Lightly (and in some scenes, heavily) influenced by The Proposal.
Contribution to WardxSimmons...
Practice Makes Perfect
WSSummmer Week 10: Fake!Dating
A/N: Of course I stayed up way too late finishing it, cause otherwise I wouldn’t be able to...
I’m glad to see your muse has reawakened. I missed your biospecialist fic! Really love this one!
Aww thank you! I’m glad too, I missed writing them.
Man, you can cut the sexual tension in here with a knife! Wow, this is amazing! I can never capture tension quite like this. I am so happy to see that you got right back on the horse and joined the durby! :D Wonderful job!
Thank you hun, that’s really lovely of you to say. It’s nice to be back writing for them again. And pshh you’ve done an awesome job of building the tension in Reading Between the Lines, which btw, where’s part 3? *nudge nudge* :-P
Oh my goodness. The emotions, the tension, poor Jemma trying to work through all that. So wonderful. Very well done, my dear, very well done.
Thank you lovely! I’m glad you enjoyed it! <3
Fandom: Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
Summary: She can feel his heart thumping away under her fingertips, remarkably steady, unaffected as she whispers, “I don’t trust you.” “I know.”
Author’s Note: Feels like I lost my Ward x Simmons muse for an absolute age, and it was actually pretty daunting getting back into writing for AOS again. This kind of takes both prompts for this week’s WS summer (confrontation and fake!married) and also throws in a little of undercover assignment, and hey presto, this is what you get.
She doesn’t have to turn around to know who has followed after her.
She’s used to the tell-tale mechanical whirr, and though the laboured breathing that usually accompanies him has drastically improved, she can still hear him panting from the excessive exertion.
She almost feels bad.
But then she remembers why he’d given chase and why she’d run in the first place and doesn’t give the guilt a second chance.
She resolutely refuses to fold. Turns away completely, ignoring the flash of monochrome and not even letting her gaze drift upwards for the tiniest of moments lest she catch his eyes, and gets sucked into the maelstrom of guilt-induced obligation and expectation that now came part and parcel with him.
Of course they sent him.
The one person to whom she can no longer utter a single “No.”
Bastards. The lot of them.