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casuallivi · 2 years

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Flower and Shadow (spy au)

Summary: Elain is presented to her newest assignment, Azriel thinks the deal is missing one thing: Him!

Warnings: Explicit language. Cursing. Age gap. I used a few names from the Crescent City series in this one, so they may have similar ties as in the book, but fear not, this is still an au.

Word Count: 3363

Mood Board Enjoy, comments are welcomed and cherished :)

The Replacement

Azriel felt no pride in broking into an apartment with such lame security system.

He had successfully walked into her apartment (well, her rental at the moment) without breaking a sweat, sneaking past her poor excuse of a security system unseen –he warned her that shit was lame– and found his way upstairs to her bedroom. She had her back to the door, Peggy March’s I Will Follow Him playing low in the speakers while she removed a worned out poster from the wall. Azriel watched her hold the poster, contemplating, then snapped it in four pieces, crunching it together, throwing it over her shoulder. He dodged the inoffensive ball just as she turned around. Swift as a panthert, Azriel pounced at her, her back banging loudly against the wall, his fingers clasping around her slender throat, the thin necklace chain digging into her skin.

“Tell me, Flower. What would you do now that I got you trapped?”

Contrary to his expectations she didn’t squirmed or whimpered, no. She smiled. Those sensual pink lips that haunted his dirty dreams curved into a delicious smile, her voice calm and secured. “Why don’t you tell me what you’d do if I killed you with your own knife?” He felt the sting then. “Imagine the shame.” She taunted.

Azriel looked down to find Truth-Teller pressed on his chest, the blade tip placed exactly between his third and fourth rib, the perfect spot to pierce his lung and find the heart beating behind it. “You should quit smoking,” she advised scrunching her nose. “I could smell the tabaco as soon as you walked in.”

Would you look at that? Little miss sunshine had seen thru his tricks and pretended to fall for it. Azriel liked her. He liked her more than he should.

“You like being watched? Is that your kink?” Flower pressed the knife harder, making a hole on his shirt and he winced, “easy. You need better security to keep people out.” He commented casually, raising his hands in defeat.

"You know I'm a highly trained assassin, right? I don't need to keep people out, people need to keep me out." She withdraw the blade, escaping from the corner he backed her into.

Azriel smirked. "I'm hooking you up with a new system. A good one."

She raised a dismissive hand in his direction saying, "don't bother. I'm leaving this place in two days."

He frowned. Leaving?

"Your lease doesn't expire for another three months."

"I got assigned. You’re looking at a married woman with a hefty bank account."

She winked, grabbing the scabbard and sheathing the knife to tossed it on the open suitcase. The legendary dagger, that was a myth within the dark cells of the torture chambers of Hewn’s dungeon, had once belong to him. Azriel sat on her bed, watching her move across the room with barely-there steps, as if she was the spy between them, collecting the final personal items.His mind drift back to the first time he saw her.

Back then Azriel wasn’t sure what to think of her. The most beautiful and sweet-scented woman he had ever seen waltzed into the briefing room (which stinking of testosterone and sweaty leather) carrying a steamy mug, wearing a cobalt dress, her beautiful golden-brown hair neatly arranged in a side braid. Her entrance made everyone silent, the five males present ogling her pulling a chair to sit with the grace of a queen, politely saying, “Good morning, everyone. I’m sorry for the delay, I couldn’t find my mug.” Her voice flowed like honey, sweet and smooth as the shapely curves of her body.

Azriel was starstruck. At first glance she looked out of place in the dark smelly room filled with bulky males, all dressed in uniform and striped with mortal gear from neck to toe. She pushed the black sunglasses to the top of her head, analyzed the files passed to her, and correcting two inaccurate data, making him aware that she was no green soldier. And a few day later he would witness her doing what she did best –being a cunning killer. The agency’s best assassin had mesmerizing chocolate eyes and was the embodiment of a delicate and pure flower just like her code name. Hell, she even smelled like jasmine.

Azriel grabbed one of the boy shorts hanging from the suitcase and she slapped his hand away.

