#or 'why didn't he just pocket the empty gun instead of hurling it away'

[cicerfics]

#oooh yes#if i may add to this#you know how in the books he actually has a secretary?#now i imagine bind calling out to her “how do i say strangled with tie in AAR”#and loelia fluently coming up with those in the fly (from @double-0h-no)

Okay, wait, I love this.

Loelia Ponsonby in the Craig!verse! Except instead of a sleek young woman who has an ongoing flirtation with 007, she's a 56 year old lady who has been in the MI6 secretarial trenches for 30+ years.

She's been an administrative assistant in the double-oh sector for the past 20 years. She's on her sixth 007. She is the ONE person who is NEVER flustered or aggravated by Bond's shenanigans because she's seen it all before, a dozen times over.

Bond asks her for euphemisms for 'garrotted some guy with his tie', 'wrecked my new motorcycle and also another fruit stand', and 'threw my palmprint gun at someone's head and it fell into a river'.

Loelia tosses out answers without lifting her head from her own work. Her typing speed never falters and her tone of voice never shifts. She's got nine years till she retires and collects her pension and she absolutely REFUSES to make that time harder on herself by getting fussed about whatever the current 007 has done or hasn't done.

Not her circus, not her monkey, thank god!

Random headcanon

Re: this post -

Whenever someone finally pins Bond down long enough to make him fill out his AARs properly, this is the type of terminology he gleefully uses to explain whatever wreckage he's left behind.

'My contact in Beirut proved to be a dead end' - Contact had been turned by the enemy so I garrotted him with his own tie

'Once I made contact with the target, I disabled his mobile phone via a lithobreaking maneuver' - I kicked his hand and he dropped it off the edge of a ten-story building

'During the ensuing pursuit, the car provided by Q-branch underwent rapid unplanned disassembly' - I jumped out of it so I could tackle the target off his motorcycle, and the abandoned car crashed into a wall

Bond HATES political euphemisms and scientific jargon...UNLESS he can use it to make the vein in Mallory's temple throb or cause Q to do his cute little angry-hands-on-hips-scowly-face pose.

[runnning-outof-time]

Pressure | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Mosely decides to use (Y/N) as leverage to get what he wants from Tommy. Seems like a well calculated plan, all accept (Y/N)'s been through this enough times now that it doesn't really bother her like it used to.

Warnings: language, kidnapping (sort of I guess)

Word Count: 3843

A/N: why can I totally see Mosely doing something like this?? Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR THOUGHTS & COMMENTS HELP ME WRITE!

The streets of London were crowded, but that didn't bother (Y/N). She decided to take a trip into the city with the sole objective to spend some money. Tommy had been in and out, constantly getting pulled away on business or for something for Parliament. They seemed to be like two ships passing each other in the night, and she hoped that a little retail therapy would serve to brighten her spirits.

She was currently in a jeweler's shop. She had already picked out a pair of diamond earrings and a matching necklace that would match the dress she'd be wearing to the latest formal engagement Tommy was invited to. The next selection of items she set her eyes on were the pocket watches. Tommy had been using a cracked one for the longest time. His excuse was that he never had time to get a new one, nor did he care to take time out of his busy schedule to get himself a new one. So (Y/N) figured she'd take it upon herself to get him one.

"Thanks, Silvio. If you're able to, can you have them delivered to the house?" she smiled at the man behind the register after she handed over the correct amount of money for the three items she'd purchased.

"I sure can, Mrs. Shelby," the man grinned, always happy after he scored business with an affluent person like this one. It got his company's name out there.

"Thank you," (Y/N) sent one last smile before she closed her purse and moved to exit the store. Her idea had worked. She now felt way better. The next item on her agenda was to get something to eat.

She was on her way to do just that when she felt someone grab ahold of her arm. "I'm gonna need you to come with me, Mrs. Shelby," an unknown man's voice came from her side as she was tugged off of the sidewalk and towards a waiting car.

"Who are you?" she dared to ask. The man didn't say anything, instead he just made his grip on her upper arm tighter. "Do you know who I am?" she snapped at the person now. She didn't have the time for this. She then turned to look at the well-dressed man. She racked her brain in hopes that something would take, but she came up with nothing.

"Yes, we do know who you are, and you're very valuable to us. So keep your pretty mouth shut and everything will be ok," the man wore a grin as he lifted the side of his suit jacket up to show that he had a gun stuffed in the waistband of his trousers. (Y/N) sighed at the sight. Not again.

