#I think the undercover government agents actually were married rather than it being their cover story

[nicnacsnonsense]

📖

Okay Dark Lord of Derkholm AU. I don't believe you've read that book from what I recall of our Dianne Wynne Jones conversation, so I will be sure to explain the relevant parts of the plot as we go.

Our setting is a world that vibes similar to a standard fantasy setting -- which is a key plot point -- and they have a serious problem. The Badminton Twins who are business men who forty years ago managed to capture a demon, which they use as leverage to make the demon king do their bidding. (I have no strong feelings on who should be the demons, but I do think it would be funny if it were Mary and Doug, and since the demon king does help our protagonists, but really only to secure freedom for himself & his mate, it works). Their bidding being to force the upholding of a contract the people of this world signed to hold Badminton's Pilgrim Parties.

Every year they have to do up their world to look like an even more exaggerated and tropey version of a fantasy setting, all of which must conform to the Badminton's exact very racist and sexist expectations, and give a fantasy world quest to 100+ parties of about 20 Pilgrims (people from our world) which culminates in them defeating the Dark Lord and saving the world. They are paid for this service, but it's significantly less than what the Badmintons earn selling the experience, and also significantly less than the cost of running it in resource and labor on the people in the world.

(It's a colonialism. The whole story is an anti-colonialism & -capitalism allegory that's honestly pretty light on the allegory part of it.)

Our story starts with Spanish Jackie, Chancellor of the Wizard University, having an emergency meeting with a number of other various guild leaders, heads of state, high priests, etc. etc. About how they are going to stop the Pilgrim Parties. Their plan is to go see the two Oracles and do what both of them say. The instructions come down as make the first person you see the Dark Lord and the second person you see the Wizard Guide for the last tour group. Upon exiting the second Oracle, the first two people they see are Stede and his younger human son Olu.

Stede is regarded by people in this universe to be just as cringefail as he is in canon. He did technically graduate from the University and is a wizard, but he did very poorly. The trouble was he couldn't seem to conform to what was required of him -- which was to perform to specific standards to cater to the Pilgrim Party economy -- and only wanted to do his own magic that he was good at. The University was a very traumatizing experience for him and decimated his self-esteem, but he now has a beautiful farm/estate with a whole bevy of animals and a loving husband and many children where he is very happy and can focus on the type of magic he likes (or at least he could until this whole Dark Lord thing interrupted).

His preferred magic is kind of like a biology magic, I guess? Plants and animals. He's super great at using magic to grow any kind of plant. Nana, a high priestess/queen of one region, gives him an orange that she bought off of a Pilgrim because she is fully confident Stede will be able to use the pips from this fruit that isn't native to their entire world to grow a whole grove of orange trees. And as far as animals, at his home he has flying pigs, flying talking horses, Friendly Cows (they are so fucking dumb, but they have kind eyes), invisible cats, super intelligent geese (which tbf, I'm pretty sure are just normal cats & geese), etc. etc.

As to his children, Frenchie is the eldest. He's in training to become a bard. And I already mentioned Olu, who is the next oldest and who wants to train to be a wizard. These two are probably adopted in this version of the story. And then we move on to his & his husband's biological kids.

Pete is the oldest, and he and Olu are often refer to as the twins since they are about the same age. Pete is also a humongous black griffin. Yeah, so Stede took some of his cells, his husband's cells, cells from a lioness, and some cells from an eagle, did some kind of magic, put it in an egg, and out hatched a baby griffin, who is also a whole sapient person. John, Roach, and Swede (and possible Ivan & Fang, haven't decided on that) are their other griffin children.

For the rest of the crew, starting with Lucius, he is an elf prince in this one. He and his people are supposed to pose as dark elves and the Dark Lords minions. Stede manages to get Lucuis to agree to give him some additional help because (and this is different than the book) Lucius is into Pete. Lucius the elf is dtf the massive griffin, because why not.

For Jim, as a reminder Olu is the wizard guide for the last tour group (and Frenchie comes along too as their group bard). Jim is one of the Pilgrims in that group, but it eventually comes out they're here to try to figure out what happened to their parents, who went on a tour when they were just a kid, and never came back. We don't find out for sure what happened, but we are able to conclude that the Jimenezes were probably marked down as expendable.

Because yeah that's another service the Badmintons offer. You can pay an exorbitant sum to get an X put down next to a person's name, and that person will meet with an unfortunate accident and simply not make it back from their trip to the other world.

(Also in Olu & Frenchie's tour group are Evelyn, Hornberry, and Wellington. They are posing as a married couple plus sibling, though I'm not sure which configuration of that would be funniest. Ultimately it doesn't matter because they are all revealed to actually be undercover agents from various government organizations in our world investigating the shady shit the Badmintons are pulling).

Buttons is the nickname that is given to a dragon that randomly shows up, half-crazed and very confused. HE just took a little 100 year nap, and when he woke up the world was entirely different. Stede helps hims recover and reacclimate, and in return Buttons helps him out with the whole Dark Lord thing.

And then, saving the best for last, Ed. Obviously Ed is Stede's aforementioned husband. He is a very well-respected wizard and can do these little pocket universe things that everyone loves. When Stede is volunteered to be the Dark Lord, Ed is likewise assigned the role of Glamorous Enchantress. The vibe here of the Enchantress and her domain seems like it's kind of going for a Fae Queen & her court kind of thing. Anyway, as the Glamorous Enchantress Ed is required to look extraordinarily beautiful and extremely sensual if not overtly sexual. I'm picturing him having shaved his beard for the role and lounging about in his loose plait, pearls, a robe, and probably nothing else. To the point that when Frenchie & Olu's group show up off-schedule because Olu got them horribly lost and this was the first place they were able to find, Ed is running around freaking out trying to find his tiny gold shorts (thinking a real RHPS number here) because his kids are coming and he needs his least slutty outfit.

As for the actual plot beats, mainly what's important is that the story is about Stede and his kids running around trying to fulfill all the requirements of the Dark Lord role through an escalating series of everything that can go wrong, will. Made worse by all the people who have had enough of the Pilgrim Parties and are actively protesting in some fashion or another, and Izzy, another wizard who is supposed to be helping them but is actually secretly working for the Badmintons, helping them to mine magic from the ground and import it back to our world, and Spanish Jackie who has decided that the point of Stede being the Dark Lord must be that he's going to fail so hard that the whole operation is going to fall apart, and secretly actively working to make things harder for him.

The worst of Jackie's actions being the enchantment she put on Ed to compel him to leave Stede, so Stede is dealing with all of this and the additional stressor of his marriage suddenly and inexplicably falling apart. Of course when Jackie finally realizes what an asshole move that was and removes the enchantment, Ed is immediately all over Stede, like oh my god, I'm so sorry, I didn't even realize how I was acting, I love you so much.

So our happy ending when things all come to a head, Izzy is discovered for his crimes and arrested. Mary is set free and she and demon king Doug go off together. The gods show up (finally) and imprison the Badmintons inside the jar they kept Mary in and put Jackie in charge of working toward setting the world back to rights after the mess the Pilgrim Parties made of it. All the Pilgrims go back home to their own world, except Jim who decides to stay. Pete and Lucius official become an item. Buttons is revealed to be king of the dragons. And we end with Stede & Ed deciding to have another baby, this time a winged human. The End.

[darsynia]

Just Right | Ch 4

(Steve Rogers x F!Reader, post-Ultron Multichapter)

Summary:

You’ve been in love with Steve Rogers for at least a year, but he treats you the same way he treats every other member of the team– with respect, but nothing more. It takes an inter-dimensional mistake and a whole second, more assertive, actually interested Steve for you to realize that you don’t want just any version of Steve Rogers– you want the one you’ve been pining for all this time.

Length: 3,456

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Want to be tagged on this or any other Steve fic? Please ask! @ronearoundblindly @munstysmind @tiny-anne @themaradaniels @starryeyes2000 @chickensarentcheap

Excerpt:

“He’s me, ‘Dine. He’d never dream of revealing something like that. I was thinking about it-- I think the only reason he went on the mission is because it happened for them already. It’s hard to resist the comparisons.” He lifts his eyebrows to see if you want him to take your tray, and you nod.

“How is that going?” you ask carefully.

Steve immediately looks at the ceiling, then over at the window, before finally glancing your way, letting out a little sigh. “Can someone be better at being you than you are?”

You let some of how you feel about him show, since you’re practically bursting with it anyway. “No, but you can know yourself well enough to recognize that you and he are working on different things, and they don’t overlap.”

He’d been priming to stand up, but your words physically send Steve back in his chair. The look is back, the one you wish you could bottle up and overdose with, on nights when you talk with your married friends.

“I-- That really helps. Thank you.”

Chapter Four

You don’t change clothes for lunch; it’s only when you walk into the cafeteria area that you realize this could be very loosely construed as a date-- but by then it’s too late, because Steve’s seen you and he waves you over to the smaller table by the wall.

“I waited, hope you don’t mind. Natasha told me it’s very rude to set things up so that the woman is eating when the man isn’t.”

Does that make this a date? your traitorous brain pushes you to ask as the two of you make your way over to get food. You could probably phrase it in a way that gives you cover if his reaction is negative-- but you just can’t do it. Instead, you ask him about the stuff that didn’t make it into Natasha’s rather clinical report.

He talks about the secrecy the government had asked them to employ, how they’d worn sunglasses and ball caps to get to the site, their gear stowed away in backpacks.

“Tony took one look at the group of us and went back into the Quinjet. He came out wearing a leather jacket, reflective sunglasses, and a motorcycle helmet. Said we all looked like a ‘tourist group’ of undercover FBI agents!”

You laugh. “Glad he put it to good use, even if it wasn’t the one I’d intended.”

He looks down and smiles at his sandwich, shaking his head a little bit. “I should have known you were the one who put that in there.”

“Hey, stashing an extra helmet is a no brainer, pun intended! Not everyone is a super soldier, but all of you sure love your motorcycles.”

“You’ll be happy to know we avoided self-destructive behavior as much as possible, this trip. The NRC guys were very careful, only let Stark go into certain areas.”

“Well,” you say, pointing at him with a celery stick. “Based on Howard’s notes you would have been fine, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

“Howard Stark?” Steve asks, voice going quiet.

“Yeah. I mean, he was heavily involved in the serum development, and man, was he a note-taker!” Something about the look on Steve’s face hits you. “Did… did no one ever tell you about that? There are notebooks’ worth of--”

“No,” he says, posture straightening. “No one said anything.”

Now you feel guilty and indignant on his behalf, all at once. “They’re all scanned in, I bet you have access? I’m not sure anyone thought to tell you, sadly enough. Either that or they just assumed you knew.” You fumble around for your phone, but he stretches out a hand into your line of sight in that way he has, gentler than using his voice. It’s a leadership thing, the knowledge that a command to stop means something different when you’re both a friend and a team leader. You’ve always loved that about him.

“I’ll check it out. Thank you.”

You nod, offer the olive branch of a redirect back to the original conversation. “So, was Stark able to find the source of the radiation?”

“Yeah, flew it right to the disposal site. Probably saved days worth of decontamination work. Problem was, the HYDRA base-- well, you saw the report.”

“Booby traps, Tony Stark’s favorite.”

He wheeze-coughs through the sip he’d been taking. “Yeah, and his work defusing them was the lynchpin of the whole operation. He’ll be insufferable for days.”

“How will we be able to tell the difference?” It’s a joke, but after the two of you share a chuckle, Steve’s expression turns serious.

“Yeah, about that…”

“Oh, I walked right into that one.”

“Humor me? It’s been a strange experience, having a doppelganger. You seem like one of the only people who can instantly see the difference, so when you didn’t--” He breaks off and doesn’t continue.

You shrug. “It’s honestly just instinct? Or maybe I’m hypersensitive to hair length. Got to make sure that helmet fits you without slippage!”

Steve finishes off the last bite of his sandwich and regards you thoughtfully. It’s familiar (still thrilling, though), and you shove away the thoughts that everything you’ve been saying and doing here could have just as easily been done as a function of your job. You suddenly wish you could change the subject, but you know Steve. He’s wrestling with something. You suspect you’re one of the only people who see the differences between him and Gold Steve enough to help.

“He won’t say anything about what he may have gone through-- and I wouldn’t ask,” Steve says quickly. “It does feel like he’s more… maybe ‘comfortable’ is the word? It’s hard not to worry that it’s from some kind of shared trauma.”

“A shared trauma you’d avoid, if only you knew it was coming?” you guess gently.

Steve’s look of relief carries with it an undercurrent of gratitude that could very easily be tuned to the romantic. After spending hours of your life syncing yourself to his resonance, your body can’t help but respond, quickening your breathing and heating your blood.

“He’s me, ‘Dine. He’d never dream of revealing something like that. I was thinking about it-- I think the only reason he went on the mission is because it happened for them already. It’s hard to resist the comparisons.” He lifts his eyebrows to see if you want him to take your tray, and you nod.

“How is that going?” you ask carefully.

Steve immediately looks at the ceiling, then over at the window, before finally glancing your way, letting out a little sigh. “Can someone be better at being you than you are?”

You let some of how you feel about him show, since you’re practically bursting with it anyway. “No, but you can know yourself well enough to recognize that you and he are working on different things, and they don’t overlap.”

He’d been priming to stand up, but your words physically send Steve back in his chair. The look is back, the one you wish you could bottle up and overdose with, on nights when you talk with your married friends.

“I-- That really helps. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you say, and mean it.

When you’re finished with your work for the day, something in you just cannot stand to be indoors any longer. That doesn’t mean you’re going to go for a run or anything, but a walk among green things is a necessity. You head straight for the woods when you get outside, aiming for a particular clearing that’s a favorite, the one with a tree that angles just so, perfect for leaning against and thinking.

It had been a gamble to move into the Avengers Compound, because it cut you off in some ways from your friends in the city. Not everyone who works there lives on-site, it’s not required-- and you didn’t do it just because it’s where Steve lives. After all, he’s been looking for months for a place in Brooklyn, so he could move out at any point. He refuses to let anyone help (and you suspect that Stark actually has a place rented or bought for him and is just looking for the right way to trick Steve into living there), but you’re sure it’s only a matter of time.

The lunch today has you all twisted up in knots, even hours later. On one hand, you’re elated that he’d invited you to lunch at all, that you got his full attention for such an extended period of time-- especially in such a relaxed, no-pressure setting. On another, it was… more of the same, from him. 

You let out a long, frustrated sigh. Meeting Gold Steve has made you dissatisfied with the status quo, there’s no other way to put it. Without his attentive interest, you’d have seen your lunch with your universe’s Steve Rogers as one of the most exciting events of your tenure here.

“That’s a weary sound,” a voice says. Speak of the devil…

“Haven’t they sent you back yet?” you quip, mostly kidding. You’re vulnerable and combative right now, and if you can chase Gold Steve away, you really ought to.

He walks over into your line of sight and shoulders up against a tree, one hand in his pocket. “Tony’s been in the lab since last night, or so FRIDAY says. A couple more hours and Natasha’s planning to break in to give him a care package of food and fresh coffee.”

“That’s… actually pretty encouraging.” Your back has started to hurt, but if you stand up to leave, you know he’ll offer to accompany you, and your universe’s Steve has seemed a little… protective of you, when Gold Steve is around. 

That thought actually pisses you off, because the word your mind is dancing around is ‘jealousy,’ and in order for there to be jealousy, there need to be feelings. You’re pretty sure that’s not what’s going on.

“If you don’t mind my saying so, you look like you need to talk something out.”

“You’re probably simultaneously the best and the worst person to do that with right now,” you groan.

“It’s ‘other me’ related?”

You close your eyes and scrunch up your face in regret. “Pretend I didn’t say anything?”

“And squander your chance to figure him out?” Gold Steve actually makes a ‘tsk’ noise.

“You don’t really mean that,” you say with your eyes still closed. “Even if you did, there’s no figuring. There’s just me reading into things.” You suspect he’s trying to learn more about his counterpart, so you decide to chase him away with this and then maybe dig a hole to fling yourself into until he goes back home. “He’s had lunch with any number of other people, and it’s just the way you look at me that made me mix the two of you up when he was jog--” 

You straighten up. If Stark’s really on the verge of a breakthrough, this might be your last chance to ask Gold Steve the thing that’s been nagging at you for weeks.

If you’re burning bridges, then you might as well light them up.

“What is with that, anyway? You know that’s how I knew, right? The way you look at me.” Most of your rational brain is in revolt, but you’re tired. If this avatar of the person you love can’t explain to you how to trigger the same reaction in your version, then you’re going to demand that he tell you what makes him different. He’s upended your neatly compartmentalized life, it’s the least he can do. And once he has, he’ll probably stop seeking you out, and you can start the process of returning to normal.

He looks guilty.

“I wasn’t going to--” Gold Steve presses his lips together. “I’m not trying to change anything,” he says, and it sounds more like he’s trying to persuade himself than you. “After I found out Bucky was alive, learned some of what he’d gone through, someone was there for me, and I fell really hard.” 

His wry smile is sad, and you feel a tiny prickle of alarm. It doesn’t feel like this is going to be a happy story.

He continues, “At the time, I didn’t feel like I knew enough about this decade, this century. I needed time. And the nature of the job, you know, the world always needs saving, so I wasn’t worried. I figured I had time. And then we lost-- she was gone.” 

Gold Steve stops and takes a breath. He’s not looking at you, and you don’t blame him. It seems like if he did, he might just lose the tenuous grip he has on his emotions. You can barely breathe just listening to him.

“I really regret that. I never took that chance-- and, I’d love to think we’d have made it work, that she’d have fallen for me just as hard-- but now I’ll never know. I’ll never know what it would’ve been like to wake up next to each other. To help her through the tough times, to maybe be the last loving thought on her mind, before the end.” He looks directly at you, and you can see it, the bone-deep regret, the determination to do whatever he can to prevent that kind of heartache. “Those days afterwards, they taught me you have to speak up, let people know what they mean to you. I can’t let the fear of letting someone down leave them to die alone. I told myself I had to use that horrible day to be better, to--” he lets out a tiny chuckle, like he’s reliving a bittersweet memory. “To wear my heart on my sleeve.”

“That’s beautiful,” you whisper. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

“Me too.”

Gold Steve wasn’t at dinner, but you didn’t blame him at all. You’d sat there trying to socialize with his words hanging around your heart until the burden was too heavy, and you’d excused yourself after barely eating anything. Now it’s two in the morning and you’re ravenous, and you only have yourself to blame.

You make yourself some cereal, a comfort food from your childhood, but you can’t bring yourself to eat it in the large, dark cafeteria, nor do you want to put the overhead lights on. Instead, you steal away with it to the rec room, even though it’s probably not allowed in there. If FRIDAY wants to tell on you, so be it.

It isn’t until you’re happily settling into the comfiest chair that you see you’re not alone.

“Jeez, Tony, are you okay?”

“Finally! Pay up,” he says triumphantly from his place on the couch. You swear for a solid twenty seconds; for months you’d avoided using his given name after he’d teased you for using Natasha’s first, telling him smugly that you’d rather pay him $50 than give him the satisfaction.

“I’ll pay you in the morning, but I think it’s cheating to stay up for forty some hours just for a lousy fifty bucks. I guess eccentric billionaire is as eccentric billionaire does,” you sniff. Inwardly, you’re mad that you’d forgotten Tony likes the rec room couch better than the guest beds.

“Fifty bucks and the solution to sending the Rog-elgänger back,” Tony says, adding quickly, “I think. I came in here to get a few winks and see if I still feel like a genius when I wake up.”

“And?”

“Fatal flaw,” he grins. “I don’t know what it’s like not to feel like a genius.”

“Well, run it by me, I’ll give you my honest, non-genius opinion.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to count yourself out of this equation, Brigandine. You’re a big part of how I figured it out,” Tony shocks you by saying. “Keep eating, don't let it get soggy. Okay.” He slaps a hand down on his right thigh. “Say this is our universe, and this--” Tony slaps his other hand down on his left thigh; “--is IMPOS-Steve’s universe. He’s said there’s no Avengers Compound over there, but he still walked out into the room when he showed up, right? Like there was a door in the wall?”

You’re still giggling from a minute back. “Only you would use your lap to symbolize the multiverse! But yes, it was like he’d just walked through a door.”

Tony ignores your gibe, caught up in his explanation. “That means it’s not a one-to-one transfer-- whatever chose that place in space-time, it’s not based on where he was when he left. Which is useful only up to a point, because to send him back, I have to do the same thing. With me so far?”

You nod, your mouth full.

“Not long after the attack on New York I got to thinking about how the Chitauri were able to connect from so far a distance. I mean, yeah, wormhole, but I figured there had to be more to it than that. I thought, what if there was something that was like DNA, but it was readable without having to look into a person’s cells. A molecular imprint, like your own personal resonant frequency.”

You’re completely fascinated. “The same way a big building or a bridge has a specific frequency, only unique?”

“Not at all, and yes,” Tony says. “It doesn’t really matter what it is exactly, just that it exists. The problem is figuring out how to detect it, so I went looking for Vision. The two of us did some testing--” He pauses for an extended, satisfying-looking yawn, scratches his forehead, and tries to remember where he was.

“Some testing?” you prompt.

“A lot of testing, but yes. I had set this aside way back when because there was no way to really test the theory--”

“I’m sorry, what theory? Connection over long distances?”

“Well, yes, but connection across universes, too. I mean, the worst possible nightmare, right? With the mind stone and access to every dimension, Loki might have had the largest army ever. An infinite army.”

There’s something about the expression on Tony’s face, like maybe he’d actually set this concept aside because it was the only way he could sleep. He shakes himself a little bit, sees you’re sitting there, and apparently, that’s enough to remind him of where he is in his explanation.

“Right. Faux-gers,” Tony says, grinning. Your stomach clenches in a not wholly uncomfortable way at the idea that your boss associates you with Steve enough to put him back on track like that.

