#james bond x y/n
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Close Shave
[A/N: What up homies, it’s me, ya girl, steadily adding to my Honorable Men-tions while my husbands watch me like 👀 bitch?
This fic is inspired by the scene & song from Skyfall- I hope you like it :) Feedback is always appreciated, as well as requests for fics or new characters to explore!]
007 glides silently through the doorway, a jungle cat on the prowl for his next meal. He eases the door shut with a soft click, then moves stealthily down the hall in search of his target. A single lamp illuminates the modest London flat casting wicked shadows on the walls surrounding a small feminine figure. He creeps forward, ready to pounce, the next phase of his plan already formulating in his brain.
“Hello, James,” you murmur, not even sparing him a glance as you casually flip to the next page of your novel.
His warm chuckle caresses your skin like a lover’s gentle touch, his honeyed voice stoking the fire in your belly spurred to life by his mere presence. “How is it that I can sneak up on assassins but not a museum curator?”
Your mouth turns up in a smile and you offer your cheek in greeting, scrunching your nose at the feeling of coarse stubble against your skin. “I can smell the cologne I bought you for Christmas from a mile away.“
“Hm.”
“And I may have pestered Q into telling me when you’d be home.”
“Pestered?”
Folding your legs under your body, you swivel to meet his steely blue gaze with a grin. “Bullied,” you concede. “Only so I didn’t almost accidentally kill you with a fireplace poker.”
“Again.”
You wag your book in his face with a raised eyebrow. “That’s what you get for breaking and entering at four in the bloody morning with no prior warning!”
He grunts in concession before easily lifting you off the couch, only to take your seat and tuck you against his body. You hum in delight at the prospect of having him home, however short lived his visit may be, placing your book aside before nuzzling into his chest and pressing kisses to the underside of his strong jaw. Scraping your nails along his cheek, you muse, “You need to shave.”
He gives you an indignant look, carding his fingers through your hair. “Some women happen to like a beard, you know.”
“Then go break into one of their homes,” you fire back, letting your teeth graze along the path forged previously by your lips.
He lets out a throaty laugh that dissolves into a soft moan as you work your way over his jaw to press your lips to his. You share a few innocent pecks before your longing takes over, and you shift to straddle his lap as James’ tongue slips past your willfully parted lips. His fingers work their way under your shirt, trailing along your ribcage before settling on your hips with a gentle squeeze. You release a contented sigh into his mouth, all of the tension leaving your body and allowing you to relax against him.
Running your nose over the sharp planes of his jaw, you murmur, “Let me. Please?”
“Let you what?” He nibbles at the spot just south of your ear and you gasp, rocking against him and feeling him growing hard beneath you in response. Static fills your mind as your senses are overwhelmed by everything that is James, but you press on valiantly. “Help you shave.”
Calloused digits knead the soft skin of your thighs as he hums, contemplating. “Is this another attempt on my life? Replacing the poker with a razor?”
“James!” you admonish, laughing before growing serious as your fingers dance across his handsome features. “You know that my expertise lies in handling art delicately. What kind of curator would I be if I allowed any harm to come to my favorite exhibit?”
He turns his head to press a kiss to each of your palms, then meets your gaze with a cheeky grin. “That’s all I am to you, hm? A specimen to be ogled?”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” you retort with a roll of your eyes. Climbing off his lap and taking his hand to lead him to the master bathroom, you tack on, “You conveniently double as a bodyguard.”
You slide the cushioned seat from your vanity over to the sink and tap it twice with a coy smile. James settles into his spot obediently while you hunt through the cabinets for his straight razor and shaving cream, placing them on the counter before moving to stand behind him. You study your reflections in the mirror as you run your fingers through his hair, your body growing warm at the sight of him subtly shifting his hips when you tug on the short strands. You walk your fingers down his neck and over his broad shoulders, kneading the taut muscles along the way to the apex of his dress shirt. “May I?”
He opens his eyes to meet your gaze in the mirror, ocean blue eclipsed by a sea of inky black. “Always, my love.” His voice has dropped to a low growl that sends a thrum through you. Deft fingers hastily unbutton his shirt with the promise of exploring his body after too many days and nights spent apart. You tug the fabric off and toss it aside, kissing his neck while your hands glide along his muscular chest. “Darling,” he rumbles out through a laugh to get your attention, and you look up to find several marks blooming across his previously unadulterated skin. With a bashful smile, you respond, “I just can’t help myself around you.”
Rounding the chair to squeeze yourself into the space between his legs and the counter, you lower yourself to your knees. He watches your every move with rapt fascination, his breathing picking up ever so subtly when you reach forward to release him from the confines of his fitted slacks. You tug his pants and underwear off before delicately trailing your fingers over his length, marveling at the weight in your hand and how responsive he is to your touch. Peeking up at him from beneath your lashes, you lean in and swipe your tongue over the head, a needy whine escaping your lips at the taste of him. “Darling,” he calls out again, now with an edge to his voice, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with forced restraint. He threads his fingers through your hair and gives a gentle tug, guiding you forward once more. You wrap your lips around him in earnest, gliding down his length while one hand comes up to massage his balls, the other resting on his lower abdomen. With each swirl of your tongue and pull of your lips, the toned muscle beneath your fingertips ripples and liquid heat pools between your aching thighs.
Replacing your mouth with your hand, you look up at James with nothing short of utter devotion in your misty eyes. “I missed you so much, my love,” you rasp out, an involuntary shudder racing down your spine when his fingertips brush over the apple of your cheek.
Tucking his hand under your chin, he directs you to stand and pulls you close for a tender kiss. You continue twisting your wrist along his length as his tongue slides against yours, a sharp gasp punching out of you when he unceremoniously rips your underwear off and runs his middle finger along your slit, the useless lace now pooled on the floor.
“Oh, sweet girl,” he rumbles lowly, slipping his finger inside you and groaning in appreciation at how greedily you clench around him, “you really did miss me, hm?”
“More-” You whimper into his mouth when he adds a second finger, and then a third, lovingly preparing you for his thick cock. “More than I can even describe.”
He draws his fingers out, caressing your sensitive walls as he does so, before replacing your hand with his own at the base of his cock. The obscene sound of your spit and slick gliding along his length as he draws his hand over himself has you clenching around nothing, a desperate whine of “James,” falling past your pouting lips. He soothes you with sweet words, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth while his free hand comes up to your hip to guide you down onto him. You cry out at the exquisite stretch, nails digging into his shoulders as you circle your hips to sheathe him inside of you as deeply as possible.
Tucking your face into his neck to pepper his glistening skin with kisses, you beg, “Don’t move. Just let me feel you.”
He hums in concession, gently tugging your oversized sleep shirt off before running his fingers along the column of your spine. The tingling sensation has you rolling your hips against him, moaning when the movement presses the head of his cock against just the right spot.
“Now, darling,” he mumbles against your hair, his large hand possessively cradling the back of your neck, “I do believe we came in here to accomplish something.”
“Can’t remember,” you sigh out. “Too full.”
His ensuing chuckle warms you from the inside out, and you gasp when he leans forward to reach the countertop, shifting his position inside you. He presses something cold into your hand, and you blearily open your eyes to find his razor glinting at you in the muted bathroom light.
With a sigh, you relent, “Fine,” but his firm grip on your hips stops you from rising. “But then how will I-” Your line of questioning comes to an abrupt halt when you spot the smirk playing on his sinful lips. “Oh.”
“Go ahead, love,” he croons, inclining his head toward the shaving cream while his hands come to settle on the globes of your ass. You gather some of the foam between your fingertips, then trace two delicate lines on his cheek in the shape of a heart. Glancing at your work in the mirror, he questions, “How can you be so damn adorable while full of my cock?”
You answer him with only a wink, then get to work coating his stubble with the shaving foam. Once he’s sufficiently lathered up, you ease the blade out and plant your non-dominant hand firmly on his shoulder. “Don’t move, James,” you instruct softly.
He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, smiling at the way your tongue peeks out between your lips in concentration, and murmurs, “I won’t.”
You run the blade down James’ face in precise, delicate strokes, mewling in delight every time you stretch to rinse the razor off and he pulses inside of you. Several minutes into your ministrations, he arches his hips against yours with a ragged sigh, moving impossibly deeper as he cranes his neck to look in the mirror. “Halfway there. Doing well, sweetheart.”
“I feel like I’m going to explode,” you attempt a laugh, but it morphs into a strangled moan.
“That would certainly be less than optimal.” He runs his index finger down the side of your neck as you take your next swipe of the blade, your breath hitching when he wraps his hand around your throat and adds the smallest bit of pressure.
The razor stills on his cheek, momentarily forgotten, and you shiver in delight. “What are you doing?”
“Focus on the task at hand,” he chides softly, and you obediently return your attention to the remainder of his beard even as his other hand comes up to massage one of your breasts. You clench around him reflexively, and the hand on your throat squeezes in kind.
“James,” you growl out, this time purposefully flexing your walls around his throbbing cock. He answers your show of defiance with one of his own, both hands tightening their grip and eliciting a whine from you.
“Tit for tat, darling,” he mutters softly, the corners of his mouth ticking up in a wicked smile.
With every movement, every precise flick of your wrist, every droplet of water running down your arm and dripping onto your thigh, your walls squeeze around James’ cock and his fingers press deeper into your skin, and your vision starts going blurry around the edges with need. Finally, mercifully, your lover sits before you clean shaven once again, and you smile proudly at your work.
Nuzzling your nose against his, you sigh at the idea of having to separate yourself from him. “I forgot a towel.”
“Top cabinet?”
“Mhm.”
Tucking his hands underneath your thighs, James stands and settles you on the counter, still sheathed in your warmth. He pulls back to open the cabinet and collect a towel, and you keen at the loss of the fullness until he slots himself back between your thighs.
“Christ,” you hiss, digging your nails into his biceps and arching your back.
“Easy, love,” he murmurs smoothly in response, hiding his smirk behind the cloth as he pats his face dry. You lock your ankles together behind his back, shifting closer and trying to entice him to move. “This is turning downright torturous.”
Dropping the towel on the counter, he shifts his attention back to you and lovingly squeezes the pillow of your thigh. “I always take care of you, don’t I?”
“Sooner rather than later would be preferred in this instance, Bond,” you sass back.
“Patience is a virtue,” he hums with an infuriating calmness to his voice even as he draws his hips back and drags his cock along your sensitive walls.
“I wouldn’t- oh god- consider what we’re doing to be entirely virtuous,” you answer through a moan, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to quiet the noises spilling out of your mouth.
“Darling girl,” he tuts softly when he recognizes you’re trying to muffle your cries, fingers ghosting over your cheek before he grips your face and his hips pick up speed. The pressure has you releasing your lip from beneath your teeth, your mouth falling open and allowing wanton moans to escape. James tucks his other hand behind your knee, tugging you closer and letting him sink deeper with each stroke. He smiles down at you when you call out his name and rake your nails down his back, cooing, “That’s it, love. Let me hear you.”
Ever obedient, you moan unabashedly, your cries competing with the sinful sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the marble bathroom. “James! Oh god, James,” you keen, clawing at his shoulders for purchase as your consciousness threatens to leave you, “I can’t- I’m going to-”
He hungrily mouths at your skin, soft pants falling past his lips between kisses as he makes his way up the curve of your throat. Moving his hand to grip the back of your neck, he draws you close to his body and grits out, “Cum for me, my darling.”
You feel your body shudder with the force of your orgasm washing over you, every nerve alight and buzzing as the sound of James’ beautiful moans fill your ears. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out, your eyes rolling back when you feel the warmth of his release painting your walls. Holding your waist firmly, he presses his hips against yours as his cock twitches inside you, claiming your body completely.
“Good girl,” he pants in your ear, and you whimper at the praise.
“Yours,” you sigh out, completely spent. You turn your head to dot lazy kisses along his cheek, your lips curling upward at the feeling of his freshly smooth skin.
He notes your self-satisfied smile and chuckles warmly against the shell of your ear. “Pleased?”
“Mhm,” you respond sleepily, nuzzling his face and emitting a sound dangerously close to that of a purr.
“I’m glad,” he hums, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “Shower?”
“Can’t,” you mumble. Swinging your legs, you clarify, “Jelly.”
“Bath, then.”
James guides your arms around his neck and you latch on obediently as he lifts your sore body off the countertop. He slips out of you when he hitches you higher up in his arms, and you mumble out a protest despite the aching between your legs.
“What, darling, haven’t had enough?”
Fighting sleep, you tighten your hold on him and nip at his ear. “Never.”
“Naughty thing,” he chides playfully, landing a light pat on your ass before setting you on the edge of the tub.
“You know,” you begin, trailing your fingers along his back while he adjusts the water temperature, “it’s your fault for being so utterly irresistible.”