Not another word was said until (Y/N) was shoved into the backseat of a car, the man moving in right next to her. He kept his tight grip on her bicep, as if she'd try to run away if he'd loosen it up. "Can you at least tell me who you work for?" she asked once the driver started taking her to wherever they'd be going. She couldn't even think of who's group these men could be a part of. Just about everybody was trying to get a piece of Tommy Shelby, OBE, MP now.

"You'll find out soon enough, my darling," the man stated, his words making (Y/N) want to hurl. This was the last place she wanted to be. And as she looked over her shoulder at the street she'd just been taken off of, she let out another sigh. Nobody was even around to see this happen. How could London be so empty?

Whoever they were taking her to had money. That's the first thing she thought as she was pulled through the mansion-like house to who knows where. They walked down a few flights of stairs, to where the rooms started to look more dingy. Nothing good could come of anything down here. (Y/N) knew that for sure. She kept her composure though.

"Still don't want to spoil the surprise for me, huh?" she asked the man who was walking with her.

"And have you miss out on the excitement? No, love," the man chuckled. (Y/N) resisted the urge to spit on him. His one-liners were disgusting.

"Are we almost there at least? I'm starting to get impatient," she bit back at the guy.

"Patience," was all he said as he reached a closed door. Whoever she was being taken to had to be behind this slab of wood. She knew that much. She still couldn't figure out who it was though. Then the door opened and the man dragged her inside. "I've got her, boss. She's got quite the mouth on her. Won't let up," the man commented as he brought her to a stop in the middle of the room.

"Of course she does. She's a Shelby after all," the other man quipped.

Then (Y/N)'s eyes widened in realization. "Oswald Mosely," she called out the name of the man standing in front of her. Her stomach flipped, and not in a good way, as his grin grew.

"(Y/N) Shelby," he said her name in the same manner as she had.

"You've taken to kidnapping people now, eh?" she quipped, her one eyebrow raised. The grip of the man's hand in her arm was starting to get to her now, and as she tried to yank herself away, his hold only tightened. She would definitely be bruised from this. "Thought you were above that," she tried not to let it waver her calm, collected nature.

"Oh, I'm never above anything," Mosely shook his head with a bit of a laugh, "and it seems that this is the only way that husband of yours is going to listen to me."

(Y/N) scoffed at the mention of Tommy. "This is because of my husband? You've brought me here because of my husband? Well jokes on you, because I haven't really spoken to him in weeks," she bit back at the man. Her words really turned out to be a dig against herself though. It showed how far apart she and Tommy had drifted recently. She hated being reminded of it. "Besides, can't you just stroll up to his office in the House of Commons and conduct whatever business you have with him there? I can bet you any money that’s where he is right now."

"See, the problem is that I've tried that route. Your husband and I have had countless meetings over the past months, and I thought that we've developed a good partnership..." Mosely trailed off as he started to walk towards the desk in the room. (Y/N) stayed in the middle of the room with the man's hand gripped around her bicep. Seriously though, why was he still holding her? She wouldn't even know where to run to if she got the chance.

"And that's led to you kidnapping me, how?" she asked, her eyebrows raised as she hoped to gain some answers.

"Your husband has yet to publicly announce his support for the British Union of Fascists, despite his repeated saying that he will..." Mosely trailed off. (Y/N) still didn't get it. "Since he hasn't announced this yet, we're going to get you to do it for us."

"I'm gonna announce my husband's support for your party?" her eyebrows were still raised at their outrageous idea. "And how exactly is that going to work? Who's gonna listen to a woman when she's speaking for her husband?"

Mosely sighed. "Bring her over to me, Stephen," he waved his henchman over to the desk he was standing behind. "And for God's sake, loosen your grip on her...you're gonna leave marks," he snapped at the man.

"Bit too late for that," (Y/N) remarked as she and the man stopped at the desk.

Ignoring her witty remark, Mosely explained his plan. "You're gonna phone your husband's office and let him know just exactly who you're spending time with. Understand?" he checked to make sure what he was saying was clear.

"Give me the damn phone," she snapped back at him, making a look of shock form on his face.

"You oughta control your temper, woman," he warned her, his patience running thin.

"Give me the phone…please," she changed the wording but kept the tone of the previous sentence, her eyes locked with his as she stuck her hand out.

Mosely picked up the receiver before he dialed the required numbers and handed it to her. On the third ring, the call was picked up. "Shelby," Tommy's voice came from the other side.

"Tommy? Hi, Tommy, it's (Y/N)," she greeted him back, trying so hard, but probably failing, at being nonchalant.

"Love? Where're you calling from?" Tommy asked, and she could see him now. When he picked up the phone, he was probably relaxed back against his chair, but now he was sitting at attention. She heard the change in his voice.

"I, uh...someone found me, and, uh..."