“I think what you’re really lying awake doing is coming up with those,” you tease.

“You know it. Anyway, you’d think there’s no way to test it, right? You’d have to have two versions of the exact same person. Yes, exactly!” Tony says at your spark of realization. He absurdly makes two little ‘people’ out of the first and second fingers of each hand, and stands them up on his thighs, harking back to his ‘lap dimensions.’ “Vision was able to confirm it. Both Steves have the same resonance.” He sighs and lets his hands drop. “Another breakthrough I can’t win a Nobel for.”

You still feel like you’re right on the edge of understanding, and from the yawn Tony just fought through, he’s running out of coherent consciousness. “That’s great, but how does that send him back, exactly?”

“Because all I have to do is tune the thing I haven’t quite invented yet to the resonance of one of the other Avengers. That way I can feel confident I’m sending Pure Imitation Vanilla back safely, instead of in the middle of the concrete foundation for the Bezos Tower or something. And now I want cookies.”

You are taken by a yawn of your own, and Tony leans over and rescues your mostly-empty bowl before it falls off of your lap. Something he said when you first started talking is important, but you can’t remember what it is--

“I might send Nat to trick him into telling us how much farther along he is than we are,” Tony says, lifting up your spoon, making a terrible face, and setting the bowl down on the coffee table. “He tried to play it off, but there were times on that mission that he was definitely steering us away from some nasty shit.”

That confirms your similar hunch. “How far ahead do you think he is?”

“Very,” is the surprising answer. “Which brings me back to your role in all of this. Brigandine, I’m sorry to say, but I think you’re dead.”

You blink at Tony. “Dead? I figured I just wasn’t born in his--”

“Ah, but that wouldn’t work.” He pops his finger figurines back up on his lap, and you groan. “They have to match, remember?”

“Couldn’t the matching resonance thing have been Sam?” you protest. A film of unreality is forming across your skin, dusting up goosebumps and an accompanying chill.

“I don’t think so. You said he seemed pleased to see you, surprised to see the complex. What if something happened? Something bad?” Tony leans over. “Something preventable? If the resonance is tethered to a person instead of a timeframe, how do you ensure you arrive before the bad thing happened?”

“You choose someone who shouldn’t be alive,” you breathe, shaken. “But he’s been here for weeks! If something’s coming, wouldn’t he have said something by now?”

“Not if it’s a ways off. Not if he can’t go back. This is Steve Rogers, ‘Dine. His morals have morals. If we can’t send him back, he doesn’t need to say anything and change other things by accident. He just has to steer us away from the dragons at the edge of the map.”

Next chapter

[jessikahathaway]

Under the Covers

DON’T OWN THE PHOTO!

Pairing: Kim Taehyung X Reader

Genre: Romance, Spy!AU, Action

Warnings: Graphic depictions of sexual intercourse (Drunk), guns and violence, birth (not too graphic), Character Death, Blood (Not really any gore). If I forgot anything please let me know!

Words: 23.4k 

Sorry I have been absent but please enjoy this spy!AU that’s been in my WIP forever and a half. Love you guys! ~ Jess

The day had been dull, hours ticking by slowly mocking you. You’d recently been put on probation because of irrational thinking out in the field... So, now you were working in the boring section of the office, filing papers and trying to be on your best behavior. 

It wasn’t your fault! 

Your partner was being a damn coward and wasn’t willing to take the shot! You had to or the damn criminal was going to get away with everything... You didn’t mean for an innocent to get caught in the crossfire.

Accidents happen, variables get scewed and people get hurt. But how many more would’ve been at risk if you hadn’t done what you did? At the end of the day somebody has to take the burden, and if it had to be you then so be it.

Although, being forced to live this life day to day was incredibly mundane... How did the office agents do it? Did they enjoy the monotone, unlively plane they were existing in? You were having a hard time believing that. Life was so short, why play it safe when you could lay everything on the line. Risk it all. 

You were a field agent from the International Espionage Agency, stationed in Seoul, South Korea at the moment. This is where you were receiving your punishment. The Seoul office was one of the calmest ones in the entire Agency. Some thought it was due to lack of talent, others thought it was due to the sheer drop in crime rates since the Agency was founded there. There was nothing to do, no one to fight. And not nearly enough booze.

A sweet desk assistant, Lisa, you think her name was, approached you. “Ma’am? Director Jin wishes to speak with you, if you’d follow me please?” she requested. You jumped at the chance for a change in scenery and followed behind her quickly. 

The clacking of keyboard keys resounded in your brain as you and Lisa meandered through the desks and identical office cubicles. People whose eyes were glued to their screens as if it were their last breath. You shuddered to think if this were to be the rest of your life. Had your blunder been that bad?

Lisa finally led you to a deep mahogany door that stood taller than you deemed necessary. However, interior decorating had never been your strong suit. She knocked softly, a deep come in followed. “Please enter,” she announced, opening the door for you. Awkwardly, you nodded your head before dipping inside of the room. The center of attention had never been your place. Much preferring to stick to the edge of walls and ducking behind counters and desks as bullets flew past your head was where you longed to be. 

The door shutting behind you made you jump slightly, before you stood face to desk with Kim Jin, Director of the Seoul Espionage Agency. 

“Sir,” you said, bowing in respect.

“Please, sit,” he offered, doing so himself. You moved to comply and seated yourself in the plush seat provided. Jin cleared his throat before pulling open a file.

“Sir, if I may be so bold, under what circumstances am I here?” you questioned, trying to look at the folder in his hands. 

A sharp clap echoed through the room that made your skin crawl in nerves. “You were sent here for punishment, am I correct in this statement?” he asked, already aware of the answer. 

“Yes, Sir,” you confirmed. 

“And why did you receive punishment?” he quizzed again, sounding like a school teacher scolding a disobedient child. 

“Because of poor thinking in the field as well as doing harm to an innocent,” you answered back. 

“Correct,” he doted. You tried to keep your grimace in check, although it was getting harder by the second. “So, after all of that. Do you feel that you have received a fair punishment? Being sent to, “the most uncharacteristically dull” agency?” he said, finally lifting his eyes to yours. His glare was so dark you couldn’t keep eye contact any longer.

“Sir, I-”

“No bullshit excuses D3!” he growled, using your rank against you. Designated 3rd rank was your official title given by the agency. Field operative in the highest order. You were surprised you hadn’t been demoted. “I don’t know why your main office sent you to me, but ever since you got here you’ve been nothing but an eyesore in my office,” Jin stated.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you offered lamely.

“If you were sorry then you’d actually do the work assigned to you. How many reports have you blown off or given to my other office workers, because you ‘don’t have the time’ for it? As I see it, you have plenty of time to fuck around on your phone or go out drinking in the afternoon? If you’re here on punishment, why are you acting as if you’re on a vacation?” he said, throwing pictures of your reckless behavior in your face. 

“I had to take that shot!” you defended. “If I hadn’t then the biggest drug lord in the Western Hemisphere would’ve walked right out of that damn store! I couldn’t let that chance go!” 

“You didn’t have to go through an innocent woman to get to him,” Jin growled dangerously. “You’re ten times smarter than that, I know you are. All of your testing shows me you knew better than that. You took the easy shot, not the best one,” he accused. 

“Where else was I supposed to shoot? Through my fucking knees? Sir, if there was another way I assure you that I would’ve found it!” 

“The door frame,” he stated. “It’s made out of a steel and titanium reinforced support system. It could’ve ricoheted and hit the target in the eye. No innocents harmed,” he stated, holding up the store blueprints you’d seen hundreds of times before that night. 

Fuck...

He was right. 

“What do you want me to do Sir? I can’t make it right, so what’s the point in rubbing my nose in it now?” you questioned, staring at the papers before you.

“I’m going a little off the rule book for you, considering how you are a special case indeed,” he stated. “Taehyung, you can come in now,” Jin announced.

The large doors opened to reveal a taller male, lithe frame and bronzed skin gracing him. His hair was a soft brown, gently billowing against the breeze the door created. You looked to him then back to Director Jin.

“Who is this, Sir?” you asked, peaking at the man he called Taehyung. 

“This, Y/N, is my best field agent Kim Taehyung,” Jin stated proudly.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, giving a small bow before lifting his gaze to Jin. “Hyung,” he greeted. 

“Sir, what does he have to do with me?” you questioned. 

“Listen,” he growled in a warning. You shrunk back into your seat before nodding. “You and Taehyung are to be partners in a new mission,” Jin explained. You couldn’t help the excitement that flooded through you. Finally, out of this fucking office and into the field again!

Jin must’ve noticed your excitement. “However, Taehyung will be taking the lead on this mission. You are to follow his orders to the letter, am I understood?” 

“Sir-” 

“Am I understood?” he asked darkly. You nodded numbly, not wanting to get into any further shit. “Good, Taehyung has already been briefed on this assignment. But a refresher won’t hurt you. Taehyung-ah,” Jin stated. Taehyung nodded in understanding and sat down in the chair next to you. 

You examined him closer and you were slightly stunned. He was rather beautiful to behold. His skin was smooth and seemed to glow in the sunlight. His hair appeared soft to the touch. Although he wore the signature D3 smirk. He knew he was better than you, and he planned on rubbing that in the whole time you two were partners. This was turning out to be more of a punishment than you originally believed.

“Are you aware of this man?” Jin questioned, setting a picture down on the desk in front of you. 

“Of course,” you stated. “That’s Zhao Feng Tong, White Snake of Chinese politics... But what does that have to do with our assignment?” you questioned. 

“Feng has been getting his mutts to attack Korean Intelligence forces. As well as some state side. The IEA requested that I assign my best man in taking him down. However, we are in need of cover. Your specialty is undercover work, is it not?” he asked, directing the question to you.

“Yes, Sir,” you responded. 

“Perfect, you see that is the only place my best man lacks. He has no cover. So, you are to become Taehyung’s cover,” Jin explained. You quirked an eyebrow in confusion.

“Excuse me, Sir, but how am I to do that?”

“Patience is a virtue, one you’re lacking my dear,” you silenced yourself yet again. “As I was saying, you are to be Taehyung’s cover. Feng has his claws deep within the local government of a small town out in the country. You and Taehyung are to be a newlywed couple that are just moving to the town in hopes of starting a family. Feng is known to come during election time, once he’s there you are to eliminate him. These people are very wary of newcomers. I expect you to play your role perfectly, Miss Y/N,” Jin stated. “Otherwise you will be released from the International Espionage Agency permanently.”

Married? To Kim Taehyung?

Oh fuck.

---

You woke the following week with a wedding ceremony to attend. Pictures and things of the like were necessary in order for the new home to be believable. Stories, memories things all newlywed couples had a plethora of.

Taehyung, however, seemed less than enthused. 

Something you’d learned quickly in the time you’d spend with Taehyung was that he didn’t play nicely with others. It was a common theme among D3’s, not enjoying partnership and just wanting to get the job done alone. However, this time your livelihood was resting on you performing well. And like fuck you were going to let that happen. 

You walked into Jin’s office that morning to be greeted by a very bored looking Taehyung. He was looking at his phone and Jin was typing on his computer. You cleared your throat to announce your arrival. Jin looked up and nodded at your arrival, Taehyung remained focused elsewhere.

“There’s the blushing bride, has Lisa contacted you about the photography and the shoots?” Jin asked, you nodded obediently, not wanting to get in trouble before your assignment had even started. 

“Yes, a car is waiting for Taehyung and I out in the lot. We’re going to get our wedding and engagement photos done today. As well as anything else you can think of that couples have,” you declared. Jin nodded in approval then clicked his tongue at Taehyung. 

“Tae, I expect you to be on your best behavior for Miss Y/N, this is her area of expertise. Play nice,” he warned. Taehyung nodded and stood up, placing his phone in his pocket. 

“Come on then, let’s get married.”

---

The day passed uneventfully, as did the following weeks. You’d been put through so many outfits and fake smiles that everything was simply exhausting. However, the real work was yet to begin. You were packing your clothes up. Some of them are worn in photo shoots to prevent suspicion. 

Your phone was removed and a new one took its place. Photos of you and Taehyung as well as simplistic snapshots every girl had on her phone. You were assuming Taehyung had been given a similar set up. 

Tomorrow, you were to move across the country with this man and live as his new wife, until election time... Which was almost four months away. Of course Feng would be around the town doing campaigning and things of the like, however, that wouldn’t be the time to strike. You’d have to be patient this time. Think things through. 

You can’t slip up again. Looking through the photos on your new device you found one of Taehyung that you had taken in the park where you were getting your wedding photos done. He’d found a wildflower that had peaked his interest for the time being and was admiring it. You took the opportunity to capture the moment, one where he wasn’t ignoring you or putting you down for negligence. He was simply existing in nature.

You made it your screensaver and shut the device off for the night. Turning your head to your nightstand you saw the glittering jewels of your wedding and engagement rings. The delicate silver and diamonds wove around simplistically. Nothing too extravagant, but enough to show you were spoken for. Taehyung also had a similar ring, just a touch understated. 

Images of the prior weeks of preparation made your stomach clench in nerves. You hadn’t been part of such a big operation that relied heavily on your trademarked skill in years. Would you still have what it took? Could Taehyung rely on you as Jin said he could?

These doubts were misplaced of course. You were you. An Designated 3rd Ranked Officer of the International Espionage Agency.

And you weren’t going to fail again.

---

The morning sun blazed in your eyes as you and Taehyung drove through the countryside in silence. Your ring glittered in the sunlight as the roads wound on and became more treacherous. Taehyung had picked you up early, before the birds had even begun to sing, and definitely before you were willing to wake up. 

“Get up, we leave in ten minutes,” he said, throwing your pillow on the ground. You heard his footsteps receding into your living room. No doubt to collect the boxes you had placed there the night before. 

Taehyung was hard to get along with. A gruff exterior made it difficult to approach him and he held an air of superiority that was hard to breathe in. All in all, Taehyung really irritated you. 

He held your freedom over you like a stick and was quick to put you in your place. Sometimes more than necessary. During your wedding shoot, he’d pointed out that if his bride ever wore the dress you were wearing he’d leave them at the altar. That stung a bit seeing as how you had felt rather confident in the dress up until that point. 

The photos following his comment were unusable. 

For a top operative, he was a massive dick. 

Although, for the moment, he was silent. Focused on the road and not on you, which was preferable. 

Until he opened his Goddamn mouth. “I’m killing Feng,” he declared as he rounded a sharp corner. 

“I’m aware,” you sighed, looking out the window. 

“I don’t see why we have to go through this ridiculous game,” Taehyung said, looking at his ring with contempt. 

“Feng is a creature of caution. He’ll be on high alert during election season... We need to infiltrate now and make our presence less interesting than if we moved in a week before the election. We need patience,” you explained. 

“You’re one to talk about patience,” he sneered. You bit your lip harshly, not wanting to get into it with him right now. 

However, one prod can be too many. 

“I heard she died.”

Dead silent. 

“Pull over,” you breathed. 

“What?” he asked, straining to hear you. 

“I said pull the fucking car over!” you screamed. Taehyung jumped in his seat before doing as you asked. Before the moving truck had even come to a complete stop you opened the door and got out, stumbling slightly on the uneven ground. 

“Come on, are you really going to pitch a fit right now?” Taehyung asked, getting out of the driver’s seat to follow you.

“I don’t give a damn if they fire me, working with you is next to impossible. I didn’t know someone could be so egotistical and rude until I met you,” you growled, stomping down the road. 

“Where are you going? We’re miles from the nearest town,” Taehyung stated, standing with his arms crossed. 

“Perfect, maybe I’ll die out here and it’ll save Jin the trouble,” you glowered, walking closer to the guard rail of the road. The crunching gravel behind you signalled Taehyung’s approach. 

“Knock it off, we’ve got a job to do and I’m not leaving till it’s finished,” he said, grabbing your wrist. You turned quickly and faced him, cheeks red in anger.

“Then do it without me, you’re the one who said you could do this yourself. Money where your mouth is time, prove it.”

With that you yanked your wrist from his hands and kept moving down the road. “Jesus fuck you get on my nerves. Jin will be pissed if I show up to that house by myself. Come on Miss Undercover, get your ass back in the truck,” Taehyung stated. 

“No, Taehyung. I will not be getting my ass back in the truck, you can forget it!”

“Fine, you know what? Fine. I give up, you stuck up bitch. Walk to the next town for all I care,” he growled, heading back towards the truck.

“You are such an asshole!” you screamed, turning to start walking in the opposite direction...

When you slipped.

The gravel beneath your feet gave way as you began sliding underneath the guardrail. You were high in the mountains during this portion of the trip, and the roads weren’t well taken care of. 

Gravel ingrained new lacerations on your delicate flesh as you tried desperately to save yourself from the fall. Your calves were sticky with hot blood and dirt was clinging to the open wounds like a bacterial infested beauty.

Quickly, you latched onto the metal of the guardrail and attempted to pull yourself up. However, your wrist burned in the effort, scratched up due to your fall. The hot, sticky sensation of blood running down your arm made your hands slippery.

“Taehyung!” you screamed, hanging off of the weakened metal in fear. 

There was no response. Blood was pounding in your ears at the thought of death so close. You’d never feared it until now... Because now it was a possibility. 

“Taehyung, please!”

“Y/N?” Taehyung’s voice echoed in mild concern.

“Help me!”

The sound of dirt crunching at the approach of Taehyung’s footsteps sent relief through your veins. Taehyung’s face appeared before you as he wrapped his arms around your elbows and hauled you up onto the road. You were trembling in fear and exhaustion and Taehyung fell backwards, you on his chest. 

You hadn’t realized it before... But you were crying. 

“Fuck, your arm,” he said, sitting up. “Looks to be superficial, I think if we just-”

A loud sob broke through Taehyung’s sentence. His eyes went from your arm to your face as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. Suddenly you were crying loudly like a child, unable to stop. All the frustration and pent up emotions of the past months coming forward in the form of water flooding your eyes. 

Taehyung watched in shock as you broke down in front of him. “Hey, Y/N, are you hurt somewhere else? What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to figure out how to make you stop. 

“I-I ju-st-” and before you could finish your sentence cries won out. Taehyung looked at you quickly and confirmed that you weren’t injured anywhere else. Although you were still crying. 

“Hey, shh,” he soothed, wiping your cheeks with his sleeve. “We’re not getting anywhere like this,” he sighed, looking down at his knees. 

Eventually, your tears stopped and you were able to speak without cries interrupting your phrase. 

“I’m sorry, I went too far,” Taehyung said, wrapping your arm in a bandage. You swallowed hard as nodded in acceptance. “Allies?” he asked. You took his hand as he pulled you to your feet.

“Allies,” you confirmed.

---

You pulled up to your new house roughly three hours later. Taehyung and you had come to a mutual understanding.

Help me help you. 

You still weren’t particularly fond of him, but now working with him didn’t seem impossible. 

The place you were going to be calling home for the next few months stood before you. A modest house painted a pale yellow greeted you and Taehyung. The garden out front wasn’t thriving, but all wasn’t lost. Then the shutters had been painted a soft blue, complimenting the structure wonderfully. 

Maybe living here wouldn’t be so bad after all...

“Now, remember what we discussed,” you stated.

“Newlywed couples are very affectionate. We’re nice people, but cautious. Flirtatious but not disgustingly so. We are in love, first and foremost,” he repeated. 

“Wonderful,” you smiled before planting a kiss on his cheek. Taehyung nodded before getting out of the truck.

“Oh Tae, it’s amazing!” you yelped, looking at the house before you. 

“I’d certainly hope so,” he stated, coming to wrap an around around you comfortably. You leaned into his touch, looking at the house in its entirety. 

“Can we go inside?” you asked, looking at the key in his hands. 

“Of course babe,” he said, walking forwards and unlocking the door, but before you could walk in yourself, Taehyung wrapped his hand around your wrist. 

“What?” you asked, disappointed. 

“It’s bad luck for me not to carry you over the threshold,” he said, grinning. Your heart thudded for a moment. Taehyung’s boxy grin melted you, unprepared for the attack. 

“Hang on, I don’t know if I-wah!” you said as Taehyung lifted you into the air. Seeing some of the neighbors come out at the commotion you quieted down. Slowly, Taehyung carried you bridal style into the home. Your heart stuttered lightly as you crossed over the threshold. 

“Here you are,” he said, setting you down. You flushed pink and cleared your throat. 

“Alright, looks like we need to start getting the big furniture first, then we can worry about the decorations later,” you blabbed on. Taehyung watched you with muted interest, appearing to be caring however you knew there were probably fifty other things he’d rather be doing.

“Can’t we rest? I was just driving for over eight hours,” he whined, sitting on the floor in defiance. 

“You can sit all you’d like but I’m going to start bringing boxes in,” you stated, turning and heading towards the truck. 

You examined the perimeter when exiting the building. The neighbors that had come out of their house when you and Taehyung pulled up had since hurried back inside. Perhaps they were merely minding their own business or watching. This was a tight knit town. People didn’t move in nor did they move out. People stayed the same here, you’d be a large topic of conversation amongst these people. 

Taehyung walked up behind you and rested his head in the crook of your neck. “What do you see?” he asked. 

“Nothing much,” you announced, a smile on your face as if he just said something endearing. “I’m certain they are playing the waiting game. Seeing how interesting we are, how cautious they need to be. Push and pull, when they push we pull,” you stated. 

“I hate waiting games...”

“Get ready for four months of waiting.”

---

The night air blew through the home in slow waves. You watched as the street was lit with a flickering lamp roughly twenty feet away. No one had shown up at your abode, and you didn’t think they would for a while. 

This wasn’t an American sitcom where the new neighbors move in and everyone starts baking pies. This was a strategic move on the townspeople and Feng’s part. Allowing time for observations and possible encounters was a key part in the beginning stages of any sort of stake out/undercover mission. 