He grumbles out an undoubtedly unamused response under his breath before climbing into the tub and beckoning you to join him. Carefully maneuvering your shaky legs, you settle back against James, resting your head in the crook of his neck and sighing as the warm water caresses your sore muscles.
“Wet your hair for me.” You stifle a yawn, barely opening your eyes to fix James with a quizzical look. Always a man on a mission, he holds your gaze, unrelenting. “Humor me, darling, will you?”
Heaving a dramatic sigh, you grip the sides of the tub and scoot your body forward until you can lower your hair below the waterline. After a thorough soak, you sit up and nestle yourself back between his legs, closing your eyes once more.
You hear the telltale snap of a bottle being uncapped, and then James’ expert fingers are massaging your scalp as the scent of vanilla and honeysuckle pervades your senses. You let out a hum of pure content, thoroughly enjoying being pampered by your love.
“I can’t explain,” he peppers your shoulders with delicate kisses between words as he works his fingers through your hair, “just how much I missed you.”
“Trust me, the feeling is mutual,” you sigh, responding to the pressure of his fingertips by tilting your head to grant him better access.
His silky smooth voice settles like a warm blanket on your skin as he runs his nose along your neck, and you shiver in delight. “You are absolutely exquisite.” He splays one hand possessively across your belly, the other dancing over the curve of your hip. “Divine.” Moving to grip your chin, he turns your face towards him and you feel his warm breath mingling with your own. “My own personal masterpiece.”
Drawing a trail of water down the column of your throat, between the valley of your breasts, and lower still to the apex of your thighs, he eases your folds apart once more and sheathes himself inside of you. Your mouth drops open wordlessly and he takes the opportunity to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
“You took such good care of me, my love,” he murmurs, delicately threading his fingers through the soapy strands of your hair as his hips press up against yours. “Now let me take care of you.”
#james bond#james bond smut#james bond imagine#james bond fic#james bond x reader#james bond x female reader#james bond x you#james bond x y/n#skyfall#007 skyfall#agent 007
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Be Sweet | James Bond x gn!reader
anonymous asked: "Comfortable?"
Could you please do a fic where James Bond is being cheeky with the reader when they are on a mission. I read all of your James Bond fics!
summary: Bond can be an asshole sometimes with all his teasing.
tws: swearing
The streets of Bastogne were quiet, now that the hours had dwindled and were getting closer to morning; street lamps were dimly lit and looked like champagne stars that glittered beneath the security of the hotel room.
The sky was black, an almost charcoal colour thanks to the silver speckles hidden behind thick clouds; it seemed like everything had given up for the night, and everything had embrace the sweet caress of sleep at last. But in that hotel room, the bedside table lamp was on, and was encasing the room with a sweet golden colour; buried amongst the soft silver blankets, you were hardly awake as you glared at your partner.
Bond wasn't wearing a shirt, his thick black chest and stomach hair on show, and where he was hunched over, it was easy to see the rolls of flesh on his stomach that were absolutely gorgeous; his usually slicked back black hair was a mess, and he was furiously scribbling away in a notepad.
He never stopped working, even when you had been told in the mission brief that you would need plenty of rest, he didn't stop; you were tempted to distract him and try to get him to sleep, but his devilish good looks pulled you in too much, and you bit your tongue on the matter.
But it didn't take him long to notice the burning glare, and he smiled as he looked at you, running a hand through that messy black hair that was oh so tuggable. Bond could be a teasing, cheeky prick at the best of times, and although you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing, it always got to you; at your lowest and on your worst days, you often thought of the times when he had teased you, and it never failed to make you smile.
He cleared his throat, and sat back in his chair, exposing that soft and easily grabbed stomach, and that nice black hair that coated him so well.
"Comfortable?" Bond asked, tilting his head to the side so that the lamp hit his eyes. The sweet blue becoming speckles and kissed by the sweetest of gold.
You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead you huffed, and grumbled as you fought the urge to go over and sit on his lap; it was a natural instinct at this point, you had done it so many times that you nearly couldn't stop yourself from doing it whenever he was sat like that. Legs spread and an arm hanging over the back of the chair, your breath got caught in your throat for a split second.
"It's cold," you mumbled. "And your incessant scribbling is getting on my wick."
"Well, forgive me," Bond hummed. "But some of us do have a job, you know."
You rolled your eyes, mostly to avoid that precious smirk that had settled on his features for fear that you would completely lose your composure and leave the nice and comfortable hotel bed in favour of sitting on his lap to distract him. "Some of us need to sleep, James."
"You could always come here and convince me to take a break," he purred.
You had to resist his charms, you knew that much, but... but the way that he was looking at you, and the soft purr in his voice, paired with the fact that his soft body was on show and he was gesturing for you to go to him - it was all too much. You couldn't stop yourself from tugging the blanket around your shoulders and going over to him, plopping yourself down on his lap and wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he held onto your middle so carefully. He smiled, knowing and cunning.
"So, convince me."
You scoffed, shaking your head as you ran your hands down his chest, shivering at how the fine black hairs prickled and tickled your skin, trying not to laugh softly at the sensation. But oh, you were so sweet on him that you simply couldn't resist, melting against him when he started to pepper your neck and jaw in soft and honeyed kisses; he knew just the right spots to turn you into putty in his hands.
Maybe staying up so late wouldn't be so bad after all.
Maybe you could afford to lose a little bit of sleep.
"Come to bed with me," you murmured. "Please."
"We're supposed to be working," he pointed out, grabbing the back of your neck and revelling in how you so eagerly leaned into him and whispered for just one kiss. "Or did you forget?"
"James," you grumbled, not quite low enough to be threatening, not quite soft enough to show just exactly how sweet on him you were.
"Yes?" Bond hummed, gently tracing your jaw. "That's my name, don't wear it out."
You scoffed, shaking your head as you did your best not to roll your eyes and shut him up by kissing him harshly; you just wanted to go to bed, you just wanted to get some rest like they had told you in the mission brief - but Bond, as always, had other ideas and plans when it came to things like that.
"Come to bed," you pleased quietly. "Please."
"You'll have to do better than that, agent," he chuckled, and the closeness between your body and his ensured that the vibrations hit your skin and forced out a breath from the back of your throat.
"I swear, if you don't come to bed and get some sleep, I'm gonna throw you out the window," you grumbled. "How's that?"
"Far from good enough," he ran a hand up your back, feather light touches just to draw out little shivers and soft breaths. "Try again."
"If you come to bed right now," you started, "then I'll make it more than worth your while."
He hummed, but the desperate look in your eyes drew out the sweet spot that he had for you, and he nodded as he smiled. "That's more like it."
#mlem writes#james bond x reader#james bond imagine#james bond fanfiction#james bond#james bond x y/n#james bond x you#pierce brosnan
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Asexual!Q x Female!Reader: Logical Fallacy [Ch. 21]
Summary: Q’s got one hundred and two problems. His girlfriend is, technically speaking, every single one.
Challenge: “102 Things A Guy Should Know About Girls” challenge by Miss Chocobo on Lunaescence Archives.
Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (foul language; sexual references; asexual!Q; sexual!reader; a running gag about sexual harassment; double standard: sexual harassment, female on male; sexual harassment played for comedy; James Bond & Reader friendship; civilian!reader; artist!reader; complicated family relationships; reader has a really big family; miscommunications; MI6 would not behave this way in reality; set post-Skyfall; joking references made to Bond/Q)
Pairings: Q/Female!Reader; James Bond/Eve Moneypenny
Tag List: @imaginesfire; @rory-cakes
Master List
Rule #21: Size does matter–but only to hos, not to girls that want relationships.
If Q thought seeing Bond in various locations across London was stressful, it was nothing compared to seeing Bond in his own home. Even then, sitting at the table, Q could not help but feel immensely uncomfortable. Relatively large though the flat may have been, it still didn’t seem roomy enough to contain Bond, Q, and the latter's excitable girlfriend.
“There you go! Tea is up.”
You flashed Bond a smile as you set one mug down in front of him, then Q. Bond smiled back, Q nodded, but you didn’t leave. Instead, you pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and settled in beside them.
“Mr. Bond, I know you’re here for super-secret work purposes and all–”
“Yes,” Q interjected. “He is.”
“–but could I ask you a question really quick?”
“[Name], now is really not the time. Mr. Bond needs to catch a flight to Beijing in the next five hours, and he really cannot afford to waste time with idle chitchat.”
“Oh, give the lady a break, Q.” Bond smirked at the look Q shot him over the top of his glasses. Really, it was bad enough that he had to invite Bond over to do this trade, and now Bond was purposely going to make Q look the bad guy. “I’m sure the professional matters can wait for a few minutes. Unless my ticket is going to blow up if I don’t leave quickly enough?”
Q answered with stony silence that you reacted to not at all.
Bond’s grin widened as he turned back to you. “Go ahead, [Name].”
For a moment, Q thought you might just do as he had asked and leave. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. These actions were unfortunately not in preparation for exiting the room. They were instead preparation to ask the following question:
“Mr. Bond, how big is your penis?”
Tea spurted from Q’s mouth. Both you and Bond turned to give him quizzical looks as he continued to cough.
“[Name]!” he protested around his coughing fit. “Why would you–You just can’t–Why do you even–” Q could not finish his sentences.
You shrugged your shoulders in an almost offensively casual manner. “What? It’s not like I’m taking out a tape measure and asking him to whip it out on the table.”
Q’s cheeks grew as hot as the teapot sitting on the stove. Next to him, Bond’s shoulders silently shook, as if he were trying desperately not to laugh openly at Q’s predicament. When Q could not find it in himself to speak, Bond ran a finger around the lip of his mug and asked:
“Why the sudden interest?”
“Well.” You frowned at the table. “Q says everyone wants to sleep with you. I guess I was just curious if that had anything to do with it, because as far as I know, no one has offered to sleep with Q other than me. Maybe it's a size issue?”
Now Bond was definitely suppressing a smile. “How big is Q’s?”
“That’s none of your business!” Q burst out at last. Bond chuckled. You cocked your head to one side and blinked. “Can we please just get back to what we came here to do?”
“You didn’t come here to do anything. You live here.”
“You know what I mean!” Of course, it was unprofessional to snap, not to mention that Q probably wouldn’t hear the end of this particular embarrassment for a long time to come–from Bond or you. He sighed and tried to contain himself before speaking again. “[Name], please relocate to the living room. This does require the exchange of some confidential information.”
“But I didn’t get my answer,” you said, sticking your lower lip out.
Q glowered at you. Sometimes it seemed as if you got some sort of kick out of mortifying him.
From the corner of his eye, Q saw Bond wink. “I’m afraid that’s confidential information as well, [Name].”
Q turned his head slightly to stare at Bond. What was going on? Was he really trying to salvage the situation? Or was he about to speak some new terror into it?
Your eyes widened. “Really?”
Bond nodded gravely. “I might have to kill you if I told you. M would definitely find out about it, and then where would we be?”
“Dead,” you said breathlessly. “Or arrested.”
“That’s right. Now, why don’t you run along to the living room before Q here’s head explodes?”
“Okay!” You got to your feet, beaming, and headed toward the hallway. “You two have fun!”
Q waited until he heard the television turn on, then heaved a relieved sigh as Bond took a deep swig of tea.
“Thanks,” said Q.
“Don’t mention it.”
#fan fic#straw writes#reader insert#second person pov#james bond#q#skyfall#challenge fic#q x reader#q x you#q x y/n#skyfall x reader#skyfall x you#skyfall x y/n#james bond x reader#james bond x you#james bond x y/n#james bond reader insert#q reader insert#skyfall reader insert
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I’m back to my Daniel Craig phase and I’m itching to write a fluff where the reader forces either Benoit Blanc or James Bond to unwind and go on a picnic date under a tree while viewing the sunset then just watch the stars like the hopeless romantic I am.
#james bond x reader#james bond imagines#benoit blanc fanfic#benoit blanc x you#benoit blanc imagines#benoit blanc x reader#james bond x you#007 james bond#james bond x y/n#benoit blanc x y/n#reader insert#fanfiction
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Hi! I really like your James Bond x reader fics. I want to make a req if it is possible. It's about James Bond who felt guilty for leaving you (mission) after knowing you were pregnant. Thank you!
Of course! Sorry it took me so long to get to this! (And that it’s quite short😅)
Until it hits 800 celebration
Warnings: pregnant reader, guilt, but pretty much fluff
- - -
He couldn’t sleep. Not when he knew what he was missing out on despite how early on it was. However, you had only been able to tell James that you were pregnant in the few scant moments you had together before he had to leave. Again.
The two of you never got to celebrate. You insisted it was fine, that his job was, “the most important. It makes the world better for our future family,” as you so graciously put it.
