🌷 𝓘n which an MI6 Agent
during the 𝒞𝑜𝓁𝒹 𝒲𝒶𝓇 ends
up falling in love with a man
who is meant to be her enemy.
Started: 4th May 2024
Completed: ???
Slow updates!!!
(I don't own any of the Marvel cinematic/comic book characters or plots, they...
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╭──────────╮ 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝘄𝗼 ╰──────────╯
When Konstantin left his meeting with Tatiana that sunny sweltering afternoon, he casually made his way to work on foot and did not glance back over his shoulder. He unobtrusively eavesdropped on his colleagues and engaged in civil conversation with them, until it was ultimately time to go home to his loving wife Galina. The simple thought of her had him rushing home in a pink love-blinded reverie.
His greying brown hair was dishevelled from the cool breeze having weaved through the soft silky strands by the time he arrived outside his home. Small guttural coughs escaped from his mouth and his chest undulated erratically from such action.
He really needed to forgo smoking, it was going to turn his lungs black as smoldering coal. It would eventually prematurely kill him and it would be his own fault because of his daily tendency to smoke.
Swallowing to soothe his parched throat, he started moseying to the door but abruptly came to a stop when he saw his front door open by a few inches. His gaze snapped to the framed windows to see the familiar warm syrupy glow of the lights spilling out onto the street and into the apertures in the ground.
The gauzy lace curtains were partially drawn closed so he could not see any movement from within his pleasantly snug home which he and Galina had lived in for some time now and had come to love.
Inching forward cautiously, his heart tremulous in his chest, Konstantin raised his hand and placed the palm of his callus palm against the wooden door. An annoying creak from the door's worn metal hinges resounded throughout the front room as he pushed it open and stepped over the threshold.
"Galina, my love." He torturously hoped he would hear her call out to him and maybe she would just have an explanation as to why the door was open but the more seconds that went by without a reply from his wife, he became increasingly worried. "I am home..." he called out in their native tongue.
Seeing a glint of metal out of the corner of his eye, he turned his head and fixed his concerned eyes on the polished paper knife lying on the table by the front door. Snatching it up in a flash of speed, he curled his supple fingers around the black handle.
Gripping the manual tool he had resourcefully turned into a weapon, he pressed his mouth into a line and exhaled through his nose. Konstantin's hazel eyes darted around the room in search of his wife who had as of yet not come out to greet him like she usually did when he came home. By now, she would have kissed him endearingly on the cheek, hugged him, and asked him about his day.
He didn't bother about unbuttoning his coat and hanging it up by the door. He cared solely about his darling Galina and her safety, nothing else but that.
Closing the door behind him, the middle-aged man pottered around the half-lit-up room and headed in the direction of the kitchenette which had no sign of yellow light pouring out the doorless entrance.