Feng was already suspicious. You didn’t have to know anything about his involvement in the town for that to be a solid fact. His most devout following, holed up in a small town now being invaded by outsiders? Background checks were no doubt in progress.

And they’d find exactly what you wanted. Lives painted like pictures in a story book. Rocky beginnings for Taehyung, where he grew up on the streets but was adopted into a good home and cared for until he met you in college. Love at first sight turned into marriage. And here you were, married, a home to call your own. No doubt children in the future. Perfect, but Taehyung’s dent was what made it less suspicious. A crime record thrown in for good luck. You having one parking ticket...

One you definitely refuted. 

Before the two of you had went to sleep you managed to get your mattress in your bedroom and Taehyung unpacked a box of dishes. Although the emotional day had taken its toll on the pair of you. Grabbing your sheets you made the bed and you and Taehyung collapsed down onto the mattress happily.

Although, the same nightmare kept running through your mind...

The day you made your mistake. 

The day you hurt an innocent. 

The very reason you were in this mission right now, was because you were impatient. You wanted the glory of taking down a criminal, not caring about the life that would be at risk because of your greed. That day haunted you...

You were sitting up in bed, looking over your phone to distract yourself. Cell reception wasn’t the greatest here so you’d settled for scrolling through pictures. Photos of you and friends that had been given names and assigned cell phones as well. A mother and father, a sibling for good measure. So many people strung in this elaborate web of lies. 

You fell on a photo you didn’t recognize. One of you, drinking coffee in the office. You looked flustered, stressed and not wholly interested in what you were doing. Your eyes wandered to Taehyung who was sleeping in the bed beside you. 

He seemed peaceful, which was impressive seeing as how you were struggling to catch an ounce of sleep. 

“If you keep staring I’m going to think you want something from me,” Taehyung murmured.

You flinched at his voice, but otherwise remained passive. No wonder he looked so peaceful.

“Can’t sleep either?” You asked, locking your phone and setting it on the floor. Your bed wasn’t on the frame yet and your bedside tables are still in the truck.

“I don’t sleep much no matter where I am,” he sighed, sitting up and rubbing his face. 

“It’s quiet here,” you announced, eyes casting over the moving truck in the front yard and for sale sign gone from the lawn. Taehyung lazily rested his head on your shoulder. You did your best to subtle the flinch from the unexpected contact. You had to get used to Taehyung’s displays of affection. People could be watching you at any moment.

“These people here are creepy, almost like they aren’t real,” he whispered. 

“We technically aren’t real either. Fake lives made for us like a script for a play,” you concluded. 

“But we’re using our real names, isn’t that a big taboo for this sort of work?” he asked. 

“Perhaps, but, you respond naturally to your own name. Even a variation of it, if I were to call you Kihyun or something, your response would look forced. Unnatural. But calling you Taehyung,” you said, looking at him. 

Subtly he tilted his head towards you, waiting for you to continue. He acknowledged his name without registering it in his brain. Something very common that a lot of people don’t notice. But, it’s easy to observe if you know what you’re looking for.

“Interesting notion,” Taehyung mused. 

“Pseudo-Science. Barely science,” you joked. Taehyung breathed a laugh before pulling you back down into bed with him. You squealed unattractively while struggling against his embrace. Taehyung hissed in disapproval.

“You know, I’ve never seen a new bride so unwilling to let her husband hold her,” he reprimanded.

“Perhaps if you played the role of a husband better, I wouldn’t be so unwilling,” you scoffed. Taehyung just rolled his eyes and kept you in his arms. 

“Just shut up and go to bed, before you give me a fucking headache,” he complained. 

“Good night Taehyung.”

---

The next morning you woke to the smell of coffee brewing. You got up and found the mattress empty beside you. Taehyung was already awake and the smell of food also alluded to his state of alert. You grabbed your robe from atop the boxed besides your mattress and pulled it on, heading towards the kitchen.

Taehyung stood next to the stove with two mismatching mugs and silverware that definitely didn’t belong together. 

“Don’t you dare bring out my mother’s nice ceramics for this,” you warned, smiling and wrapping your arms around him. Taehyung bumped your hip with his while handing you a mug. 

“I put creamer in it, I hope that’s alright,” he smiled. You nodded and took a sip, already warming up from the chill of the morning. 

“It’s awesome, thank you,” you sighed. “Fuck it’s going to suck getting the rest of our shit in here,” you whined. Taehyung’s eyes bulged at your vulgar tone. 

“Perhaps we could hold off on that for a while and eat breakfast?” he asked, holding a plate up for you. Quickly, you took it and hurried towards the island to eat. Taehyung laughed as you jumped up on the counter and used the built in appliance as your couch. 

“This is so good,” you moaned, licking your lips. The thick coating of grease from the bacon made your lips shiny and Taehyung found himself staring, despite not wanting to. You wiggled a little, bobbing your head back and forth while you ate. 

“You’re, like, dancing on our island,” Taehyung said, rubbing his face in disbelief. 

“Food is good, sometimes you just gotta dance with the good things in life. Like this bacon, deserves a quality head shimmy,” you noted. 

“I’m glad I could provide you with head shimmy worthy bacon this morning,” Taehyung stated.

“My head shimmies are only for the most elite pieces of bacon, so consider yourself lucky,” you snarked. He laughed and began to eat his food as well. 

It was silent, save for the clinking of your utensils on mismatched plates. 

You were thinking to yourself about your performance. Had anyone seen you so far, they would assume you were a happy couple. However, you weren’t that touchy feely. Newlyweds normally couldn’t keep their hands off each other. If you didn’t increase intimacy, then no doubt your facade would start to crack. 

“We should probably have sex today,” you noted, hopping off the counter. 

The sound of Taehyung choking filled the room. 

“Babe?” you asked, hurrying over and rubbing his back. Taehyung’s face was red and he was obviously startled by your statement. 

“Jesus, fuck! Are you trying to kill me?” he asked, while you got him a cup of water. 

Well, a bowl of water is what you managed. He gulped down the liquid as his breathing evened. 

“Taehyung, we’re a couple. That just got married. We live alone. What else do you think we would be doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, probably setting the house up? Starting to investigate a litte-”

“Taehyung, there are no doubt people watching this house. If we don’t act like we love each other, then we’re already doomed. We aren’t going to have real sex, just throw a blanket over us and then dry hump me or something,” you said, trying to think of ideas. 

“Really? Dry hump you? Under a blanket?” he said. 

Taehyung didn’t find the idea of dry humping you repulsive, it was just less fun than actually getting to fuck you. Because, oh boy, hate fucking you would be incredible. Although, it wouldn’t be the passionate love making that you were probably trying to convey. 

“Okay, but I can’t promise that I won’t get a boner in the middle of it,” he sighed. 

“Taehyung I will bite your ear off,” you warned.

“So kinky already, darling,” he breathed. 

“Okay, you stink, go take a shower,” you demanded, pulling away. Taehyung huffed and pouted, following you closely.

“Baby~” he whined, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“Taehyung,” you smiled, however your voice was severely irritated. 

“Let’s have fake sex, then I can go take a shower, yeah?” he urged, pulling you against his body. 

To an on looker, it was no doubt a boyfriend or husband trying to coerce his wife into getting frisky. But you did want to get more of the truck unpacked. 

“Not now, shower then come help me unpack some more,” you stated, placing a hesitant peck on his lips. 

Taehyung frowned before pulling you in for a deeper kiss. You fumbled lightly on your feet, getting pulled closer into him. Taehyung wrapped your body up in his arms and moved his mouth against yours aggressively. He sucked on the delicate skin of your lips, so hard you were certain they’d bruise. 

“Ouch, Tae,” you winced. 

“Mmm, you actually kiss pretty good,” he murmured, moving back in to seal his lips against yours. 

“Loving, tender kisses Taehyung. Not trying to fucking eat my face.”

Taehyung moved away and tried to act playful when he smacked your butt before heading to the bathroom. You rolled your eyes before going to get the keys for the truck.

Again the morning was just as silent. They really must be scoping the situation out. Much like you and Taehyung were. There were a lot of variables right now. Many ways for the whole plan to go wrong. It made you uneasy. But this was your specialty.

Making a new life here was going to be difficult. However, right now wasn’t the time to be doubting your skills. There was too much at stake. You weren’t going to be the reason more people died and another criminal got away.

You started pulling in more boxes, managing to get the frame of the couch out of the truck and into the living room as well. You were sweating and your poor arm stung with a fresh scrape from the day before. You looked at the couch and decided that right there would be good enough for now. Running out to the truck you grabbed the couch cushions and throw pillows so you could sit down for a minute and relax.

After placing the last pillow down the sound of the water shutting off made you turn your head. Taehyung emerged shortly after with his boxers on and drying his hair with a towel. Rendered speechless for a moment, you cleared your throat before turning back to the box that was being used as an impromptu coffee table. Lots of picture frames sat inside.

Many of you and Taehyung and some of you with your family. Taking out your wedding photo you smiled. You knew that Taehyung was pissed in the photo cause you had just stepped on his toe in your heels.

Warm arms wrapped around your waist and you relaxed into his embrace. “Bathroom isn’t bugged, so at least we have that privacy,” he murmured into your neck. 

You nodded and set the picture down. Bending forward you grabbed a couple other frames and moved to place them in different areas.

“Didn’t you say we should bring in the rest of the big furniture before putting the fragile stuff up? We don’t want it to get broken baby,” Taehyung scolded.

“It’ll be alright. Plus I want to look at these now,” You pouted. Taehyung took a couple and started helping you put them up as well. 

You two started decorating and joking around. From the outside it was a happy couple having fun. However it was a strategic move. Making the two of you look non threatening was the most important role right now. Taehyung was set to start his job at City Hall in four days. You were to start working at home as soon as you could. 

But there was much more preparations to make. Like lunch.

“Baby, want some lunch?” You asked, turning to him. Taehyung shrugged and brought his hands to your stomach.

“Mm, not hungry for food babe,” he spoke as he brought you into his embrace. You wanted to cringe but forced your body to relax in his arms. 

“Honestly, you can’t keep your mind from what I said earlier,” you whispered.

“Hey, if we want to make it believable you should just let me fuck you here in the living room,” he growled.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, despite your best efforts. His voice rattled your bones and made you want to break. Newlyweds normally couldn’t wait to set up a bed nicely...

You could fake it here in the kitchen. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw a reflection of light. It was either a camera or binoculars. Someone was watching you both right now.

Bringing your mouth to his ear, you stated instructions. “Taehyung, there’s someone watching us right now. Reflection at 11:00 o’clock,” you informed.

“I noticed,” he said, furrowing his brow to make it appear as if you said something intimate.

“We need to do it out here,” you stated.

“This seems like a lot of work,” he moaned.

“Kiss me and I’ll continue,” you murmured. Taehyung brought your mouth away from his ear and connected it to yours. You moved against his body eagerly, rolling your hips against his. Taehyung groaned and buckled against your body, biting your lip as you whined into his mouth.

“How do we do this?” He asked as he came away for air, moving to kiss your neck and shoulder longingly.

“The couch, I’ll ride you. Your back will be to the observer. So, we’ll mime the action of you and I having sex. But really we’ll just be dry humping,” you explained.

“Okay, I’m going to pick you up and take you there,” he announced. 

You blushed. You realized you’d much rather Taehyung grind against you on a couch for an audience than carry you to the couch. You were a special agent, specialized in camouflage and undercover operations... yet you still fussed when your jeans didn’t fit the same. You still got mad at yourself for eating the whole tub of ice cream... again...

“Taehyung wait a sec-ah!”

You were hoisted in the air and Taehyung carried you to the couch. You clung to him like a child and you couldn’t help the unattractive squeak you made as he threw you onto the cushions.

“You’re not going to convince them you love me if you’re acting like a teenager with stupid insecurities,” he whispered. You pulled him in for a kiss to conceal the frown and no doubt rude remark that would escape if you allowed yourself the option.

His lips trailed your jawline, making you squirm underneath him. Taehyung grinned at your pathetic reactions to his actions. You gripped his shoulders, pulling him out of view of your observer... well the one you knew of.

“I’m going to take off my shirt,” you said. Taehyung nodded, holding your hips as he kissed your lips with longing. You reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, throwing it to the floor. Taehyung made an odd noise at the back of his throat, making you raise your eyebrow in confusion.

“God, I didn’t know you were hiding those under the stupid office uniforms, holy shit,” he complained.

“Taehyung!”

“How far can I go?” He asked, coming in to kiss your neck.

“T-this is as far as I want, are you okay?” You asked, making sure his comfort was recognized too.

“Absolutely,” he breathed, coming towards your chest with open mouthed kisses. You tangled your fingers in his hair, encouraging him to move more.

“T-Taehyung,” You whimpered as he bit at your bra.

“One day I’ll get you out of this,” he growled before hauling you up and onto his lap. The straps of your bra fell down onto your biceps and Taehyung’s pupils blew up.

You leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on his nose, cheeks and finally one to his lips. He adjusted his hold on you and you nodded. Grabbing your pathetic shorts you mimed moving them out of the way, then you moved to get Taehyung situated too.

“How should I...?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Just, I’ll dry hump you. It’s fine,” you breathed. He seemed like he was going to protest when you gripped right above his pelvic line. His hip jolted, miming the reaction of you taking him out of his pants. Giving a demure smile, you slowly shuffled forward to place your center against his lap.

Taehyung breathed in sharply, biting his lip hard. “What’s wrong?” You asked, placing a hand on his cheek gently.

“I’m fighting every urge in my body right now, so just hurry up,” he growled. A small shudder ran down your spine as his words took weight in your head.

Would it be so bad for you to give in and let him fuck you here?

Yes, yes it would.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized lamely, moving your hips against his gently.

“Fuck,” he croaked, gripping your waist tightly.

“A-Ah, Taehyung,” you whimpered, placing your hands over his. You looked up at the ceiling, as if you were in utter bliss.

“So good baby,” Taehyung encouraged, “keep going.”

“Fuck, Taehyung,” you growled. 

This was bad, your mind was starting to cloud with the burning arousal beginning to raise in your stomach. You really were starting to want him. The way his brow furrowed, it really looked like he was filled with pleasure at the moment. 

“I might come in my boxers,” he huffed out as you ground down particularly hard against him. 

“That’s fine, a real orgasm is better than a fake one,” you rationalized out loud.

“Shit, babe, Y/N,” he moaned, bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. You open your mouth and let his hot tongue slide in to greet yours. 

Kissing Taehyung was quickly turning into a drug you didn’t want to give up. Fuck, it felt so good. His plush lips against your own, practically forcing your mouth to mould with his. Taehyung was gripping your hips, almost as if he was using your body to get himself off. It was so dirty, raunchy and hot. Hearing his soft whimpers made you wet, cheeks bright red at the idea.

You cried out for real when your clit bumped the growing bulge in his boxers.

“That’s the hottest sound I’ve heard, fuck I love you,” he growled out. You squeaked out an ‘I love you too,’ soon after. Taehyung planted slobbery kisses along your collarbones and chest as he panted harshly against your skin. 

“Cum inside me, Taehyung,” you moaned out, feeling a climax brewing in your lower stomach. 

“Ah fuck!” Taehyung sobbed out, bucking his hips wildly against your own. You just needed that little push, something to get you over the edge. 

“So close, so close,” breathed into the air. Taehyung heard your silent pleas, because soon you felt the bulge of his hot erection directly against your little nub, sending you spiraling into the precipice of bliss.

Taehyung cried out your name, holding you closer to his frame. You collapsed against him, feeling your panties sticking to you uncomfortably. Taehyung shivered, his hot breath fanning across your cooling skin.

You shakily ran your fingers through his hair, kissing his sweaty hairline with a tenderness that could only be given in post-orgasmic bliss. Shit, what have you done?

“Tae,” you said, urging him away from you. 

“Hmmm?” he whispered, groggily. 

“You and I both need to clean up,” you said, coughing in discomfort at the end. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he said.

Helping you up you took a glance at the window in your peripheral. They weren’t watching any longer. “We’re clear,” you said, rushing towards the bathroom to clean yourself up. 

You shut the door and slid down in, trying not to let your heart beat out of your chest wildly. The sound of the other shower turning on again signalled that you were clear to exit, going to the bathroom before heading out to get another pair of panties and shorts on. 

You were certain you wouldn’t sleep at all tonight.

---

The day finally came when Taehyung began his first day at work. You fussed over him all morning. Tying his tie for him, making him a travel mug of coffee and breakfast for him. Taehyung had to admit, it wasn’t so bad having you for a wife.

“Baby, I really gotta go or I’m going to be late, on my first day!” 

“Okay okay, just one more thing,” you smiled before leaning in a placing a delicate kiss on his cheek. “Have a great day,” you encouraged. 

“I will, don’t miss me too much,” he teased. As he unlocked the front door you were both surprised to find two men standing there.

Taehyung immediately shut the door off a little more, protecting you from their view.

“Can I help you gentleman?”

“We’re here on behalf of Mr. Feng. He wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood,” they both presented Taehyung with some kind of campaign propaganda. 

“Thank you, I’m going to be late for work. Baby, have a good day. Gentleman,” Taehyung said, taking the flyer and shutting the door. You watched as Taehyung moved down the driveway, the men in suits following behind him like a funeral procession. Your eyes followed your husband until he was out of sight, making you shift with unease. 

This would be the first time you’d be apart since the whole mission began. For some reason your chest was tight, something you hadn’t been expecting. It was ridiculous. The only reason you were feeling this way is because you weren’t really alone. There was always someone watching. You were certain that was the cause of your unease. It had to be.

Taehyung texted you a few times throughout the day. Making your chest loosen slightly, knowing he made it there safely. Even if he was a jerk, that didn’t mean you wanted anything bad to happen to him. Well, nothing too bad...

You started your day by moving some more furniture around, getting the kitchen table put together and all set for later on in the evening. You were going to make dinner tonight before Taehyung came home so he had something to eat after a long day at work.

You couldn’t place it, but knowing someone was coming home to you was... comforting? Even if it was the pain in the ass Taehyung, the thought didn’t bother you as much as you believed it should. 

The rest of your day passed by uneventfully, doing some data analysis on your laptop for work. Something Taehyung no doubt picked out for you to do because of your detestment of data worksheets back at the office. Dick. 

But the company you worked for didn’t know anything but you were a newlywed needing some extra cash on the side while her husband went out to work for the day. Plus, this gave you another set of alibis if needed. She was on her computer at such and such a time. Because no doubt it was being tracked. 

You pulled up your messages and sent a quick one to Taehyung. He responded quickly, sending a few hearts after he told you he’d be home soon. 

Quickly you headed to the kitchen and began the real test. Cooking. You weren’t a bad cook by any means, but you usually cooked ramen noodles and things of that nature. So a full fucking chicken was a little intimidating.

Cutting the vegetables and starting the oven went smoothly. You buttered the chicken, slathering the meat in butter and garlic, throwing some thyme in there for good measure. You remember Taehyung mentioning that his mom used to make a recipe similar to this. One he loved. 

The idea of a small Taehyung sitting at the counter, begging for some food made your head spin. W-What are you thinking? This is just a mission, and Taehyung is just a guy who is assigned to be your partner. That’s all this is. All it ever will be. 

Taehyung came home just as you were pulling the chicken out of the oven. He came over and pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek before looking at the mashed potatoes, broiled vegetables and chicken that were being placed on the table by his wife. You bent over after dropping something on the floor. His mouth watered at the sight. The food also looked good...

“Baby, look at all this. Did you really make this stuff?” he asked, coming over and setting his briefcase on the counter.

“Yeah, it was a bitch and a half to make though, let me tell you what. This chicken here, if it weren’t already dead I would’ve taken my pistol and shot it,” you huffed, remembering the tying and stuffing and everything that made you aggravated with cooking the damn thing in the first place.

“Well, it looks great, can I have a seat?” he asked.

“Yeah! Go for it, I’ll get us some wine,” you said. Running over to the cabinet and pulling out two wine glasses.

“I see we’re going fancy tonight,” he said. 

“Well for my husband, anything,” you smiled.

“Thank you baby,” he answered as you set a wine glass next to him.

“Next, do you want red or white?” you asked.

“Red,” Taehyung said, marveling at the domestic nature of this interaction.

Is this what normal people did? Came home to a freshly cooked meal by their significant other and just talked about casual things? Not coming home to an empty house. Stitching themselves up after a bad knife fight. Watching as their blood went down the drain... Was this the marital bliss he heard about?

You came over with a bottle, popping the cork and pouring him a sample to see if he liked it. “How does it taste? Want a little more?” you asked. Taehyung took you in during this moment. You were beautiful. Cheeks flushed and looking flustered as you tried to play your role of dutiful wife. It made him want to paint again...

“Yeah, I’ll have a glass. It’s good, you should have some too,” he said as he watched the berry colored liquid fill the glass.

“I will,” you announced, sitting across from him and pouring yourself some as well.

Taehyung looked at you as you swallowed down some of the bitter sweet liquid in your glass, throat bobbing as it pushed the alcohol down and into your bloodstream. Cheeks turning pink he smiled as the two of you continued to drink. 

“Y/N, honestly, this meal was fantastic,” Taehyung said, looking at you as the second bottle of wine overwhelmed him.

“Thanks, I tried,” you stated, swallowing down the remaining wine in your glass.

Taehyung leaned forward on the table, looking at you with interest.

“What did you want to do before becoming part of the agency?” He asked, nonchalant.

You looked up at him, eyes bigger than your head. 

“Tae! What if-“

“No one is listening, believe me,” he said, grinning at you with his boxy grin.

“I don’t think-“

“Don’t be such a priss, tell me,” he urged.

“I’m not a priss!”

“Whatever, just, tell me something about yourself. Something interesting,” he pleaded.

“Fine, fine... I-I wanted to be a ballerina okay?” 

Taehyung’s eyes widened.