Agents weren't allowed to fraternize with one another, what didn't stop some of them to keep casual flings or even date, they were specialist in secret keeping after all, and no one exceeded him in the department. Which didn’t mean shit for a couple of year now, since the only woman he was interested in had her own I-don’t-date-ever rule. Initially he thought the rule was bullshit, so he did what everyone like him would have done, he ran a background check on her. Flower’s record was clean. Almost too clean.

She arrived at Hewn Agency about three years ago having appeared from thin air. No one had heard the code name before, her age and upbringing were just as unknown as her number of kills, who didn’t get involved with any coworker, didn’t have lovers, friends or family. She was a virtual ghost, and Azriel thought she possessed the sharp qualities of a veteran spy. From what he gathered so far, she was interested in one thing and one thing only: killing.

She was polity, worked mostly alone and adopted an approachable persona to accommodate her partners during her rare conjoined missions. The woman they all called Flower display nothing but her shallow alter ego for them, with a chameleon mannerism to the ones around her. She spoke the right amount, smiled on cue, retrieved important information, share nothing about herself and left the target with a "catch you later" sign or a nice bullet printed on the forehead.

They share a total of one mission before he fell. One mission and he was completely infatuated with her. He wouldn’t deny she was gorgeous with and enticing body and the perfect ass, but that wasn’t her only charm. Her professionalism was something he rarely experienced in their field. Agents liked to brag, a lot, and over the years Azriel learned that 80% of them weren't capable of 8% of what they blabbed. She didn't blabbed, she did it, untraceable and lethal like a belladonna. Azriel, who rarely felt the need to interact with anyone other than his Twin Wraiths (the only worthy trainees he ever had), found himself entailed by her.

On their second mission she saved his life, using his dagger nonetheless! Flower stirred something inside of him, made him curious for her. She was the joker on his deck, one of the few people in the world who possessed the means to reach him no matter what, who knew the address of his safehouses scattered around the globe. By the end of that mission Flower and Shadow didn’t shared names or age, but they shared a meal, played 21 questions under the influence of a very expensive Vodka and he gifted her his favorite dagger as if the black-hilted blade wasn’t his one and only true possession this world, the item he had never let anyone touch, let alone use. Or keep it.

Azriel didn’t know what possessed him to do the crazy act. When he woke the next morning, he had gaps on his memory, courtesy of the heavy drinking, but he remembered the exchange perfectly. The reverence in her eyes when he showed her the dagger and told the story no one else knew. “This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it from now on - so I want you to.” Flower looked up at him, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade, a silent question for him. Are you sure?

“I’m sure.”

Flowers watched him for a long time. When she spoke she sound older, wiser.

“What’s ours will always come back to us. I’ll keep it safe until then.” She vowed to him, a faint hint of bulgarian accent escaping along the words, too immersed in her promise to grasp what she had bared to him.

Azriel thought he might regret it later. Parting with the blade. Now here they were, years later, and he had never been more sure of anything; his favorite dagger belonged with his favorite girl. Plus, she looked hot wielding it.

His train of thought was interrupted when he spied what she was holding. “What the fuck is that?” Azriel barely hold back his grown, finding it difficult to maintain his neutral expression in place.

“My bridal wear. White and virginal as the good girl I am," a wink, "I have it in black too, do you think my husband will prefer in that color?” she replied as if it was the most natural thing in the world to pack that kind of thing to a job. Azriel eyed the white lingerie like it was his worst enemy. He was probably being sensitive, the piece wasn’t even a scandalous one, it was actually quite demure with flowers embroided between the bra cups and a translucent skirt to cover the thong. His blood boiled imagining another man getting to see her in it.

“You’re not wearing that.”

“What’s the problem, Shadow? I thought you said I had good taste, and I choose this one myself.”

“Need I remind you that this is a fake wedding?” he barked through his teeth, getting up from the bed and away from the new nemesis.

“Tsk,” she clicked her tongue, playful, “but I play the part so well. Being a bride is fun. Beats being a nun, or an assistant or a waitress.”

Azriel open her closet, colleting a navy suit, which he checked if the hidden compartments sewn into the jacket were still good before handing it to her, and a long cocktail dress covered in plastic. He watched Flower neatly fold the clothes, pinpointing the exact moment she crossed item by item from her mental list, granting nothing was amiss.

