She pulled back at his words, brows furrowing and while Gaby knew he didn’t, or at least hoped he wasn’t, implying what it had sounded like he was implying. She spent enough time doing what others told her to do in East Berlin, not anymore.

(continued from here)

||meme||

She groaned, hand lifting to her head to prod at the bruising that had to have been forming there, instantly regretting it the moment her fingers made contact with the bandage there. It stung, but he’d done a good job patching her up (assuming it was him). “No.” She sank further back into the pillows with a sigh, grateful that at least maybe now they could have a few days rest before they were shoved back into another mission.

Finding your muse wearing their clothes

Gaby had ended up falling in love with New York. Yes it was loud, yes it was busy, but beside her, the most important component of all, was this ridiculous spy of a man who she’d fallen for in the most unexpected way. She watched him sleep for a moment, his usual perfectly combed hair flopping down over his eyes, the soft rise and fall of his chest; Gaby watched and couldn’t help but smile.

Gently, she pushed the hair from his brow and leaned in to plant a soft kiss there, afterwards reaching over to pluck his shirt from the top of the bed frame (how on earth did it even get there?), and slide it over her small form. Coffee came next, hoping the smell would rouse him from the bed in time enough to find her sitting near the window. Legs tucked under her body and arms resting against the windowsill. Watching as the street below began to wake up.

Send me ❝ I want the H ❞ and I will randomly generate a number.

6. From behind hug

howsthatforentertainment

Beca had no idea how she got back to the hotel or how she could even stand on her own feet after this. As she got out fo the elevator, she could barely walk due to the exhaustement and the pain in her heart. Solo had died. She had seen his car exploding. Hed died and she couldn’t save him. He died due to this inexperienced youngster who couldn’t listen to anyone but herself. What her stubbornness lead to? The loss of the CIA’s best agent; the loss of her partner. Even tough they weren’t always getting on well, seeing him go hurt her like nothing before.

Tears were running down her cheeks and her body was shaking as she entered their room and she thought she was hallucinating. Because Napoloen Solo was standing by the window, looking out at the streets of Paris, holding a glass in his hand. This cannot be, she thought to herself, rubbing her eyes to chase the vision away. But he was still there, he was alive.

“Music to my ears. Your voice and the request.” Napoleon smiled. Kissing her again. He was so worried, frantic, that he’d never see her or hear her voice again if something had gone horribly wrong. It killed him every moment she was gone. He hadn’t slept a wink since it happened. Napoleon picked her up. Carefully. Carrying her out. Bridal style. Catching glances every chance he got while walking. He was afraid it was all a dream. That he’d finally fallen asleep, was dreaming, and she was still gone. He got outside with her. To the car he had waiting. “We should go to the hospital before we go home. Get you checked out.”

She smiled, weakly, but she smiled and had she been more alert when he picked her up, she would have wrapped her arms around his neck instead of fisting them in his shirt front. The last place Gaby wanted to go was the hospital. Endless hours spent and wasted just to make sure she was all right. Yes, she was a little out of it, perhaps a little dehydrated, but all in all she was fine.

“Oh you were gone? I hadn’t noticed.” Gaby said with a completely false nonchalance. She had noticed. She had hated every minute of it.