Then he snorted.

“Aren’t ballerina’s supposed to be graceful and shit? You tripped putting on your pants this morning,” he smirked.

“I’ll have you know that for seven years I danced five days a week for four hours a day,” you protested.

“Prove it,” he scoffed.

“Fine, I will,” you said, standing up. 

Slowly bringing yourself together you started a familiar routine you did all the time as a child.

Lifting your leg up you grabbed your thigh, straightening your leg above your head before lowering it to your other thigh, spinning slightly before getting up on pointe. Taehyung’s eyes were watching your every move. It looked like you needed a partner. He stood and grabbed your waist as you stretched your arms out. 

Jumping in his grasp you turned to look at him.

“Taehyung, what are you-“

“Just feel, keep going,” he said, taking your hand in his.

You weren’t sure if it was the wine or your own emotions taking over, but before you knew it, your lips had crashed onto his. Taehyung grunted in surprise. You wrapped your arms around his neck and urged him to kiss you deeper. Licking at his lips, begging for entrance. Taehyung didn’t hesitate. He opened his mouth and greeted your tongue with his. The wet smacking sounds had you throbbing beneath your jeans, something you were desperate to get out of. 

Grinding against his front Taehyung lost his breath to you. “Fuck, mm, like that babygirl.”

You whimpered when you felt his prominent bulge for the first time this evening. Shit your panties were sticking to you at this point. But Taehyung pulled away a few moments later. 

“We shouldn’t do this,” he murmured against your swelling lips.

“Why not?” You whined, gripping his hands as they settled against your hips.

“We can’t go back once we do this. Having interpersonal relations in the field, it gets messy. What if I get hurt or kidnapped? Then they have leverage on you,” he explained.

“Let me at least suck you off,” you complained. Taehyung groaned in the back of his throat. 

“Fuck, we shouldn’t,” he stated, brushing the hair away from your face.

“Please, please let me taste you,” you begged, your wine addled mind taking over. “Do you not want my mouth?”

“Fuck... Yes, I do want that mouth on me more than you can believe,” he said, running his thumb along your wet lower lip. Taking his thumb in between your lips you smiled and tugged on the flesh gently. Taehyung growled at your teasing before looking at you with his dark eyes. “Get on your knees for me,” he commanded. You nodded frantically before falling to the floor in front of him. Taehyung watched with rapt attention as you undid his slacks and brought out his semi-hard erection from his underwear. 

Your mouth salivated at the sight of his thick cock sitting in your warm palm. Taehyung hissed when you ran your hand over his sensitive length for the first time. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Blood rushing to your head, making it spin. But all you cared about was pleasing the man in front of you. Without much hesitation you gave a fat lick from the base of his cock to the head. Taehyung moaned, his head lulling back slightly. You brought the head into your mouth, suckling gently, moving your tongue around the sensitive area.

“Don’t tease me,” he snarled out, looking down at you with dangerous eyes. Complying with his demands you brought a majority of him into your mouth and throat, coughing lightly when he hit the back. He groaned in pleasure, finding your hair and pulling it into his fist. “That’s it baby, suck my dick like a good girl,” he praised, watching as strings of slobber started to form from your mouth to his cock. Bobbing your head back and forth, you built a rhythm for him. 

You hollowed out your cheeks, moving your tongue underneath his shaft and around to stimulate him. Taehyung huffed, trying hard not to come down your throat already. He was intoxicated not only by the wine but by you as well. Your beautiful eyes looking at him underneath your lashes. He could barely breathe when you looked at him like that. Those big eyes sparkling with lust and want.

Taehyung rolled his hips forward slightly, gauging your reaction. You moaned at the force promised behind those hips of his, as he pushed himself further down your throat. 

“Can I fuck your mouth baby? Would you let me fuck that goregous mouth of yours?” he asked, sprinkling praise in with his request. You nodded fast, relaxing your throat and giving him the thumbs up to go ahead. 

He didn’t wait a moment longer before he pushed himself into your mouth and down your throat. Taehyung whined at the tight feeling of your mouth and throat closing in on him, feeling like a vice against his cock. Pulling back out he let you suck in a couple breaths before picking his pace up again. You gagged on his dick, making noise and moaning in pleasure. Taehyung was lost above you, focusing on the sensations of your moaning against him.

“Mmm, fuck baby, just like that,” he breathed out, watching and drool collected on your chin. It was filthy, messy and perfect. You took him entirely, nose touching his pelvis and you swallowed hard. Taehyung cried out, gripping your shoulders and pulling out of your throat and mouth. You coughed at the actions, not suspecting for it to be so intense, but god if you didn’t want him to cum in your mouth. You needed it.

“Tae~” you whimpered, shuffling forwards on your knees to try to put him back in your mouth. But he stopped you.

“Listen baby, this is going to go one of two ways. Either you keep going and I cum down your throat, or I can shove this cock in that pussy and cum inside you that way. Which would you prefer?”

Your body shook with want at the second option.

“Inside my pussy,” you said, already moving to shrug your sweater off and stepping out of your jeans. 

“Come here then baby,” he said, opening his arms for you. You rushed forwards, bringing your lips to his before you could even think about anything else. Taehyung opens his mouth and licked your lips perversely. You opened your mouth at once, letting him take full control of the embrace. 

“Taehyung, bedroom,” you urged. He at least heard part of what you were saying, because the next thing you knew, your body was being lowered to the mattress in your room.

“Let’s take this off shall we?” he said, removing your tank top and looking at you in your bra. “Fuck baby you have pretty tits,” he growled. You moaned at the praise and eagerly un buckled the back and let the offending material fall off your arms and onto the floor. Taehyung was in action before you could blink, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking on it harshly. 

The sensation sent tingles right to the tips of your toes, making them curl and stretch from his warm mouth on you. With his free hands he held your hip with one and groped your chest with the other, stimulating your body and causing you to arch up into his touch. Taehyung smirked against your skin, laving his tongue against your pert nipple, making you hiss in reaction.

“Such pretty noises you make for me, isn’t that right precious girl?” he said, trailing his lips down your body.

“Taehyung, please don’t tease me. Give me your dick, please,” you whimpered, rolling your hips up against him.

“Tsk tsk, little one. So greedy already,” he smiled.

“Please give me your cock, Taehyung, please,” you begged. “Want it so deep in my pussy, stuffing me full until I can’t breathe. Please please please, give me your cock.”

“Fuck, how could I deny such a sweet request. Alright baby, let me just warm you up a touch okay?” Taehyung pulled your panties down your legs, revealing your wet center to him. “You’re drenched babygirl, who did this to you?”

“You, Taehyung, you did,”

“That’s right precious girl,” he said as he lowered two fingers to your entrance. You relaxed when he ran his middle and pointer finger up your slit, before sinking them inside of you. Taehyung watched as you took him right up to the knuckle. He groaned at the feeling of you, tight and hot around his fingers. He could just picture how you’d feel around his cock and it made him throb with desire.

“Taehyung!” You cried, gripping the sheets underneath you desperately.

“Gonna come?”

“I-I don’t-hah-Taehyung,” you whined out.

“I’ve barely touched this sweet little pussy and I can already feel you clenching like crazy, do you want to come baby? I’d love to see what you look like when you come, I bet you look beautiful,” he said, picking up his speed.

“Taehyung, hngh, please,” you begged, looking at the ceiling with tears forming in your eyes.

“Come for me, come all over this bed darling,” he cooed, using his thumb to stimulate your clit before watching your body tense and finally-finally-release.

“Taehyung!” You cried out, back arching off the bed, shuddering in your orgasm as your mind went blank from everything except the feeling of unadulterated pleasure.

Taehyung smiled at your fucked out face, eyes misty with tears. 

“What a good girl, you came all over me shit, that was so sexy,” he growled. You whimpered and reached for him, wanting his hands on your body.

“Give me your cock now? Please Taehyung?”

“Whatever you want darling, absolutely,” he agreed, lining his cock up with your sopping entrance.

“Fuck!” You cried out when his cock finally entered you. It was so thick, filling you up so well. Taehyung gripped your hips. Letting you ease onto him so he didn’t hurt you. 

“That’s it, what a snug little cunt you have,” he grinned, pressing kisses to your shoulders while he pumped himself inside of you deeply. Taehyung has a hard time thinking clearly like this. The wine and you making him drunk. 

“Taehyung!” You cried out. “So big.” You felt his cock rubbing that spot inside you that made you see stars. Everything was blurry as Taehyung fucked his dick into you harshly. The lewd smacking sounds of skin on skin made your mind whirl with lust. Taehyung wasn’t in a much better state. Watching as he fucked you, tits bouncing and your ass hitting his pelvis in just the right way. 

But he wanted to see your face when you came.

“Lie on your side for me,” Taehyung said, easing out of you gently.

You hissed at the loss, but did as he asked, laying on your side. 

“Leg up,” he encouraged, nestling down beside you. You raised your leg as he instructed, moaning loudly when his cock re-entered you from this angle. 

“How is it? How is getting fucked by my big dick baby? Can you handle it?” He asked, laying his hand flat against your lower stomach.

“I can take it, I’m-I’m a big girl,” you huffed, head lolling back into Taehyung’s neck.

“I know you can take it, does my baby want it harder?” He questioned, giving a few deep thrusts against you, making your pussy clench down hard.

“Anything, I want anything you’ll give me Taehyung,” you pleaded. 

“Anything you say, well then, hold on,” he stated, running his hand between your legs and toying with your throbbing clit. He nestled his head against your cheek, kissing and nipping at your tender flesh.

“Ta-ae-hyung,” you whimpered out. “Feels so good.”

“You too, so fucking tight around my cock. Can barely move... I should’ve fucked you with three fingers to get you ready for this dick huh? Or do you like a little pain with your pleasure, huh?”

Crying out when he pushed against your little nub forcing you back on his dick. Taehyung smiled as you ground your ass against him, trying to get whatever you could from him like this. He didn’t care about tomorrow, all he cared about was you right now. A beautiful woman losing yourself on his dick.

“Taehyung, so close, right there. Yes!” You whined, gripping his hand for some kind of stability.

He interlocked your fingers, using his other hand to continue abusing your clit. “Right here baby, like this?” He questioned.

“Yes! Yes yes,” you said, tears forming in the corners of your eyes for the second time that night.

Taehyung breath came in soft pants against your neck as he worked himself up as well. Your velvet walls were doing him in. Normally he’d last much longer, but with you he couldn’t help but see bliss right around the corner.

“Baby gonna cum,” he warned you.

“In me, cum inside me,” you blabbered out, gripping his hand tightly.

“Fuck-shit!” Taehyung cursed, letting instinct take over as he fucked into you aggressively. It was hard to think straight. 

Not too soon after a shot of warmth encompassed your stomach. That sent you over, eyes blacking out as you slumped against Taehyung who was still cumming.

Giving a few more weak thrusts, Taehyung pulled out, looking at the mess the two of you had made. 

“Fuck you look pretty full of my cum like that,” he commented, kissing your shoulder softly.

“Mmm, Taehyung?”

“Yes baby,” he said, moving his head up to peer down at you.

“Washcloth, I-I don’t think I can walk right now,” you said, turning pink at the notion.

“I’ll be right back, hang on,” he said, standing up and heading to the bathroom.

As the light flicked on, you felt your eyes fall, heavy with the need for sleep.

---

“What the fuck are we going to do?” You yelled at Taehyung.

The pair of you woke up the next morning, dazed and confused. Taehyung was the first one to notice you two were royally fucked.

“I came in you, shit,” he said, looking at the obvious stain on the bed.

“Taehyung!” You cried out, smacking your forehead with your palm.

“Hey don’t get mad at me! You’re the one who initiated all of this!”

“Don’t pin this all on me, you could’ve rejected me!” You said.

“I tried! But you looked at me and then I-uh... Well... Here we are,” he announced.

“Taehyung, if we fuck up this mission I’m a dead woman. That includes me getting pregnant!”

“Can’t I just go buy you some plan b or something like that?”

“We’re married, if they caught you buying plan b then our facade is over!”

“Then I don’t know what you want me to do! I can’t undo what we did!”

You rubbed your temples, trying not to stress over the fact that you could possibly be carrying Kim Taehyung’s child.

“We have to go with this, just, remember our mission. Now hug me, cause we argued,” you said, opening your arms.

Taehyung moved forward, wrapping you up in his embrace.

“Whatever happens, we’re allies. I’ll cover your back if you cover mine,” he said, fingers splayed across your back.

“I got your six.”

---

The following weeks were surprisingly calm. Taehyung went to work and came home. You usually had a meal ready for the two of you. It was domestic ‘bliss’. 

Except for the fact that you and Taehyung wouldn’t barely look at each other. It was hard, feeling the anxiety and panic and not having anyone to bounce it off of. Taehyung was affectionate when you said to be, and the two of you acted your part when you were out in public but... things were different now. And there’s nothing either of you could do about it.

Taehyung came home a little later than usual, you sipping on some wine and staring off into space. He walked over and set his bag down, before kissing your head and pulling you in for a hug. 

“I have some good news,” Taehyung said. 

“Yeah? What is it?” you asked, not looking at him.

“I’m in the running to become mayor!”

Glass shattered on the floor.

“Oh shit,” Taehyung said, stepping back so as not to step on any glass.

You were frozen in place.

“Taehyung do you know what that means for these people? To Feng?”

“What? Like you honestly think I’ll win? You’re crazy,” he scoffed.

“Taehyung what if you do win? What’ll they do when this mission is over? What will they do when they find out their mayor-” he quickly moved in for a kiss. You wiggled against him for a moment before going still. Taehyung worked his mouth over yours with ease, something you weren’t expecting, but weren’t upset over either.

“God you are so annoying sometimes. Listen,” he said, moving so he could start cleaning up the glass you dropped. “If I get an inside position, show Feng that I’m serious about wanting to be loyal to him? Then I’ll get inside information that’ll be influential in his takedown,” he explained.

“Taehyung if you think they’ll give it to an outsider than you’re dumber than I thought,” you sneered.

“You don’t see them the way I do. Don’t interact with them the way I do. I’ve gained their trust, Y/N, something you haven’t done,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I’m a housewife, what do you expect me to do?” you said, placing your hands on your hips.

“The guys and I are going out to dinner tomorrow night. Be my date, and play nice with their wives. See if you can get any information out of them,” he offered.

“Okay, I can play the doting wife role,” you said to him, standing up.

“Hey watch out!”

“Ouch!” You hissed in pain as a shard of glass cut deep into your heel.

“Y/N, watch where you walk I wasn’t done cleaning yet,” he said, rubbing his face.

Then, his face went pale as he saw the crimson liquid coming from your body.

“Ow, fuck,” you whimpered, using the counter to balance as you looked at your foot in pain. Taehyung quickly swept up the rest before he was kneeling down to take a look at you.

“It’s pretty deep, I think you need stitches,” he said, examining your bloodied heel.

“I-I’m fine,” you whispered, trying to keep the dizzy spell from taking over.

“No, you’re not. You need to go to the doctor. Come on, the clinic is like not even a fifteen minute drive. Get your ass in the car,” he demanded.

“No, I’ll wrap it in gauze and it’ll be fine,” you declared.

“Y/N,” Taehyung warned.

“Taehyung,” you mocked.

“I’m not fucking around,” he said, standing up.

“Neither am I,” you countered.

“Fine, be that way you little shit,” he said before bending down and picking you up bridal style in his arms.

“Taehyung! Put me down!”

“Not on your life,” he said as he grabbed his keys and walked towards the door.

He got you in the car, a towel wrapped around your foot before he took off down the road.

The pair of you were silent as he drove, just going through the night without anything being said. Taehyung looked at your foot and picked up the speed a little bit. You looked out the window, not wanting to look down and see the bloody mess that was your foot. It ached so much, making you want to whine in pain. But you ignored it, keeping a poker face the whole time.

Taehyung pulled into the parking lot, undoing his seatbelt and coming over to your side. Before he could pick you up again, you held your hand out to stop him. “I can walk,” you argued.

“Don’t get stubborn now, just let me take care of you,” he said, sounding moderately annoyed with you. But you couldn’t help the fluttering that took over in your chest. Taehyung leaned down and brought you into his arms, fussing with you for just a moment before he started to walk inside.

“Hi, how can I-Oh goodness!” The nurse who was sitting at the front desk jolted as Taehyung brought you to the counter.

“Can my wife please get some help? She stepped on some glass at home and now I’m worried that she needs stitches,” he said, calm and collected.

“A-Absolutely, let me just page the doctor and Martha get them a wheelchair for her!” 

Soon Taehyung was settling you into the wheelchair, wrapping his blazer around your shoulders to keep the chill of the night out. The pair of you waited for less than five minutes before the doctor came out and greeted you both.

“Good evening you two! Taehyung! It’s great to see you,” the doctor said, giving Taehyung a firm handshake.

“I wish we could meet under better circumstances,” Taehyung said softly.

“Now, let’s get you back to an examination room and take a look at that foot,” he said, beckoning Taehyung to follow him. You felt him push you forward carefully, not getting too close to the walls or anything of that nature.

When the pair of you were in the examination room the doctor started the questions.

“Name?”

“Kim Y/N.”

“Age?”

“21.”

“Marital Status.”

“Married.”

“Are you pregnant?” he asked. You bit your lip for a second before answering.

“I-I’m not sure,” you said, worrying your lip with your teeth. You chanced a look at Taehyung in the corner, but he seemed as calm as he was driving here.

“We’ll get a blood draw done then, just to double check. But there are certain antibiotics we don’t use if you’re pregnant so we’ll steer clear of those ones okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Now, take me through what happened,” he said.

“I dropped my wine glass and stepped on the glass on the floor,” you said, wincing at how stupid it made you seem.

“Well certainly did a number, so I’ll get that glass out and flush the wound. And I’ll need to get a few stitches in there. Next we’ll do your blood draw then a shot of antibiotics and steroids and you should be all set my dear!” he said, smiling.

“Thank you,” you said, gripping Taehyung’s jacket tightly.

“I’ll be right back, just sit tight,” he said, leaving the room.

“You seem nervous,” Taehyung said, sighing.

“Of course I’m nervous, who isn’t when someone is about to stab you in the foot repeatedly?”

“Please, the needle is so thin you won’t feel a thing,” Taehyung scoffed.

“Shut up, it still hurts,” you whimpered out.

“I’m right here,” he said, reaching over and taking your hand in his. You stared down at your joined hands, not so sure what to think.

Then the doctor came back, a tray of utensils in his hands.

“Alright, the nurse will come back with your shots. But we’re gonna do the stitches first,” he explained putting some gloves over his hand.

You tensed as he approached, Taehyung adjusted himself so that he was directly behind you. His head brushed your shoulder as you stared down at the doctor. 

“Baby, look at me,” Taehyung’s low voice echoed in your ear. On instinct you turned to face him. Taehyung rested his forehead against yours, rubbing soothing circles into your wrist. “Just focus on me baby, no one else is here, just us two.”

“Tae,” you whimpered, gripping his hand. 

“It’s alright, shh, it’ll be alright I’m here,” he said, kissing your forehead and bringing your head into his neck so you wouldn’t look.

“On the count of three I’m going to pull the shard out, I want you to take a deep breath on three for me okay?”

You whispered an answer, too focused on how good Taehyung smelt and how warm his body was against yours.

“One, two, three,” the doctor said, calm as could be.

You yelped in pain, Taehyung right there to soothe your cries.

“Look at that, you did so well baby. It’s alright, he just needs to clean you up,” he said softly.

A burning cold and numbing took over your heel as Taehyung continued to keep your focus on him and him alone. Whispering sweet nothings into your ears and placing gentle kisses to your head and face. The doctor continued his work diligently and before you knew it, the gauze was in place and you were almost ready to go. 

The doctor performed a quick blood draw and Taehyung stayed with you through the whole thing. Holding your hand and rubbing your knuckles as he drew even more blood from your body that evening. Once he had what he needed the doctor bid the two of you farewell, saying to drop by the pharmacy for your medications.

“Thank you hyung, it means a lot that you helped her out,” Taehyung said, standing to give the gentleman a fond farewell.

“Anything for you Taehyung, after getting that grant for the clinic, I’ll help you in any way I can! Now, Mrs. Kim please be careful to not walk on your foot for at least two weeks. Taehyung you should take a few days off until she’s settled into a routine. Nice to meet you Mrs. Kim, Taehyung landed a keeper,” he said before exiting the room.

“A grant for the clinic huh?” you said, raising your brows at him.

“Yeah, part of my job is delegating where the money goes,” he said, shrugging off your many questions.

“Fancy pants over here,” you said, scoffing.

“Yeah yeah whatever,” he replied, never letting his fingers leave yours.

A few seconds later a nurse came in with a tray of shots lined up.

“Hi sweetheart, we’re just going to give you an antibiotic, painkiller and a steroid, does that all sound okay to you?” she asked in a kind voice.

“Yes, that’s fine,” you agreed.

“Okay I just need you to drop your pants for me. Are you her husband?” she asked, looking at Taehyung.

“Yes,” he said.

“Would you help her get up on the table and then step outside please,” she requested,

Taehyung nodded, getting you up and out of the wheelchair and up on the table without much fuss. It was when he turned to leave you panicked a little.

“Tae, you’ll be right outside right?” you asked, biting your lip.

“Yes baby, I’ll be right outside the door, just a few pokes and we’ll head home,” he said, kissing your hand before stepping out of the room.

“That’s quite the man you have there, Doctor Namjoon said he was very sweet while putting in your stitches,” she said, wiping your butt with alcohol swabs. 

“He’s a keeper,” you smiled.

A couple pokes later you were out the door, Taehyung behind you.

“Now the painkiller we gave her is pretty strong, it’ll make her a little loopy, so just keep your eyes on her,” the nurse said.

“Got it, thank you so much for your help,” he said, before wheeling you out into the parking lot. 

