#undercover!reader

“I said this was a terrible idea...” Y/N said as she adjusted the tight leather dress she’d been forced to wear.

“We just need to get the benefactor’s name; it shouldn’t take much longer.” Q explained as he checked his surveillance gear; he usually didn’t leave London, but Y/N had specifically requested Q join her as she trusted him the most.

“It’s been two weeks, Q...”

“Apparently someone’s booked the VIP booth tonight, so this might be the last night you have to do.”

MI6 had been trailing a possible drug ring that operated in Las Vegas; rumours had spread a drug that completely erases a person's ability to lie, making them more controllable. As one of the youngest female agents, Y/N was assigned to go undercover at one of the target strip clubs and figure out who was funding the operation. They’d found a job at a club called ‘Bunny Girls’ and inserted Y/N in as Cherry, the club’s newest waitress.

“Anyway, you’re running late for your shift, so go go go.” As he spoke, Q pushed her out of the small building he’d been operating from. Once Y/N was outside, she huffed before walking around the corner and entering the club she was undercover at.

"Cherry, just the girl I want to see.” The club owner greeted her as she entered the dressing room, “The VIP booth is booked tonight, so I want all your attention on our big spenders.”

Y/N bat her eyes, taking on the role of Cherry once again. “Sure thing, boss,” she said, earning an appreciative look from the owner. Once he left, she sat down in her chair and started getting ready.

When the club opened an hour later, Y/N had her hair curled and her makeup completed, the glitter on her eyes making them sparkle under the club. Standing, she readjusted her dress one more time before making her way on to the main club floor.

“Hey Cherry!” John, the barman, greeted her as she stepped behind the bar. “You dressed up pretty tonight.”

She repressed the urge to roll her eyes; ever since she’d gone undercover, John had taken every opportunity to shamelessly flirt with her. According to the other girls, he took it as tradition to sleep with all the new starters.

“I’m dressed the same as I usually do, John,” Y/N stated, and she started getting the VIP buckets prepped, filling them with ice. 

He simply smiled at her. “I know..." John titled his down as she crouched to pull out the bottles for the ice buckets. “But I think you get hotter every night.”

“Does that line usually work?” She stood back up and started placing the bottle in the buckets.

“Don’t pretend it isn’t working on you.” He leans into her space as he speaks; Y/N backs up slightly.

“I’ve got a job to do so…” As she speaks, she gestures to the two buckets she needed to take to the VIP booth.

"Well, before you go, at least taste test my newest drink.” She sees a shot glass slide across the counter in front of her. “It’s cherry-flavoured.”

Y/N is about to say no; tell him to fuck off with his desperate attempts to seduce her, but instead she just sighs and drinks the shot quickly so she can continue this night without any more problems. He’s right, it does taste like cherries; it’s sweet and a little tart, but Y/N still finds herself enjoying it. Placing the glass down, she turns to John, “Happy now?”

“Very, now go on; we can talk later.” He had a strange look on his face, but Y/N decided to just leave it until later. She walks back out of the bar while carrying the two buckets, heading to the VIP booth.

In the booth are what seems to be two different groups of men, clearly some ‘business’ discussing some type of criminal partnership. One group Y/N recognises as an infamous casino owner and drug dealer in Las Vegas, but the other is an enigma. Her eyes scan the second group; they seem more professional than the first group. The first group greets her with cheers and whistles while they keep their expressions guarded.

Sitting in the middle of the booth are the two leaders of the groups. The first group’s leader is an older man, dressed in what you’d expect a mob boss to dress in. The second is younger but still mature-looking; his face is covered in scarring that reminds Y/N of lighting; it’s eerily beautiful. His blue eyes are calculating as he looks at her; he seems almost amused.

Shaking off his gaze, Y/N retakes her ‘Cherry’ persona: “Hello Gentlemen, welcome to Bunny Girls; I’m Cherry, and I’ll be your waitress this evening; anything you need, just give me a call.” She finishes her introduction with a flirty wink.

The scarred man doesn’t speak to her instead choosing to whisper to his companion, who looks at her. Instead, the other leader turns to her with a leer. “This is why I like this place; they always give us the pretty ones.”