"Mr. Shelby...do you think that what I am asking of you is a joke?" (Y/N) didn't even get to finish her sentence because Mosely had taken the phone from her.

"Mosely? What's going on? Where'd my wife go?" Tommy immediately started with the questions.

"Oh she's fine...for now. You see, she's come over here to help me with a very important matter..."

"Put my fucking wife back on!" Tommy cut off the other man before he could say much. There was anger clear in his voice now. (Y/N) could hear it through the receiver.

"There's that temper of yours," Mosely tutted, shaking his head with a grin playing on his lips, "I thought you lost it when you took your seat in the House."

"What's this about, Mosely? Why do you have my wife?" more questions came from Tommy.

"I didn't want her to get involved, but it seems as if she's the only way to get your attention."

"Stop with the trivial shit and tell me what you want," it was obvious that he was in no mood for games. It could be heard clearly through the phone. Mosely was getting a kick out of it though.

"It's come to my attention that you haven't yet announced your support for the party that you so eagerly wanted to become a part of," Mosely finally got into the main reason behind this whole ordeal.

There was a pause on Tommy's side of the line. "I'm to announce it? Isn't your party’s agenda getting my bloody votes enough?" he sounded as though he was confused.

Mosely chuckled at that. "You really are naïve when it comes to politics, aren't you?" Tommy said nothing, so he continued. "In order for us to get the support of your constituents, we need you to publicly announce your support for the British Union of Fascists," he laid it out for the man on the phone, grinning at (Y/N) whilst he spoke. Her stomach flipped yet again. She hated that she had been pulled into this petty thing.

"I do this and you're going to let my wife go?" Tommy still wanted to hear the terms of this negotiation.

"Of course. Your wife was only here so that we'd get our foot in the door," Mosely agreed.

"She's not hurt?"

"Not a hair misplaced," he grinned as he looked over at (Y/N). She only rolled her eyes and tried so hard to bite back the spiteful laugh from leaving her mouth. This man was lying through his teeth. She'd have the bruises from his henchman's fingers left on her arm for weeks to come.

"You see to it that she's in a car to Warwickshire in the next possible moment and I will announce my support for your party publically," Tommy wagered his deal.

"Accepted," Mosely agreed to it, nodding his head, "oh, and Mr. Shelby...for the future, I suggest that you do as I say and promptly. I'd hate to have to bring any more of your family members into this," he got in the last word, and threat, in before he hung the receiver back on its stand. (Y/N) was just about to let out a sigh of relief when he stepped around the table and grabbed her jaw in between his fingers. "I'm warning you now. Your husband backs out on his side of the deal and the circumstances of our next meeting won't be so nice. Are we clear?" he spoke through gritted teeth as he moved his face right in front of hers.

She looked at him for a few moments, waiting for him to release the grip he had on her because she couldn't talk with her jaw being squeezed. When he did let go, she got her final statement out, "better hope that that doesn't bruise, Mr. Mosely. I'd hate for your side of the deal not to be held up...not a hair misplaced, right?" she smirked at him. Mosely rolled his eyes before he snapped for his men to take her back out to the streets and get a car for her to send her back home.

With one more threatening glance, she was taken out of the room and back up the several flights of stairs so that she could be escorted out of the mansion. Moments later, she was in a car set for Warwickshire.

It was late when the car pulled up the driveway of Arrow House. She thanked the nameless driver who was tasked with returning her before she exited the car and walked up the small set of steps to the front door. Frances was waiting in the foyer upon her entering.

"Mrs. Shelby. Mr. Shelby is waiting in his office for you," the maid announced as the other woman entered the room. Her statement sounded so formal, and (Y/N) hated it. It was like she was being called in for a business meeting.

"Where are the kids, Frances?" (Y/N) deflected the statement, her mind focused on something else entirely.

"But Mr. Shelby..."

"I'll get to Mr. Shelby in due time. Right now I just want to see my kids," she cut the older woman off, her patience running thin after the stressful day she had.

"They're all upstairs. In bed, Mrs. Shelby," Frances finally gave in to (Y/N)'s request, bowing her head as she gave her answer.

"Thank you, Frances," (Y/N) nodded in the maid's direction before she started to walk up the steps to where her children's rooms were.

After checking and seeing that they were all safe and asleep in their beds, (Y/N) made her way to where Tommy's office was. She clutched her sweater tighter to her body and brought her fisted hand up, knocking lightly on the door.

