#verse; i see you {dash comm}

[kintsugiscars]

"Happy Father's Day to Baderon, Cid, and Lord Fortemps only."

His biological father gets nothing today.

@hallowdawn

[hcllishdreamer]

tags.

[staticgcne]

tags.

[onexoni]

❝  wai wai wait wait. are we....not supposed t' be eatin' wax?  ❞

There may or may not be a half eaten babybel, wax and all in his hands.

[wandcrsoul]

tags.

[lustled]

tags

[wrathstricken]

tags

[hcllishqueen]

tags

[heavcnborn]

tags

[voxxisms]

tag drop pt 1.

[diffractal]

tag dump.

[fxrina]

tag dump

[kintsugiscars]

tag dump: ic and verses I

[hichai]

been a few blogs since i had real tags

♬   ───    i know the sound of your heart : music player!

♬   ───    i jump from every rooftop; so high‚ so far to fall : chai! chai! chai!

♬   ───    but my heart's no good & you're the only one that's understood : peppermint!

♬   ───    i believe the love you talk about with me : macaron!

♬   ───    i can see you staying here : korsica!

♬   ───    the arrow goes straight through my heart : CNMN!

♬   ───    without you everything just falls apart : 808!

♬   ───    'cause there's no place that i could be without you : the best team EVER!

♬   ───    invaders must die : bad guys!

♬   ───    turn the dial on my words; i can feel that they fall short : vibes!

♬   ───    i see the truth when i'm all stupid eyed : musings!

♬   ───    i can't see this being a problem ever again : improv!

♬   ───    do we have to get all meta? : dash comm!

♬   ───   all this time & i still haven't found my place : before verse!

♬   ───    colours run prime‚ paint a picture so bright : main verse!

♬   ───    we are building a religion; we are making a brand : vandelay verse!

♬   ───   honestly‚ you can try; your heart is just as strong as mine : queue!

♬   ───    it's the only life you got : prompts!

♬   ───    so you gotta live it big time : answered!

[herosparade]

tag dump ! 

[adiduck]

27, 59, or 82 for the kisses? 😘

And finishing the final two here (first one responded to yesterday). As usual, a continuation of the 'verse started in this reblog! Send me kisses for SaintSpy May, y'all!

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27. Bloody kiss; 59. Post-fight kiss

“At some point, I am going to teach you to run,” Michael snaps over comms.

“I’m running! I’m running right now,” Ethan snaps back, and reaches out to grab a light pole, using it to pivot his momentum around a corner as another hail of gunfire chases him.

He fires over his shoulder twice to discourage close pursuit, dashing down an alley and towards a gate. There’s blood in his mouth—not relevant right now. Another shot, and the lock blasts off. Ethan shoulders through it and keeps going, kicking it closed behind him. There’s a house—great. Another shot and he’s through the front door, running straight through to the kitchen he can see through an arch in the back.

“Don’t give me that. You engaged them,” Michael says.

“Better me than a civilian!” Nobody here, thank god. He ducks around the arch as more gunfire starts up behind him, turning left to blow through the glass of a window over the counter instead of making for the backdoor. He vaults himself up and through, finds himself back in the enclosed courtyard, makes for the gate again—this time to climb over it.

“Yeah,” Michael says, furious. “That. That’s what I mean. They won’t shoot you if they don’t see you. Learn to fucking run—there you are!”

Tires screeching as a pick-up truck comes to a stop in front of Ethan, and then Michael’s shoved the door open and is aiming—behind Ethan, firing a rifle as Ethan throws himself at the gate and starts to climb. He vaults himself over the top and lands on the ground still running, low under Michael’s fire until he gets to the door and Michael shoves himself back into the driver’s seat. He dives in as Michael peels away and slams the door shut, fire following them down the little alley and out into the main street.

“Keep your head down and let me get us out of here,” Michael says, and Ethan does as he’s told, releasing the clip on his gun and reloading as he pants. “There’s blood on your lips.”

“Elbow to the face,” Ethan explains. “I’m fine.”