Your head was spinning lightly from the painkiller, making you giggly. Taehyung picked you up and set you in the car buckling you in for good measure.

“Taehyung~” you laughed.

“Yes?” he asked, looking at you in confusion.

You burst into laughter at the sight of his face. Taehyung simply sighed before putting the car in gear and taking off. 

The ride was mainly your laughter and Taehyung trying not to smash his face into the wheel. But when you got home Taehyung carefully pulled you from the vehicle, careful not to bump your foot or head when extracting you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck easily, cupping the nape of his neck with your palm. He didn’t falter as he carried you into your home, shutting the door with his foot. He kept you in his arms, carrying you all the way to bed, setting you down gently. But before he could remove your arms from his neck, you brought him in for a gentle kiss.

It was different than all the others you’d shared.

It wasn’t passionate or steamy, no lingering touches or wanton desires fueling your actions. You wanted to express your gratitude for him. Just saying thank you because you couldn’t put your thanks into words. He’d changed so much since you first met him. Even though he was still closed off and could be a massive dick sometimes, you were still excited to see him when he came home. Loved hearing the genuine compliments about your food. It was all Taehyung. And you wanted to know more. Any little detail he’d slip you’d take it. Because you really weren’t sure if you wanted this mission to end as much as you did before...

Pulling away, Taehyung breathed against your lips softly.

“What was that for?”

“Just... Thank you, for what you did tonight and-and thanks for coming home to me every night and putting up with me and I really want you to know that-”

“Sure, what else would allies do? If I was cold and cut off to you in that hospital it would blow our cover, I did what I had to do. Namjoon is pretty good at detecting bullshit so sorry if I laid it on a little thick. But he bought our act, so good job to you too,” he said, scratching his neck.

It was like a glass of cold water was dropped onto you. 

Allies...

That’s right. That’s all you were to each other. You weren’t actually husband and wife. The marriage was a sham and you would get it annulled the second the mission was over. At least that’s what you wanted before...

“But I’m going to take a shower, so rest up, I’ll call work in the morning and let them know what happened. Night,” he said, standing up quickly before closing the door behind him.

Tears stung in the corner of your eyes, but you forced them back. You wouldn’t cry over him, not like this. Not now...

But before you knew it, tears were racing down your face as you cried yourself to sleep. Dreaming of a marriage to a man who’d never think of you like that.

---

You were sick again this morning.

Taehyung felt the bed shift as you got up and hobbled your way to the bathroom to puke up whatever dinner you’d made last night. This had happened for the fourth day in a row. You getting up, getting sick then coming back to bed as if it never happened. You hadn’t said a thing to him about it, but he knew. And he couldn’t help the way his stomach clenched when he thought you could be pregnant.

This morning was the last straw. 

He sat up and waited for you to walk in and when you did his heart lurched. You looked sleepy, and like you were parched. But most of all, you looked scared.

“Taehyung,” you said, looking down at the floor nervously.

“We need to get those results,” he said dismissively.

“No shit sherlock,” you snarked. “But ever think that I might have the flu or something?”

“Influenza is coughing, what you’re talking about is a virus.”

“Okay doctor, sue me. My results should be at the clinic. We can go there and get them,” you said.

“I’ll pick them up after work today, is that alright?” he asked, raising a brow at you.

“Yeah, whatever works I guess,” you said.

“Alright.”

It was silent.

“Taehyung?” you asked, coming towards the bed, your heel almost back to full strength after the incident a few weeks ago.

“Yeah.”

“What do we do if I’m... well if I-uh,” you stammered.

“If you’re pregnant? Well... We’ll deal with it, I guess,” he said, sighing and rubbing his forehead.

“They wouldn’t be an it, Taehyung, they’re a baby, a person,” you said, getting a little worked up.

“Listen, we’ll deal with it when the time comes, this mission is over in a month and then you can go and-well...”

“You aren’t suggesting what I think you are, are you?” you said, hurt flashing across your features.

“Y/N, think about it. We’re spies. Espionage Agents. Do you think our lifestyle is one suited to having children? Leaving them with a nanny all day and then not knowing if your parents are going to come home, them leaving you in the care of strangers while they move you all over the world? It’s the loneliest life I could imagine,” Taehyung said, eyes not meeting yours.

“Taehyung were your parents...?” you trailed off, not wanting to believe the truth.

“My parents were D3s with the IEA. They died when I was thirteen, I didn’t even know they were gone until three weeks later when the agency showed up at our door. I know that life, Y/N, I know that hurt. I don’t want anyone to feel that way. Not because we were stupid,” he breathed.

“What if I kept the baby, left the agency...” you thought aloud, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“Y/N, think about what you’d be doing. You never really leave the agency. They always know where you are, threaten you with what you did in your past over your head. When you sign up, you’re in it for life,” he explained.

“Taehyung I couldn’t do what you’re asking, I can’t,” you said, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Listen, we don’t know for sure. Let’s wait until we know the facts before we start making scenarios up in our heads.”

“Okay...”

---

Taehyung was driving home, your test results in the passenger side.

He couldn’t open them. As much as he hated to admit it, he was scared shitless too. What was he supposed to tell you? How could he get you to see, that this wasn’t a good situation. But, nothing was set in stone until you opened that packet.

Walking up the driveway he saw you in the window, putting some finishing touches on dinner. His heart swelled with something. Something he’d never known before. He couldn’t place this feeling, but he didn’t hate it... He didn’t hate you.

As much as he tried, you wormed your way into his mind frequently. What you were cooking for dinner, how your heel was feeling, if you really were pregnant with his child or not. All of these and more were taking up space in his normally focused brain.

But when he walked in the door, he discovered a glorious sight.

You, in a dress that he hadn’t seen before. Yellow and covered with flowers at the bottom it was flowy. But what he noticed first was that it accentuated areas of you that usually were understated.

Like your stomach. A tiny little bump visible to his eyes suddenly knocked the wind out of him as he dropped his briefcase, making you jump.

“Taehyung! You scared the piss out of me,” you complained, placing your hand over your heart, feeling it beat wildly against your chest. You saw his distress and immediately came to his side. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling faint? Did you eat today? What have I told you about skipping lunch-”

“I-I’m fine,” he said, shakily holding onto the wall and pulling himself together.

“Are you sure? You look pale,” you said, cradling his face in your palms.

Moving away from you he nodded.

“Yeah... Just... Your test results are there,” he said, pointing at the coffee table he collapsed into when he saw you.

“I’ll look at them, you sit down and eat. You worried me,” you said, moving towards the coffee table slowly.

Your heart was going insane inside your chest. You weren’t sure how you’d react to either situation. But Taehyung had already sat down, waiting for you to open it.

Carefully you ripped open the envelope, pulling out the papers inside with delicate fingers. You looked through your bloodwork, noticing nothing of severe importance. But then your eyes landed on the pregnancy test results. 

Pregnant: Yes.

The little circle of red around the three letter word made you want to hurl. But at the same time, you were oddly at peace with the idea. It had taken a lot for you to come to this conclusion, but, if it was meant to be then... So be it. 

“What does it say?” Taehyung asked, looking at your calm demeanour. 

“I’m pregnant,” you say softly. Taehyung’s head snaps up, looking from the paper to your stomach where his child was for certain growing now.

“Fuck,” he said, sitting back in the chair, looking up at the ceiling.

“What do we do Taehyung?”

“We need to call Seokjin, immediately,” he said, standing up.

“You’re right,” you said, nodding slowly.

“I’ll call him now,” he said, standing up.

You wait patiently as Taehyung puts the call on speaker phone.

“Yah, do you know what time it is you little punk, why are you calling me?” he asked.

“Hyung, we’ve got an emergency,” Taehyung said, leaning closer to you.

“What is it?” he asked, mildly concerned now.

“I’m pregnant, sir,” you said, biting your lip.

“You’re... what?”

“Hyung she’s pregnant and...”

“And let me guess, you’re the father Taehyung,” Seokjin said through the phone, distress in his voice.

“Yes, hyung that’s right,” he said, pink tinging his ears.

“Get her out of there Taehyung, that’s an order,” Seokjin said, not sounding at all like he was joking.

“Sir, I can still-”

“I’ll be sending a envoy to come and collect Ms. Y/N by the end of the week. Taehyung if anyone asks you where she went, she went to stay with her sick mother for a while. That should provide you with enough cover until Feng is in town,” Seokjin instructed.

“Yes sir,” you said, head hanging low.

“And Ms. Y/N,” he said, making your ears perk up.

“Yes, sir?” you responded.

“I’ll accept this as your resignation from the company. Goodbye you two.” With that he hung up, leaving you and Taehyung bewildered.

“What?” you screamed.

“Y/N-”

“Taehyung you motherfucker!” you shrieked, taking off your shoe and chasing him around the house with it. 

“Y/N! Please hang on a second!”

“What am I going to do you son of a bitch?!”

“Hey listen, I’ll-ow!” he hissed when you chucked your shoe and it hit him square in the butt. 

“No you listen, I just lost my job because of this! What am I going to do, Taehyung? I’m alone, pregnant and scared out of my fucking mind. What. Do. I. Do??”

“You aren’t alone,” he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“Taehyung when they force me to leave the agency because of this I get a limited amount of money, not nearly enough to support me and a baby,” you said, rubbing your temples.

“I-uh, I can pay child support or... something like that,” he said, coughing at the end to hide his discomfort.

“Taehyung,” you said, already stressed at the idea.

“I’m serious, I’ll send you a check every month. How much do you think you’ll need?”

“You aren’t listening to me,” you said, exacerbated.

“What do you mean?”

“Taehyung, what if I don’t want to take money from you?” you said, placing your hand on your hip.

“I’m confused,” Taehyung complained, continuing to look up at the ceiling.

“I’m so fucked,” you murmured, looking down at your stomach in concern.

Taehyung glanced over at you. Eyes brimming with tears as you cradled your stomach in fear. He felt sick to his stomach. You were both to blame for what happened. He should take responsibility, ease some of your worry. But what would he do? Could he be a good father for this child? Could the two of you work together to make this okay? Did he even want to try?

Yes, he did want to try.

Because you were his wife. Through an agency or not it was still an honest to God marriage on paper. So, you both kinda fucked up, but how you handled it would be paramount for the child.

“Let me help you,” he said, standing up.

Looking up from your tummy in shock, you weren’t sure if you believed him. “What are you talking about,” you said.

“I’ve got your six if you got mine,” he announced, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Taehyung a baby isn’t easy. It’s a lifetime commitment. We’d be bound together for life,” you explained.

“Sounds good, I accept this mission,” he said, smiling.

“Taehyung!”

“Let me take care of you, and in the future if something happens, take care of me,” he reasoned.

“Tae this isn’t-I don’t know about this,” you whimpered.

“Trust me, Y/N, trust me this once,” he asked, walking over to you.

Staring into his eyes you didn’t see a hint of a joke or humor in them. He... He was serious?

“Okay Taehyung, I’ve got your six if you’ve got mine,” you sighed.

“Partners?”

“Partners.”

---

The envoy was dispatched to your location a few hours ago. A female agent, playing your sister, would be picking you up and taking you back to the IEA. Taehyung had been almost glued to your side the previous days, saying that he didn’t want anything to happen to you.

“Taehyung,” you groaned, laying in bed around twenty minutes before the car was supposed to arrive. He came into the room, looking at you with a neutral expression.

“Yes?” he asked, eyes locking with yours.

“I-I’m nervous,” you said, twiddling your fingers.

“The envoy will take you to the airport and then you’ll have a meeting with hyung, he’s not so bad. Especially since you’re pregnant. Hyung might be a jerk sometimes, but he’s not heartless, you’ll be safe Y/N, I promise.”

“And the second Feng is dead?”

“I’ll be on my way back to you,” he said firmly.

“Thank you Taehyung, for everything,” you said, feeling emotional.

“Don’t cry, jeez,” he admonished, coming to wipe your tears with his sleeve.

“Sorry, I’m just going to miss you,” you sniffled. Taehyung smiled softly at your tone, placing a gentle hand on your stomach.

“I’m going to miss you too, and your food. Honestly did you refrigerate some of that broccoli soup you made? If you don’t I might starve to death,” he complained.

Giggling you nodded your head. “Yes Tae, there’s at least four servings in there, just don’t eat it all in a row, I don’t want you to get sick,” you warned.

“Yes dear,” he said, rubbing his soft fingertips into your skin. “How big is the baby right now?” he asked, keeping his eyes locked on your little tummy.

“I’m about eight weeks so around the size of a kidney bean,” you explained.

“Our little bean,” he said, smiling.

“Yeah,” you grinned back.

The sound of a car door shutting came from up front. The two of you turned your heads and sighed. “Come on, I’ll get your bag for you,” Taehyung said, lifting what was supposed to be a little weekend bag filled with the necessities. 

You nodded and let Taehyung do the heavy lifting while you went to gather a couple things from the bathroom. Your sister, played by Yeri of accounting, came walking up smiling brightly. The two of you embraced quickly, hugging for a long time before Taehyung huffed like a little kid.

“Okay, off my wife,” he said, pulling you back for a second.

“Sheesh Taehyung, didn’t expect you to be so possessive,” she joked.

“Alright baby,” he said, ignoring Yeri all together, “I promise the second this is over I’ll come to get you,” he said smiling.

“Okay, I’ll hold you to it,” you beamed back.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. Taehyung and you hadn’t really been as touchy feely recently, so to finally have his lips on yours felt amazing. Wrapping your arms around him contentedly you could hear Yeri gagging in the background.

“Come on kids, time to go,” she said, clapping her hands.

Breaking apart Taehyung tucked your hair behind your ears, “I’m gonna miss you,” he said, genuine sadness creeping into his features.

“I’ll miss you two, we both will,” you said, holding your stomach. Taehyung knelt to the ground and placed a kiss on your stomach.

“You both better behave,” he warned, shooting you a heated glance before standing up to give you a final hug.

“See you later, Taehyung!” you said, getting into the car.

Taehyung waved as the two of you drove down the road.

Time for phase two.

---

The drive between you and Yeri was quiet.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you said softly, looking at your thumbs.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, waving her hand.

“Does the whole office know that I’m...” you trailed off, thoughts wandering.

“Pretty much everybody knows, sorry, Director Kim came out looking like he had just gone through an emotional rollercoaster. We all were kinda thrown for a loop when he said an envoy needed to be put together and stat. Everyone kind of murmured when Hoseok from HR spoke up about the reasoning for paperwork. And it sorta slipped that you had a bun in the oven,” she explained.

“Aw man,” you said, rubbing your face with your palm.

“I’m sorry that you got fired over this,” she offered.

“I knew that if I fucked up this mission in any way that it would get me terminated. Just didn’t think fucking would be the problem that got me fired,” you sighed.

“So, you and Taehyung huh?” she asked, eyes focused on the road.

“Oh, we’re not... like, serious or anything,” you scrambled.

“Serious enough to stick with you for a baby, that's a big time commitment,” Yeri commented.

“Well, we’re partners, we watch each other’s back and help when the other one needs it,” you repeated what Taehyung had told you nights prior.

“But with a baby? I don’t know Y/N, I’d just keep your eyes on the skies and head on the ground for right now. Try to readapt to civilian life,” Yeri suggested.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t work,” you mumbled, leaning your head against the window.

“Taehyung isn’t exactly a people person, how do you think he’ll react with a little people showing up in his world. Crying at all times of day, demanding feedings and toys and affection. It’s going to be overwhelming for the both of you,” she said.

“I-I get it, Yeri.” 

“Sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to be such a jerk about it. You know Taehyung better than probably anyone at the agency. If you believe him, then I don’t see why the two of you can’t make it work in a healthy manner,” she soothed.

But the damage was done.

A sense of unease settled over your stomach as you felt your heart clench painfully. Nothing was keeping Taehyung from going out and getting another woman. Someone prettier, a better agent who wasn’t so sensitive, someone who could handle him and his intense personality with ease. Not you who would bicker with him every chance you got.

“Y/N, put your head down,” Yeri demanded suddenly.

“What? Why-”

BANG!

A gunshot ran out over the road, taking out Yeri’s review mirror. The car swerved as Yeri tried to keep it from becoming an easy target. 

“Fuck!” Yeri screamed, hitting the guardrail on the other side of the road. 

“Yeri! Please be careful!” you said, holding your stomach in fear. 

“I can’t do much when someone is shooting at us Y/N!” 

“Who would be shooting at us anyways?!” you screamed, grabbing the bar above the window to stabilize yourself.

Another shot rang out, hitting a tire and causing a blowout. The car wobbled, fishtailing as the back end was no longer stable. You gripped onto the bar tightly, remembering your training and attempting to remain calm.

“Yeri, do you have a gun in here?” you asked.

“Yeah, glove box, why?” she asked, trying to drive with a blown tire.

“Because I know exactly who these people are, and they fucked with the wrong person,” you said, pulling the pistol out of the glove box and throwing the magazine in before rolling down the window.

“Y/N! What the fuck are you doing!”

“Saving our lives, maybe,” you said, pulling yourself up and out. Wrapping your leg around your seatbelt stabilized you, giving you better aim. 

Firing you nailed the passenger who was shooting in the head, watching as if flew back against the seat. Glass shattered from the bullet’s entry into the windshield. Next you aimed for the driver, shooting threw the broken windshield, hitting him in the throat. The car swerved behind you, hitting the guardrail and flipping before coming to rest on it’s side.

Smirking you pulled yourself back into the car, looking ahead of you. Only for your stomach to drop.

Dead ahead were three more cars, waiting.

Yeri slammed on the breaks, sending you forward into the dash. 

The two of you were fucked, blocking your only path out with a blown up car. Yeri seemed to notice because she pulled out her holstered weapon, aiming at the guys standing outside the car. The next thing you knew, the windshield was shattering, Yeri’s head slumping forward against the steering wheel, laying on the horn.

“Yeri!” You cried, gripping her shoulder and shaking her aggressively. 

The men swarmed the vehicle, grabbing at you and pulling you out of the vehicle kicking and screaming.

“Let me go you fuckers! I’m going to kick all of your asses!”

Once they finally got a good grip on you, you were held kneeling in front of...

“Doctor Namjoon?” you asked, eyebrow raising.

“Y/N, how pleasant to see you here,” he said, kneeling down to your level.

“What are you-how-when...?” you asked, confusion taking over your entire being.

“Well, you see Y/N, Mr. Feng would like a word with you and your husband.”

“What?”

“Mr. Feng, the one who supplies our town with everything it needs. The one who built our clinic, the one who set up the adoption center in town, would like to speak with you and your husband. We wouldn’t want to keep the good man waiting would we?” he said, standing up and motioning to the other men standing around you.

“Wait, Doctor Namjoon! There must be a mistake, what did we do? Why does Mr. Feng want to speak with us?”

“Because your husband has just won the election for mayor.”

---

Taehyung couldn’t believe the news.

He was now mayor.

Finally he could take down Feng and restore peace.

His co-workers were blowing up his phone non-stop. But there wasn’t a single message from you. Not that you had to message him or anything, but... it’d be nice to hear from you. Taehyung was caught up in his thoughts about you he almost didn’t hear his phone ringing.

The caller ID was yours.

“Hello? Y/N? Where are you? Did you make it to the airport alright?”

“Taehyung!” You screamed.

His blood ran cold at the desperate sound in your voice.

“Hear that little man? We managed to get ourselves a visitor,” a sinister tone echoed over the phone.

“Feng,” Taehyung growled.

“Now now, Taehyung, wouldn’t want to upset me. I’ve got two for the price of one after all,” Feng’s low voice warned.

Taehyung felt sick. You and the baby were in danger.

“What do you want?” Taehyung asked, desperate to save you.

“A resignation letter, brought to the address in the message that will follow this call,” Feng demanded.

“And if I refuse?”

“Two birds with one bullet,” he said, laying it out.

“Is she safe?” He asked, gripping his pant leg, anger suffusing his entire body.

“For now, the clock is ticking Taehyung.”

And with that, there was a click and the line went dead.

Taehyung flew into action, grabbing his bag and throwing on different clothes. 

“I’m coming baby,” he promised into the air, hoping to God you heard him in your heart.

---

Your body ached, hands tied behind your back without any care to blood flow or being able to feel your fingers. 

You were tied to a flimsy wooden chair, feet taped together. Feng and his men were surrounding the area, everyone seemed to have a position. You tried to find points of weakness, something to exploit, but there weren't many flaws in the way these men were placed. If Feng was good at something, it was security.

Looking around at the several areas of escape, you were disappointed to discover men stationed at every one of them. Of course, it would be a rookie move for them to leave any exit open around someone like you. Although you weren’t sure if they knew your true identity or not.

The likelihood of them knowing wasn’t high. They hadn’t pressured you or asked you any questions since your arrival. They’d merely tied you up and left you to wait. It was agonizing to sit still for the longest time, your hands burning from the rope being tied too tight.

The men around the warehouse were all milling around, all keeping their eyes on the doors. Feng was not a patient man, something you’d figured out. As he stood there, staring at the entrance where Taehyung could come through any moment.

“Boss, we should just kill her then kill him. We have the numbers on them,” one person spoke up, looking bored at the back.

“And what good would that do me? Taehyung is respected in the community, if he dies then the people won’t trust me anymore. Do you want my people not to have faith in me anymore? Do you want me to constantly be battling like this against stupid people who try to work against my tide? I am going to rule China one day, and it won’t be because idiotic people like you tell me what to do,” Feng growled out.

“S-sorry sir,” he whimpered out.

“Shut up and go check the perimeter,” Feng said, barking a few more orders before the men scattered like pool balls.

You sat there, silently observing everything going on. They had a standard set up, something two D3s could liquidate easily. But with one of you being compromised, it made it a little harder. Hopefully Taehyung had a plan.

“Worried that your husband won’t come for you?” Feng sneered, looking at you with disgust.