Still, he couldn’t let the guilt that you were still home without him. Were you trying your best to celebrate on your own? Were you feeling alright? How far along are you? He knows it can’t be long but he still wants to know. You’re the mother of his child now and he should be with you, hugging you tight as you lay together in your shared bed.
He shouldn’t be here, half way across the world instead. The guilt gets so bad that he can’t take it anymore. He at least needs to hear your voice. Most of all, if this was the way he could celebrate with you, then he’ll take it.
“James?” your sweet voice flows through the phone and it instantly makes Bond relax for the first time that evening. “What is it?”
“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, relaxing into the pillows.
You chuckle on the other end of the phone, picking up his hidden message. “James, I told you. It’s fine. We still have eight months before this one comes along.”
Sometimes he forgets how well you know him. So, when you guess the actual reason he’s calling, a proud smile spreads across his lips.
“Now,” you start again, breaking him from his silence, “get some rest. You’ll need it.”
“Will you talk to me until I fall asleep?” It’s supposed to be a tease. However, as he says it, he can’t help how genuine he is in asking the question. Still, he knows that, as you let out a soft chuckle, you know exactly what he means. It helps the dwindling feelings of guilt disappear as he listens to you.
“Okay. Let’s make a list of names.”
- - -
@imabeautifulbutterfly @thereluctantherosrose @where-fantasy-meets-reality @vesqermartini @trishxtrix @hollandfangirl @yeehaw-my-guys @obiwannie @rentskenobi @purelyfiction @binanas @gabiszew @dvnnyoceans @catherinemcc1 @strange-old-worlds
#james bond#daniel craig#james bond x reader#james bond x y/n#james bond x you#james bond fic#james bond fanfiction#James bond drabble#james bond imagine
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Teaser! 👀
hey guys!! i’m in the midst of writing an enemies to lovers James Bond x Reader, but i want to know what you all thing. below is a rough draft of the beginning of my story. please feel free to leave me some feedback!
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The cold, brisk air of the woods around you threatened to ice your bones frozen solid, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins made sure that didn’t happen. You were finally closing in on your target, the one you’ve been hunting for months. The giant, sprawling mansion loomed about a hundred yards in the distance; it’s warm exterior was a vast change to the dark woods that surrounded you now. Armed with the best gadgets your organization could provide, every light step you took brought you closer to infiltrating the party that he was working undercover, attempting to overthrow Essaim, your organization. He just couldn’t understand what you were doing, what good it could do for the world. The scum it could scrape from the surface of the Earth. Not that it mattered; not much longer now, and James Bond would be dead. No longer a threat to you or Essaim. And you’d be the one pulling the trigger.
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what did you think?? should i continue the story? let me know :3 <3
#fanfic#fanfiction#literature#romance#original story#thewhitejournal#james bond#james bond x y/n#james bond x reader#daniel craig#daniel craig x reader#daniel craig x y/n#spectre#skyfall#casino royale#james bond x you#enemies to lovers
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Hello my lovelies,
So I have been working for the past two months on a Bond fic.
It was suppose to be a quick 5k maybe 7k one-off. But the story got wayyyyyy too intriguing and before I knew it, I finished with around 25k words.
Still haven’t divided up the parts yet, but this week, y’all will be getting either a 5 or 6 part Bond fic.
If you want to be tagged let me know.
LOVE OO.
#james bond x y/n#bond x reader#james bond x reader#james bond imagine#bond fic#bond fanfic#007 x y/n#007 x you#007 fanfic#007 fanfiction#007 x reader#007 imagine#007jamesbond#james bond 007#agent 007 imagine#agent 007 fancfiction#agent 007 fanfic#agent 007 x reader#agent 007
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Request: Can you write a James Bond one with 12 in the sassy and 10 in the angst
@bisexualdisaster531
A/N: This was soo fun to write. Hope you like it!
You hated Bond. For his arrogance, his personality, even that he always got away with what he did.
He didn’t seem to like you too.
You were perfectly fine with that. You didn’t talk, didn’t look at each other, and the best part? You never worked together.
Unfortunately for both of you, this was about to change.
M had called you to his office.
By the time you saw Bond waiting inside you knew that this wasn’t going to end well. And you were right.
Your mission was relatively easy, although if you knew one thing for sure, that was that this job was never easy.
Everything was fine. The target was located and you had surrounded him.
How you got caught you didn’t know.
What you knew was that now you were both tied in a dark room, guns taken away and no plan to escape.
“You know-” Bond said but you interrupted him. “Really? Can’t you just shut up?”
“I was about to say something, I’m sorry” he said annoyed and you sighed.
“Go on”
“I turned out liking you more than I originally planned” he said starring you with these blue eyes you could get lost in.
You liked him. You really did. And what pissed you off was that you had sworn to hate him. And now you had to admit it? Hell no!
“You don’t look very pleased with this statement” he raised his eyebrows.
“You know what? It sucks! Because I want to hate you but I can’t! Dammit, I can’t! Because you’re so-so-”
“Amazing? Charming? Great person?” he grinned.
“Yeah, you can say that” you blushed.
“Well, in this case” he said and leaned in to kiss you.
And you didn’t resist.
#james bond x reader#james bond x y/n#james bond x you#james bond fanfiction#feyre-darling92#feyre darling92#my fic#my fanfic writing#my story
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fidget
felix catton x fem!reader
cw : none, no mention of y/n.
𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
saltburn was your favourite place to be.
you had been spending your summers there since you were 14 and you met felix at school.
at 16 felix decided to kiss you by the lake and you had been inseparable since then.
even at oxford, it was very rare that you'd spend a night alone, either sleeping in felix's dorm or having him over at yours.
your summers at the house were always enjoyable, unless god forbid you fell unwell over the time you stayed there.
and unfortunately, that had happened this year.
you were curled up in your bed, curtains drawn as the burning sun heated up the entire room.
even with the warmth from the sun, the hot water bottle on your stomach and the duvet over your body, you were still shivering.
of course your period had to come on the hottest day of the year, when you would be constantly taking off your covers and putting them back on moments later.
your eyes were clenched shut as you willed yourself to fall asleep so you could wake up and be rid of your devilish cramps.
but of course, that was not what god had in store for you as your boyfriend burst into your room.
" mornin' sweetheart " he said, making his way over to your bed where he sat down , his hand lifting to brush some hair from your face. " what're you doing sleeping in here? i was waiting for you last night "
while you would normally relish in the feeling of felix playing with your hair, right now everything was sensitive and you couldnt take it.
" you were asleep when i came in, didnt want to wake you " you muttered, clearly lying through your teeth as you lifted your hand to move his off of your face, instead choosing to loop your little finger through his.
that was about much touch as you could handle at the moment.
felix was not having that as the reason. you knew he didnt care if you woke him up, as long as he woke up to you in his arms. it was then that he noticed the furrow in your brow and the lick of sweat over your forehead.
" what's up, sweetness? you dont look so good " he said, shifting a little closer to you, his leg lifting up onto the bed so you couldnt avoid this conversation.
you were hesitant, never having discussed this with felix before as there wasnt ever a need to, but the soft movement of him sliding his hand into your practically made you melt.
" i got my period last night, didnt want to stain your sheets or keep you up with my fidgeting " whenever you got cramps it was impossible to get comfortable. no position was good enough to ease the storm in your uterus.
" so you deprived me of your cuddles last night because you didnt want to ruin my sheets? " he asked, his brow raising incredulously.
" didn't think you'd want to deal with my fidgeting either. " you admitted, clutching your hot water bottle a little tighter.
" oh, baby, i don't care. i want to be there for you when you're not feeling good. " he explained, shifting on the bed again so he was sat up agains the headboard. " now because you robbed me of your company last night, you have no choice in letting me take care of you now. " he said with a soft smile.
" you don't have to do that, lex- "
you were swiftly cut off by felix " i dont have to, but i want to. i'm going to get you something to drink, then how would you feel about a bath ?"
you had to admit that sounded amazing, being engulfed in warm water for a little while.
" that sounds really nice " you agreed, lifting your head slightly to rest against his leg, still clad in his pyjama pants. " but dont leave yet "
your final word caused a soft laugh to come from his lips, his hand lifting to rest on your back, the other still clutched in yours.
" okay, we can stay here a while "
#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐟𝐢𝐜#felix catton x reader#felix catton x y/n#felix catton smut#felix catton x you#felix catton imagine#felix catton#saltburn 2023#saltburn movie#saltburn spoilers#saltburn#saltburn posting#saltburn fanfiction#jacob elordi gifs#jacob elordi icons#jacob elordi x reader#jacob elordi imagine#jacob elordi addresses rumor that he’ll be the next james bond#jacob elordi felt ‘dead inside’ making ‘ridiculous&039; ‘kissing booth’ movies#emerald fennell#barry keoghan#oliver quick#jacob elordi#jacob elordi snl#nate jacobs x reader#nate jacobs
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DON'T BE A STRANGER ༉‧₊˚✧.*
✧ an albert j. moriarty x f!reader slow burn (reader is a doctor)
✧ ⚠️: angst, bittersweet ending.. idk
✧ it's so long :') please excuse my poor effort at foreshadowing 🌷
CHAPTER ONE — “so, let me get this straight. your biggest dream is to open a small clinic in london?”
“yeah!” you nod happily. “i want to treat the less fortunate people out there; people with financial troubles, men, women & children from the slum, you know?” the brown haired noble hums approvingly.
idyllic, soft noises of a piano being played comes from below the floorboard, probably downstairs. you lift your head up from the man's injured arm in mild surprise, only to be met with his own curious gaze.
his expression immediately softens upon seeing your own gaze and his lips melt into a small, subtle smile.
“must be louis.” albert says, grinning. “he's been practicing piano lately and—” he winces when you tighten the bandage around his forearm. “—ouch.”
you grin back at him teasingly. “you can deal with it, you're a big boy.”
“aha.” he rises to his feet. “that, my dear, i am.”
“here, catch.” you throw him his shirt, crisp white and clean and he catches it mid air with ease. he smiles proudly like he's caught an alligator by it's jaw. he wipes his sweaty hands with his handkerchief.
“i hope you'd come around here more often.” albert says while leaning against a wall, arms crossed. he's halfway in his shirt, deciding not to put the other arm in since he thought it'd be too painful to try. “it's fun with you around, (name).” he approves of his own words by nodding to himself. “truly.”
“hmm..” you pretend as if you're pondering, index tapping your chin idly and eyes looking up at the ceiling in feigned thoughtfulness. your gaze drops back to him. “then perhaps you should be ambushed during your missions more, yeah?”
the brown haired chuckles amusedly at your words. “ah,” he says. “now words, my dear, you should be careful with. i may as well willingly fall down a flight of stairs just because you've said that to me now.”
what a flirt, you scoff.
you stand to your own feet as well, sling your sids bag in and stuff in your medical supplies. his gaze falls to it momentarily before returning to your eyes and he smiles at you.
“you should let me drop you off as a thank you of nursing me.” he tells you, walking a few steps forwards until he's directly looming in front of you.
you lift your head to look up at him and speak. “no, that's okay. i'm pretty sure i can find my way back myse—” his hand slides between the gap of your arm and your waist and you're sure you feel the back of his fingers touch your waist as he's zipping your side bag shut. and you feel tingly all of a sudden.
what a goddamn flirt.
“i insist.” he says, voice soft before he pulls back a few steps. then, he grins at you as he's always done, with that easy, boyish grin he always has. “please.”
“fine.” you clear your throat, looking away. you're hurrying your way towards the doorstep and fiddling with the doorknob until it's open. you step out.
and he eagerly follows you behind, almost jogging to keep up with your fast pace of walking. his heart seems to be beating for some peculiar reason; perhaps due to the physical exercise of keeping up with you. “my, (name).” he laughs brightly. “i wasn't aware we were having a marathon.” and you groan annoyedly at his antics. “please be silent.”
if only he knew what was going on in your head right of this moment. if only he knew how hard your heart was thumping inside of your chest at every brush of your elbows. if only—
you've only realized you've already been out and about for a while now, that you've been walking past the streets and the lanes and under the unlit lamps and finally infront of your house. you've so realized that he'd been walking past you quietly surprisingly in obedience just like you'd told him to.
“then..” he speaks after some time, turning to look at you. he holds out his hand to you and you place one of your own over his. your eyebrow raises when he raises it to his lips, places the softest of kiss over it & lets both of his and your hands fall back to your sides.
“i'll see you, (name.)” he tells you, stepping back.
“i..” you pause, rather flustered. “y-yes. me as well.”
you tell the noble to get home safe and you step inside of your house, lock the door, back against the door with weak knees before sliding down against it.
you're sure you're red. everywhere. down to the tips of your very fingers, neck, face. everywhere.
it was only politeness. countless, not only noblemen but men in general have done that before. it was only right. so why did it feel so different when he did it?