"Come!" she heard him call, so she pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Tommy was standing the second he saw who it was. "(Y/N)..." he trailed off, walking over to meet her in the middle of the room. His hands immediately fell onto her arms, and he held her out in front of him as he checked her appearance for any scratches or bruises. "(Y/N), are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Tom," she assured him, although she couldn't stop from wincing when he placed slight pressure on her arm, where Mosely's henchman had kept a tight grip on her. (Y/N) hoped that her involuntary response would slip past him, but of course, it didn't. So she decided to address his concerns before he could even speak on them. "It's nothing...I've just got a small bruise on my arm."

But Tommy didn't take it. He was now slowly moving the sleeve of the sweater she was wearing down her arm to expose her bicep to him. She saw anger flash through his expression before he spoke, "a small bruise? (Y/N), there's an entire fucking handprint on your arm," he pointed out the obvious.

"The guy just didn't know when to let go. The power got to him and he felt like he was playing the part," she told him. Why was she trying to justify the man's actions? "I'm fine though. It really doesn't matter," she brushed him off. All she wanted to do now was take a bath and go to bed.

Tommy, obviously, had other plans. "It doesn't matter? What do you mean it doesn't matter? (Y/N), you could have been seriously hurt," he stressed his words, trying to get what he was saying through to her. He was confused as to why she was so unfazed by this.

She let out a sigh, not wanting to have this conversation, but yet she was. "It's because we've been through so fucking much that I practically expect it at this point. That time when you got hauled off by a couple of hired guns who were tasked to kill you? Yeah, I was worried. When our son got kidnapped by that disgusting preacher you decided to work with? That made me lose sleep at night...even after it happened. So now that I got taken by some pathetic henchman, who can't relax his grip, to see Sir Oswald fucking Mosely because my husband won't publically state his support for some stupid fucking political party...I'm sorry if it doesn't excite me like it used to," (Y/N) finished off her rant by taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly. "So yeah...it doesn't matter, Tommy."

"But you do matter," he said after a few moments of silence passed. He still had her in his grip, although it was a relaxed one...he was still mindful of the bruise on her arm. In fact, he wanted to kill someone over that bruise. "You matter to me, (Y/N)."

"I don’t remember the man's name," she stated after a few more silent moments. She looked up at him with a slight smile playing on her lips. "He's probably one of Mosely's men though...must've been new too because he needed a few pointers."

Tommy just chuckled at her words before he pulled her into him and pressed his lips to the top of her head. She knew him like an open book. He didn't even need to say what was on his mind. (Y/N) just knew. She knew he was thinking about that man. "I'm gonna go take a bath," she mumbled into the material of his shirt after she'd been standing in his embrace for a bit.

"Ok," Tommy nodded before letting her go out of the office and to their shared bedroom.

She ran the water and lit a few candles, having the intention of bathing away the things that happened that day. Stripping from her clothes, she stepped into the water and relaxed back against the wall of the tub. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief as the warm water surrounded her.

Some time later, she didn't know when or how long because she must've fallen asleep, the door to the adjoined bedroom opened. "You still in the bath, love?" Tommy's voice came from the short hall that connected the two rooms together before he appeared in the archway.

"Yeah, I am," (Y/N) smiled sheepishly in his direction.

"Water must be cold by now," he pointed out.

"It is. I must've fallen asleep," her smile didn't falter.

Tommy only chuckled as he leaned against the archway, watching as she stood from the tub and stepped out of it. She pulled the plug and let the water drain before moving over and grabbing a towel to dry off and cover her body. She sent him a grin before she walked past him to go into their bedroom. She then dropped the towel and changed into the night dress that she planned on wearing for the night. Now she had to make sure that her hair wouldn't look like a bird's nest in the morning. So she moved to her vanity and took a seat in front of the mirror to begin running a comb through her hair. That was when she saw Tommy's figure. He was now leaning against the archway on the bedroom’s side, watching her intently as she worked on her hair.

"Something was delivered here earlier..." he trailed off before he pushed his body off of the wall so that he could move over to her.

"Yeah?" she questioned, having a few ideas of what the delivery could have been. She smiled as he stopped behind her and produced the very necklace that she bought earlier from his pocket.

"You made the right choice on this one..." he trailed off as he draped it around her neck and clasped it so that it could hang freely, "looks beautiful on you, love," he whispered before he leaned down to press a kiss to the skin of her neck, just above where the necklace now sat.

"Thanks, Tommy," she smiled at him through the reflection. "Did you happen to see what else was in that delivery?"

"Yeah...earrings to match the necklace," he answered her as his hands rested on her shoulders, his fingers squeezing slightly against her collarbones.

"Figured I'd wear them to the next event we attend," she told him her reason behind buying them. "Anything else?" the smile was back on her face as she hoped he knew what she was getting at.