“For fuck’s sake, Ethan,” Michael snaps, and then devolves into swearing in Turkish as he takes a sharp turn and guns the engine towards the freeway, just as more fire starts out to their left.

Ethan picks up the rifle and starts to roll down the window—

“Stay down!”

Ethan rolls the window back up.

“I didn’t even carry a gun on jobs until you started coming,” Micheal continues to rant, pulling onto the freeway and sliding into the far lane, weaving in and out of traffic. “Because when someone pulled a gun, I left.”

“We were in a crowd—” Ethan tries.

“You’re a trained espionage agent,” Michael interrupts. “Lose them!”

“There were civilians—”

“You,” Micheal interrupts again, hauling them out at the nearest exit and taking a winding path out into the middle of the Spanish countryside, “are currently a civilian. We are committing a crime, Ethan. None of these people have a reason to pull punches—”

“Which is why I drew the fire,” Ethan says stubbornly.

“If they can’t find you, they will stop firing,” Michael says, and his voice hasn’t raised above a very forceful indoor voice, but Ethan still feels like he’s being yelled at. “This is a mess, Ethan. Now we have to fucking shake them, and they know what truck I’m driving, and you’re injured, because you couldn’t just let them walk away—” He pulls over very abruptly and stops the truck. “Out.”

Ethan blinks.

“New car, out out out,” Michael says impatiently, and Ethan realizes they’ve pulled up alongside an old junker on the side of the road.

“Is that thing even going to start?” Ethan asks incredulously.

“I planted it, yes,” Michael says, and reaches down to grab a suitcase, letting himself out the door. “Hurry up!”

Ethan hurries up, grabbing the rifle and his empty clip on the way out—no point making this easy for anyone. The door to the new car is unlocked, and Michael drops the suitcase into Ethan’s lap as he gets in, starts the car without a key and takes off down the road in the opposite direction to the one they were driving in.

“Head down,” he grits out. “They don’t know what I look like.”

“I’m sorry,” Ethan says.

“Good,” Michael responds, and for about half an hour they drive in absolute silence.

Finally, Michael pulls them back onto the freeway, and then off again about four exits later. “New car again,” he says shortly, and they pile out and pile back into another pickup truck, Ethan taking a minute to fuss with the suitcase to make sure it’s secure—

Michael closes the door on the driver’s side, reaches over, and hauls Ethan into a kiss.

Ethan blinks, and then kisses back, ignoring the way his mouth starts bleeding again at the pressure.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Michael says, against his mouth.

“I’m sorry I fucked up your job,” Ethan responds. He is, honestly. At the time, he’d played the odds through his head, and it had seemed like the safest course of action to just try to control the scenario, but—

“You didn’t,” Michael says, and nudges the suitcase with his foot. He gives a wry smile. “You fucked up the getaway.”

“I’m sorry I fucked up the getaway,” Ethan corrects himself obediently.

Michael kisses him again, which feels a little bit like a reward. “Next time you run, or you don’t get to come again,” he warns as he pulls back, turning over the engine and starting back in yet a third direction.

“That’s fair,” Ethan agrees. Michael now has a little blood on his own mouth. Ethan wonders vaguely if it’s strange that he finds that attractive. “And hey, you got a new kiss type out of it?”

“I’m not sure I want to count ‘kiss involving blood’,” Michael says wryly,

“I meant,” Ethan says, “post-fight kiss?”

Michael side-eyes him.

“Maybe?” Ethan tries again, attempting to smile disarmingly.

“Hm,” Michael says.

“I really am sorry.”

Michael turns back to the road. “I’ll count it for now. If you’re very, very good the rest of the time.”

Relief. Ethan collapses back into the seat, smiling. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better.”

“I will,” Ethan insists. “Did you know you look really hot with blood on your teeth?”

Michael pauses at a crossroads to drop his head onto the steering wheel, something of an incredulous laugh startled out of him. “Why do I like you?” he asks, but he’s smiling.

Ethan grins wider. “If you find a good place to pull over,” I’ll show you.

“Hm,” Michael says again, and turns right. Ethan’s pretty sure he’s won. “We’ll see.”

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