“idiot.” you murmur under your breath. “stupid idiot.” at this point, you're not exactly sure who you're cursing and mumbling about. you, or him.
✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡
CHAPTER TWO — the purple melted into the pinks and the pinks blurred into the shades of oranges that hovered right above the horizon. the morning was early. the day was new and so, a new enthusiasm had risen in you.
you had made up your mind.
enough of the unrequited love, you thought.
enough of the days spent daydreaming while fiddling with gauges and vials of ointment, you thought.
enough of the nights spent thinking and dreaming, dreaming and thinking once more of how it would be like for you to be his and his to be yours.
you grip at the belt of your side bag. your hands are clammy as you're riding your bicycle towards the moriarty residence and your entire body is hot with nervousness. the sun is pressing gentle kisses on your back and the soft, soft wind pushes back stray hairs away from your forehead.
your plan for the day? invite him over to your place so that the two of you can get closer somehow. maybe doing something like cooking, or baking. or just spending some time with him in general.
“(name)!” bond's opened the door, grinning enthusiastically at you. “it's good to see you.”
“good to see you, too, bond.” you tell him, returning the man's smile. he's new to the group, apparently. your smile at him is familiar. usually meeting someone new and interacting with them would be awkward but with bond, it was easy & comfortable.
“is albert home?” you question and he nods.
“yes.” he tells you. “in his bedroom.” he tells you, stepping back to let you step inside.
“okay!” you're hurrying your way up to his bedroom, heart pumping out of your chest in a mixture of excitement, anticipation and nervousness.
one knock. two knocks.
“come in.” a voice calls from within and you recognise it immediately. who else would have that velvety, deep & smooth voice except than him?
the door creaks open and he visibly brightens upon seeing your face. “(name).” he smiles. he's slipping on his leather gloves. “to what do i owe this pleasure?”
“well—” you shift your weight from one foot to the other. “i wanted to ask if.. you wanted to come over to my place and you know, do some baking. or something.”
albert blinks. “you came all the way over here to tell me that? (name)..” he exhales. “you could have just sent a telegram instead of going through all the trouble to get here to invite me.”
“i know.. but,” you clear your throat. but what? did you even have an excuse? “i wanted to spend more time with you.” “i thought- i thought i'd exercise or something. get some fresh air, you know?”
he pauses. “yeah.” he nods. ponders. speaks. “i.. actually have to get to a meeting in about one and a half hour or so.” and he watches your face fall.
“oh.” you can only mutter out. so much for trying to get closer to him, you think. “oh, okay. that's fine, then. always a next time, right?” and you try to laugh — it's almost a piteous sound, you can't seem to hide your disappointment and he sees right through it.
albert runs a hand through his brown hair. “it would be a hassle going back and forth.” he continues. “however..” small smile. “i think i can make some time for a simple cake if we do it here.”
your eyes twinkle and you nod vigorously. “but what of the ingredients?”
“i am sure we have plenty here.”
୨🌷୧ ≈ ≈ ≈ ≈
and that was how the two of you ended up like this, with you licking frosting off your fingers, watching albert as he frosts the cake with a sky blue icing. he takes a step back, rubs the sweat off his brow with his arm, looking at the work that the two of you created. it's simple, really; covered in a sky blue, a few small decorations here & there but it's yours. and his.
“well?” he sighs, turning to look at you with an eyebrow raised. he's wearing a dark green apron dusted in flour and so are you. “my hands were trembling, i was afraid i would ruin the cake or mess up the decorations.”
you beam up at him. “it looks great!” and he grins with the most proudest smile you've seen. “although i wish i could've helped more. i was the one with the idea and yet you're the one who did the most work.”
“nonsense.” albert says. his hands are already busy cutting slices for the two of you. “i only did the finishing touches and assisted here and there. you are the one that worked more diligently,” he reaches over and his thumb swipes at your cheek. he pulls his hand back & gestures at the excess flour he gathered from your cheek. “and there is the proof.” he grins.
“that doesn't prove anything, by the way.” are you stuttering? is your face too red? are you doing something out of the ordinary? is your expression too silly? too stupid? is it obvious that you like him?
“haha.” he chuckles. “i'd like to think otherwise.”
is now the right time to confess? it's been long enough, hasn't it? you've known him for four years already — isn't that enough? wouldn't he accept?
“albert?” you inhale, your fingers fiddle with each other in nervousness. you gather your courage, let it simmer under your skin momentarily as you prepare yourself to tell him what you feel about him.
“hm?”
“i've- i've actually always liked—”
moran walks into the kitchen, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants as he makes his entrance. “hey, it's time for the meeting.” his gaze falls on the cake. “ooh, is this for me?” he says greedily.
albert sighs. “no it isn't, colonel.” he swats the large man's hand away and moran yelps. “ouch!”
“tell the others i'll be there in a minute.” the brown haired man says, taking off his apron. moran shrugs his shoulders and walks away. “ah, right.” the man pauses, turns to look at you and tilts his head. “wasn't there something you were about to tell me, (name)? something about always liking something?”
“what?” you blink. “oh, nono- it's okay.” you shake your head frantically. “i just..” you clear your throat. “i just meant to say that i've always liked your determination to.. change this world of ours and that i've always respected your ideologies, that's all.”
“....” the silence in his pause is defeaning.
albert's lips slowly broaden into a smile. he nods in acknowledgement of your words. “thank you.”
“albert!” the both of you hear moran calling out for the noble. albert's head turns towards the direction of the noise momentarily before returning to yours. “i'll take my leave now. moran seems to be getting his knickers in a twist.” he grins when you giggle. “you should take the cake with you, though.”
albert leaves, but manages to take one more glance at you. his expression has shifted, a little different as he's leaving; strange. almost unreadable. his smile has disappeared — as if he's thinking of something.
does he know? or is he just suspicious? not that him being suspicious of your feelings is any better.
you're left alone in the kitchen. you feel like ripping your hair out in embarrassment. you wanted to do this slowly, taking your time, doing it the right away.
and yet, you panicked. rushed. failed.
“ugh..” you groan at your ruined attempt to tell him how you actually feel about him. “this sucks.”
✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡
CHAPTER THREE — it's been entire weeks since you've properly talked to albert. some days when you talk to him, he pretends not to hear at all, some days he only answers if he really has to and some days he blatantly ignores you. as if you don't even exist.
“i am alright, (name). please don't worry about me.” william smiles up at you. you've finished tending to his wounds and are currently observing him for any more bruises or any signs of distress & ptsd. william willingly let himself be kidnapped for one of their missions.
however, a kidnapping is still a kidnapping, now matter how much it was planned with detailed intricacy. “you should check up on albert, instead. it seems he's gotten a little hurt during my rescue.”
“well..” you gulp down hard. you're reluctant — because he's been keeping his distance from you for the past few weeks. you're not exactly sure why, but you have a hint. he definitely knows, doesn't he?
albert was known among high society to be on friendly terms with both noblemen and noblewomen alike. he was popular, but he was also infamous for suddenly turning distant and reserved towards a particular lady if she confessed of her feelings to him, or the news of someone becoming interested in him romantically came to his knowledge.
of course that was also because he didn't want to hurt anybody. he couldn't afford being in love — knowing how their grand plan would end, anyway.
and you being treated like one of those women made you feel terrible; like you'd been thrown aside.
weren't you special to him? then why did he treat you as such? does he treat other women the same?
“alright.” you tell william reluctantly and he offers you an empathetic smile. he gives your arm a small, encouraging pat and you feel a little comforted.
“i am sure things will go well with the two of you.” nothing was ever hidden from william, was it?
with his encouragement, you make your way to albert who's currently conversing with moran. moran would never, ever in a hundred years or a million years pass down the opportunity to tease albert.
“getting rusty, aren't you?” moran laughs loudly, finding great amusement in this. “this is what happens when you're cooped up in adminstrative work instead of being out there in the field.”
“very funny, colonel.” albert responds gruffly.
both the men notice your presence and moran gives you a loud "yo" as a greeting. albert is much quieter than usual and only gives you a curt “good morning”.
it hurts, you realize. but never mind that — you're here to check up on him, not bring your personal feelings into this. “give me your arm for a second.”
and he does. his head is turned a few degrees away from you and he's busying himself in conversation with moran deliberately. he has a bruise on his cheek, a few scrapes on his arms that broke skin, but that was it. you put down your side bag on the nightstand besides the medical bed and begin to shuffle through the necessary items to treat his wounds.
you pour disinfectant on a piece of cotton and lean in to dab away at the bruise on his cheek. albert flinches sharply, grabs your wrist unconsciously.
what? both of your expressions seem to say exactly that. albert looks up at you with wide, panicked eyes. his grip on your wrist still hasn't loosened and you wince slightly in pain when you try to tug it back.
“oh..” he finally realizes what he's just done and he clears his throat uncomfortably, looking away. he drops your hand and “apologies. i didn't mean to do that.” he murmurs quietly. “give it to me, i'll do it.”
albert snatches the cotton drenched in disinfectant away from you and begins to do it in your stead.
and you can feel your heart aching because even now he's ignoring you. it's been days, no—weeks, since you've had a proper conversation with him.
you feel a lump rise in your throat because he doesn't even sound sincere with his apology. he sounds so halfhearted, like he just wants to get it done with, like talking with you is a chore. he's so distant. so cold.
“albert, can i please talk to you?”
“i'm sorry, (name). i'm a little tired from right now and i'd like to rest.” albert says, volume and octave of his voice a little higher than usual. his tone of voice is brittle, firm, rough — so unlike the gentleness he used to address you with only a few weeks ago.
he's avoiding you.
“it won't take long, so—”
“(name).” his voice is stern, without a hint of warmth.
it's obvious. and it pains so much.
“i can't seem to comprehend why you're bothering me after i outright asked that you let me rest. can i not have that? or did you not hear me, perhaps?”
you feel your heart drop to the pits of your stomach.
albert spoke loudly to make sure everyone would hear him, and that it would seem rude if you were to bother him even after he directly told you he needed rest. all eyes are on you. your head feels heavy. your heart is drumming hard, there's a hollowness in your stomach and a deep, aching pain in your chest.
and you shift anxiously. you can only shift anxiously.
he's put you in an uncomfortable situation. you'd never expected him, of all people, to do that to you.
why was he being so hostile to you?
your fingers wrap tightly around the belt of your side bag. “i- okay..” you say, defeated. “get some rest.”
“yes.” he says, voice tight. “leave.”
your hands are trembling. all the ignored words, avoidant eyes, distance, harsh words from him was getting to you. he was being mean. your vision is blurry — most likely due to the formation of tears. you dare not let them drop right now.
why was he acting like this? what had you ever done to him? was your only sin falling in love with him?
“i should go now.” you pray. you pray hard that your voice didn't sound shaky. you pray that your voice didn't crack. you pray that it didn't sound like you were about to cry. but a tear betrays you, anyway.
you can't look at anybody right now.
everyone is gawking, and you rush out of the room. it doesn't matter anymore — it's too much for you. you run past the hallways, past the door, past fred tending to the plants in the conservatory and out of the manor. you run and you keep running until the moriarty residence is out of sight, until you begin to gasp and breath hard for air, until you collapse onto your knees over rocks and gravel and dirt.
the pain from bruising your knee over a sharp rock only makes matters worse. the cut is deep and you bleed over the blades of grass and over the dirt.
you bleed over his words.
you cry and cry. you cry your heart out.
✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡
CHAPTER FOUR — exactly six months have passed since your falling out with albert. you've given up all dreams of being involved with him romantically. you've been huddled up inside of your house for a few weeks, researching and researching. soon, you'd have enough money to move to london and finally fulfill your dream of opening your quaint little clinic.
you'd forgotten your precious side bag at the moriarty residence but were too hesitant, too embarrassed, too hurt to retrieve it.
william and bonde, especially, have sent numerous letters asking about your health and if you are well — which you haven't answered. not to a single one. one from louis and fred each and one small note from moran bluntly telling you to just forget all about albert and about how much of an asshole he is.
you'd laughed a little at that one — it was short and half of it consisted of profanities but you knew that it was his own way of caring. and it was sweet to know.
no news from albert, or about albert. but you'd decided to leave it all in the past, anyway.
you take a step into the shower.
tonight was very special for you, anyway.
୨🌷୧ text divider ≈ ≈ ≈ ≈
this is the first time you're going to attend a noble function. you're accompanying a viscount by the name of francis. he's over six feet tall, has warm hazel eyes, curly black hair, wears glasses — a little awkward and stutters in social situations, but you figured that was his charm.
he was your business partner. he'd provide the money to allow you to open your clinic in london and you'd provide your intellect & experience in the medical field. everything was set; tonight was a stage for the two of you to advertise and hopefully, find customers. or donators. both would be a great help.