He gestures to the space between him and the scarred man, “Come sit with us, darling.”

Y/N hesitates for a moment and glances at the scarred man subconsciously, who simply gives her a subtle nod. As she moves towards the empty space beside him, her heart beats faster. She feels the man’s gaze on her, causing shivers to spread through her body.

The other man put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him, leaning in close. “What’s a pretty thing like you working in a place like this?”

Her body feels hot suddenly, and thinking it’s just from the men's body heat, she ignores it. “Just making sure you lovely gentlemen enjoy your night.” She answers, but a part of her feels compelled to keep speaking; she bites her lip to stop herself.

“Not what I mean, darling,” the man responds, “I mean, how’d a girl like you end up here and not under the arm of some billionaire?”

Without thinking, she blurts out an answer: "Well, I didn’t want to work here, but my boss made me.”

‘Why are you saying this?’ Y/N thinks confused with herself; her mind feels cloudy, and her body starts to loosen. She keeps thinking back to that cherry-flavoured shot she’d drank. ‘Shit… I’ve been drugged.

The scarred man leans back to look at her; his eyes suggest he’s thinking of something. “Interesting…” His voice is deep and hoarse with a thick Russian accent. “And why did he make you work here?”

“We need information on a potential drug ring; the drug currently circulating could compromise The Crown’s security.” She needed to get out of here before she’d kept talking, but she couldn’t move.

He leaned in closer, assessing her carefully. Close enough to smell, she inhaled sharply—florals and something else. Y/N felt out of control; her body wasn’t computing with her mind anymore. He spoke in a low whisper, “And why would a girl like you care about the safety of the crown?”

This was bad; it was clear this man knew Y/N had been drugged. “She’s a goddam spy!” The other man yelled alarm as he pulled his hand away and stood, his men following suit. He pulled out his pistol and aimed it towards her.

The scarred man's smirk widened as he watched the scene play out, the revelation of her identity causing a shift in the room. The other man is now pointing a weapon at her. He remained calm, unmoving. He was amused by the development, intrigued by the young women.

"A spy? How intriguing." He leaned forward, his eyes locking with hers, his voice dripping with a hint of mockery.

"You have quite the nerve, Miss..." He let the question hang in the air, waiting for her response.

“Y/L/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” She said through gritted teeth, still trying to resist the effects of the drugs, forcing her body to stand.

Safin chuckled softly, appreciating her determination. "Miss Y/L/N..." He savoured the way her name rolled off his tongue. "How interesting, a spy from MI6.”

He watched her struggle to stand, her attempts to resist the effects of the drugs in vain. His eyes scanned her figure and the way her body moved uncontrollably. There was something so enticing about the way she was fighting, the way she was losing her composure.

He stood slowly, walking towards her. His voice was low, almost seductive. Y/N was overwhelmed with how this man was able to effect her, but trying to regain her dignity, she held her head high and responded, “You never introduced yourself, sir.”

"Ah, forgive me, where are my manners?” He spoke, standing to move in front of her, his eyes predatory. “I am Doctor Lyutsifer Safin.”

She stepped back from him in fear but froze when she felt the end of the gun. The other man was still aiming towards her. The man she now knew as Safin watched her carefully, “Leave us; we will discuss our business later.” He spoke to the other group, not taking his eyes off the young agent.

The other men left without hesitation, their gazes lingering on Safin and the young agent before they exited the VIP booth. As soon as they were alone, the atmosphere changed drastically. The club around them was still alive—the music, the laughter, the dancing. She could hear the announcer introduce another girl as the crowd cheered. But in their isolated vicinity, it was almost quiet, almost intimate.

He took another step towards her. “You... don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Should I?" She couldn’t move, allowing him to take a mother step forward, their chests almost touching. 

He smiled slightly amused by her response, reaching a hand to trace his finger along her jawline, his touch as light as a feather. “You’re the one undercover, spying on my people.”

“I was given a very... limited mission assignment.” She explained, giving up on stopping herself when it was clear nothing could, “We didn’t know who we were looking for.”

