consultingwriters:

Bond retires with Madeline and settles into a restless
domesticity. Years later, in the dead of night, he receives a phone call. It’s
a staticy call from an unknown number, a plea for help from his former
Quartermaster. – anon

I
love this idea… Jen.

(Please note that continuation requests need to be submitted in the ConsultingWriters inbox. Thank you! Jen)

The
phone was naturally at the opposite end of the room, beeping obnoxiously
loudly; it was so rarely in use that Bond generally tended to ignore its
existence. Every once in a while, Eve or Tanner would get in touch to check in,
on something dimly resembling a social basis which Bond was always quite
grateful for.

Bond
was mind-numbingly bored. Indescribably and inexpressibly bored.

Madeleine
ignored the phone, and so Bond dragged himself out of bed: not an alarm, but a
phone call. Unknown number.

Curiosity
and irritation both mildly piqued, he answered: “Bond speaking.”

Bond?

The
voice was rattling, the line distorted with hisses and pops of static. “Who is
this?”

“Who
is it?” Madeleine asked from the bed, a direct echo. “James?”

Bond, I – nee- it’s Q – Q – I ne – help

The
line was cracking all over the place, only words slipping through, piece by
piece, but the single letter was enough: “Q?”

Yes.”

The
voice was right; whatever vowels sounds trickled through the static were round
and crisp, English, indisputably Q’s voice. Older, perhaps, but still
recognisable. Bond always remembered voices, names, faces. The life of a double-oh
was behind him, but old habits die hard, and it was all but reflexive. Bond
could never forget.

“What’s
happened? Where are you?”

Plea- help – you can – trac- … tracers.”

Instantly,
Bond felt the rush. Unmistakeable and immediate.

“What’s
happened?”

“…
hostage, I…

“Q,
I’m losing you. Location?”

you stole – … – them, you-”

“The
tracers?”
Yes.

“Injured?”

“I can’t – los –
Bond
…”

“Q.
Status.”

… not good.”

The
first truly clear sentence: Q’s voice was strained and tired, cracking as much
as the phone line itself was. Bond could hear the fragility, his old
Quartermaster, calling him for help
at an ungodly time of night, rather than MI6.

MI6
was unsafe. Bond was not affiliated. The only person Q could trust who would be
even slightly placed to help him.

Madeleine’s
voice: “James?”

“I’m
coming for you,” Bond promised, as the line crackled louder and hissed
violently at him, Q’s voice half-gone. “I promise you, Q, I will find you.”

Thank you.”

A
dial tone, and Q was gone.

Less
than an hour later, and Bond was too.

elyteracy:

@bluewire13 is your gift for the @aftgexchange

“Come on, it’s gonna be fun,” Dan had said, smiling with all her teeth.

It is not.

It is cold and annoying. They’d almost died on the way because Andrew had not put chains on the wheels and they’d just ice skated on the road. Kevin’s opinion of skiing is at rock bottom now.

He feels ridiculous in his big coat, his scarf is itchy and he can’t do a fucking thing with his gloves on. He is highly suspicious of the safety of the sport. These skiing lifts look unpredictable.

“What even is that?” He asks Neil.

Neil opens his mouth, before closing it again. He scrunches his nose, the way he does when he gets frustrated about something. “It’s a…. A- shit.” He clucks his tongue. “I… don’t know the word in English?”

“What do you mean you don’t know the word in English?”

“I only went skiing in France and Austria!” He says. “It’s tire-fesses in French.”

“Drag-butt? That is ridiculous.”

“Accurate though,” Neil says. “You are supposed to get the perch between your legs and it pulls you up.”

“There’s a bad joke somewhere in there,” Andrew says, blank face. It takes a second for Kevin to get it, and he groans. Neil just stares at his boyfriend (or whatever the fuck Andrew is to Neil) with confusion. “Don’t worry about it, idiot,” Andrew says.

Neil shrugs and goes back to tightening his shoes. He makes short work of it. Apparently, he and his mother had spent some time in a ski station lost in the middle of nowhere in France. He seems comfortable and at ease that Kevin envies. He almost wants to throw Neil on the floor and cover him in snow.

