#espionage!au

:: baekhyun x oc ;; angst/fluff (implied adult themes in this chapter) ;; espionage au :: 

( masterlist :: 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07 :: )

Kyungsoo returns on the sixth day to see Baekhyun standing at the door, his hand hovering at the handle. He pauses, a small smile creeping onto his face. At last, he thought, at last these two idiots can man up and just talk it through.

Taking a deep breath in, Baekhyun pushes the door open.

Soohyun is sleeping in bed when Baekhyun walks in, her small figure curled up under the white sheets. Baekhyun walks softly over to her sleeping figure, careful not to rouse her. He sits himself in the chair next to her bed, placing the fresh bouquet of white daisies onto her bedside. Her face has become even slimmer than when he had last seen her, the dark circles lining her eyes evidence of the battles she has had to face in his absence. Or worse, the battles he had created for her. Baekhyun does not realise until Soohyun’s eyelids flutter open that he has reached over to stroke her hair, surprising both her and himself.

“Baekhyun…” she whispers, afraid that if she spoke louder he would vanish from her sight.

“It’s me, Soohyun…” he starts, his voice breaking. “I…I’m so sorry, I…”

Baekhyun doesn’t finish his sentence, as Soohyun leans forward to pull his crying figure into her arms. She hushes his apologies as she buries her face deeper into the crook of his neck. He closes their distance by pulling her torso into his, his arms enveloping her into his embrace. They stay in each other’s arms for a long while, initially crying their hearts out into the other’s shoulders before the sobs eventually died down.

“I was waiting for you,” Soohyun whispers, the arms still wrapped tight around Baekhyun’s back, subconsciously afraid that he would leave her again if she let go. “I…I was so scared…”

“I didn’t know how to face you,” he replies, his voice hoarse and dry. “After what I did… to you…I… I didn’t know if I could ever face you again…if you would ever want to see me again…I just…”

He doesn’t say the words I love you, even though he is bursting at the seams to declare his love for her. Because she deserves more than three syllables muttered into the air. He would prove it to her; let his actions speak for his heart.

***

When Baekhyun first finds out the extent of Soohyun’s arm injuries, he locks himself in the toilet for three hours. It takes all of his willpower to stop himself from punching the mirrors to break his own arms, takes a good thirty minutes of yelling for his heart to settle enough such that he doesn’t smash his head against the sink. He had already witnessed the psychological scars that the ordeal had left on her; having barely left her side since they reunited and spending every night by her side, he had woken to her terrified, sweat-ridden and sobbing beside him. And he vowed to hold her tighter, closer every night, to do anything he could to stop the nightmares. But to find out the irreversible damage that his single decision had caused; Baekhyun was unsure if he would be able to live with himself.

She had tried to hide it from him, joking about how she had become left-handed while waiting for her right to recover, always keeping her right wrist in a cast and arm in a sling. Which had been at most a white lie: Soohyun was learning to use her left hand, attending rehabilitation sessions to train up her right brain. The chances of being able to paint again, to shoot with impeccable aim again… they were all goals that, despite encouragement from her doctors and Kyungsoo, Soohyun knew would not be possible again. She had wanted to hate Baekhyun for it, to blame everything on him; but when she had woken up to find him at her bedside, all that had gone out the window. Because wish as she may, her heart was incapable of hating Byun Baekhyun. It burnt and tore at her chest when he had chosen Hera over her; it all but bore a hole directly through her chest when she had found out the implications of his choice. But yet her heart still yearned for him – his embrace being the only thing that could soothe her racing thoughts, his kiss on her forehead the only thing that could numb the pain.

So she stood outside the bathroom door, waiting for him. When he finally emerges from the bathroom, his head is down, unable to meet Soohyun’s gaze. He tries to walk around, but she blocks his escape route with her body.

“Soohyun, please...”

“Byun Baekhyun, look at me.”

“Soo…”

“Please Baekhyun, please… please look at me,” she pleads, her hands reaching for his as he continued to attempt escaping.

Baekhyun freezes at the contact, his eyes focusing on her right hand on his left. Soohyun notices, moving her hand from his hand to his cheek instead. With her palms on both his cheeks, she desperately turns him to look at her.

“I did this to you, Soohyun…I…” he starts before choking down a sob, turning away as his tears begin to stream down his face again.