The smile that formed on his face told her that he did. "Yeah...you didn't need to get me a new watch, love."

"I knew you needed one before the one you have stopped working," she pointed out, "think of it as a 'I'm happy you still love me and care about me' gift."

"(Y/N)..." he trailed off, shaking his head as he exhaled a chuckle. "I'll always love you, and I'll never stop caring about you," he told her, seriousness in his voice. She couldn't help but stand and turn to face him so that she could kiss his lips. He wasn't finished, because as soon as he pulled away, he was speaking again, "and don't ever think that you don't matter to me, because you do." They shared a few more kisses before a grin spread across his lips, "oh, and I will be inquiring about more information on who that man was come tomorrow."

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh as she ran her hands up his chest to curl her fingers over his shoulders. His arms snaked around her waist, and he pulled her flush to his body, his lips meeting hers once more. She knew she couldn't stop him, and honestly, she didn't want to try. Each person in that party would get what they deserved in due time.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @golden-hoax @elenavampire21

MASTERLIST

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

actually @malcolm-f-tucker this is all your fault >:/

(warning for gun mention, brief mention of death. also someone gets drugged but it's not really taken that seriously tbh)

Theresa stares in disbelief as the Glock she's been staring down clatters to the floor, a cacophony in the empty warehouse.

The operative is standing before her, disarmed; though Theresa is confused, as nobody on OJS' side has done anything as far as she can tell. Before her, the figure brings a shaking hand up, pulls off the tactical balaclava to reveal a round, open face with long hair pulled back and away from it. Tears spill down the young woman's cheeks, and Theresa briefly lowers her Sig Sauer toward the ground, to her feet, to get a better look.

But the operative isn't looking at Theresa; her eyes, blown wide with shock, are fixed on a point beyond, to Theresa's left.

"You," she says, and the way it comes from her chest is almost inhuman, like a great hand has shoved its way down her throat to mercilessly drag it out. She's definitely crying now, her breath coming in ragged, hoarse gasps as she continues to stare, as her hands ball into fists by her sides, the balaclava crumpling up. "How?"

Theresa doesn't want to risk taking her eyes off the operative; she instead tries to recall their plan, their formation. Douglas is covering from above; Carolyn is off to her right; Arthur must be covering from outside, and Martin is covering with him, so that must mean—

Herc on her left.

Movement. Herc is cautiously stepping forward, keeping his weapon of choice pointed down. "Hey," he says, softly.

"You died. You're dead. Dad had to pull me off of you." She's growing less intelligible by the second; choking on her own tears. "I didn't change my clothes for days. Your blood was all over me, I—you died. You taught me everything I know, and then you threw yourself in front of me and then you were dead. I held you, I watched you—"

"I made my choice," Herc replies, gently. "And you made yours."

"I didn't choose for you to sacrifice yourself for me," the operative spits back. "I didn't choose to be left alone; did you know Dad left because of what happened to you?"

"I do."

"Then why did you do it?"

Theresa has the distinct feeling she really isn't supposed to be listening to this. She steps back, lets Herc take over the situation, points her gun away, and carefully disables it.

"Oh, Linda," Herc says, and his voice is tender. Her name is Linda. The thought punches a hole through Theresa's stomach; she turns away, bites her lip hard. "There are some things you won't understand until it happens to you. Come here."

The operative—Linda—teeters on unsteady feet; then, decisive, she runs forward and hurls herself at Herc, crying into his tactical gear.

"I can't believe you're alive, Herc," she sobs, but it's muffled by his clothes. He chuckles, hushes her softly, one hand pushing down the collar of her shirt to expose her neck before curling around the back of her head, stabilizing it—the other hand goes to one of his pockets, and Theresa knows what will happen before it does, sees the little flash of metal in the dim room—

Linda wrenches herself free of Herc as the syringe drops to the floor and rolls away; Theresa bends and picks it up, sliding it into the sharps box she's been entrusted to carry. "What did you—" Linda chokes, trying to struggle back toward her weapon, but her movements are quickly growing sluggish, and Herc bundles her back into his arms as she slumps against him. "That's not nice," Linda slurs, eyes already drooping, as Herc gently kneels on the ground, cradling her to his chest and shushing her, gently rearranging her legs into a more comfortable position. "You can't just drug me to end a conserv...a conner...a..."

The operative is silent, lying limply in Herc's arms on the warehouse floor; Herc pauses, looking upon her still face with an inscrutable expression, before bending, pressing his lips to her forehead, and lifting her back up as if she were a small child being carried to bed.

"Get the gun," he tells Theresa, and she doesn't have much choice but to obey. "Let's go," Herc commands the rest of the room. "Got what I came here for."