“s-shall we get some drinks, (name)?” francis holds out his arm to you and you link your arm in with his.
“we shall.” you beam up at him. you're wearing an emerald coloured silk dress that francis bought you which perfectly hugs your body — you look striking.
the two of you get yourself a glass of sparkling wine each and begin to actively engage with other nobles; you in the lead with francis backing you up, subtly pushing the topic of opening your clinic into the conversation. everything seemed to be going good.
“brother, how about we not overindulge in wine tonight?”
that's a familiar voice.
your neck almost whips towards the direction of the voice. albert and william, clad in perfectly fitted tuxedos and crisp white shirts underneath.
“what are you saying, will?” albert laughs. “how can i say 'no' to wine, out of everything else?” that same, handsome face. except there was a type of gauntness to him — a tiredness in his expression.
“..(name)?”
“(name)?”
“(name)!” you flinch sharply. “what?”
“you're zoning out.” francis looks concerned, eyebrows furrowed in worry. he has an arm rested atop your shoulder and he squeezes gently. “are you alright? i've been calling your name for a while now.”
“oh..” you feel queasy but put on a smile regardless. “everything's fine. i was just looking around, y'know?”
francis's hazel eyes narrow.
they slowly lift to see albert; only for him to notice that albert's sharp, green eyes were looking right back — especially at you. he may be awkward, but he wasn't stupid, and he surely wasn't dense enough to not be able to read the room or social situations.
‘‘an ex-lover? a failed love? an one-sided love? which is it?,, francis thinks to himself.
“you know w-what?” he holds his palm out to you, giving you his usual warm smile. “the dance is about to start soon. how about you be my partner?”
you blink in surprise, taken off guard. “huh?”
“we're business partners, a little d-dancing isn't going to hurt either of us, is it?” he tells you softly.
“well..” you contemplate for a long time.
then, the music begins to play.
“my arm is beginning to hurt, (name).” he tells you, gesturing towards his extended hand that he's been holding up for a while now. “may i have this dance?”
you exhale, smile, nod your head and place your hand over his. he brings it up to his lips before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.
“woah—” you squeal in surprise.
“s-sorry.” francis grins. “too close?”
you shake your head. “no.” you chuckle. “just fine.”
the music is soft and slow. violin, piano, trumpet, etc cetera. a few others have already started waltzing across the large ballroom, swaying in sync to the music. you place your hands on his shoulder.
“i must inform you beforehand,” you tell him, peeking up at francis. “i am not the finest of dancers, i am afraid that i may step on you.”
he laughs. “t-then i seem to have done a good job picking the toughest shoes out of my collection.”
you smile up at him — genuinely, sincerely. it felt good being with francis. but to albert, it sure didn't feel good watching the events unfold before him.
why was he feeling this way watching you two?
there was a strange feeling of unfamiliar irritation and resentment for francis bubbling under his skin; even if he's sure he's never met the man before. there was something about the way francis had his hands placed on your hips that pissed him off.
albert's green eyes narrow and his fingers tighten around his wine glass. suddenly, his finely tailored tux begins to feel constricting. he wants to pull his gaze away, he really does, but his eyes are stuck on you.
does he feel something for you? why is his heart beating so hard in his chest? is it out of anger for the man you're dancing with? or something else entirely?
listening to you laugh as that man twirled you around the grand ballroom makes his jaw tighten.
it annoyed him to a great deal — even if he wasn't aware why. william notices this and places a comforting hand on his older brother's shoulder. “perhaps we should take a tour in the gardens? i am told the greenery is beautiful here.”
albert inhales deeply, lets go of the breath he was holding and nods. “that's a wonderful idea.”
୨🌷୧ text divider ≈ ≈
the moon tonight is pale and it illuminates the gardens with it's iridescent glow. the two brothers have been walking around in the gardens for an hour or so now — it's hard to keep track of time for albert anyway, with how his mind is filled with thoughts.
“(name)!” william calls out, noticing you staggering into the garden. albert's eyes flash open and they follow his gaze. you're swaying side to side, a bottle of wine sloshing around in your hand.
“(name).” albert's voice is hoarse and he practically runs over to you. he scans you down from head to toe, eyebrows scrunched in worry. “what is..all this?”
“hnn—?” you trip on your other foot and almost crash down on your knees until albert catches you by both your arms. you grunt, stabilising yourself on your feet and look up at the man, only to notice that it's albert, of all people. “don't touch me, you prick!”
you slap his hands away. his eyes widen momentarily before he huffs frustratedly. he runs a hand through his silky, brown hair. “where is the man that was accompanying you?”
“i don't—hic!—need to say anything to you!” instantly, the tower of all of the negative emotions that had been building up inside of you suddenly come crashing down. “you think you can act all chummy with me again? news flash, you can't!”
your voice is loud and it's booming over the garden grounds. albert lifts his head from you to see if anyone has heard you. he can only thank the gods above that the music is much louder inside.
“you're drunk.” he states. “how can that imbecile leave you alone when you're in this state?”
“don't call francis that!” you yell at him, words slurry. “he's a million times better than you will ever be.”
“so francis that is fool's name?” he scoffs. “contrary to your belief, that's quite hard to imagine when he's left you like this. what if some man was to—?”
albert isn't sure what's struck him until his ears ring. there's a sharp ache emitting from his cheek, only later realising that you've just slapped him. hard.
“i..” william clears his throat uncomfortably, looking just as surprised. “i shall get a carriage for us.”
albert's quiet for a while before he mumbles: “...yes, that would be ideal. thank you, will.” william gives albert a small nod before making his way out of the gardens and leaving the two of you alone.
“i don't think—hic!—you're in any position to talk.” you retort at him. “you are no better than the rest.” you're glaring daggers up at him. “infact, you are much, much worse! you're the scum of your species. you would rather run away from everything that bothers you than face it like an actual man!”
albert watches you holler and throw profanities at him in utter silence with a grim expression on his face. his face only further darkens when tears begin to build in your eyes and stream down your face.
“i hate you!” you shout up at him. the flow of tears won't stop. they keep falling over and over. you'd been strong for too long, and this was the result.
you keep shouting over and over that you hate him, sides of your fists pounding against his chest as albert just takes it all in — lets you do as you please.
it's only until your shouting has turned to sobs and sniffles that he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close. “shhh.. shhh...” he cooes to you softly.
“i love you, can't you see that?” you babble up at him and he exhales quietly. “i... can. i do.” he says.
you huff, still quite intoxicated. “and your answer?”
albert ponders, hesitates, but speaks in the end. “i don't have one.” he replies. “i'm not sure how i feel for you.” he pauses. “i'm not sure i do feel for you.”
you stiffen in his embrace. one beat. two beat. three beats. and you detach yourself from him.
“this is wrong,” you mumble. “so very wrong. how can you tell me you don't feel anything for me and that you don't have an answer to give me while you're hugging me? don't you think you're being too heartless?” you wipe away at excess tears with the sleeves of your green dress. you sniffle twice.
“i need to leave.”
you back away, albert catches you by the wrist. “wait a second—” he says, tone of voice panicked.
“please.”
you turn around. “what?”
“let me drop you off. to make sure you're safe.”
✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡
CHAPTER FIVE — (albert pov!) the heavens are scowling constantly this week and the rains frighten the terrains. the unstable weather is the perfect reflection for albert's current state of mind.
he sighs deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
it's been a week since the function.
a week since you broke down & cried infront of him.
a week since he's seen you —
and almost seven to eight months since he's last heard your laugh.
albert's too much of a coward — he's terrified that you would turn him away if he came to visit. even back then with ending his life and even now, his cowardliness seems to persist throughout his life.
the side bag that you left here months ago sits atop his lap and he fiddles with it's chain idly. this is all that he has of you right now; a worn out leather side bag.
he isn't even sure why he feels the need to keep it close with him but having even a semblance or a fragment of you calms his heart down somehow. there's a gap in his heart and he doesn't know what to fill it with. he doesn't know what piece fits in his chest and that makes him feels numb and empty.
“haa...” he exhales tiredly. when was the last time he actually slept well? he doesn't even remember. everytime he tries to fall asleep, there's a deep uncomfortableness he feels — making him avoid it almost completely. he's tired and sleepy, but this strange anxiousness in him won't let him rest.
“caffeine.” a rough voice speaks. “here, it'll help to stay up.” albert lifts his head to see moran holding out a mug of steaming coffee to him.
“colonel.” he responds hoarsely. “thank you.”
“you'd really prefer to do all kinds of mental gymnastics just to justify your own inaction, huh?”
moran sits opposite to him, dragging a stool under him and plopping down on it comfortably. “so?” the black haired man begins. “what is it?”
“what is what, colonel?” albert exhales. he's too exhausted to deal with anything right now.
“the issue, man.” moran says matter-of-factly. “you're weeping & mopping your ass everywhere around the manor and it's pissing me off. everybody's worried.”
albert looks down at his mug of coffee quietly.
“do you think how i treated (name) was wrong?” he fiddles with the mug holder, gaze locked to it.
“what? psshh—” moran snorts. “so all of this-” he waves his hand around the room. “-is because of a girl?” the large man snickers, slapping his knee.
albert only shoots a glare and moran throws his hands up in the air, shrugging. “yeah, i mean you did treat her like garbage. if you don't like her than just tell her and move on, y'know? you didn't have to do all that ignoring and criticising extra shit.”
“that too, and..” albert leans back in his chair. “i.. what does it mean to feel uncomfortable and strangely irritable if you see a friend of the opposite sex dance with a man?”
“huh?” moran yawns, sipping away at his coffee. “what does it mean? doesn't that just mean you're jealous or something?”
the brown haired man freezes. “jealous..?”
“yeah. jealous. for example, if a girl i'm seeing or interested in is dancing with other men and doing things that only someone intimate would only do is obviously going to annoy the shit out of me. you'd want it to be you in their place, you get me?”
“you'd want it to be you in their place..” he echoes thoughtfully. looks up at moran. “then, would that indicate that i'm in love with that person?”
“well, not exactly love—it could just be infatuation.”
“then what does love feel like?”
“uhh, i guess your palms get sweaty and your heart beats fast and—” moran pauses. “wait, why do i have to be the one teaching you this shit? gross.”
“..” albert ponders to himself. “colonel, i think i'm in-”
moran shudders. “shut the hell up!”
୨🌷୧ text divider ≈ ≈
the day of your departure is nearing. you've packed all your clothes days before. you're nervous, but excited. this is a new chance for you aft life, and you'll gladly take it. you'll miss the people and the memories you've made here but you've decided to make some more. just somewhere else.
four days left.
albert spends most of his time in his office, lost in thought. he still isn't exactly sure what he feels for you is love — but seeing that man; francis or whatever that gibface's name was or even imagining anybody else, for that matter, touching you in that way would irk him greatly.
three days left.
not even alcohol lets him forget you. you're so deeply ingrained into his brain, too entangled with his soul. it's a strange feeling — this desperation to have you.
two days.
he's realized for sure that he loves you. he was always unfamiliar with the idea of love since childhood because it seemed to him that everyone around him were merely estranged with each other due to political reasons or for convenience.
even while growing up, he was always busy having to act as a shield for his younger brothers so that they could focus on themselves and the moriarty plan. he'd absorbed the limelight to himself but was always detached from forming any romantic relationships. 'what use would it do, anyway?' he often thought to himself, knowing the only fate awaiting him and his brothers was death.
but that had changed with your appearance into his life. he was a fool to realize it this late.
one day.
albert recalls it all; his sweaty palms when you treated him, if wasn't because of the room temperature — it was because you touched him.
the time that the two of you were supposedly 'having a marathon' to see who would get to your place first, it wasn't because he was running that his heart was beating out of his chest, it was because the two of you were side by side, elbows brushing and genuinely having a fun time together.
that time how his hands was trembling the time that the two of you were baking a cake, it wasn't because he was afraid of ruining the cake, it was because you were watching. it all made sense.
he had decided — tomorrow he would buy the biggest bouquet of flowers he could find, get to your place, earnestly apologise to you for his behaviour, tell you all about his realisations and properly ask for a chance to let him woo you.
✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡ . ✦ ₊ ♡ . ₊ ✦ . ♡
THE FINAL CHAPTER — “louis, do i look good?”
albert is standing infront of a lifesize mirror, watching louis from the corner of his eye as he enters with a tray of tea and breakfast in hand.
louis puts down the try, albert turns to look at his youngest brother - practically sweatdropping.
“you do, brother.” louis says, tilting his head. “but i'm curious; why are you asking me this?”
albert rubs the back of his neck. “i.. am going to go see (name). and tell her that i love her.” he tells louis & louis's lips broaden into a genuine, sincere smile.