“Who’s your partner anyways?” he asked trying to keep busy enough to forget she was packing see thru lingerie, a plan that backtracked rather quickly when she turned her back around, motioning for him to step forward and help her. Beautiful flirty creature.

Although Azriel was aware the little Flower was attracted to him as much as he was to her, something stopped her giving into her desires. A couple of months back he came dangerously close to kissing her, but Mrs Flirt seemed to wake up from his spell on the last minute, her shaky hands pressed on his chest to gain some distance before he was able to devour her. Now here he was, inside her bedroom, helping her to undress for the next assignment, one he wasn’t a part of.

She pushed her hair up and he started to unbutton the small bastards on her back one by one. Azriel was painfully aware of her luscious curves being uncovered under his heated gaze until he got his hands on the base of her spine, the hot pink lace underwear peeking shyly, the same colorful tone of her toenails. He swiped his thumb on the small of her naked back, his senses saturated with her.

Flower looked over her shoulder and licked her lips to singsong, “Mister Fox is my partner.”

The code name was like a bucket of cold water poured over him. “The fuck he is.”

She gave him a sweet smile and went to the bathroom, returning clad in plaid green yoga pants and a top.

“He is. Mister Fox is about to become,” she grabbed the passport on her bedside table, reading the contents, “Jurian Auburn, the only heir of Autumn Inc., newlywed to the extravagant Mrs. Vassa Auburn, a rich sociality who’s the only girl in a family of three, and whose daddy loves to shower with money. Mr. and Mrs. Auburn are eager to make some high-risk investments, digging their golden paws into the pharmaceutical industry thought a new sweet drug deal.”

Azriel snatched the passport form her, inspecting the hideous face of Fox looking back at him. His red hair had been cutted on his shoulder, russet eyes sparkling on the paper, and even if he was not smiling, Azriel could discern the smugness on his features. The fucker knew Flower would be his partner when the photo was taken, and he sure was happy about it. “Which deal?”

“Let’s just say it’s one that will make hearts beat faster.” She patted his chest and exited the bedroom.

Despite his silent steps, Elain could feel Shadow following her like a new born pup. It wasn’t his first time in her apartment, or in any of the ones she rented after they became…friendly with each other. Elain considered herself pretty good in covering her tracks. No one have ever heard of her when she was an independent assassin, she worked without a code name, never left the same mark on her hits and make sure to be paid in cash. For the people hunting her she could be either white, or brown, or asian, with the hair in the color of gold, or red, or black. No one ever got a glimpse of her for long enough to describe her, and if she had a tail, she could lose them as easily as breathing.

Not him, tho. She turned the stove on and put the kettle on top. When he wasn’t on mission himself, the spymaster was with her. The cocky bastard always managed to find her no matter in which country or city she retreated to. The man saw her once in a meeting that lasted five minutes, interacted with her during a mission that lasted no longer than two hours (Elain had to admit they had good working chemistry) and never left let her out of his sight again, like a hellhound given a scent to chase for eternity! She would have found it funny if it wasn’t happening to her. After playing cat-and-mouse for 13 months, she gave up trying to tricking him and simply let him follow. Apart from his meddlesome ways he was quite respectful of her boundaries, never taking more than she was willing to give.

Elain didn’t know what the hell he wanted from her! Well, if his shameless flirting was anything near a clue, she had some idea…it didn’t help her case that she flirted back, but that was as far as she would go. Light and not so innocent teasing that would amount to nothing in the end. Beside her, Shadow hummed his usual melody, one she had grown accustomed to, opening the upper cabinet and placing the medicine bottles (in the exact order she took them) on the counter top, passing her the Green Tea.

Elain thought he was cute sometimes, especially when he did little things like that, exposing how much attention he paid her. She grabbed the leaf pot but he didn't let go. Elain stared at him.

“Are you taking care of yourself?”

Her shoulders tensed.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Elain sighed. Once. The man had witness her passed out once, and apparently that was enough to turn him into one of her doctors, always questioning and charging receipts left and right. Imagine if he had saw her vomiting blood before her body went limp on the cold tiles.

