Oneshot | Entanglement (spy!Hoseok)

Oneshot | Entanglement

~

'Stop!'

With your nostrils flaring you turned around, having felt the aim before spotting the pointed gun. At you, nevertheless. Blood blazing hot in your veins, an echo of a curse in your head because you knew - you'd been too cocky.

Your training had your fingertips tingling, but you fought against the itch for yours - not yet. This man was a no-one, a simple guard on his post, probably with tiny padding feet waiting at home. He had the eyes of one.

If there was something going on, he wasn't involved in it.

'I-I'm so sorry, just looking for the bathroom.' Eyes wide and a quiver in your lips, as if you'd never seen a gun before. Psh, if he only knew.

A naive young woman in her early twenties - that's what you'd been styled to portray. An eye-candy belonging on a millionaire's arm, a trophy-wife with enough brand names to kaleidoscope your vision. But you weren't complaining, unless just because.

A job was a job. And jobs needed to get done.

And well, wearing apartment-expensive dresses was only one of the many pros. Thank god they didn't expect it back in one piece.

The guard swallowed, his hesitation sweet as saccharin on the tip of your tongue. That was your cue.

You slid the magnetic entry pass under the thin material on your back, covering the manoeuvre with a clumsy fall to your knees. It'd bruise, but that mattered little.

'Eek -- I'm so so sorry,' you slurred, leaning forward on all fours as if trying to get up. But his hand remained on the radio. Almost...

His lips pressed into a thin line, eyes darting to your framed décolletage. Of instinct, and you suppressed a smirk tingling in your cheeks. Of course he'd want to save the damsel in distress.

They always did.

He took a couple steps closer, first one slow and hesitant, but then his hand fell off the radio. Certainty set into the lines of his frame. And when he reached out, you let your portrayed image shatter before his eyes in satisfaction.

With a smirk your fingers snapped around his wrist. A quick twist to his back. A strong kick to his knees. That'd teach him a lesson he'd never forget.

And he fell with a thud.

Element of surprise never failed you either.

You might've played with him, but today the ticking seconds were as expensive as your dress. So before he could do as much as groan, you knocked him out cold. Some would've called you a softie, but you called them reckless and stupid.

Taking risks wasn't your cup of tea. With an enemy double your size, you'd rather not waste your energy.

'You could've helped me you know,' you hissed, hands pulling at a rope strapped to your thigh. You knew it'd come in handy.

A figure stepped into vision. Your eyebrows furrowed, the sight strange without his trademark mop of brown hair. Now his dyed jet-black hair could've had anyone gasping for air, the soft waves framing his forehead and every angled curve on his face.

You drew in a sharp breath. You'd never seen him like this.

Not with the smoothest black silk flowing over his skin, his usual ripped jeans swapped for tailored trousers to frame his silhouette. Not with dark eyes that sparkled with stars of the midnight, ones you'd never see in the middle of a city. Its flickers contagious, inviting you to step closer - one any woman would've appreciated, and definitely accepted.