The only good thing about it all is that he isn’t the one who seems to hate the holiday the most. Andrew is. He is bundled in two coats and a big scarf, a beanie on his head, squashed curls escaping from it, nose red, cheeks flushed, and his gaze seething.

Neil takes one look at him and snorts. “Come on, it’s not that bad,” he says.

It is, in Kevin’s opinion. Andrew, of the same mind, glares at Neil. “Shut up,” he snaps, though the words are muffled in his scarf. It’s closer to a grumbling now.

Neil snorts, gently peels the scarf off Andrew’s face and kisses his cheek. “You like speed, you’ll like skiing.”

“I don’t like anything,” Andrew says, even when he’s looking at Neil like no one else exists on Earth.

Kevin steps in a puddle of melted snow and curses. He never should have come.

__

Andrew stares at the ski lift with narrowed eyes. Neil is beside him, chatting with Allison, both of them on their ski and looking at ease.

“I have no idea how this works,” Dan admits.

Neil nudges her shoulder with his. “You grab the perch and you stick it between your- Oh,” he says, blinking. He looks at Andrew with raised eyebrow. “Really?”

“What?”

“Earlier. You made a dick joke.”

Dan leans toward them and almost loses her balance. Andrew plans on letting her fall. Neil catches her before she can. “Thanks, sweetie,” she says with an embarrassed grin. “What about the dick joke?”

“The perch between your legs,” Andrew says.

Dan laughs almost falling all over again. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m laughing at a joke from the Monster,” she says. “You boy can be funny.” She knocks shoulders with Neil, who glances at Andrew, curious and a bit satisfied maybe.

Andrew doesn’t bother correcting her. She is already making her way toward the ski lift.

She takes a perch. It pulls her up. She curses loudly a mother shouts “Language!” after her. She doesn’t make it more than a few meters before she falls.

And she keeps hanging on the perch.

“Let the perch go!” Neil screams. “Just let it go, Dan!”

“Fuck you!” She shouts back. “It was hard enough to get, it is mine now!”

“Dan stop being so stubborn! LET! IT! GO!”

Finally, she releases her grip on the perch. She drags herself off the path of the ski lift and lets herself lay in the snow.

Neil takes off his ski and painstakingly makes his way up to her. Andrew can’t hear what they are saying from where he is. Neil laughs and holds out his hand. He pulls Dan up who is covered in snow.

Something cold and hard hits him in the back of his neck. He turns around, already reaching for his knives. He realizes that one, it was Aaron, who is smirking at him with another snowball in hand, and two, it is hard to grab knives from armbands when you have four layers on top and gloves.

“Are you not gonna fight and leave like a coward, dear brother of mine?” Aaron taunts.

Andrew weights his option for a split second. He gathers snow to prepare a ball. “You are going down.”

He throws the ball. Aaron dodges easily. He doesn’t expect Andrew to charge at him. Andrew swipes Aaron’s feet from under him. Aaron goes down with a shout. Andrew holds him there with a knee to his back and shoves snow down Aaron’s coat.

“Shit- fuck! It’s cold! Andrew! Stop it, stop no, fuck- Andrew, pl- fuck, I give up.”

“You are pathetic,” Andrew says but lets his brother go.

Aaron rolls on his back. His face is red and he is breathing hard. “You are an asshole,” he says.

“You started it.”

Aaron groans. “I give up.”

Andrew turns back to Neil and Dan coming down the slope with a satisfied huff.

Neil stops in front of him. He isn’t grinning, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “Having fun?” He asks.

Andrew shoves him away. “I hate the cold,” he says. “This entire trip was the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Neil snorts. “Really, the worst?”

“Just kill me,” Aaron says from where he is still sprawled in the snow. Andrew kicks snow at him.

___

After a grueling day of skiing or trying to ski, the Foxes gather in the living room of their chalet. Dan and Matt are sitting in the corner curled up. Renée is on the floor at their feet.

Neil is pleasantly buzzed from the tequila shots he did with Allison. She’s already drunk enough to attempt a Disney singing contest against Nicky.

He leans against Andrew. He is a warm and solid weight, and Neil hums. “She’s never going to win.”

“Nicky has watched all Disney three times minimum,” he says.

Neil grins. “Does that mean you know the songs too?”