“i am happy for you.” he tells his older brother, stepping forward to fix his cravat. “and i am glad you have finally noticed.”
albert laughs somewhat embarrassedly. “i see you were aware of my feelings even before i was.” he smiles. “does william know?”
“yes, it was obvious.” louis says, stepping back.
“it seems i have gone through all the trials and tribulations of pushing her away for nothing.” albert sighs, grinning nonetheless.
୨🌷୧ text divider ≈ ≈ ≈
albert is probably carrying the biggest bouquet he's seen in his life. there are probably over a hundred (fave/colour) roses in this bouquet - but it's worth it.
it will all be worth it.
he rings the doorbell of your place. waits.
ten minutes have passed and yet he still waits.
twenty. thirty.
the door still doesn't open to him.
his arms have begin to ache with carrying the humongous bouquet and he exhales sadly.
“excuse me,” he begins when he sees an elderly woman come out of a house beside your own. “do you know where the owner of this house has gone?”
the elderly woman looks around her, not sure that the nobld was speaking to her. “me?”
“yes.” albert says. “do you know where she's gone?”
the woman ponders for a moment, “ah, right. you mean (name)?” she says when she remembers. “isn't she boarding the train for london today?”
he feels his heart falls to his feet.
“what?” albert asks weakly.
“mm, i'm not sure if i remember this correctly but i remember another noble—francis, i think his name was, coming around here and discussing with the lady about their departure and future plans.”
future plans? departure? him and you? together?
“w-when—” his voice is unsteady, panic written over his face. “when did they leave?”
“uhh..” the old woman looks around for a clock, remembers she has a pocket watch, opens it. “i think.. around thirty five to fourty minutes ago?”
“and the train, when is it supposed to leave?” his words are spoken hurriedly and looks at the elderly woman with wide, anxious eyes.
but the woman, due to her age isn't sure: “i don't know, young man. maybe.. hmm..”
time is ticking away.
tick-tock.
“i'm not exactly sure.” the elderly woman ponders thoughtfully. “my grandson..he told me about this..”
tick-tock.
tick-tock.
“oh, right..!” the woman nods her head enthusiastically upon remembering.
“in i think— around 20 minutes?”
twenty minutes. getting to the station would take fifteen to seventeen minutes by carriage — and that's only possible if there isn't traffic on the road.
albert doesn't even have time to thank the elderly woman; the large bouquet is almost thrown aside as he begins to start sprinting. he's running down the street; looking for any carriage, any, to get to the train station as fast as he can.
he finds one after some searching, practically jumps in. “to the train station, please. and quick!”
the carriage begins to set off, horses trotting down the streets of durham in high speed. the horses run and run until they come to a halt — almost pushing the brown haired noble lunging out of his seat.
nineteen minutes.
“what is going on?” albert exclaims frustratedly, to which the carriage driver answers — “traffic. it seems there's been an accident.”
he huffs, looks down at his pocket watch.
eighteen minutes.
fuck it.
he takes out a small bag of coins from his pocket, passes it to the carriage driver and jumps off his seat.
“sir?” the carriage driver's eyes widen, alarmed.
“i'm getting off. keep the change.” he says to the driver before disappearing into the crowd.
seventeen minutes.
he pushes past people, rushing and scampering past the large huddle of people, exclaiming ‘excuse me’s, ‘sorry’s and ‘passing through’s as he gets through the crowd.
soon, he makes it past the site of accident and all the people swarming that place. he's never ran so fast in his life — he's getting out of breath.
sixteen minutes.
“haa.. haa..” albert's panting, breathing in irregular, hard inhales and breathing out in short exhales.
fifteen minutes.
his legs are hurting.
fourteen minutes.
he's sweating.
thirteen minutes.
his heart feels like it's going to fall out of his chest or just stop instantly. it's pumping, hard.
twelve minutes.
he doesn't know if it's due to the fear of never seeing you again or due to the constant, fast running but his legs begin to feel wobbly.
eleven minutes.
his knees are about to give up. he's sorry, so sorry.
ten minutes.
he can't give up — not now.
‘if there's really a god,’ he prays. ‘then at least let me make it on time.’
nine minutes.
he's grunting to keep on going forward. his ironed, white shirt is practically drenched in sweat now.
eight minutes, seven minutes, six minutes, five...
albert's neck is turning and twisting in all directions, trying to find your familiar face. he looks behind him, only sees a father holding up his child, he looks to his rest, only sees a couple holding hands, he looks to his right, only sees an elderly man feeding his grandson.
and then he looks in front of him. you. ten feet away.
“(name)..” he's panting, huffing, exhaling and inhaling all at once. “(name)!” he staggers forward to you.
you freeze in place.
this familiar voice, you've heard it before. “who—?” you turn around and your eyes widen in shock.
four minutes.
“i'm sorry.” he says, voice shaky. “i'm so, so sorry for everything. i should have never pushed you away — it was wrong of me. all those words, i should have never said them to you. i should have faced a lot of things properly, i should have faced you properly.”
“albert, what are you talking abou-”
“i love you.” his voice breaks, disperses at the end. “that is my answer; i love you too. i have loved you since i first laid my eyes on you, (name). and i'm sorry it took me so long to realize this, to say this.”
you watch him in stunned silence.
he's sweating — he looks haggard, his hair is messed up due to the wind, his shirt has become creased due to the constant running. he's exhausted; but he doesn't stop talking. he needs you to hear him out.
three minutes.
“yell at me, hit me, be angry at me for as long as you want to.” albert says. he takes out something from his pocket; your side bag, you realize. he holds it out to you. “i love everything about you, all your habits, your way of talking, thinking, the rise and fall of your laughter, this- this silly side bag of yours. i love it all.”
is this really happening?
“choose me, (name).” he pleads. “it doesn't matter if i have to spend the rest of my life being scorned by you, if it'll make up for even a fraction of—”
albert's eyes widen and he almost falls backwards. this warm sensation against his lips —
two minutes.
“mmhh..” he hums in surprise, feeling your soft lips against his own. his hands, big and warm situate themselves on your hips and he leans down to kiss you better, kiss you deeper. the two of you are almost running out of breath but neither of you want to pull back; this desperation, this passion is all too consuming for either of you to run away from.
when you pull back, the man almost whines for more. his forehead rests atop yours, eyes closed. “i.. don't know what you've heard,” your voice is hoarse, soft. “but francis is just my business partner.”
his emerald eyes open to meet your (e/c) ones and he breathes a deep, deep sigh of relief. “i see.” he says. “but why are you leaving so suddenly, then?”
“it's not sudden. remember the clinic i wanted to open in london? he'll offer the money to help me run it in exchange for my skills.”
albert groans. “if it was money you needed, i could have given it to you for free. i'll give you everything of mine to you without asking for a cost.”
“no,” you shake your head. “i couldn't do that. plus, the contract and all the necessary arrangements have already been made.”
one minute.
“passengers please board the train.”
you pull away from him. “will you wait for me until i return?” you begin to pull up your luggage but albert takes it from your hands and does it in your stead.
he nods. the two of you walk side by side over the cobbled floor and he helps you get onto the train, puts away your luggage and looks up at you from his position on the platform. “even if you ask me not to.”
“good.” you smile down at him, genuinely. you lean in to place a kiss on cheek and his emerald green eyes unconsciously flutter when you're close to him.
the train begins to move and albert takes a step back. “until next time, (name).” he smiles warmly at you - albeit there's a tinge of sadness on his face upon seeing you go. “i'll write you letters.” he pauses - adds in desperately, just in case: “i love you.”
“i love you too.” you grin. “and if we meet again,” you tell him, having to speak a little more loudly since the train is travelling away from the station. from him.
“don't be a stranger to me.”
the end.
#this took 10 years#off my life#moriarty the patriot#yuukoku no moriarty#albert james moriarty#albert james moriarty x you#albert james moriarty x reader#albert james moriarty x y/n#william james moriarty#louis james moriarty#sebastian moran#james bonde#fred porlock#moriarty the patriot x reader#yuukoku no moriarty x reader
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I’ll take care of you
Okay so, the person who requested this, asked for it like 2 weeks ago I think. I feel so bad for making them wait for so long TT. I do have several excuses of course but I don’t think that they’d like to hear them. Also I like finished writing it and then I reread the requist and I did like half of it wrong so then I redid it. Um so yeah, sorry for making you wait. I hope it is what you wanted, made the wait worth it :)
Pairing: Le Chiffre x reader
Summary: Your gambling father actually won a poker match against Le Chiffre himself. In a bout of anger, Le Chiffre makes sure to get his revenge
Warnings: Non-con, kidnapping, mood swings, blood tears, praising, degrading, p in v, tell me if I missed any
Word count: 2,4k
Gambling is a dangerous game. And you're a beautiful girl. One almost everyone sought after. Your father would bring you to his poker matches, he'd call you his secret weapon. It made you uncomfortable, but he's a scoundrel. Someone who begs and grovels and will look for the fastest way possible to make a quick buck.
Most of the time, it worked. He'd ask you to wear your most revealing dress and when you walked in the room, he'd be able to figure out what his opponents tell. It's just plain dirty and low of him. Using his own daughter like that. He doesn't care though; he made his money.
However, this isn't most of the time. Your father has got himself into quite the trouble this time. Somehow, he'd landed a gambling match with Le Chiffre himself. Of course, others are there but that doesn't really matter too much.
This is your dear old dad's last buy in, and he's racked up quite the debt. It's only him, Le Chiffre and one other. He feels like he's sweating like nothing before. The Albanian man's stare is like a laser cutting through his bones. Finding all the little secrets and knowing exactly what his cards are. He's 3 million in debt to him already. If he loses this round, it's another 3.
Now's the time, like you've rehearsed so many times. Your dress has a slit running all the way up to your hip, exposing skin and leaving the imagination excited. Your back is entirely open, and your front fabric is held up by barely a few strings.
Your hips away as you walk in, and you grab a champagne from the first waiter you can find. You go over and whisper something in your dad's ear. Something unimportant, what is important is that Le Chiffre seems to lock his jaw. His eyes roam every part of your body.
You feel hot, you never do, this is normal to you. But the way the scar on his eyes gives him this aura of danger that makes you slick. Not to mention his eyes don't even bother to look at your cleavage. They stare into your soul, grasping you and begging you to come just a little closer.
No, you mustn't. You must stay true to your father. He does all this for you, yes? Or at least that is what you tell yourself. You sit down, crossing your legs and making sure your slit shows off as much as your leg as you can.
The game goes on. It doesn't look like this distraction tactic has worked much. Your dad looks to be bleeding chips, he still has no clue what Le Chiffre’s tell is and the other man has already given up. Even winning though, the Albanian man still is pouring his heat onto you.
Your father is down to his last few thousand. His leg is bouncing, and sweat is pouring from him. “I can smell you,” Le Chiffre leans over and whispers to him. Trying to save him just an ounce of his dignity. “I tell you what. You lose this and I’ll let you keep 3 million.”
Your only parental figure lets out a huge sigh, “Thank you, thank you so much.” He’s practically praising the man for his kindness, Le Chiffre himself. “But I have a condition.” He continues but unfortunately at that point you couldn’t hear much else.
Annoyingly the waiter kept bothering you and by the time you shoe’d him off, your father called you over. You thought this was another tactic of his. You saunter over, making sure to accentuate your hips. “My dear how old are you?” He asks, caressing your arm.
You give your best most innocent smile, “I just turned 18,” you flutter your eyelashes at the older men. He seemed to swallow his breathe there and then. His eyes avoid you, everyone, they’re glued to the floor. “Well then.” He bites his lip and again he sighs.
Then he waves his hand over to Le Chiffre, “You belong to this man now.” Your eyebrows furrow and air escapes from your mouth in disbelief. “Belong to him?” You scoff again and look from your father, then to the other Albanian man and then back to dad.
“Yes, I’ve sold you to get rid of the debt I’ve racked up.” He explains still not being able to look you or his opponent in the eyes. The man, whom you’ve seen for the first time this evening and honestly don’t even know the name to, gives a vicious smirk.
There are no words that can even find their way out. That isn’t legal, is it? Though, none of this is legal in any case. If you were to go to the police, you’ll most definitely be killed. By any of these men, they’re all rich by some degree and the fact that your father even found himself here is a miracle.
Though now it’s turning into a nightmare. Le Chiffre calls for the dealer that he’d like the cards to be shown. You hold your breath. This one moment defines it the rest of your life now. “Mr. Black wins.” Your heart races as your father throws out a matching three eights and Le Chiffre has nothing.
You two both jump up in joy, showing more emotion than anyone else in that room probably ever has. You give the man a smirk, who’s name you still don’t know. “Sorry mister, whatever your name is, looks like I’m staying all by myself.” You give him a smirk and you and your dad walk off to celebrate.