His touch became more purposeful, fingertips gliding down her arm, feeling her body shiver under his touch. His eyes roamed over her face, observing her closely. "Who sent you here, Miss Y/L/N?"

“I think you already know," she spoke, trying to hold onto the last piece of information her drugged mind hadn’t given up.

His eyes narrowed slightly, and his hand moved to her waist, pulling her closer. His voice was a whisper; she could feel his breath on her neck. “I want you to say it out loud.”

Y/N clenched her eyes shut, unable to hold back any longer, “I work for MI6.”

She heard Safin hum seemingly pleased with her response. His grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh just a little harder.

He leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching her neck, his breath hot and heavy against her skin.

"Good girl..." he murmured. "Now tell me, are you alone in this operation?”

"I...” she could feel herself speak, about to expose the entire operation, when another dancer, Honey, stepped into the booth. “Cherry, you’re needed at the bar.”

Safin's eyes met those of the dancer. His gaze hardened at the unexpected intrusion, but he let go of Y/N. He took a step back, looking between the two women. "Miss Y/L/N and I are still having our conversation."

Sensing an opportunity to escape, Y/N moved to the entrance of the booth before speaking, “I should go see what they need; it was a pleasure meeting you, Doctor Safin.”

She left before he could react, but instead of going to the bar, she went to the dressing room. Grabbing her bag, she escaped through the backdoors, hoping to reconvene with Q. As she moved through the parking lot, texting Q that she’d been compromised, a voice behind her made her freeze. “Going somewhere?”

As she turned, she came face to face with John, but his face was different from his usual personality. His eyes were dark and narrow as he stared at her. Her hand reached into her grab to grip her gun, and she spoke, “You drugged me.”

John chuckled at her accusation, clearly amused by her realisation. "Drugged you? I was simply making you comfortable.”

“What did you give me?” She asked, thankful the night air was helping to clear her head. “Where did you get it from?”

“A friend of mine hooked me up; it's... experimental, but most of the girls have enjoyed it.” John admitted no longer seeing the need to hide, taking a step forward.

As he began to approach, Y/N pulled her gun from her pocket, aiming at him. “Stay right there!”

John smirked at her, nearly laughing, “Give me a break; you’re just a stripper... what damage could you do?”

“You have no idea." She tried to steady her hand, but it still trembled slightly. She was coming down from the drug, but it’d still be a while.

Josh ignored the gun and began to run towards her, planning to ambush her and knock her down. He nearly reached her when suddenly his body fell and blood sprayed on her face. Y/N looked at her in confusion; she hadn’t fired.

Her eyes looked from her gun down to John's body, breathing heavily from the adrenaline. She looked up from the body and was face-to-face once again with Safin. He was holding a small silenced pistol, the muzzle still smoking.

Y/N shuffles on her feet slightly under his intense stare. He seems allured by the crimson splatter now staining her face, stepping closer, causing her to take a step back. She’s still breathing heavily and tries to catch her breath.

“Most people would thank the person that saved their life.” He spoke as he calmly handed his gun to his second in command.

“I had it handled.”

"Oh, I’m sure you did.” Safin replied almost mockingly.

A car’s horn sounded, causing Y/N to finally turn away from him; just down the road, she recognised the lights of Q’s car. Without speaking again, she sprinted down the street and flung the door open. Throwing her bag in, she was about to jump inside too, but she paused. Turning back for a moment, her eyes once again met the piercing blue of Lyutsifer Safin, and you both knew this wouldn’t be the last encounter.

As Y/N hopped into the car, she ignored Q’s rapid questions and closed her eyes. She sighed as she ran through the last hour through her head; her face was still wet with John’s blood, but she didn’t have the energy to wipe it off. Resting her head on the window, she fell asleep as her friend quickly drove them away from Las Vegas and towards their extraction point.

Safin watched as the car you entered pulled away and quickly raced from the scene; it was only as the car turned the corner did he finally look away. He briefly looked at the body on the ground before he began giving orders to his men. “Get rid of the body,” he stated as he began to walk away, “and find me anything you can on Y/N Y/L/N”.