Random One Shots

Q - James Bond

Q x Reader: Assistant.

A/N: Sooo...sorry that this isn't a request. I've just sort of rediscovered my love for the James Bond series and the attractive Q was in it and I couldn't help but start imagining story ideas. Sorta contemplating turning this into a full-fledged story but we'll see. The Reader is also similar to Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds, which you'll see in a moment.

Also, I'm going off of the Spectre areas, though you can imagine what you wish. I imagine Q being forced into having a personal assistant around to, if anything, keep him from going insane surrounded by tech all day.

A TORCHWICK REQUEST IS COMING UP NEXT FOR ALL OF YOU RWBY FANS.

(Y/N) = Your Name. (L/N) = Last Name.

Disclaimer: I do not own the James Bond franchise or anything related to it.

"I'm telling you M," Q explained impatiently. "I don't require an assistant."

"Q, we hardly have the same amount of staff for you as we used to. And a personal assistant is exactly what you need in this place."

M cast a stern eye around the room, noting the emptiness in it. Sure, it was cluttered, and filled with certain gadgets and computers and a few empty coffee mugs, but it was lacking a sort of human essence. The room was cold, and he was hoping that the person he planned to bring in would warm it up.

He could only hope that the assistant would assist more than distract the young Quartermaster.

"What exactly will he be doing here?" Q questioned adamantly. He really wasn't thrilled with this; he preferred to work as independently as possible.

"Whatever you require," M replied calmly. "Weapon development, hacking," he cast an eye to the coffee mugs, "tea runs."

"Wonderful, a lap dog," he muttered.

"A very qualified one," was the sharp response. "3 PhD's, 2 BA's, and is an ex-FBI profiler."

Q looked up at this, intrigued. "How old is he?"

"I hardly think age is an appropriate way to quantify intelligence, sir," a light, amused feminine voice reached him, "though if you must know, I'm 26. And last I checked...not a man."

You stepped further into the room as the Quartermaster's eyes flickered up to observe you, and you attempted to not feel self conscious as they drifted up and down your form.

You had dressed smartly today, which was slightly different for you. The blazer and pencil skirt you were in were mildly uncomfortable compared to the blouse and pants you were used to in the FBI, but you wanted to make a decent impression today. And while you hadn't gone extravagantly on makeup or your hair, you had seemed to be attracting they eyes of several people in the building.

Then again, you thought, it might just be your age.

"(Y/N) (L/N)," the older man in the room stepped forward, extending a hand for you to shake, which you took. "My name is M, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yes, you as well," you smiled weakly, wondering what kind of a name 'M' was, or rather what it stood for.

"This here is Q," M explained, waving a hand at the younger man. "You'll be working as his assistant during your time here at MI6."