It’s the middle of the night and suddenly you can’t breathe. You can taste the dirty rag being pressed against your mouth. Even with open eyes you can’t see. You struggle but its big strong hands picking up. You can’t scream, you can’t see with the sack over your head.
Though soon enough it’s pulled off your head. The room has little light, and it definitely helps with the senses. There is no need for light though, the man with the scar over his eye is right in front of you. His bodyguards, presumably the people who stole you from your bed, scatter.
“You.” You narrow your eyes at him, the ropes burn your wrist. You feel exposed, your pyjamas don’t really count much considering it’s only your panties and a tiny, cropped tank top. You clench your legs trying to hide yourself at least just a bit.
“You lost. I’m not yours to own.” You almost bare your teeth at him, though you feel that might just anger him. He scoffs at this. “This is what you believe. But I saw you and you are mine. That is something that neither of us will question.”
He commands, stepping closer to you. He crouches down in front of you, his hand lands on your thigh. He bends over, his nose grazes your inner thigh making his way up to your stomach with a deep breath in. “You want it though; I can smell it.”
He smirks, it might just be true, his touch does things to you, his gaze but this is too much. Far too much and you feel uncomfortable, and you just want it to stop already. “No, no, it’s not true.” You shake your head and bite your lip to keep the tears at bay.
He coos at you; his other hand takes your chin in between his fingers to look you in the eyes. “You do want it, you showed me with your eyes. You were more than eager, practically jumping out of that little dress of yours.” He licks his lips thinking back to it.
“No, please, I-I was just flirting, my dad asked me to.” You beg him, shaking your head as the tears begin to fall. His hand begins to creep higher up your thigh. “Why would want to stay with a man like him? He shushes, wiping the tears off.
He goes behind the chair and unties your ropes. You try to fight back but already he has your hands in a tight grip. “No don’t fight.” You don’t listen of course and throw your limbs around. “I said not to fight, I will tie you back up, do not test me.” He commands, your hands burn from his constraint.
A sob racks through your body and you give into the pain. “Such a good girl, so good,” it doesn’t help, obviously. You’re not sure why he thinks it would. His hands find their way to your waist, what you don’t expect is for him to pick you up.
He places you, even if gingerly, on the bed. His tongue is up and down your neck, sucking here and there only causing more tears to flow from you. “I’m saving you. He didn’t care. I fucking care. Just fucking accept it.” He grunts out.
Then suddenly his mood changes again. “I’ll take care of you.” Now he’s soft and sweet again. He grasps you by the neck and forced his lips onto you. And when you refuse to kiss back, he grips your neck tighter to the point that it begins to burn.
That doesn’t part doesn’t break you though, it’s when you begin to feel your lungs burn as well. He does go up to breathe but even then, his hand around your throat is so tight, no air seems to enter your lungs. And finally, when he presses up against you, you give in.
“See? Doesn’t that feel good?” He smirks and nods and when you return the kiss again, he grinds his tight bulge against your crotch. Even if he has his hand wrapped around your throat, you can’t help but feel good. Your panties are wet, after all just earlier you did want to jump on him.
Your body moves without thought. Shoving yourself closer to him, to get more of that friction he’s craving as well. He groans out when you do this, letting go of your lips, still tasting your spit in his mouth.
He stands up, you think this is it. He’s letting you go. That’s all he wanted. Yet when he unbuttons his shirt, throwing it over your shoulder, you know it’s not true. You don’t know what to do, what to say. You scootch yourself up to the furthest point on the bed away from him.
You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to cover what rest of you that you have left. Though soon enough his pants and underwear drop. Showing his massive cock spring out. Already it’s oozing, he’s getting off on your shivering form.
He grasps his dick, giving it a few pumps. His eyes, half lid, look straight into yours. Again, it seems like he’s into your soul, he’s filled with lust. It feels as though he’s fucking you already. You look away, you feel yourself pulsing. You can hear him chuckle at this reaction you have.
You hear the drawer open, and your curiosity gets the best of you. You glance over just to be met with a knife in his hand. “No, no wait, please,” you begin to beg already. Only thoughts of the violent things he might do to you run through your mind.
He coos at you and climbs on the bed again. You begin to thrash and scramble but he grabs you by the ankle. He pulls you closer with such force that you’re laying down again. “Stop it, little girl. You were so good just now.”
He prods the knife against your neck. You gulp and nod, if you’re good he seems to be nicer. You nod, “I’ll be good, sir,” it’s almost ironic that you still don’t know his name. He hums and nods, “I like the sound of that.” He smirks and again he sucks on your neck.
Then he grabs the small straps of your shirt and cuts them off. Then shreds your shirt up, doing the same with your panties. You gasp at the cold metal. Fear laces your body every time the edge comes closer to your flesh.
He hums again, “Your skin is so soft.” You curse your body as your thighs clench together and your cheeks get dusted with blush. His eyes flick down to your bare pussy. He grabs your legs, right by your bum. Already lining himself up with your throbbing hole.
He doesn’t even bother to prepare me beforehand. He shoves right into you, you scream out, his size is just plain uncomfortable to begin with. He begins thrusting already, not even allowing time for you to adjust. He groans in your ears.
Holding your legs right up against his pelvic bone, making sure he’s all the way inside you. His lips attach themselves to any part of you he can find. He moves from your one nipple to the other. Unable to be able to keep his lips off you.
You can feel him inside you. His every grove and vein pressing as far as possible inside you. Your bodies are so tightly pressed up against each other, each thrust causes so much friction. Right up against your clit.
You can’t help but start to beg for more. “Please, please sir,” it just slips right out of your mouth. You’re bright red, and Le Chiffre gives a wicked smirk. “Please, what?” He asks, thrusting into over and over making it almost impossible to say something.
Though he’s going with such a force that soon enough he’s groaning and moaning in your ear. You can feel his hot and heavy seed mixing deep inside your body. You can see his muscles strain. And in the moment of pleasure and heat of his body, you feel your stomach tighten.
And on those last few pumps there is a release in your whole body. He rides out his high and you can feel his gaze on your shivering body. “You’re mine, yes?” He nods, guiding you to say yes.
After the exhaustion you see a single drop of red flow down his cheek. He slaps your ass, making sure you reply. To be honest, you’re in such awe, shock and exhaustion that the only reply you have is a meagre nod.
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A Man After Midnight
[A/N: Uh… I’m just gonna leave this one here 🧍🏽♀️ ok thx bye 🏃🏽♀️]
🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃🖤
Pairing: James Bond x female reader (gun play)
Shooting up in bed in your nearly pitch black room, you grab the closest item on your bedside table and hurl it at the doorway leading to the hall. You’re rewarded with a familiar low chuckle, one that sends your nerves alight and blood rushing through your veins.
“Attempted death by-” Bond pauses, and you hear him inhale deeply before concluding, “-vibrator. What would M have to say about that?”
“She’d thank me for getting you out of her rapidly graying hair,” you retort easily. “Now are you going to turn the lights on, or do you prefer to skulk about in the dark?”
“I most certainly do not skulk, darling,” he responds, voice sounding closer now and somewhat miffed. You track the way the shadows dance along the wall from the street lamp filtering in through the curtains on your window before hooking your ankle around what you presume to be Bond’s knee and giving a harsh tug. Your aim proves true, his weight falling onto the mattress by the foot of your bed with a quiet grunt.
Taking advantage of the position, you toss the covers aside and move to straddle his lap, suddenly grateful that you elected to wear only a short silk sleeping gown to bed tonight. The grin is evident in your voice when you ask, “Is that your weapon, 007, or are you just that excited to see me?”
“Yes and yes,” he responds smoothly, and you can’t help the shiver that races down your spine. “Why,” he intuits in that infuriating manner of his, “does that excite you?”
“It most certainly does not, darling.”
“Clever,” he murmurs. Then, in a flash, he’s above you, and you can feel the cold bite of metal pressed to your cheek. You suppress another shiver, and Bond lets out an appreciative laugh. “A clever lie, it seems.” He nuzzles the spot where your pulse thrums just below your ear and you moan a weak and whiny, “James.”
“No clip, no bullet in the chamber, just like we talked about,” he assures you quietly, and you hum your approval. “Now, where were we?”
Reaching up in the dark, your fingers find the sharp plane of his jaw and you run your nails lightly over the stubble growing there. “I believe you had me at your mercy? In the dark with a gun, no less?” The playful bite to your words morphs into a sharp intake of breath through your nose when the muzzle of the Walther presses into the pillowy flesh of your inner thigh.
“That’s more like it,” Bond hums, clearly pleased with himself as the metal leaves a cold trail in its wake, creeping higher and higher along your thigh until reaching its intended target. “Mouth closed, legs open. You’ll cooperate for me, won’t you?”
Obeying his mouth closed edict, you simply nod in response, and Bond takes the slight rustling of the sheets as your confirmation.
“It’s so much better for both of us when you listen to me,” he continues softly, the Walther just barely sliding back and forth against the growing wet spot in your panties. You can’t help the choked moan that escapes the back of your throat, and Bond tuts before covering your mouth with his free hand. The intoxicating scent of worn leather floods your senses and your eyes nearly roll back in your head- he’s literally dressed to kill.
“You really must stay quiet,” he says, a hint of disapproval twisting around his words. The barrel of the gun presses more forcefully against your clothed pussy and you grind down in search of friction, your desperate whimpers muffled by his gloved fingers clamping harshly over your mouth. Biting back a grin, Bond leans down by your ear and teases your aching core with the gun before whispering, “I wouldn’t want to have to use this on you, love.”
#kinktober#kinktober 2023#sf2 takes on kinktober#james bond#james bond x reader#james bond x female reader#james bond imagine#james bond fic#james bond smut#james bond x you#james bond x y/n#agent!reader#james bond x agent!reader#agent 007#gun k!nk
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One Night | James Bond x m!reader
@satan-incarnate-666 asked: "What the fuck do you mean, there's only one bed?" james bond x m!reader
summary: it has to be a mistake, but somehow, you and Bond are given only one bed to share for the night.
tws: pining, swearing
support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy
You glared at the king sized bed in front of you, hands stuffed into the pockets of the rigid trousers that you were forced to wear, brows furrowed and resisting every urge to rip your tie off; you had no idea how you got into this situation, you were sure that MI6 had booked a room with two beds, you didn't think that they would make such a stupid mistake like accidentally booking a room with only one bed.
It was hard enough to remain professional around Bond as it was, especially when he wore those gorgeous suits, and even more especially when he took off his shirt to expose his body; the thick chest and stomach hair, the stomach that hung over the edge of his swimming shorts. It was enough to drive a man to the end of his wits, and you had had to put up with it every single day whilst trying to do your job.
"Well," Bond loosened his tie, and started to pop open the buttons of his shirt. "We best get used to this."
"Absolutely not," you shook your head. "What the fuck do you mean there's only one bed? Can we not get someone to rebook?"
He laughed softly, shaking his head as he tossed his tie and blazer onto the chair that sat by the window. Expert aim. "I don't think we can. Besides, it's only one night."
You wanted to curse him, to find a way to blame him for the mix-up, but you were tired; you had spent all day wandering around with scientists and researchers of exotic animals that lived natively to try and gather information on the target you were sent after, and your feet were sore. You grumbled, and bit at the inside of your lip. "I'll sleep on the floor."
"No, you won't," Bond hummed, slipping off his shoes and sitting down at the edge of the bed, spreading his legs and beckoning you to stand between them. You couldn't resist. "It's only for one night. No funny business."
"With you, James, there's always funny business," you pointed out, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders. Your teeth tugged at the soft flesh on your cheek. From the angle, you got a perfect glimpse of his chest hair, the thick black bush that was slowly starting to turn silver. "Hm."
He cocked a brow, tilting his head to the side as he smiled. "Something on your mind, Sir?"
You growled under your breath, hating that certain purr in his voice; the amount of times you had heard it when he was out to seduce someone, to pull someone into his arms. You wished it didn't make a soft trail run up your spine, slowly creeping and making you shiver.
You bit down on your bottom lip, closing your eyes for a moment as you did your best to steel your nerves; why did he have to be so attractive?
Why did he have to look at you with those beautiful blue eyes?
That slicked back black hair and that soft purr to his voice, that slightly unbuttoned shirt. It was all too much, and although you wanted to, you couldn't find it in yourself to move away; Bond was one of a kind, and even worse than that, he was the one person in the world who could make you smile even on your worst days.
He made you feel safe, he gave you confidence, and even just being in the same room as him made you realise that everything was going to be fine in the end.
Oh, you despised him.
Bond hummed, his hands on your waist as he softly drummed his fingers against your skin, violently pulling you back to reality as he bit at the inside of his lip; he had never met a man as captivating as you, and although he wanted to, he could never quite fully focus on the job when you were near. He gazed up at you, sighing under his breath as he swallowed thickly.
