small device in the center of his left hand.

"A vicious little thing, innocuous, overlooked," Q informs him softly. "Do you think, Agent, that you'd still remember her name after that?"

~TBC~

[imaginedilestrade]

The Name’s Lestrade, Greg Lestrade.

Warnings: None? A/N: Just to let you all know I won’t be posting a chapter next week because I’ll be up in the north of Scotland so wifi is limited 😭💔 as always feedback is appreciated! Have a great week! ————————— Chapter 7 ————— “Where is this memory stick again?” Greg asked while driving along a beautiful coastline that connected Croatia with Italy. You glanced over to him “We’re on the right track,” you nonchalantly replied. Greg rolled his eyes and let out a groan “If we are going to get anywhere you and I are going to have to cooperate a bit better…” “Near the border between France and Italy,” you glanced out the window “You don’t believe me. I know you don’t.” “I’m having a hard time believing you, yes. I don’t believe for one minute Mycroft is shutting down 007, he can’t. He’s too dependent on me and everyone else.” Your eyes slowly wandered back to Greg who’s focus was on the road “I remember first meeting you at MI6…” You leaned your head back against the seat “You really caught my eye.” Greg nervously gulped “I-I did?” He managed to choke out. “Yeah,” you turned your head back out to the window “I thought to myself; ‘This man is the biggest arsehole I’ve ever met.’” You and Greg both lightly chuckled, brightening the mood in the car as he drove. You let out a sigh and looked at him “Sospel,” you quietly told him “The stick is located in Sospel.” Greg quirked a brow before a proud smile graced his face “See, we’re getting somewhere.” “Don’t hold your breath, Lestrade” you uttered. Greg rolled his eyes and continued to drive as you rolled down the window and extending your hand out to allow the wind rushing passed to flow through your fingers. The light hit off your engagement ring and you narrowed your eyes at it as it glistened in the sun. You played with it between your fingers before slipping it off, Greg was watching you intently.

You held it between your forefinger and thumb, the diamond capturing the light, you took one final glimpse of it before tossing it out the window and smiling as a weight lifted off your shoulders. Greg’s eyes widened “Wh-why did you do that?” You tilted your head around to him “I told you, I don’t love him. I don’t even like him. What’s the point of keeping it when I’m going to obliterate him-” “You think you’re going to obliterate him. Just you wait, you’ll be proved wrong.” Greg cut you off with a serious tone, one which you raised a brow at. “Do you really think Mycroft is ’clean’?” You asked out of the blue. Greg furrowed a brow and sent you a sidewards glance “Yes.” His answer was brief and short. You let out a scoff and rolled your eyes “What?” He asked. “The deals I’ve seen him make would change your mind,” you uttered and leaned back in your seat “I hate him…” you sighed out as Greg continued driving with his mind mulling over your words. Finally arriving at Sospel, you had arranged a room at a hotel. It was approaching winter and being so close to the Alps, snow was dusted all over the town and the temperatures were close to freezing. Thankfully you packed for this and slipped on a warm winter coat with a large hood, Greg had a waterproof padded jacket and a few jumpers in the boot of his car. He was always prepared for every situation and every climate. Greg froze for a moment seeing the condensation from your breath in front of your face “What?” You asked, quirking a brow. He shook his head “N-nothing,” he is words nervously flew out his mouth. He couldn’t deny it, you were absolutely breathtaking, especially as the snow reflected off your face and the stillness in the air made your voice more melodic than ever. You watched him with a furrowed brow as he walked into the hotel, you closely followed him, eventually reaching the room. It wasn’t anything elaborate but the views of the mountains were breathtaking. “We can get the stick tomorrow,” you told him “From looking at the coordinates it seems to be located in the chapel a few streets away.” You slipped off your jacket and lay on the bed “But for now I think we both deserve a rest.”

“There’s only one bed…” Greg trailed off and narrowed his eyes. “Yes,” you smiled and propped yourself up on your elbows on the kingsized bed “But there is also the floor if you’re against sharing a bed with me.” Greg swallowed hard, the noise was loud enough for you to hear. You stood up and walked over to him, he rested his hands on your waist as you brought your face close to his “Do you want a drink? I know your favourite…” Greg shut his eyes feeling your hot breath against his face “You never did tell me how you knew it.” “You and I are more alike than you think, Mr Lestrade.” You escaped his grasp and went downstairs to grab a drink for you both. Greg let out a shaky breath and rubbed his face exasperatingly. He couldn’t quite escape you allure, but a part of him was glad that he couldn’t. You returned with two drinks in hand “Here you go,” you handed him his glass “Enjoy.” The two of you downed your drink, not breaking eye contact. You placed down your empty glass and slowly sauntered over to Greg “Are we still enemies, Mr Lestrade?” The softness in your tone sent a chill down his spine. “I-I don’t…” he paused to find the right words “Less so.” You smiled and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips “Even less now…” he mumbled against the skin of your lips. You giggled and the vibrations made his lips and the skin around his mouth tingle. Greg wrapped his arms around you as you brought yours to the back of his neck as he deepened the kiss. He pulled you to the bed almost desperately, both of you crashing to the sheets with your lips still connected. Greg let his hands roam down to your hips and began to move them against his. You let out a shuddering breath with a smirk “Mr Lestrade…” you pulled back and sat upright, straddling him “I thought I told you the only pleasure of receive from you would be in proving that I’m right.” “You did,” Greg sat up and pecked your lips “But just in case you aren’t….” In a flash he flipped you around and you were under him “I’ll pay you back now.” You couldn’t help but giggle as he brushed his hand up your side, bringing it up to cup your face “There was always such a fine line between us…” he whispered. “That line has always been blurred to me…” you admitted in one breath. He smirked and pressed his lips to yours again.