“When my husband shows up, you all should be very concerned about what you do next,” you warned, glaring harshly at Feng with as much venom as you could muster.

“Taehyung is a man of politics and sweet talking, not action. Although, he must have some action to have you end up in this state,” he scoffed.

“I’m known to be a man of action.”

Both yours and Feng’s heads snapped in the direction of the voice.

“Taehyung,” you breathed, so relieved to see him here. But at the same time fear coursed through your veins. This was a volatile situation with lots of variables, you both had to play this perfectly for it to work.

“Y/N,” he answered, coming to walk forward.

You felt cool metal touch the side of your temple and Taehyung halted in his steps, staring at the gun pointed to your head.

“I believe you owe me something, Mr. Taehyung,” Feng said, holding out his hand. 

Taehyung retrieved something from the inside of his jacket, holding it up before setting it down on the floor and kicking it over towards the two of you. Feng bent down to pick it up when you struck.

Lifting your tied legs up you bashed your heel over his head, causing him to collapse onto the ground. Taehyung rushed forward, quickly removing your bindings around your wrists and feet.

“Taehyung we don’t have much time, a majority of the guards will be back soon after checking the perimeter. Once they see your car they’re gonna book it back here,” you warned.

“I know, you act like this is my first rodeo,” he remarked, sounding mock hurt. 

Finally the restraints came off, falling to the ground in a heap. Taehyung didn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, quickly claiming your lips with his.

“Mmm, Taehyung, not now,” you said, pulling away after a few pecks. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” A guard asked, raising his gun and pointing it at you. Taehyung immediately put his body between you and the gun. 

“Feng is just taking a nap,” Taehyung pulled out his gun and shot at Feng, three times. “Permanently.”

“You son of a bitch!” 

Bullets started raining down on the two of you. Taehyung interlocked your fingers, taking off down the warehouse floor. You could hear the metal bullets flying past your ears, making them ring in irritation.

Taehyung continued to pull you down the alleyway, running fast as he could. Your legs burned with the effort to carry your body. You were frightened, adrenaline pumping through your veins at the idea of something happening to you. Taehyung or the baby. But you couldn’t think that way here, it was flight or fight time. And it’s time to fight.

Grabbing Taehyung’s gun you fired off a few rounds, hitting a couple guards towards the top of the railing. But with you standing still, you got a nick in your shoulder, a bullet grazing your delicate flesh.

Taehyung ripped the gun from your grasp and pushed you in front of him, sending your body hurtling forward. “Taehyung let me handle this,” you screamed.

“If you handle it that way you’ll wind up dead, and I won’t have that!” He yelled.

“Taehyung trust me,” you begged, going further ahead.

“I trust you with my life, but not yours,” he said, moving towards the car. Bullets flew past the two of you, one hitting the car tire dead on, having it pop like a balloon. Taehyung cursed as he sent a few rounds off back into the warehouse. You watched as a few men dropped like flies. His aim was deadly, no wonder he was one of the top operatives of the team.

“We need to find transport,” you said, looking at Taehyung.

“I know, but my car is around back, we’d have to fight our way through,” Taehyung said, looking dead ahead.

“Let’s do it,” you said, grabbing his hand and interlocking your fingers.

“No, I can’t risk you getting hurt,” he denied.

“Taehyung give me a gun and let’s get them. I’ve got your six if you’ve got mine,” you said, smiling brightly.

A few moments later, a pistol was place in your hand and Taehyung started moving ahead.

“Cover my back, I’ll go in first, you get any that I miss. Extra magazines are in my pockets,” he instructed as the two of you walked down the suspiciously empty hallway.

A few steps in Taehyung fired his first round. You both kept moving, hands interlocked and moving as one. You two were partners, and you both were going to get out of this unscathed if the other had anything to say about it. Taehyung felt your wedding band rub against his fingers and a new found strength gripped him. 

He wouldn’t fail.

Not today.

You saw movement in the room next to you, taking aim as you fired the round, watching as a man collapsed behind the door. A smirk left your lips as you saw the crimson fluid spill from under the door. Another one bites the dust.

Taehyung fired again, making sure to clear the rooms before heading down the hallway. Suddenly, two men appeared from the hallway in your direction. You squeezed Taehyung’s hand, he instantly flipped the two of you around, firing off two shots in their direction. You heard the distinct thud of bodies hitting the floor when you also took three shots at men coming towards you the new head of the movement.

Two went down easy, the third struggled on the floor, aimed and shot, shooting through the ceiling right in front of you. Running forward you crushed his wrist with your heeled shoe, shooting him through the head for good measure before Taehyung came back, bringing your hands together once more and taking the lead.

“They just keep coming,” you exclaimed, fingers already hurting from the recoil of the gun.

“Hang in there, just a few more, then we’re home free,” Taehyung said, shooting down the hall once more.

“Okay,” you agreed, letting the years of your training take over your body.

“That’s my girl,” Taehyung smiled, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles for a moment before pushing forward through the building.

The pet name sent liquid fire through your veins. You were his girl, you were the one carrying his child, no one else. It was the two of you against the world right now, and you were going to win.

“I see the door, I’m not sure if there’s an alarm on it or not, but be prepared to run,” he said, approaching the metal door with an air of caution. He checked around the seal, not seeing any wires or things of that nature that would trip an alarm, nor did he see any sensors that could also send a signal back to the main area of the warehouse.

“I think we’re in the clear. The car is right around the corner when we get down the stairs, okay? You go ahead of me alright. In case this door does trigger an alarm, I want you to get in the car and go. If I’m hit or I go down, you go without me, you understand?”

Panic suffused your body. Leave? Without him? Never.

“No, I won’t go unless you’re there with me,” you argued.

“Listen, if I go down there’s no way you can get me in the car by yourself. You’re carrying precious cargo baby, best not to risk anything,” Taehyung explained.

“Tae I’m not going to leave you,” you said, shaking your head.

“Baby listen to me, I need you to make it out of here. If I lose you now I-I don’t know what I’ll do,” he said, looking at you with concern.

“You won’t lose me, and I won’t lose you. We’re getting out of here together, Taehyung,” you said.

“Then let’s go,” he announced, opening the door. The two of you bolted down the stairs, not waiting for the alarm to trip or anything of the sort. Your heart was hammering in your chest, blood pounding in your ears. God, it had been so long since you felt like this.

The fear, the adrenaline.

It all made you realize what a crazy few months this had been. Originally, you hated Taehyung, hated what he represented. Everything you couldn’t be, just a reminder that you had failed. But in reality he was always there. Like no one else had been. Sure at the beginning it was by force, but after a while, you enjoyed having him around. He ate your dinners with gusto, complimented your appearance, was there for you when the rest of your world fell apart. 

Sure he could be a dick, but there’s a good person under all the bullshit. You wanted to discover that person. The one you had a glimpse of during these months. The one who smiles at every dog, who doesn’t like bitter things, who needs to sleep holding onto you.

Taehyung was the only person you could rely on, and you for him. The pair of you made a pact, all those months ago. Help me, help you. And the two of you were in it for the long haul now, a child on the way changed how you saw your life going. You never expected to be a mother.

But if it was with Taehyung, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe the two of you could make it work in a healthy way for everyone involved...

You saw the car, parked just off the road and in the ditch slightly, enough so no one would see it. Another shot rang out as you two booked it across the open dirt clearing around the warehouse.

Making it to the car you flung the driver side door open, when you realized Taehyung wasn’t standing beside you.

“Taehyung!” You screamed.

Looking behind you, Taehyung was there holding his side as if he had run too fast, but you saw it.

Blood.

Everything slowed down. You watched as he brought his hand before his face, staring at the crimson liquid coating his fingers. His eyes looked to yours, clear orbs that stared into his soul. Fuck, he fucked up. And he fucked up bad.

“Go on baby,” he said, falling to his knees.

“Taehyung, no!” you screamed, running over to his side.

“Y/N, get in the fucking car and go now,” he said through gritted teeth.

“No, I can’t just leave you here are you crazy?” you said, holding his side as well.

“Y/N, I’m serious. Leave me now, they’re coming,” he said.

True to his word you heard footsteps coming down the stairs that the pair of you had just run down yourselves. It sounded like a death march approaching you two. Taehyung was shuddering, white button up during red with proof of his injury.

“I’ll fend them off,” you said, holding his head with your other hand.

“No, you won’t. Go now, while you still can baby please,” he begged.

“Please don’t make me do this without you,” you cried, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m sorry, I wish I could... Be there for the both of you,” he said, placing his hand on your stomach. “Daddy loves you... Both of you,” he whispered. Before he went limp in your arms.

“Taehyung, no! Please please come back, I love you too please!” you screamed.

“There they are!”

“Get the bitch!”

With a final kiss you bolt up, firing a few shots at the men before you took off into the car, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

Throwing the car in gear you peeled off down the road, hearing furious screaming behind you. But all you could hear were those words that’d haunt you for the rest of your life.

“I love you too, Taehyung.”

---

“It’s been five months, Y/N, you need to take it easy,” your friend, Park Jimin, said, helping you stand from your seated position.

“I’m only seven months, I got two more to go,” you said, rubbing your swollen belly with affection.

When you returned to the agency without Taehyung, Seokjin immediately knew what happened.

“Was it short?” he asked you as you appeared before him.

“Yes, he didn’t suffer,” you said.

Daddy loves you... Both of you...

Thinking about him still hurt, made your head spin with the memories of everything the two of you did together. 

His body laying in the dirt alone, as you ran to the safety of the vehicle.

Tears sprung to your eyes and Jimin rushed over, shushing you and rubbing your back.

Taehyung apparently had written a will out while the two of you were living in Feng’s little compound. Saying that anything and everything was to go to you. His apartment, his stocks and his trust that his parents left for him. It was all under your name now.

You could easily support your child and send them to any college you wanted without lifting a finger, but you knew that couldn’t work. So you got a job at a local convenience store. Something to pass the time while the baby twirled and kicked in your belly. 

People that came in and cooed over you, asking how you were and how the father was. You put on your brave face and told them he passed, but you were still doing well regardless. An old grandmother approached the check out one day...

It had been slow, no one really coming in except for a few college students and a couple middle aged men. Your feet were heavy with the weight of your pregnancy, but other than that, the day was alright.

Slow days like this were always a little harder on you. It gave you more time to think. Think about the past, the daunting cloud that was the future hanging over you. You must’ve looked distressed because a little old lady came up to the counter, a simple bottle of water in her basket.

“Are you alright dear?” She asked, looking at you with concern.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you said, wiping your eyes lightly to get whatever emotion was there out of them.

“Are you sure about that?” She questioned, looking deep into your heart.

And before you knew it, the floodgates opened. 

“No,” you whimpered out, tears falling freely from your face. 

“Oh my sweet, come here,” she said, opening her arms.

Running around the counter you took the embrace. It was the first time since Taehyung died you felt this level of comfort. Jimin tried his best but, nothing compared to the touch of a mother, someone who knew what you were going through. 

“You don’t have to talk about it, I know that pain. My husband passed before the birth of our third child. I know how badly you must hurt, but my dear, we must live on to celebrate their memory. There's sadness that comes with every passing, but we need to be happy for them. Be joyous in their memory, so that they can live on in us.”

You’d never cried that hard in your life you were certain.

But the old lady you’d never met just hung onto you, keeping you close and patting your head until your cries stopped. 

“Y/N, are you listening to me?” Jimin asked as he sat at your feet, rubbing them after your long day at work.

“Nope,” you said, popping the p for effect.

“I was saying, that we should make a nursery soon. You can’t put it off much longer. The baby is going to be here before you know it,” he said, rubbing out a knot that had been bothering you since near the beginning of your pregnancy.

“I can’t touch his stuff, Jimin, I can’t,” you whisper.

“Then I can-”

“Go in that room and I’ll cut your hands off Park Jimin,” you warned.

“Okay, okay. Then we should at least set up the cradle in your room,” he said, trying to compromise.

“Fine, but can we do it later, I’m super tired right now.”

“Yeesh, you’re such a little baby. Fine we’ll hold off until you have your next day off. Then we’re doing it,” he said.

“Okay okay, whatever,” you complained.

Jimin’s phone rang. You whined at the loss of his hands on your feet but let him go take his conversation. You looked down at your big, swollen belly and rubbed your hands over the flesh there. You didn’t want to know the gender of the baby yet. You weren’t sure what you wanted, but you knew that if they looked anything like Taehyung, your heart would break in the best way. 

Big eyes like his, that boxy smile, broad shoulders and large hands that held yours just so. Tears made their way into your eyes as you thought about him. After five months it still hurt. Not to wake up and have his arm over your waist. Hearing his soft singing in the shower. Not having his snarky comments and kinda rude attitude was even something you missed.

You just missed him...

“Hey, Y/N-oh shit, are you alright?” he asked, coming forward and touching your knee comfortingly.

“No, Jimin. How am I going to do this by myself? I can’t raise a child without him. I’m going to fuck it up, it’s going to go so wrong and I... I don’t know if I can do this,” you whimpered.

“You can do this. You aren’t alone. You know that Joy and I will do everything we can to help you out. Trust in us, we’ll be there every step of the way,” Jimin said, trying to comfort you.

“I miss him... So much,” you cried out, tears flowing freely down your face at this point. Jimin pulled you to his chest, trying to shush you, to comfort you in any way that he could. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t Taehyung. 

After a few minutes you finally calmed down. Jimin explained he had to leave and with a kiss on your forehead he was gone.

You sat on the couch, trying to watch some TV but nothing was getting rid of that feeling. The feeling in your gut that you knew. It was familiar. But you couldn’t pin it down.

Getting ready for bed you brushed your teeth and washed your face. Getting into bed you wrapped up in the blanket. It had been increasingly difficult for you to fall asleep as your pregnancy progressed. Too big to lay on your stomach and back you had to settle for sleeping on your side, something you weren’t used to. And trying to sleep without someone next to you was difficult.

Tossing back and forth all night you didn’t really fall asleep.

You kept hearing noises and having nightmares. 

Watching TV did little to ease your nerves.

You’d been spending time like this recently. So tired you’re desperate to sleep but you know in the back of your mind that sleep is so far away. 

Giving up you decided to go on a walk.

You lived in a decent neighborhood, mainly filled with older couples with no children, so you decided that a nice brisk walk in the fresh spring air would do you well. Struggling to pull on your shoes you heard it.

A rustling outside in the bushes. You waited a few moments before you heard it again. It was large, possibly a young bear, but you weren’t sure a bear would be this far into the suburbs. Again, you listened, this time a cough rang out as you waited.

A person.

Running to the bedroom you opened your bedside drawer and pulled the gun that sat under the false bottom. Gripping it tightly in your hands you moved slowly.

You knew how ridiculous this must look, but you were pregnant, alone and not taking any chances. Worst comes to worst you shoot a bear and call the cops saying you thought you were being robbed. You had a license, nothing would come of it. 

But bears don’t cough like that...

Slowly you approached the door, gun aimed low. You walked with purpose, keeping your posture straight as to be prepared in case someone came up behind you. If this was a robbery, it was likely not just one person. You didn’t want to call the police just yet, because maybe it was dumb kids deciding to take on a defenseless pregnant woman. Easy pray.

Normally.

However, as you approached the door you heard the rustling stop.

You laid your hand on the door knob, preparing yourself for the onslaught of what could be beyond the cherry hardwood. 

Quickly, you pushed the door open, aiming your gun at-

“Meow.”

“What the fuck?” you asked, looking down at a black and brown cat that had situated itself on your front doorstep.

“Meeeooowww.” It drawled at you, looking up and into your house with interest.

“No. Shoo,” you said, waving your gun carelessly into the night.

“Meeeoowww,” it said again, gazing at you with such tender eyes that it made your stomach drop.

“You need a place to stay, is that it?” you questioned, looking down at the animal.

It merely meowed again and moved passed you, strutting into your house like it owned the place.

“Sure, come on in,” you joked, walked back inside only to be stunned by what you saw.

The outline of a man, standing in the middle of your home.

Instantly the gun went up, locking onto his head with deadly precision.

“Who the fuck are you,” you growled, waiting for the intruder to turn around.

“Y/N?”

The gun clattered to the floor.

“What...?” you asked, staring into the face of the man you thought you’d never see again.

Taehyung stood before you, hair much longer than the last time you’d seen him. He looked thinner, but not grotesquely so. You couldn’t help yourself, you walked forward.

“This is a dream, a really cruel dream,” you whispered to yourself as you reached him.

“Baby,” he whispered, as if he was in the same place you were. Star struck.

“Taehyung what are you...” you said, reaching out and touching his face. There were a few scars here and there, but it was the same face, the same man you’d fallen in love with, standing before you.

“Feng’s top operatives are dead, the whole system is shut down, all thanks to us,” he said, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

SMACK.

Taehyung’s head whirled to the other side as your hand collided with his cheek. Coming back with a confused look on his face he faced your anger.

“What the fuck do you call this?” you asked, glaring at him.

“What do you mean?” he said, holding his cheek in offense.

“What are you doing here, you’re dead Taehyung,” you growled.

“No, Y/N, I’m right here, I didn’t die,” he said, moving towards you. 

You placed your hand out in front of you, stopping him in his tracks. “Please Taehyung, don’t do this to me,” you begged.

“Don’t do what? Can’t you see me? I came back for you, for us,” he announced, like a grand scheme that had all gone to plan.

“What us, Taehyung? We never really had an us,” you explained, thinking back to your memories with him.

“The us we wanted to have,” he said quickly.

“Is that even possible for us, Taehyung? Did you think about that? About all these men that are going to be chasing you? And you brought them right here? To me?”

“No, baby, listen. I killed each and every one of them. I made sure that no one would hurt what I want to build with you,” he said.

“And what is that, Taehyung?” You asked, wanting to hear him say it.

“A family, Y/N. I want to build a family, a life with you,” he divulged, looking like an embarrassed school boy.

“Do you really think that’s possible? That your work won’t follow you-”

“I quit the agency,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. 

“You what?” you asked, looking at him in disbelief.

“I quit, Y/N, I’m done with espionage,” he said.

“You’re never done with the agency, you told me that yourself,” you accused.

“No, please hear me out. I wiped my record, everything. They don’t have access to anything anymore. Hyung won’t try to find me, I promise,” he begged.

“You can’t make a promise for someone else Taehyung,” you reminded him darkly.

“How can I convince you that I want this, that I want you more than anything?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered, dropping your gaze to the floor.

“Please, tell me how to fix this,” he pleaded, cradling your face in his hands.

“I don’t know if you can, Taehyung. It’s all so messed up,” you said, tears starting to well up in your eyes.

“God, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I did this. This is my fault,” he said, rubbing his face.

“It’s not just your fault, Taehyung, I didn’t help the situation any,” you said, trying to ease his pain.

“I was so hell bent on getting revenge... I could’ve stopped but I didn’t. I didn’t stop until every last one of them was gone, and it took me too long. I mean, look at you,” he said, gesturing to your stomach. “If I had waited any longer our child would be born and I... I could’ve missed that because of wanting revenge. I’m disgusting.”

“Taehyung stop.”

“Y/N it’s my fault that you’re like this. It’s my fault that you had to suffer and it’s my fault that we-”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed his lips with passion you hadn’t felt in a long time. Taehyung took the opportunity to wrap his arms around your hips, pulling you closer than you were before. Your stomach pressed against his and your baby swirled and kicked and tumbled inside of your stomach. The air wooshed out of your lungs as you felt them wiggle around. Never had they been so active before.

Taehyung pulled away, looking at you with sheer adoration. “I can feel them,” he said, holding the side of your stomach gently. “Can I?” he asked, looking at you with desperation.

You nodded your head, looking down as he fell to his knees in front of you. Taehyung’s hands pushed your shirt up to expose your full belly. His eyes misted up as he wiped at them furiously. “You’re so beautiful, honestly,” he said, placing his lips against your soft skin.

“You’re so full of shit,” you said, laughing. “I’m the size of a whale,” you complained.

“No you aren’t. You’re pregnant, with my baby, fuck that’s so hot,” he groaned, tilting his head back.

“Yeah?” 

“Yes, fuck...” he said, resting his head on your belly. Your baby kicked, making Taehyung’s head pop up quickly. “They kicked! Oh my God, Y/N!”

“Yeah, our baby tends to do that, a lot at night too,” you told him softly.

“Really?” he asked, looking genuinely excited.

“Mhmm,” you said, gazing at Taehyung’s sparkling eyes.

“Y/N,” Taehyung swallowed hard, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you agreed.

“C-Can I stay... with you?”

“What?”

“N-evermind! I’ll get a hotel room or something. Maybe Jin-Hyung will let me stay with him for a while but-”

“Taehyung,” you shushed. He quieted almost immediately.

“Yes?”

“You can stay,” you said softly, “I want you to stay.”

“Really?” he said, astonished.

“Yes, but I’m laying down some ground rules,” you said.

“Of course,” he announced.

“You have to sleep in the same bed as me,” you started. Taehyung simply smiled. “You have to rub my feet when I ask, the first time I ask. And I want you to wash my hair for me,” you said, adding on that last one just to make him annoyed.

“Okay,” he agreed easily.

“And,” you said again.

“And?” he waited patiently.

“And I get to pick the first name of the baby,” you said smirking.

“Can’t we atleast get a list of names we both like together?” he asked, pouting.

“Fine fine, we can do that,” you agreed.

“So I can stay?” he asked, looking for any hesitation in your eyes.

“Yes, Taehyung, you can stay. I want you to stay,” you said again, moving to wrap him in your arms tightly.

“So we’re doing this, officially?”

“I thought it already was?” you asked, holding your hand up to reveal your ring, the one you hadn’t taken off since Taehyung ‘died’.

“You didn’t take it off?”

“How could I? It was one of the only things you ever gave me, besides this,” you said, pointing to your stomach with a laugh.