��Yes, I’m sure.”

“Don’t go dying on me flower. We have a deal.” Elain tried to smile. Her tension was so heavy in the air she could have cut it with a knife

“I’m taking care of myself, promise.”

And she was.

The problem was she didn’t know if that would be enough.

An uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen, the only sounds being the kettle’s whistle and the dried leaves being crushed by her. He filled two glasses with tap water, pushing one down himself while she used the other to pop her pills. When she was done, Elain inspired the hot steam of the green tea, waiting for it to cool down enough to wash the bitter taste of medicine from her tongue.

“So,” Shadow cleared his throat, returning to meddle in her business. “Your husband will pretend to invest in the new deal between DannanX and VanPharm, while you hype the companies up in social media to cover the sabotage of the deal?”

She thought he was cute? Scratch that. This man was a beast, and a wicked smart one!

“How do you know that? The deal hasn’t been made public yet.”

Azriel watched Flower fail to control her surprise, her tension easing the slightest bit, admiration shining in her beautiful wide eyes. Body language never lied, and where hers was concerned, Flower was impressed he deducted her mission with so little, what made him feel extra proud of the deed. He shrugged.

“They don’t call me Shadow for nothing. I’m everywhere. Fox ain’t qualified enough for this, you know. This is easily a Class C mission. You should take me.”

Elain whistled. “We don’t decide our partnes, Lady Death does. And don’t let him catch you saying that.”

“What will he do, burst my ass up in flames? Been there, done that.”

“I didn’t know you two were so kinky in private. That’s hot.” A pause. “You are wrong you know.” Wait a second. Was she about to defend Fox? Azriel’s expression soured quicker than if he had licked a lemon. “ It’s a Class B.” She corrected with elegance. He held back the sneer.

“Class B... Mmmh” Azriel hummed, running his thumb across his lip, thinking. “I don’t see why you had to be assigned for this, sabotage could easily be handled by the High Lady, it’s her fort. Yet, Class B is too high for a simple sabotage like this, below you even,” he gasped and turned to her, his eyes lit with amusement, “no way! Shit, are you serious?”

Elain turned to the sink, suddenly very interested in washing her cup. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You are going to take one of them out, aren’t you? Who is it? The old Vanserra? The decrepit Dannan?” he inquired excited. The two old tycoons were trash, both way passed their expiration date. Azriel wouldn’t mind to attend either of their funeral. Preferably to spit in their graves.

“I’m not discussing that with you, you’re not my partner.” Elain replied annoyed, drying her hands on a dish cloth. Goddamned spy with goddammed intelligence network.

“But I will be,” he affirmed with confidence, popping a grape on his mouth. When had he opened her fridge?

“The mission has been decided, the roles assigned, and you are not in it. Just take the loss like a big boy and wait for your turn.”

“My turn is with you Flower, always. I’m your guy. Let’s face it, Fox is good enforcer but a terrible spy. You’re not taking old Dannan alone when I available.”

Elain groaned, “I’m not taking him out.”

“The old Vanserra, then? Noted. This is going to be fun!” Azriel barely registered her mumbles, his mind busy planning the replacement of the sly fox. First, he needed to fix the passport and replace the ginger with a photo of his own. He offered a grape to her. She tried to bite his finger.

Elain throw her hands in the air. The man was completely lost in his delusions.

“Lady Death won’t approve the change, it’s too late. As I said, we already discussed the mission, Fox left to Adriata yesterday.”

“Details. Let me worry about that.”

Her vexed tone implied he was being unreasonable, and maybe he was, but their boss owned him big time for the screw up he avoided in France five years ago, today Azriel was going to charge her. He would be the one going on the mission with Flower, and he would not come back without having her name coming out of those luscious plump lips – and maybe a few other sounds too.

#elrielmonth22 #week two: spies vision shadows and knives #elriel fanfic #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #livi's contribution to em22 #my writing #flower and shadow #chapter 1?#i have no idea #editing?#i don't know her...#this was fun #happy week two guys

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