Andrew scowls at him. Neil giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Renee asks with a small smile. She’s drinking coke. The light of the fire gives her white hair a gentle yellow glow.

“Andrew knows some Disney songs by heart,” he whispers. He’s not sure why he is whispering but he feels like it’s important to keep the secret.

Renee laughs. “Does he now?”

Andrew pushes her away with his feet. She blocks it with her bottle of coke.

“Do not,” Andrew says, glaring at her.

She pats his knee. “Not today, then.” She winks at Neil and he can’t help laughing.

“You’re a moron,” Andrew tells him.

Neil hums in agreement, laying his head against Andrew’s shoulder. “Tired,” he says, and closes his eyes.

__

Aaron stares at the slope, gripping his sticks. Nocky stops next to him, perfectly at easy on his skis, the bastard. He learned in Germany and Aaron hates him for it.

“You okay?” He asks.

“I have no idea how to do this,” Aaron bites out. “Who even thought this trip was a good plan?”

“Most of us, actually,” Nicky says with a grin. “Except you… and Andrew.”

Andrew is not looking much better on his skis. If he could glare the mountain into submission he would. Unfortunately for him, that’s impossible.

It’s only a small comfort for Aaron.

“You need to bend your knees, yes like that,” he instructs. “Point your ski together, that way you won’t go fast. When you want to turn, just put weight on this side.”

From the corner of his eye, he sees Andrew trying it out with narrowed eyes.

Aaron will not be left behind. He pushes himself and starts sliding down the slope. He picks up the pace.

Skiing is actually pretty cool. He thinks he likes it.

He sees something from the corner of his eye. There’s a shout. He realizes doesn’t know how to stop the moment he sees Andrew barreling toward him.

They crash into each other, roll for a few meters. Aaron loses a ski and a stick. His head is ringing and he’s glad he agreed to a helmet.

The sky is a vibrant blue. “I hate skiing,” he declares.

“Same,” Andrew says.

__

Matt shoves the last bag in the car. “We should do this again!”

“No,” the twins refuse, in unison.

“For once, I agree with the Minyard,” Dan says.

Matt throws an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, babe, wasn’t it fun?”

“I am pretty sure I broke my tailbone.”

“Don’t be overdramatic, it’s just a bruise.”

Dan sighs. “I’ll think about it,” she agrees.

Matt pumps the air. “Yes!”

philosophium:

okay so @andrewminyardpng​ asked me to write a ficlet for this post made by @taktitty​ so here i am at 2am writing a tfc fanfic(let)


The only reason they’re here is because of Kevin.

Well, Neil supposes that’s not strictly true. They’re here because Kevin is in love with Jeremy Knox, whether he wants to admit it or not, for sure, but there are other reasons. For instance, they’re here because the freshmen Foxes can’t handle playing at a college level yet. They’re here because of Neil’s incompetence as a co-captain. They’re here because they didn’t make it to finals. And they’re also here because Andrew allowed it.

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Andrew/Neil prompt: Andrew being in the pros and Neil still in college and Andrew basically spoiling the actual hell out of Neil. Neil asks him to stop and save his money but Andrew of course doesn’t (but he’s financially responsible! He’s not gonna go broke from spoiling Neil)

wesawbears:

I went majorly overboard on this, but I hope you enjoy!

Neil doesn’t care about material possessions. Andrew knows this, knows that Neil would be content to live out of that fucking duffel bag for the rest of his life if Andrew let him. He tries not to let it get to him, he really does, but his mind can’t get over the fact that Neil should be able to own things like a key without looking at it like a dog with their favorite toy.

And if part of the reason it bothers him is that seeing Neil with that goddamn duffel just reminds him of “thank you, you were amazing” and Neil running and himself falling, then that is his business alone.

Once he’s gone pro, Andrew finds that without Neil and the other chosen Foxes to watch, he’s left with two dangerous things: a lot of time on his hands and a disposable income. So Andrew starts small.

A day after the gift is delivered, he gets a call from Neil. “Andrew. Why is there an Audi in the parking lot that I’m being told is mine?”