“I’m not going to apologize,” he said, smiling.

“Don’t want you to,” you said, grinning back.

“Let’s go to bed, my pretty wife,” he said, taking your hand and leading you into the bedroom.

The pair of you laid down, not even wanting to change. Taehyung comfortably wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back towards his body. 

It felt like being whole again, everything was right with the world.

And everything was going to be okay.

---

Everything was not okay.

“Taehyung I swear to fuck if you hit one more goddamn bump in this road I will slit your throat,” you growled, hanging onto the bar above the window for dear life.

“Baby I’m going as smoothly as I can,” he argued.

“Bullshit, it’s like you’re doing it on purpose!” you accused.

“Y/N,” he countered.

“Do not Y/N me right now Kim Taehyung or I will fucking kill you!”

It had started about an hour ago. 

Your baby was quiet, Taehyung and you sleeping soundly when you felt it. A distinct cramp coming from your well... down there.

Readjusting yourself you thought that might help and make it go away. You’d been cramping a lot lately, something the doctor told you was totally normal in your stage of pregnancy. But if it got any more intense then you should probably come in.

Then a sharp stabbing pain made you jolt up in bed. Taehyung was quick to get up too, looking blearily at you in concern.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked, rubbing your shoulder soothingly.

“Nothing I just-ah!” you gasped, feeling another sharp pain shoot through your body.

“Y/N?” he asked, turning to face you more directly.

“I-I think I’m having contractions,” you paled.

“Are you sure they aren't braxton hicks?” he asked, trying to narrow down the issue.

“No. These feel completely different than those, I-I wanna go to the hospital,” you said, moving to stand up when a rush of fluid went down your leg. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he said, staring at your soaked legs.

“Get the car.”

That’s how you wound up driving to the hospital at three in the morning on a Tuesday. 

Pulling into the parking lot Taehyung came around quickly to help get you out of the car. You took his arm, legs feeling wobbly as you tried to stand. Taehyung helped you the whole way, listening to you curse him out while you made your way across the parking lot.

It was a blur from there. Taehyung’s voice the only thing you could clearly make out.

You were in a wheelchair and you could feel the urge to push, you needed to push.

“Taehyung,” you whimpered, reaching for him desperately.

“It’s okay, Y/N, you’re going to be okay,” he said, wrapping his fingers around yours as you made it to the room. 

Doctors were in a flurry around you, people poking and prodding at you, adjusting this and moving that when you finally had enough.

“Stop with all the fucking around and just help me push for fucksake!” you screamed.

Everyone stopped and the doctor towards the back seemed to catch on.

“She’s dilated she needs to push,” he said, coming forward and adjusting your legs in the stirrups so that you could have better leverage.

“Okay sweetheart now take a deep breath and push,” the nurse behind you said. 

Pushing was so hard, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. 

It was as if no matter how hard you pushed nothing would happen.

“Taehyung,” you whined, making a grabbing motion for him. Soon a big hand was wrapped around yours, warmth enveloping you as you felt the urge to push again.

“Come on baby, push, just like they said, you can do it,” Taehyung encouraged.

“I can’t. Taehyung it hurts too much,” you whimpered, grabbing onto him desperately.

“I can see the head! You’re doing amazing!”

“See? They’re almost here baby, just a little more,” Taehyung said, tears in his eyes.

“Do you got my six?” you asked, looking at him with misty eyes as well.

“I got your six baby, till the end,” he nodded.

One more big push and you felt instant relief. 

“Sir, do you want to cut the cord?”

Soon Taehyung’s warmth was replaced by a small body being placed on your chest, crying was all you heard. Instinctually, you brought them to your breast, letting them latch on and drink their fill.

Then a small kiss was placed to the top of your head.

“Baby she’s beautiful,” he cried, nestling his head into your hair.

“She? It’s a girl?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Yes, it’s a girl,” he acknowledged. 

“Oh my God,” you cried, wrapping your arms around your baby, coddling her to your chest. 

“What’s the name?” A nurse from the back asked, probably getting a crib for her ready.

“Rose,” you said, instantly knowing the name was perfect for your child.

Taehyung made a small whimpering sound from behind you, and you knew he liked it too.

Turning slightly you brought him to your lips, a sweet kiss being shared between the two of you. 

“I love you Taehyung,” you said, wiping a single tear from his eye.

“I love you too, Y/N, both of you.”

[greekowl87]

Fic: Vegas Embers

Summary: Written for the Summer Fic Exchange. A post ‘Never Again’ fic. While undercover in Las Vegas for “Summer Getaway in Winter,” Mulder and Scully try to resolve whatever is between them. 

A/N: Cross-posting on Tumblr. [Linke to AO3] | @xfilesfanficexchange Link.

Written for @serahsanguine. Prompt was "summer vacation, with loads and loads of UST, alcohol, jealousy on both parts finally resulting in RST" taken someplace between season 3-7. I hope I did this prompt well. I tried my best to stay true to the prompt, especially on summer vacation part. For Serah  @SerahSanguine. I hope you enjoy. Thanks to @clover-covered-hills for a being a second set of eyes.

Songs referenced: “I Don’t Want to Set the World On Fire.” - The Inkspots “Baby, It's Just You.” - Lynda Carter “Love Me As Though There Were No Tomorrow” - Nat King Cole

The classic song, “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” by the Inkspots, crooned over the radio somewhere in their glitzy hotel room in Las Vegas. The door slammed open with Scully storming in wearing a black dress that hugged her body and Mulder trailing behind sputtering endless apologies. His sharply dressed-suit now sported a large red wine stain down his tie and white collared shirt. “Scully, how many times do I have to say sorry? I’m sorry, okay? What’s done is done. Water under the bridge.”

“You almost blew our cover,” she snapped. “I don’t want to be here pretending to be on summer vacation with you undercover as husband and wife. It was bad enough. Now you had to go and make a fool of yourself and ruin it. Organized Crime was daft to get us involved.”

“There’s nothing else we can do about it,” he signed, dabbing his ruined tie with a cocktail napkin. He shut the door more gently. “The orders came from Skinner. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

The Organized Crime unit desperately needed two agents to pose as a couple for a romantic vacation retreat for married couples titled “Summer Getaway in Winter” that was a front for the mob families in one of their latest money laundering schemes. Someone higher up had tapped Skinner for assistance and, in response, he assigned both Mulder and Scully to go undercover with organized crime and fly to Las Vegas to pose as a married couple and try to gain intelligence about the Di Finamore family’s latest scandal. However, after four days of posing as husband and wife, Mulder and Scully were at each other’s throats.

“This was supposed to be simple, Mulder. Just watch and observe. Then you had to go and ruin our chance by causing a scene! Trying to get closer by getting the autograph of a drag Cher performer is not the way!”

Scully kicked her heels off and lost three inches as she began to take the bobby pins out that had been holding up her hair. She could feel Mulder’s eyes penetrating into the back of her skull and shook out her hair in frustration. “Like me spilling my wine all over my shirt was part of this plan,” he replied.

She heard the acidity in his voice and she kept her steely gaze reflected on her reflection. She could still feel the tension between them. It had been days. Going on over a week. Maybe it was the nonexistent one night stand she had with Ed Jerse that still hung between them. He was still mad at something. Scully shrugged her shoulders. It felt good to have a man give her the attention that she deserved as a woman rather than the FBI agent. However, when she appeared back in the basement office covered with bruises and cuts, claiming her life was her own, that all disappeared. Ever since then, he treated her like an overprotective alpha male and she was sick of it.

“Well, you are awfully convincing about it,” she spat.

“How long is this going to go on, Scully?”

“What are you talking about?” She turned her head slightly as she took out her pearl earrings. “This farce or what this bullshit going on between us?”

“You’re still mad at me about Philadelphia?” he panned.

“And you’re still mad about me having a life outside of what we do?”

“That’s low, Scully, even coming from you.”

“Bullshit, Mulder! Instead of treating me like your pretend wife, you treat me like a whore.”

Mulder’s eyebrows shot up. “Woah! Woah! Now, wait just a second there, Scully. That is low and untrue.”

“Then why are still trying to punish me for a nonexistent one night stand. How many times do I have to tell you, Mulder? I didn’t sleep with Jerse! Get it through your thick head!”

“This isn’t about you and Jerse!” he snapped. “This is about us, Scully! How do you expect us to be husband and wife if we can’t even act like partners!”

Mulder was trying to undo his ruined tie in frustration, pulling and yanking at the silk. Scully came forward in frustration to help him as the radio band sang, “I’ve lost all ambition for worldly acclaim. I just want to be the one you love.”

“The song is rather ironic,” Mulder whispered. He stilled as Scully’s skilled fingers undid the knot and gently slide the tie from his collard.

The song continued hauntingly. “I don’t want to set the world on fire. I just want to start a flame in your heart.”

She refocused her gaze and met his eyes. “We need to come up with another game plan if we want to get the intel tonight.”

“Scully, Dino is gone for that night. You heard him his wife. They’ll be back tomorrow morning for breakfast, which I promise we’ll be there.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Scully rolled her eyes. “You only do things when it’s convenient for you, Mulder. Scully, I’m going on vacation, go to Philadelphia and chase down this lead. Scully, how could you sleep with a man that ended up being poisoned by hallucinogenic tattoo ink? Why on earth did you get a tattoo, Scully?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Why do have to be so controlling, Mulder? I told you, this is my life too! We are supposed to be partners. Do you know what that means?”

“Scully…”

“Part-ner,” she stressed the syllables using her doctor’s voice. “Noun. Singular. Either a pair of people engaged in the same activity. Definition two: be the partner of.”

“I don’t need to recite to me the actual definition of what a ‘partner’ is, Scully. What do you want me to do? I’m trying.”

“Are you really? What has been bothering you most? Are you still mad about me and Jerse?”

“Are we really going down to this road, Scully? Now while we are undercover?”

“We have to have it sometime,” she said. She crossed her arms and stood up to her full five foot two height. Mulder looked away as he tried to finish undoing his tie. “The minibar is stocked full of booze if it makes it easier, Mulder.”

He glanced down at the fake wedding band on the left hand. He bit his lip before considering his words carefully. “Why now, Scully?”

“Well, let’s begin with the obvious,” she started.

She was already unzipping that gorgeous black dress that had been driving him crazy all night as she disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed. The bobby pins were coming out of her hair and he heard the pinging of them as she laid them down on the bathroom counter. Mulder was already growing uncomfortable he felt his blood rush downwards. He tried to rub it away. “Not now,” he hissed.

“Did you say something, Mulder?” Scully called.

“No,” he called. He tore off his tie and dress shirt, revealing a white t-shirt was stained with red wine under it. Scully emerged with her red hair flamed curling and wearing a white, fluffy robe. She stood in front of the bathroom with her hands on her hips. “Scully, are you trying to torture me?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mulder. Are we doing this talk or not?”

Mulder shuddered to hear the boldness in her voice. “I might need something if we are,” he winced. “I’m almost afraid to say anything since you know how to get away with murder legally.”

“I’ll pour us a couple of drinks. This is on the Bureau's dime after all.”

“I suppose it is,” Mulder whispered in reply. This entire situation was already incredibly uncomfortable as far as he was concerned. His rational mind began already screamed that he should full brakes on this entire situation. “Scully, we really don’t have to do this.”

“I think we do,” she answered. “Ever since Jerse, you walk around with a giant chip on your shoulder. You couldn’t even finish your sentence the day I came in all bruised. I told you, Mulder. This is my life too. I won’t let the x-files or the work consume me.”

“So,” Mulder swallowed, using all of his, “how do we start this conversation?”

“I’d suggest talking.”

“It feels like we are incapable of that sometimes, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well, you’re the one with the fancy Oxford education, Agent Mulder. How would you suggest we begin?”

Scully set down two rocks glasses filled with ice and clear liquid. Mulder eyed it warily. “It’s vodka. A very, very good vodka,” she replied to his unspoken question. “The stuff you and I could not afford with our government paychecks.”

She sat down on elegant white leather couches that accompanied the California King bed in the other corner. She folded her legs under her so that her bare toes were the only things that stuck out from underneath her fluffy robe.  Mulder crossed his legs uncomfortably in a vain attempt to hide the growing evidence of his distraction. “How about the way I treated you? Maybe we should just keep my mouth shut before I do something else embarrassing.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Anything I say to you gets me in trouble regardless.”

“Aw, Jesus Christ, Mulder. Quit playing the martyr card. I don’t have time for that shit.”

“Just like you did with Jerse.”

Scully’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I did not sleep with him! I merely spent the night. What the hell makes you think I did?”

“The police reports, Scully! You were wearing a man’s shirt!”

“Doesn’t mean I fucking slept with him, Mulder! You know me for Christ’s sake.”

“Then what do you call it?”

Scully picked up the expensive vodka and downed in one smooth gulp. The fiery liquid burned in her veins and she winced. “I don’t know, Mulder. What would you call it? Being an overprotective ass? Some summer vacation this is turning out to bed.”

“It’s February,” he muttered in annoyance.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re in the desert. Las Vegas. This marriage retreat is ‘Summer Getaway.’ We’re on summer vacation,” she corrected bitterly. “Why the fuck does  the exact choice of words matter, Mulder?”

“So what? Now you’re cursing like a sailor?”

“I’m mad!” Scully slammed the glass down. “I’m mad at you! Do you think that I am incapable of feeling emotions?”

“I don’t know? You are so fucking closed off to the world. How the fuck am I supposed to know what you are thinking?”

Mulder was furious at this point. The combination of being tired of Scully’s closed nature and endless nagging was quickly wearing him down. She frowned and her brow creased with anger. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“What do you want me to do, Scully? How am I supposed to treat you?”

Scully arched an eyebrow. “What are you afraid of, Mulder? Are you jealous?” Mulder recrossed his legs and grimaced. “Does it bother you that I am finally speaking my mind?” She leaned forward, grabbed the other glass, and emptied in one draught. “Or the fact that I am not acting like the usually Agent Scully that you know?”

Mulder could not help but glance down her robe before quickly looking away. He missed her satisfied smile. “What do you want, Scully?”

“I want you to acknowledge me as you used to, Mulder. As your equal.”

“I still do!”

“You haven’t in weeks,” she scoffed. “You’ve been treating me just like any man who has tried to take over my life.”

“Scully.”

She poured another hefty helping of vodka into the two glasses and glared at Mulder. “You know, you haven’t moved once since we sat down. Have a drink with me,” she challenged. “Show me.”

“Show you what?” He asked. “What on earth has gotten into you, Scully? You aren’t acting like yourself.”

She held out the glass and he took it reluctantly. “Maybe it’s the alcohol. What bothers you more, Mulder? The fact that beneath this,” she motioned to her robed body, “or is that fact that I can be more than Agent Scully?” She shook the vodka glass as the ice clinked against the sides, mocking Mulder. “Is it the thought of me with Jerse?”

“Scully, stop it. I think you’ve had enough to drink.”

“This is supposed to be summer vacation. We’re undercover. You know, Jerse took me to some rock bar. It reminded me of something from my teenage years. It was nice to pretend but it wasn’t me.”

“What’s you?”

Scully smiled enigmatically. “You’re looking at me like that again.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t know what to do with me.”

“I don’t.”

“Tell me, Mulder,” she answered. “What do you see?” She sipped the vodka and slipped onto the couch next to him. Her expert blue eyes caught the evidence of him being uncomfortable. “What do you want from me?”

Mulder could see this situation spiraling horribly out of control like an airplane falling to the Earth about to explode. But the look in her eyes pulled at his heart and he found the jealousy that sprung like a vocal no originally ebb underneath her healing gaze. “I was hoping this undercover assignment would be a chance for us to turn the page, start anew. You’ve been nothing but mad at me since we got here. I am tired of us fighting, Scully. I was jealous.” She raised an eyebrow and he corrected himself. “I am jealous. I wish we could really take a summer vacation and just get away from it all.”

“You just had a vacation,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t really that exciting. I would have rather been with you.”

Scully rested her head on her hand and sipped the vodka. “I was really pissed at you.”

“I can imagine. I think you shot me the last time.”

“I still saved you.”

“That’s my favorite scar,” he whispered. He watched her eyes glaze over either from the alcohol or emotions. “I know that sounds a bit macabre but it is true.”

Silently, Scully set the glass aside and leaned closer to him. She glanced down at his lap. “That evidence suggests you are hardly jealous of Jerse,” she murmured.

He tried to pull away but her gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him. “I don’t know what you are trying to do, Scully, or what you want.”

“What do you want, Mulder? Did you wish it had been you?”

“Scully, I don’t think you are in your right frame of mind,” he stuttered trying to push away.  

Scully got up in a fit of rage. “What do you want me to do, Mulder?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “At one moment, I thought we were just partners. The next, after Jerse, I thought you jealous, genuinely jealous. Maybe we could have something after you finally got it through your thick skull that this is my life. I choose who I want to be with. And I see that this…” She gestured wildly to her robe, the empty glasses, and vodka bottle, “was useless.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, standing up suddenly. The blood rushed to the groin again and he winced. “You have me acting like a fool, Scully. I don’t know what you want me to do. Do you want me to be angry? Do you want to pretend what we have is nothing?”

Scully crossed her arms and eyed the enlarged bulge on his suit pants. “What we have is not nothing,” she sighed. “I didn’t sleep from Jerse because of you. You are the one who stopped me. No matter how mad or angry I get with you, it means nothing at the end of the day.”

The radio switched to a new song came on by Lynda Carter, “Baby It’s Just You.” The upbeat jazz ensemble began as she began like a siren. “Like an earthquake starting to roll, I felt my world shake out of control. Like a new world war starting to brew. Baby, it’s just you.” Mulder held out his hand as the song continued.  “Like a cyclone, wild and extreme, I got my mind blown, stalking a dream. Waking up without a clue, ‘cause baby, it’s just you.”

The longest moment paused between them but Scully grasped his open hand and allowed him to pull her close. Roles were forgotten. Work was nonexistent. It was just them. Mulder and Scully. She wrapped her other arm around his neck and pulled him down with gentle pressure. Their foreheads bumped awkwardly and Mulder smiled. Scully pressed against him. “This is for me, huh?”

“For once, I don’t have to hide it.”

They smiled as the singer’s voice continued her siren song. “Help me, help me, rescue my heart. Save me, save me from falling apart. Take me, take me, baby I’m sure. You’ve got the power, you’ve got the cure.”

They swayed together as Scully wrapped her arm around his neck pulling him close. The tempo picked up and she smiled and chuckled. In perfect time, they continued their small little waltz. “I was hoping we could put things to rest,” Mulder continued. “I...I realize that this, whatever it is...we could move forward somehow. Or at least get rid of the bad blood between us that presides over Jerse.”

“I’m willing to move forward if you are,” she whispered.

The song continued and Mulder swayed with her. “Yes,” he promised.

Taking that as a hint, she inches forward, and gently kissed him. It was a simple innocent kiss but the flame swallowed them whole. They broke away briefly to ground themselves in the hotel room. Scully’s hand snaked downwards, her deft fingers unbuckling Mulder’s black leather belt, undoing the button, and zipping down the fly. He took a deep breath and gave a weak smile. “You have me at an unfair advantage here, Scully,” he whispered.

She squeezed him firmly. “I’m a doctor, Mulder. It’s my job to always have the edge.”

He smiled. “Well, Agent Scully, let’s investigate shall we?”

He kissed her again, delving his tongue into her mouth, tasting the drops of vodka from earlier. She moaned in appreciation and began to pull him backward with her to the large king size bed. “Turn out the lights except for the lamp,” she ordered softly.

Her blood was singing as she had fantasized about this moment before. Sometimes it was in their basement office or some motel on the road as they were wrapping up the case. Maybe it had been in a moment of passion or anger. But not like this. The idea of pretending to be someone else was alluring. She played with those cards while she had been of Jerse in Philadelphia but nothing had come of it. Their undercover roles as husband and wife weren’t right either. She twisted off the fake wedding band and placed it on the nightstand. Mulder turned out most of the lights except the lamp she had indicated.

The radio faded to Doris Day and he smiled. “The radio is playing all the right tunes, Scully. Why can’t we?”

“Leave it on.”

The music slowed time as if freezing the moment. Mulder kicked off his shoes and socks. Scully propped herself up on her arms to watch him. “Take off the wedding ring, Mulder.”

“What? How come?”

“Just do it.”

He slipped off the gold band and placed it by the white leather couches. “Now what?”

“Just come here.” He took of the stained white shirt and cast it aside. It was almost like a weight being lifted off of him. He was no longer chained to being Agent Mulder or whatever stupid alter ego the Bureau had dreamed up for their undercover case. He was himself again. They were themselves. “What?”

“Just thinking,” he murmured.

He walked forward, slowly, trying to look confident and in control but Scully burst out laughing. “Stop it, Mulder. You're not making this any easier.”

“First times are never easy,” he answered. He lay beside her on the bed. “I was trying to play it cool. They are awkward, uncomfortable, sometimes forgettable.”

“I’m certain this won’t be.” She propped her head up on her hand and gently traced the puckered wound near his shoulder. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

“Yes. You?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “No regrets, Scully. Whatever happens between us, it doesn't change a thing.”

“What happens if it does, Mulder,” she asked. Scully let her mind drift to malignant possibilities of what they had destroyed. “What happens…”

Mulder silenced her with a searing kiss that zapped away any lingering doubt that she had between them. She let released her arms and rolled onto her back pulling Mulder closer. “No ‘what happens’ or ‘what ifs’ tonight, Scully.” He kissed her again on her forehead, her temple, her lips. She unconsciously arched her back slightly. “I was jealous. I only imagined what Jerse did to you. I was filled with regret. Regrets that I wasn’t the one who could show you how you deserve to be treated.”

He leisurely ran his hand down her bare thigh. He arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Well, it’s you now,” she whispered.

“Do you want to pretend some more?” He kissed her softly. “Pretend that we are on summer vacation? Have another drink?”

