Spy Fic (Imagine 1) - “the ache in her chest could turn out to be a bullet hole soon enough”
FLUFF/FLUFF/FLUFF/FLUFF/FLUFF/FLUFF/FLUFF/FLUFF/TENSION
Agent B had worked worked her way up in Orange enterprises - or so it was affectionately called by its employees. In reality, the criminals-for-hire agency had no name and no office. It only consisted of random rendezvous points in pockets of the city and the only way you, a layperson, would ever know about them was if you were hanging off the end of an Orange issued dagger.
After being plucked off the streets at ten, Agent B had stolen, spied and killed even - she’d been immoral and had succeeded every mission for ten years and yet.. she was still fucking second. Second to Agent A. Mention of his name riled her. The top tier assassin who had been gangly and awkward ten years ago, had now become Orange’s prized possession. It made her sick. The way his dark curls fell into his eyes when his fringe started to fall out of his ponytail made her sick. The way he bit the inside of his lip when scheming an escape plan made her sick. The way way she could see the curve of his biceps through his matching red plaid pyjamas made her sick. And yet she could only hate him to protect herself - the ache in her chest could turn out to be a bullet hole soon enough.
‘Then you’ll go behind the orchestra.. Agent B!’
She snapped back to reality and found his chestnut eyes on her - albeit annoyed. Fuck, did he say something?
‘As I was saying, I’ll guide the princess here while you block the prince’s view from here’, he tapped on the map laid out on the hotel room desk.
‘No fool it would be way more effective if we did the swap just before the balcony, see if the moonlight falls from the eastern window, the eastern window is going to be the darkest place..’
Dressed in a faded oversized tee and crumpled linen pants, Agent B had felt like she missed some sort of dress code when she entered the living room of the shared hotel room. Don’t get it twisted - there were two rooms separated by a luxurious living room.
They rarely worked as allies and the idea of it excited and terrified her. She needed this promotion, this livelihood, this life of shadows and steel was all she had. Agent B had to become A. She had to become number one. The cool steel dagger tied to her back longed to bathe in blood.