Andrew’s a little sad they’re not facetiming. He would have liked to watch the way Neil’s face is surely reddening with righteous fury. “I didn’t like the car you picked out,” he answers. “It’s ten miles out from dying anyway.”

“My car was-”

“I swear if you say fine-”

“It ran.”

“Barely.”

The silence on the other end lets Andrew know he’s won and he can imagine the way Neil’s mouth has probably pressed into a thin line.

Finally, Neil answers, “If it makes you feel better, fine. I’ll keep the car. But nothing else.”

Andrew doesn’t make any promises. He just says, “Good. You didn’t really have another choice, since your old car is halfway to the junkyard by now.”

“You asshole-”

He ends the call.

Andrew tries to refrain from any more lavish gifts, he really does, but Neil’s clothes still piss him off. He’s on the phone, complaining to Andrew for the fifth year in a row about not wanting to go to the Fall Banquet and what a travesty it is that they’re using his precious court from something that’s not Exy, so andrew interrupts, “Are you wearing the same shirt?”

“Yes?”

“No you’re not. It has holes in it.”

Neil scoffs. “No one is going to be close enough to see if there are holes.”

“I’ll know.”

Neil drops it after that and three days later, there’s a nice black dress shirt laying across Neil’s bed. Neil sends him a picture of him in it and it looks just as good as Andrew knew it would.

Another perk of living alone is no one can see when he makes it his new phone background.

They go on like this for a while, Andrew sending little things he thinks won’t piss Neil off too much. They can’t spend Thanksgiving together, with Andrew out of town for a press thing and honestly, they don’t really want to considering the history that day holds. But he can hear the way the end of the semester is slowly tearing Neil down, and he hears the echoes of a similar exhaustion in his own voice. So when Neil softly admits softly, “I miss you,” Andrew knows his next gift.

He makes it to Palmetto just before the end of afternoon practice. He can hear Nicky’s voice in his head cooing over how romantic the whole thing is, but he ignores it and grabs his gear out of his trunk.

When he gets to the sidelines, he opens with, “Hey, Coach. Sub me in for one of your goalies.”

Wymack’s eye roll is audible. “You couldn’t do this when you actually played here?”

“Come on, Coach. Think of how boring your life would be if I did what you expected.”

Wymack grumbles something about blood pressure medication, but Andrew is already halfway to the goal. Some of the freshmen start chattering excitedly, which prompts Neil to look up from where he’s talking to Robin by the goal. He freezes in the middle of a word when he sees Andrew and though Andrew’s loathe to admit poetic thoughts, he thinks he could live without the sun if it was replaced with Neil’s smile at that moment. All Andrew says in greeting, though, is, “Ready to get your ego checked, Captain?”

Neil’s face turns fierce and there’s a brightness in his eyes that makes Andrew want to try.

Wymack yells distantly at them to stop gabbing and start playing, so Neil heads to the center of the court, though not without turning to look back to Andrew. Andrew gives them his signatures salute and that’s all he registers until Wymack signals the end of practice.

Neil ignores everyone asking for his thoughts and makes a beeline for Andrew. “You’re here,” he says, a little breathlessly.

“Your teammates are staring.”

“Let them,” Neil says, pressing up close to lift the grate of Andrew’s helmet. “Let me kiss you.”

This time, it’s Andrew’s turn to answer “yes” and pull Neil in by the back of his neck. Their lips meet and he feels right for the first time in months.

andaminyard:

Au
in which after riko’s death he manages to haunt neil as a ghost??? Or
something??? Happy Super Late Halloween tho!!

tw for death, riko in general, mentions of past abuse, blood, references to broken bones and guns 

 
         There had been something about seeing Riko’s arm dressed in a
sling, broken and ruined in a way that seemed to mirror the past damage dealt
to Kevin’s left hand. It was no secret that had Riko had the opportunity, there
was no way his game would ever recover enough to make it to court. He’d never get to live
his life the way he wanted to – it felt like the sharpest karma for what he
tried to do to Kevin, and Neil felt it in the victory which called the bullet
Ichirou put in his head a mere insult to injury.

           Neil, privately, would have preferred to see Riko live through
that. To watch him scramble and suffer as he tried to do what would be near
impossible in the best of circumstances, let alone if he’d continued to play
for the Ravens. Neil was certain that he wasn’t alone with that, either.