"Come on," he spoke so softly, only a mere soft thunder to his voice as he gestured to the bed. "We should get some rest, don't you think?"
You wanted to say no, to insist that you would sleep on the floor, but you couldn't resist; when it came to Bond, you could never say no to those pretty blue eyes. So you sighed, and reluctantly withdrew yourself from his grasp as you moved away, already missing the way that it had felt to be stood between his legs with his fingers pressed softly into your flesh.
"Yeah… yeah, no, you're right," you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck. "I'll get changed in the bathroom."
"Please," Bond scoffed. "It's nothing that I haven't seen before."
Your heart started to thud. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," he nodded. "If you feel better changing in the bathroom, have at it. But I don't mind."
You didn't see the issue, it was only getting undressed, and it wasn't like he was going to look anyway; so you turned around, and started to get your clothes off while he did the same on the opposite side of the room. You couldn't stop yourself, taking a look behind you and wishing your legs didn't nearly give out when you caught him with his shirt off; he was magnificent in every sense of the word.
When you looked away, Bond looked at you, and hummed softly in approval; you were certainly attractive, there was no doubt about that, but it wasn't just that. You were captivating, and he found his breath slowly leaving him the more that he looked at you; he couldn't stop himself, and smiled as he bit at the inside of his lip.
"You know, I've never seen a man take his shirt off so attractively."
You scowled. "Don't. I know you don't mean it."
You couldn't bring yourself to face him, even when he crossed the room and put his arms around you, slowly and softly peppering your neck and shoulders with soft kisses; he hadn't shaved in a few days, and the slight stubble made you laugh softly.
"What if I did?"
"It wouldn't matter," you huffed. "You'd leave me for the first person who caught your eye, anyway."
"What makes you so sure?"
"James," you grumbled. You shook your head, swallowing thickly. "Forget it. Let's just… let's just get some rest, yeah? It's only for one night."
Bond clenched his jaw, but he nodded. "As you wish, Sir."
#mlem writes#james bond x reader#james bond imagine#james bond fanfiction#james bond one shot#james bond oneshot#james bond x you#james bond x y/n#james bond#007#pierce brosnan
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Asexual!Q x Female!Reader: Logical Fallacy [Ch. 19]
Summary: Q’s got one hundred and two problems. His girlfriend is, technically speaking, every single one.
Challenge: “102 Things A Guy Should Know About Girls” challenge by Miss Chocobo on Lunaescence Archives.
Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (foul language; sexual references; asexual!Q; sexual!reader; a running gag about sexual harassment; double standard: sexual harassment, female on male; sexual harassment played for comedy; James Bond & Reader friendship; civilian!reader; artist!reader; complicated family relationships; reader has a really big family; miscommunications; MI6 would not behave this way in reality; set post-Skyfall; joking references made to Bond/Q)
Pairings: Q/Female!Reader; James Bond/Eve Moneypenny
Tag List: @imaginesfire; @rory-cakes
Master List
Rule #19: Remember: Girls are pretty, but yours is the prettiest!
Two days later, Bond killed the cause of the security breach, and you were released. Not without any sort of ado, of course; MI6 wanted a full debriefing. That wasn't even getting into your not-so-little breakdown, which in M’s opinion warranted a complete psychological exam before he could feel safe in releasing you into the general public. Needless to say, this hadn’t exactly put you in the best state of confidence for your first meeting with head of the entire program.
Q couldn’t help much with that. All he could do was walk you to M’s office door, then give your hand a gentle squeeze as you walked inside. He could feel your pulse pounding as he did so, but he couldn’t even offer you a smile before the door snapped shut and the light above it flashed on.
“You’ll be fine,” he muttered to no one.
Even Miss Moneypenny was away at the moment. Q was left all alone, with nothing but the painting behind her desk to distract him from his nerves. In a fit of anxiousness, he paced over to the corner water cooler and poured himself a cup. It wasn't tea, but in this case it would have to do.
“Knock knock.”
Q very nearly jumped out of his skin. Given the impossibility of such a situation, though, he only managed to spill water down his front. Of course, there was Bond, sidling into the room, looking bruised but cocky–and, as usual, pleased to be present to see Q embarrass himself.
“007,” Q spluttered as he attempted in vain to dry himself off with nothing but the bottom of his jumper. “What are you doing back already?”
“I caught an early flight back into London,” Bond answered. He placed his hands in his pockets and nodded his head once toward M’s door. “Is [Name] in there? Eve said she wasn’t looking too well earlier.”
The water wasn’t coming out. Q dropped his jumper and gave a shaky nod, his own eyes too jittery to focus for long on any one thing inside the office himself. He swiped an arm across his chin to get the dripping to stop. “M wanted to debrief her. Not that she really knows anything, I don’t think. But for procedure's sake, I suppose.”
Bond seemed to sense Q’s own trepidation, which had only been worsened by all those recent sleepless nights. He clapped Q once on the back–with a little too much force, but Q didn’t have it in him to glower this time.
“M will treat her fine. He knows she’s not an employee, or a threat,” said Bond.
“I assumed as much.” Q took off his glasses and rubbed his fists into his eyelids. “It’s just the exhaustion talking. He’ll let her go in a bit and she’ll head home.”
A ragged thought drifted through Q’s head: And then, this time, you might even break up with him. Normally he would have voiced such a thought aloud; it helped his snarky demeanor considerably. But this time it was true, and he was surprised by the ache in his chest at the thought.
The man next to him nodded slowly, then leaned one shoulder on the wall. “She’s a pretty woman, your girlfriend.”
The ache grew deeper; Q felt his blood run slightly cold. When he looked up at Bond’s face, he had to work his tongue several times to unstick it enough for speech. Even then, he was quite sure the horror in his voice was plain. “Did you sleep with her?”
Why the thought bothered him so much, Q couldn’t say, except that in this case he couldn’t blame the exhaustion. He’d worried about it before dropping you off, after all. But he knew that Bond had slept with damn near every woman in the office, and that didn’t bother him. It didn’t bother him that Bond and Miss Moneypenny certainly acted as though they slept together all the time, whether or not they actually had. But with you, it was different. And he couldn’t put his finger on why.
The casual smirk Bond threw Q didn’t help matters. “Are you jealous, Q?”
Q broke eye contact and cleared his throat. “No. I–Of course not. I just wondered if that should be mentioned to the psychologist. I wouldn’t want [Name] failing because there were facts deliberately left out of the background details.”
He heard Bond shift away from the wall then walk over to Miss Moneypenny's desk, probably to look at the pictures she had set up there. Q didn’t look behind him to see for sure. But maybe Bond wasn’t doing that, as he said, “As I was saying, your girlfriend is pretty. And she made it quite plain she wasn’t going to sleep with me as soon as she set foot inside my flat.” There was a laugh in Bond’s voice, barely concealed.
For once, Q couldn’t even be bothered that Bond was making fun of him. He turned. “Really?”
Bond grinned. “I think she’s a little in love with you.”
A smile flitted across Q’s face, but it couldn’t stay for long. The next moment, he was serious again, and his tired eyes found the light above M’s door. “I hope it stays that way,” he said quietly.
Bond nodded. “For your sake, I hope so, too.”
#fan fic#straw writes#reader insert#second person pov#james bond#q#skyfall#james bond x reader#james bond x you#james bond x y/n#q x reader#q x you#q x y/n#skyfall x reader#skyfall x you#skyfall x y/n
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i saw that you were in need of requests, so i decided to help.
how do you feel about mtp cast (of your choice) would react to a child (reader) whom is very very smart. like, prodigy kind, is in uni at 14 kind of kid. but despite having brains, they absolutely cannot comprehend social interaction.
i hope this isn't complicated 🙏 thank you
𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦, 𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭, 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 & 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluff(?)
𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒: they/them
𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑: minor, gn
𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: none [if there is, please do let me know.]
WILLIAM
Honestly, he's impressed by you.
I mean I guess it's not everyday when you happen to stumble upon an intelligent human being, especially a kid.
you would join him with the others to destroy nobility, however you weren't to sure of joining just yet.
of course, like the genius he is, he would've had known about your problems.
just when he thought he knew all about you, you backfire him with the 'I see through you' card.
he, of course, was suprised by how much you knew at your age, especially for stuff that isn't even taught for the young people like you.
guess there wouldn't be a need for sugarcoating words I guess.
ALBERT
Of course, like his brother, he would be impressed.
he would treat you like a sister figure though, regardless of what you were.
he would notice your silence every time he introduces you to other nobles, but he pretends he doesn't notice.
at some point, he would ask you about it. While being careful not to push your buttons.
he does understand about it.
but he wouldn't want the tension to be.. intense, so he'll change the topic immediately after asking.
since of your intelligence, you have been fawned by lots of people
he will would distract them so you wouldn't feel too pressured.
SHERLOCK
Interesting.
he would believe that someone taught you such things, but wouldn't say anything about it.
he would probably try to test your brain skills, asking you to solve a few riddles/puzzles.
each correct answer you give him only leads him to be a tad bit annoyed.
he will tag you along in ugly situations along with John
he would know about your problems with socializing from the day you two met.
he's not much of a help, honestly
but it doesn't mean he'll tease you for that.
JAMES
uh-huh.
kind off intimidated by you when you two met.
I mean, I would say he's good with kids like the time he saved one when he was Irene Adler.
but you were kind of different? in some way.
not in a bad way.
impressed by your smartness.
he wouldn't noticed your problems at comprehending socialization immediately.
but if he did, he wouldn't judge.
he would, of course, respect you and your boundaries.
he thinks your opinions are well-thought.
ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏғʀᴇᴀᴅ
ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴛʜɪs ʙʟᴏɢ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢs ᴛᴏ @aoizaraka . ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪɴsᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ/ʀᴇғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ.
ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ © 2022
#anime#manga#x reader#y/n#mtp#mtp x reader#moriarty the patriot#moriarty the patriot x reader#james bonde x reader#william moriarty x reader#albert moriarty x reader#william james moriarty x reader#albert james moriarty x reaader#sherlock holmes#sherlock holmes x reader#hcs#headcanons
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Oh! You write for James Bond?! I am just getting into the fandom, so how about something where the reader is a new recruit for MI6. Not an agent, but maybe someone who works behind the scenes? And a certain 007 attempts to win her over.
It can be a drabble or headcannons, whatever is easier for you to write.
Thank you! ♥️♥️
Sorry for taking so long to get to this! And like we discussed, I’m changing this to a gender neutral reader!
Warnings: suggestive themes, sass, unedited
- - -
It’s been about two months since you joined MI6. The job was something of a dream for you despite the themes you deal with. Everything from the espionage, the threats, the dealings of agents, all the way to the one thing you shouldn’t be used to. A specific agent making themselves comfortable on the corner of your desk.
“Are you ever not working?” he asks in a lightly teasing tone.
A sigh passes your lips, eyes staying glued to the file in front of you. “Do you ever come here to talk instead of flirt, Mr. Bond?” you retort.
“And why would I do that?”
You hum in mock contemplation. The file in your hands is still all that you look at. “Maybe because not everyone in this office is quick to fall for your so called ‘charm’. Don’t you have better things to do?”
“Not really. Plus, I love a challenge.”
His tone is filled with an unsaid challenge. A tone where, if you didn’t know his drill by now, would’ve had you divert your attention to him. However, you instead scoff, ready to deliver a retort.
“Is that all you see me as? Just a challenge? I didn’t know the great James Bond saw anything as a challenge. Nor did I think he’d look at another as more of an object rather than seeing what’s further down in a person.”
With that, knowing that the agent is wearing a rather smug grin, you stand with the file still in your hand. You shut it, grabbing a few things as he watches.
“As much as I love our little chats, I believe my assistance is needed elsewhere.” You pause, looking at Bond who looks exactly the way you thought, a smug smirk spreading his lips as he looks at you like some sort of prey he’s enjoying chasing down. “Goodbye, 007.”
You begin to walk away until a thought crosses your mind. It makes you pause, thinking over whether this is either stupid or something to throw him off balance, but you decide to say it anyways.
So, you turn and say, “For the record, if you want to win someone over, I suggest maybe asking them to dinner.”
Before you turn away, you see an amused glint in his eyes. Little did you know that, later that day, he’d take that advice seriously.
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@imabeautifulbutterfly @thereluctantherosrose @where-fantasy-meets-reality @vesqermartini @trishxtrix @hollandfangirl @yeehaw-my-guys @obiwannie @rentskenobi @purelyfiction @binanas @gabiszew @dvnnyoceans @catherinemcc1 @strange-old-worlds
#james bond#daniel craig#james bond x you#james bond fic#james bond fanfiction#daniel craig james bond#james bond x reader#james bond x y/n#james bond imagine#james bond 007
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