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[imaginedilestrade]

The Name's Lestrade, Greg Lestrade.

Warnings: a tiny bit of violence A/N: Here's part five! Things start to get interesting next week! 😁 as always feedback is appreciated! Have a great week! ————————— Chapter 5 ————— Landing in Dubrovnik you met with Jim in a quiet restaurant "I don't appreciate being shot at," Jim told you and you nodded "Especially meeting someone for the first time." "If it's any constellation I don't appreciate being in the middle of gunfire either. Nor do I appreciate one of your men pointing a gun at my stomach." You leaned back in your chair and Jim understandingly nodded with a smirk. "Apologies, Y/N, That idiot was trying to get to Lestrade. Shall we get down to business?" He asked in a charming Irish accent. You rummaged though your bag and handed Jim a memory stick "All the files you could possibly desire on Sherlock Holmes." Jim handed a notebook over to you "And that little book has the coordinates that will lead you to the memory stick with the information you need on it to take down Mycroft Holmes. I do wish you well with that, if you need any more help I'll be more than happy to assist." "You should be thanking him," you smirked and put away the notebook "After all, he practically let me wring all that information out of him and his laptop." Your phone vibrated and noticed it was Mycroft ringing "Speak of the devil..." You muttered and placed the phone to your ear, putting of a fake enthusiastic voice "Hello darling!" "Hello," Mycroft spun around in his office chair "How's Paris?"

"Beautiful, a little overcast right now however" you lied though your teeth. "I've arranged the jet for you to pick you up on Monday," it was Thursday just now that would give you a few days to get the memory stick and get back to Paris in time "Is that alright?" He asked. "Perfect," you sinfully smiled "I'll see you then." "Goodbye, love." Mycroft hung up the phone and looked at Greg "She's still in Paris having a delightful time shopping," Mycroft sighed and leaned back in his chair "Anyway I heard Mr Moriarty slipped out of your fingers." Greg pursed his lips and shuffled on the spot "Not for long sir I can assure you, he is in Dubrovnik, Croatia. I'll be on my way there after this meeting." "Well you better get going...I have things to do myself..." Mycroft spoke under his breath and Greg narrowed a wary brow remembering your words. Greg boarded a flight just as you were returning to your hotel with Jim for a drink. You sat down with him and discussed the coordinates with him. Greg soon landed and was constantly checking his phone, tracking your every move. He made his way to the hotel to look for you but he had killed two birds with one stone seeing you with Jim. Your laugher was cut short seeing Greg standing by the door and Jim raised a brow "Everything alright?" Your stomach dropped as Jim dragged you out of your trance "Y-yeah! Will you excuse me for a minute I'm just going to the bathroom," you sent him a convincing smile and he didn't suspect a thing. You grabbed your small clutch and stormed up to Greg, who had his back to you, with a scowl on your face. You dragged him to the side "Hello Mr Lestrade, I've been expecting you..." You forced a smile and folded your arms across your chest. "Really?" Greg asked, surprised. "No!" You snapped and lightly slapped his chest "What the fuck are you doing here?" "I could ask you the same thing!" He half whispered and half shouted, trying not to attract too much attention to the both of you. You narrowed your eyes at Greg "You were with him weren't you? You were with Mycroft today..." "How did you know?" Greg stepped closer to you and you stumbled back, slamming your back against the cold, marble wall. "I'd recognise that God bloody awful aftershave anywhere," you hissed "Did he send you to spy on me?" "I came on my own accord," Greg cockily smirked "And I came to take down your little friend." Your eyes widened slightly and you gripped onto Greg's arm. "I wouldn't if I were you," you warned. Greg's eyes glanced between your hand on his arm and your face. You knew you had to get Jim out of here, he was your best contact, you leaned forward and pressed a light kiss against Greg's lips. He shut his eyes and you send Jim a text telling him to leave. You pulled away, but kept your lips lingering over Greg's "We're enemies Mr Lestrade." "I know," he whispered and roughly crashed his mouth to yours again, lacing his fingers in your hair and wrapping an arm around your waist. You moaned into his mouth and Greg smirked before suddenly pushing you back "But I don't think enemies do that." "No..." You mused, slightly red in the face as you gasped for air like it was going out of fashion "But they do this." Before Greg could react he felt the room around him spin as you brought your arm to the side of his head, almost knocking him out. You grabbed him and shoved him into the lift "This won't hurt," you smirked "For me anyway". The next thing Greg saw was black. ——————— Tags: (Let me know if you'd like to be tagged/Untagged)

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