 
         The campus felt alive when they returned back to Palmetto after
their win – and the pride that Neil felt for his team, his Foxes, was immense.
The way that everyone around them seemed so effected by it too, so alive with energy,
only managed to sweeten everything so much more. Summer was coming and he’d get
to spend the entire time hidden away with Andrew – learning each-other and
appreciating having all the time in the world to just feel alive.

Keep reading

“I’m calling to cancel our date because I’m actually in the ER right now, sorry. …I mean, sure, I guess you can come down here, but… okay…” with Sterek, please!! Because lbh, with their luck it’s bound to happen eventually.

gotthesilver:

“So, uh, I’m kind of in the ER,” are the first words out of Stiles’ mouth when Derek answers his phone.

“You’re what?”

Stiles winces when the man next to him moves, jostling Stiles’ arm.  “I kind of tripped in the garden, and I think I’ve broken my collarbone.  I’m still in the waiting room and I don’t know how long I’m going to be, so I guess rain check on our date?”

“Is anyone with you?”

“Aside from everyone else slowly getting annoyed in the waiting room?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Stiles sighs.  “I got a cab here.  I know what’s going to happen; they’re going to x-ray it and send me home with painkillers.  You don’t have to–”

“I’m coming down there,” Derek says, and then he hangs up.

“Great,” Stiles says to himself, trying to slip his phone in his pocket without moving too much.  “Just what this situation needs, a protective alpha werewolf who was stood up.”

Keep reading

Do it. Write the fic about them sharing a room at Clint’s house. (please) :)

pensversusswords-deactivated201:

Just a short fic but I did it! *not really spoilery, just fluff*

It’s been a long day and Steve and Tony finally get a few moments
of peace in their bedroom at Clint’s farm.  

~

“Steve?”

He turned at the sound of his name,
halting in the threshold of his and Tony’s borrowed bedroom, and found Laura
standing behind him, two folded towels resting in her hands. 

Keep reading

prompt – silver/flint, silver says he wants freedom, especially from flint. does flint haunt his dreams? pervade his thoughts? does he desperately want his captain? will silver ever be free? does he truly want to be rid of flint?

farashasilver:

Man, y’all are making me write from Silver’s perspective. It’s fun, but it makes for long ficlets because of his penchant for analyzing absolutely everything.

Laudanum made it difficult for Silver to crawl out of the images that plagued him in sleep, but he did it anyway, heaving himself up to a sitting position on the window seat that had become his bunk of late. The last thing he needed was to indulge in fantasies about the man he was currently sharing a cabin with, not when that man had been the tangential cause of Silver’s misery. The back of his tongue tasted sour and bitter all at once, his head rang with the sound of pounding rain on the quarterdeck, and his toes hurt.

Not the toes that were still there. That would have been easy. The toes from his fucking missing leg hurt, and Silver stared down at the stump of his thigh, narrow-eyed and seething. Not for the first time, he regretted stealing the page out of that fucking ledger and getting himself into this fucking mess in the first place. He should have left well enough alone, weaseled his way onto the crew as cook, and then scarpered off to civilization at his soonest chance.

Keep reading

Flint prompt then! :D – Sometimes Silver, with his sharp intelligence, reminds Flint more of Thomas than he is comfortable with. He’ll never not love Thomas but even the possibility that he could feel something for Silver is terrifying.

farashasilver:

Okay so this one totally turned into the next fic in “Any Port in a Storm,” which will be titled “Hard-a-lee” and is currently 2k words and about to get to the good parts. This is an excerpt, the full thing will be finished in a couple of days, I imagine.

Flint may as well have handed Silver a loaded pistol tonight. He did not know what could have possibly possessed him to say something so deliciously useful to someone so relentlessly manipulative. ‘I need your help’ was only the tiniest step away from ‘I need you,’ and Silver would have heard it in his voice. Flint had no idea when it had become that – when he had started leaning on Silver, counting on his support, not only using him but needing him as well. He had no illusions on the mood of the crew. If Silver brought them around on this venture, it would not be their love of Captain Flint that did it. His plan to give Silver the crew’s ear by showing them he had the captain’s had worked too well.

Keep reading