“So take responsibility for it then,” she whispers, surprising herself and Baekhyun. “Take responsibility for me, take care of me… I don’t care if this is the only way I can have you by my side, I just can’t lose you again, please Baekhyun…”

He cuts her off, pressing his lips to hers. The kiss is desperate, the pair still crying as their limbs become entwined with the other’s body and face. When Baekhyun breaks the kiss, his hands are on Soohyun’s jaw and the back of her head, his forehead pressed against hers, as his eyes remain shut.

“I don’t deserve you… I lost my chance a long time ago…”

“That’s up to me isn’t it?”

Soohyun brings her lips to Baekhyun’s, cutting him off before he could say another word.

They can’t remember exactly how they managed to not break anything, but they find themselves in the shared bedroom of their temporary accommodation at the headquarters. Shirts and pants discarded, scattered like Hansel and Gretel’s bread trail in the hallway leading from the bathroom. Their breathing is heavy as they continued their kiss, the air humid from their activities. Baekhyun breaks the kiss, leaning back slightly from his position above Soohyun, earning a small whine from her as she tries to pull him back closer to her. He resists, his left hand moving to fix her hair as he continued to lean on his right. Soohyun leans into his hand, her eyes fluttering closed as she savours their warmth. She opens her eyes again to hind his dark orbs gazing into hers, a gentle smile on his face.

erin, i have no idea if this is even remotely what you wanted, but i hope you enjoy it, nonetheless! xx seriously though, this wasn’t even what i expected, and i wrote the damn thing. i finished and went what.

used to think live fast die young // marlene mckinnon + dorcas meadowes, espionage!au

Marlene knows that she’s remarkably not good at the whole suave aspect of her job, but honestly, that’s why she has Dorcas. It goes like this, see: Marlene is the point woman, the one with the charm and laughter and knows how to make people relax—trust is a bit far to reach for, in this business, but if anyone can make these marks feel comfortable, it’s Marlene McKinnon. The boss has tried to get her to do the other part of the job too, but it’s definitely more Dorcas’ field of expertise than Marlene’s; Marlene is always available for the fun stuff, for the meeting of the mark, and the creative thinking, and the fighting, and she is tough and fierce and beautiful, but she is also more prone to sentiment than Dorcas, which is not a safe trait in this line of work, and especially not if you do what Dorcas does.

Dorcas Meadowes is 5’10” of sultry glances, long white legs, sex appeal and a ruthless approach to the job. Dorcas doesn’t get attached; at least, not to marks. They make a good team, Marlene and Dorcas, because between the two of them, they can have the marks eating out of the palms of their hands.

"Wotcher, Marls," Dorcas says, as Marlene swans into her hotel suite. Marlene is wearing a bright pink number, the kind that makes her look youthful and trustworthy and fun, but does not dim the sharp gleam in her eyes or the quick wit in the twist of her smirk. It is the perfect number for tonight’s mark—a young oil baron with exceedingly dodgy Soviet ties. The drill is this: Marlene walks in, shoots the boy a sunny smile, and then proceeds to do so to at least four other men; if there is one thing they have learned, it is that entitled, privileged rich boys hate nothing more than not being prizes above all others, and will do anything to rectify the issue. He will then seek her out, and her quick wit and intelligence will impress him at the same time that her playful laughter and youthful exuberance will assure him she is no threat—men, Marlene thinks with an eye roll—which leaves him more comfortable than he’s been in weeks, and opens up nicely to the next stage of the plan: enter Dorcas. Dorcas comes over and entirely ignores the man, asking Marlene when they can leave, and Marlene introduces the tall, leggy blonde as her charming friend with exquisite taste and all it takes is a flicker of disinterest from those lines blue eyes and a disdainful twist of those red lips and uh oh, he’s caught in their web.

They each have their own methods, and whilst Marlene is chatting up a storm with a mark, Dorcas is running surveillance and analysing every method of escape and taking measure of the mark, and whilst Dorcas is busy with him, Marlene is running background—sometimes literally running, and it’s a good thing she’s the fastest agent in the agency, or else she wouldn’t still be here, with some of the close calls they’ve had—and making the kind of connections that will help in any way, and honestly, if they weren’t doing something good, if they weren’t travelling the world, if they didn’t have each other—

Well, Marlene’s not sure she would want this life, then. She does it for the thrill, true, and the adrenaline kick she gets out of success, but she can’t ignore the fact that she’s a blunt, honest, impulsive and reckless person, and these traits do not go well with espionage. If it wasn’t for Dorcas, she wouldn’t still be here—though whether she would simply not be an agent, or just be dead, is anybody’s guess.