“I don’t want to cloud my senses anymore,” she told him. “I’m already quite buzzed and feeling quite good. No. I want to do this just as us, Scully and Mulder.”  She raked her fingers through his hair. “I want this to mean something.”

“It already does.” Mulder chuckled and pulled at the knot bounding her robe. She breathed sharply as the cool air hit her bare skin and Mulder’s warm fingertips traced her smooth abdomen. “You were holding out on me, Scully.”

“Hm. Maybe I had a feeling or maybe I finally knew what I wanted with my life,” she told him. “There are still some barriers between us.”

“I want to take my time first.”

In true Vegas fashion, the radio changed to Nat King Cole’s “Love As There Is No Tomorrow.” They smiled at one another as Mulder peeled the robe back like a forbidden fruit. God, how long he had dreamed and fantasized about this moment. Scully, before him as the amazing goddess who stood by him over the past four years as the chased monsters in the dark and became his staunchness defender standing over an autopsy table or by his side in front of Skinner’s desk. He, himself a feeble mortal, allowed to worship at her alter.

Mulder’s fingers traced her body, slowly working his way upwards. Nat King Cole continued in the background. Scully closed her eyes and let her simply enjoy the moment. He gently traced his fingers around her left areola before trailing his tongue and smothering it away with a kiss before moving onto the right. Scully continued to run his fingers through his hair and sigh with ecstasy.

Scully didn’t know why she had let herself go for so long without feeling this...this moment. Everything that encompassed it. He was gentle in his explorations, revenant even. He tore away the remains of the rob as she took of the remains of his lower clothing. Time stood still as they explored each other. Mulder worked his way down, his lips and tongue leaving a path like breadcrumbs to the ultimate treasure. Scully sighed with pleasure as her entire body shivered.

The reaction did not go unnoticed by Mulder. He continued to run his hands up and down her body reverently, trying to memorize every aspect of her and this moment. Scully closed her eyes. Jerse didn’t even come close. Ethan was just to proper and his nagging pressure to marry him properly was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Jack continued to treat her as his subordinate, never fully able to disengage with the role of instructor. While their relationship had its sweet moments but mostly was one-sided. They mutually ended it after three months.  Then Daniel. She fell for him because of what he represented. She ended it because he wanted to tuck her away on a shelf like a replica of a bygone era as his wife.

But Mulder…

She gasped as he struck gold. It had been so long since she allowed herself to be a woman and simply be present in the moment. This recent strike of rebellion was not born out of resentment towards Mulder (although he did act like an ass). But it was a sudden desire to change things between them.  A few weeks ago, Scully had experienced a horrific nose bleed. She tried to put it out of her mind but then there was a second nose bleed. At a regular check-up, she mentioned it off handly to her doctor who suggested seeing a specialist for high blood pressure. After all, Scully was in a very dangerous profession. But because of Philidelphia and this stupid undercover assignment, she had yet to find the time.

But in the back of her mind, despite the doctor’s assurances and her own medical training, she had the growing feeling of something bad happening. With that growing feeling slowly starting to gnaw at her insecurities, she decided to take a chance tonight and confront Mulder and see what would happen. She was not complaining at all.

She left his nose nudge that sensitive area away, that marvelous sunflower shucking tongue of his play her like a violin. The warmth was slow at first, like a distant memory, growing at the base of her spine and pelvis. But it was growing slowly, like a smoldering wildfire. He pinched, licked, and teased. It soon became all too much for her and she screamed his name in satisfaction. Mulder lifted his head with a shit eating grin on his face.

“I bet Jerse couldn’t make you scream like that,” he told her.

Scully was on her back, panting heavily. Mulder’s large hands were tracing her legs, her body, everywhere. She chuckled and pulled him upwards so they could be even. “No one has,” she whispered.

She felt like her entire body melted. Had it really been so long since she allowed herself to feel this good? He was gentle in his ministrations, kissing her tenderly. She could taste herself on his lips and it made her weak in her knees. They crawled beneath the 800 Egyptian thread count cotton sheets and he propped his head upon his arm to drink her in. “Scully, you okay?” His fingers traced her profile. She nodded and turned onto her side to press herself against him. She felt the length of him against her stomach. This moment was going to her head. She couldn’t think or reason. Mulder smiled. “Just be in the moment, Scully.”

“Be in the moment. I was by taking a risk like this.”

“I think it is ending up rather well, don’t you?” She was silent. “Scully? Did I say something wrong?”

“Is this just a meaningless one night stand?”

“No!” He promised. He kissed her again and Scully knew she had been lying to herself for a while. “No, I promise. I don’t know how to put into words what I feel. We’ve never actually, uh, been good at that.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” she murmured.

“They do.”

Both burst out laughing after a serious moment of silence as Scully rolled on top of him. “Enough chatter,” she whispered. “I’m tired of waiting.”

She was beyond ready. Mulder’s admission that this meant more than a one night stand sealed the deal. She slid down his engorged member and they both moaned at the sensation. Nothing had ever felt so good. Maybe it was whatever had been between them vanishing or four years of pent up stress disappearing or just finally consuming the next evolutionary step in their relationship.

They moved in synchrony, just like they did together in their work. Mulder watched, entranced, as she moved above him like a graceful spirit. He was convinced that this was too good to be true. After all this time. Scully place both of her hands on his shoulders, the pad of her thumb caressing the puckered bullet scar. He grimaced at the pure pleasure of being in her surprised by her own inner strength. “Mulder,” she whimpered.

She rested her forehead against his. A thin sheen of sweat covered his back. “I love you,” he confessed, unable to stop himself.

“I know, Mulder. Me too.”

Their frequency increased, either out of desperation or eagerness to feel every aspect of one another. “I’m close, Scully. I...I don’t know how much longer I can last.”

She nodded wordlessly, panting. “Let go, Mulder. Let go.”

“What about you?”

“It’s okay,” she hushed.

She took his hand with hers and guided below him into the familiar circular rhythm that had gotten her through many lonely nights. Mulder’s eyebrows raised in surprise ad his hazel eyes focused with the intensity that she shuddered. The orgasmic pleasure both felt was overwhelming. It was Mulder first that broke as he cried out into her shoulder. Scully held him close as she rode out the last of his orgasm to help her own. With curled toes and stars behind her eyes, she felt the wave crash over the cliff with both of them on it.

“That…” Mulder laughed. “That was something.”

He wiped away a strand of her wild hair and she smiled. Drunk off their post-coitus lovemaking, laughed like she hadn’t in ages. Mulder held her tightly, his own laughter dancing off the Vegas suite. Then she felt it. The light trickle above her lip. She touched her finger to her nose and saw red blood. “Not again,” she muttered, rushing to the bathroom.

Scully nearly tripped over the sheets dashing to the bathroom with Mulder hot on her heels. She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and pinched her nostrils in an effort to stem the flow. “Scully?” Mulder asked. She could detect the worry in his voice. “Are you okay?”

She jumped feeling his warm hand trace down the length of her spine, momentarily forgetting the current state of their undress. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah. It’ll stop in a few minutes.”

She looked at their reflections in the mirror. Mulder stood behind Scully, wrapping his arms around her waist, and resting his chin perfectly atop her red hair. Holding the tissue to her nose, she tilted her head back and rested it against his chest. She could vaguely hear his heartbeat and had a strange sense of deja vu. After ten minutes, she managed to stop the bleeding and Mulder hugged her tightly. “Ready for bed?”

“Yeah,” she answered him.

She threw away the bloodied toilet paper and eyed it one last time before letting Mulder bring them back to bed. He held the blanket open for her as she climbed in first and then him. Scully let herself be wrapped up in his embrace, forgetting about the bloody noses and the fact they were supposed to undercover.

“You know, Scully,” he whispered, “we should consider summer vacation more often.”

“It’s February,” she yawned. “In the desert.”

“Don’t ruin this fantasy, Scully,” he whispered. “This the beginning of something wonderful. I promise.”

“Promise me that nothing will change between us,” she breathed.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re still equaled.”

“In every aspect. Do you want me to get you a desk?”

“No. Not right now.” A small smile played on Scully’s lips. They watched the Vegas lights dance outside their room window. “This is perfect right now.”

[shadowsong26fic]

AU Outlines: Other Fandoms Edition

So I know that probably like zero of my followers on this blog even go here but I was watching Person of Interest lately, and I’ve also been reading occasional Supernatural spoilers, because I used to be in that fandom and I occasionally get curious. Especially this most recent season. Naturally, this woke up some old characters/situations/etc. that I used to work with, which I’ve been occasionally toying with in the back of my head when I’m bored and/or procrastinating other projects.

I’ve been going back and forth on how I feel about the one plotline that interests me this season (and by back and forth I mean I was really excited when I first read that a particular character was back; engaged by the summaries/etc. I read from his first couple episodes, the third one intrigued me until I read more detailed spoilers and then I started to side-eye it a little bit...)

And then I read up on last week’s episode. And nope, all my excitement is gone, replaced by Pissed for reasons I’m not sure I can actually articulate. (Though I kind of attempted to in the tags here on my personal blog.)

...honestly, I probably should’ve known better; making this kind of storyline really pay off/work would require a lot of attention given to a tertiary character, and given SPN’s track record with the internal worlds and motivations of characters who are not the Big Three, and the fact that they’ve been ignoring a lot of their established angel/vessel lore, the way Claire’s backstory more or less got completely forgotten...I should not have gotten my hopes up. Sigh.

ANYWAY this is now officially Spite Fic(tm). Here, have an outline of a Supernatural/Person of Interest crossover.

Starring Nick.

...uh, before I actually start, I should probably get some background out of the way.

For those of you who are unfamiliar, Person of Interest is a TV show that ran for five seasons, 2011 - 2016. Without c/ping the opening narration, the basic premise of the show is that, in the wake of 9/11, genius software engineer Harold Finch built a surveillance and analysis program, in an effort to prevent similar future tragedies. Out of fear that his creation would be abused, he designed the Machine as a closed system--basically, all that’s provided is an ID number (usually an SSN, at least for US citizens; but Our Heroes get a green card number in one episode, and a student ID number in another), and the person that number indicates is key to unravelling whatever is going down. The Machine was initially designed to predict mass casualty events/terrorism and provide the (relevant) number to the designated government operatives, at which point human intelligence takes over. However, the Machine also identifies things like…gang warfare/one-on-one premeditated murder (irrelevant numbers). That’s where Our Heroes come in.

The first half of the series is basically a procedural with a twist—each episode, the main characters get an irrelevant number (or more; the record was I believe 38 in one episode). They don’t always know how that person is involved, whether they’re the victim or the killer/perpetrator. In a few memorable cases, the number was arguably both.

Then, in the second half, a rival AI (Samaritan) is brought online, and the series becomes somewhat darker in tone and shifts into a cyberpunk apocalypse story. With a few regular irrelevant numbers thrown in on occasion as well, for good measure. For the purposes of this outline, we don’t care so much about POI B, for reasons I will explain, but it bears mentioning. Especially since Greer is still hanging around and trying to bring Samaritan or something similar online.

Right. On to some memorable/notable/important characters.

Our Heroes are Finch, who, as I said, designed and built the Machine. For various reasons, he’s living off the grid (he’s a very private person). Using a backdoor built into the Machine, as of when the series starts, he receives the irrelevant numbers. But he lacks the skills/ability to intervene directly, so he recruits John Reese.

Reese, then, is Finch’s partner/employee/they are totally married; a former CIA assassin who is now presumed dead, he does most of the hands-on work with the numbers and becomes known as the Man in the Suit who is basically Batman.

Carter! Carter is freaking amazeballs; she is p. much the moral/ethical center of the show, one of their two cop friends who was actually trying to track them/Reese down and arrest him for the vigilante BS for the first half-season or so but then they became friends.

Fusco is their other cop friend; former dirty cop/member of an ring, initially recruited by Reese to work undercover in HR (as said ring is called), basically runs on a combination of Dogged Loyalty (the reason he joined HR in the first place, transfers that loyalty to Team Machine, gets his moral compass recalibrated, and becomes one of the most loveable dudes on the show) and Snark (featuring such delightful quotes as “What was I supposed to say? Sorry, boss, Agent King is really a superpowered nutball. Just ask my buddy, the urban legend.” Also at least once a season, he makes a comment to the effect of “just when I thought you guys couldn’t get any weirder…”).

(Also, he is, as my roommate puts it, Shaped Like A Dad.)

Shaw joins the team in Season 3; textbook (and canonical!) bisexual compact Persian sociopath (note: she has some sort of Axis II personality disorder that is occasionally called sociopathy in-universe, but that doesn’t quite fit); there’s…there’s really not much else one can say without just like summarizing everything she does or quoting ad nauseum.

Root! Root is introduced as a major antagonist; hacker/programmer on Finch’s level who works as a contract killer, her initial goal is to locate and free the Machine, which ends up recruiting her early in Season 3 and becoming…you know that particular kind of reformed villain that becomes the weird family member because yes they’re still kind of awful and murdery, and they did a great deal of damage to you and yours, but you’ve now been through Some Stuff together, and besides, they’re your awful and murdery, you know? So not exactly a redemption arc, but they’re one of the Heroes now and just kind of stick with it. Like Barbossa, in POTC. Or Vegeta. My roommate (referenced above) calls this the Weird Uncle trope. And she fits this trope really well and I love it. Also, she and Shaw are canonically girlfriends as of...s4 or s5, depending on how you look at things.

(Also, not necessarily relevant for this outline, but on the subject of Weird Uncles, one cannot talk about POI without mentioning Elias; our friendly neighborhood Mafia don. No, really.)

And Bear! Cannot forget Bear. Bear is Finch and Reese’s dog, acquired at the beginning of S2 and the most amazing. He also has a twitter! In Dutch!

On to some antagonists, Greer is not our friend. He works for/created a company called Decima Technologies; his goal is to bring an unrestricted AI online and let it run the world for complicated reasons relating to some of his experiences during the Cold War working for MI6. Also he has a very punchable face.

And then there’s Control, who runs the Relevant numbers program for the government. She is an awful, awful human being (fully aware of it, too; she has a great speech in the third season finale about how she’s a Necessary Evil and why) and I love her so much.

Okay, that’s the basics for the POI side of things. I can go on a lot longer if y’all want more details (I didn’t even cover my girl Zoe or Leon or…), but that should be enough foundation for the outline to make sense?

For the SPN side of things--I’m not going to summarize the canon background, due to it being the larger/primary-ish fandom. But in terms of the relevant AU stuff, I’m going more or less with the backstory I established for Nick for The Promises of Angels and Cartography!verse.

Basically, he was a high school history teacher; his wife and son were murdered by a serial killer known as the Chesapeake Ripper

(There might well have been/probably was some demonic involvement, though not in the same way as I think S14 canon established; basically either because a “talent scout” demon like that one s7 episode was already involved or because the Ripper was operating independently and a demon got involved later, he was pointed towards this particular woman and baby who fit his victim pool. Either way, Nick was targeted because he was the right bloodline and accessible, because vessel lines are a thing even if the show has forgotten that.)

(Also, Lucifer later took Nick to kill the Ripper. Signing bonus. So to speak.)

After Detroit, Nick gets picked up by Meg, who holds on to him for a while for a variety of reasons (information that might be buried in his memories from the year he spent possessed; the chance that he might be a new key to the Cage…) until the Leviathan turn up, at which point she no longer has the resources to keep him. She cuts him loose at that point, rather than killing him (mostly because she thinks Lucifer left him alive For A Reason and until she knows what that is, she can’t kill him).

So, at this point, in Promises or Cartography, Nick just sort of wanders around for a while until he runs into Claire or Jody, respectively.

For the purposes of this AU, he ends up drifting to New York instead.

And, with all that background out of the way, NOW we can get to the actual fun stuff.

…no, wait, I lied. One more note: as with p. much all my SPN projects, I am following Logical Time rather than Show Time. Which is to say, when calculating dates/figuring out where the timelines intersect/etc., I’m including the two skipped years (between S5/S6 and between S7/S8).

(That being said, I reserve the right to stop caring about the timeline later and just mashing things together as I think it would be entertaining.)

ANYWAY.

We open in the first half of POI S3, somewhere between “Mors Praematura” and “Endgame” (i.e., Root is in the library, but Carter hasn’t initiated her takedown of HR yet). If my math is right, this puts us either in S7 or during the second gap year for SPN.

It starts as most of these adventures do; Team Machine gets a new number.

“This one may be a bit of a project, I’m afraid,” Finch says. “Nick Cross has been missing for several years. He hasn’t been seen since May of 2009, and there’s been no electronic activity on his identity in that time, either.”

Of course, when they dig into his background, his wife and son getting murdered comes up.

“Any chance he killed them?” Reese asks.

“No, he was cleared at the time. They were victims of a serial killer, and Mr. Cross had solid alibis for three of the five incidents, including the one involving his wife and son.”

(Shaw, at that point, theorizes that Nick’s number came up because he somehow tracked the Chesapeake Ripper down and is planning to kill him. And, if that’s the case, doesn’t really see the point in stopping him.)

(“Start with finding him, Ms. Shaw,” Finch says. “We still don’t know if that is, in fact, what’s going on.”)

(Finch also doesn’t approve on principle, of course, but that is not an argument he wants to have with Shaw on this particular morning.)

(Plus, the Ripper seems to have stopped operating at around the same time Mr. Cross disappeared...so there’s a chance that Shaw’s theory is accurate, just out of date.)

In any case, they reason that the Machine wouldn’t have handed them his number if he weren’t alive and in range; Reese and Shaw ask Carter and Fusco to see what they can pull up, and start doing their own legwork.

Carter ends up being the first to find a lead—while on her regular patrol with Laskey, she spots a guy who matches the description, albeit with a few extra scars, and is acting a little off. Like he thinks he’s being followed/watched.

Reese goes to check it out, and this is where things get, uh, Weird.

See, here’s the thing. I love John Reese, and he is a man of Many Skills.

But, uh.

Being approachable and reassuring is Not Among Them.

Like. Don’t get me wrong. When he’s in Bodyguard Mode, it is exactly the right level of Intimidating. He just…has trouble turning it off.

Look, the dude is a semi-retired CIA spysassin and it oozes out of every pore unless he works really hard to tone it down.

(And sometimes even then.)

And since this is just, like, preliminary surveillance to see if this guy Carter spotted really is their number, and he’s not planning to make contact yet, he’s not really focusing on toning it down.

So, when Nick spots him, guess what this looks like to him.

Yep, he thinks Reese is an angel.

He runs.

Reese: “....yeah, pretty sure that’s our number. And he just made me.”

(If Carter didn’t already, Reese probably also mentions that the five-year-old DMV photo they’re working from is out of date; Nick is pretty badly scarred, they look kind of like radiation burns.)

Of course, it was hard enough to find Nick in the first place, so Reese doesn’t want to lose him again. So, made or not, he continues following. Hoping to get to a position where he can make contact and figure out what’s going on. Or just keep tabs on him until Shaw can catch up and take over.

(Not his favorite approach, but he screwed up somewhere and that’s what he’s stuck with now.)

Nick knows the angel is still on him--and this is new and terrifying; he’s had demons after him a few times since Meg ditched him, but this is the first time an angel’s found him and, frankly, angels are worse than demons in his mind.

(Also he’s supposed to be warded how did the angel even find him--)

(Yeah, Nick has gotten a couple tattoos in his post-Meg life--he’s warded, the same sigils that are etched into Sam and Dean’s ribs; he also has a standard anti-demon-possession tattoo.)

In any case, he has a knife up his sleeve, he just needs to get somewhere more or less out of sight, just for a minute, maybe not even, and then he can throw up a banishing sigil. He just needs that minute.

Reese spots Nick duck out of sight into an alley and heads that way, picking up his pace. There’s a chance he’ll lose the number in there, depending on how many exits there are--

Nick casts his sigil and then books it, not wanting to stick around and see if it worked.

Reese gets there just a hair too late.

“I lost him,” he admits, then catches sight of the bloody drawing on the wall. “...but I think I might have an idea what our number’s running from. And why he disappeared for so long.”

“Yeah?” Shaw asks.

“Looks like he might’ve joined a cult."

“....really,” she said. “Huh.”

“He drew some sort of occult symbol on the wall. Looks like blood.”

“...okay, so he joined a cult.”

“It makes a certain amount of sense,” Finch says. “He went through a horrible tragedy. He could have been vulnerable, especially if he sought but failed to find any comfort in traditional religion.”

Reese takes a picture, and sends it to Finch. “Think you can figure out what this is?”

“Well, it’s hardly my area of expertise,” he says, “but I’ll see what I can do.”

“We’ll work on picking up his trail again,” Shaw says, appearing beside Reese in the alley, as she does sometimes. “Maybe stop by and pick up Bear to help.”

...and now skimming over the next few hours...

Finch spends some time in one of the few corners of the internet he’s not super familiar with, and does identify the symbol eventually.

“It’s for protection or warding. Specifically against angels.”

At which point Shaw busts up laughing at the idea of anyone thinking Reese is an angel.

But that does support the idea that he’s running from whatever cult he got mixed up in.

ANYWAY moving on.

Reese and Shaw eventually catch up with Nick again.

Unfortunately, so have the people who are after him.

(And by people, I mean demons. Two of them.)

(Who recognized Nick, obviously, and had the same ideas as Meg, with regard to his potential Uses.)

(Only they’d rather off him so no one gets to unlock whatever secrets he might be holding.)

Shaw goes up--she’s the better sniper, after all--and Reese makes his way into the alley where Nick is cornered

Firing, naturally, at their kneecaps.

Except.....

Nothing...nothing happens...?

(Well, except now the demon is pissed and gunning for Reese instead.)

(Nick is very relieved to see that this guy is not, in fact, an angel. Angels don’t normally use guns.)

(Of course, now he’s just confused, wtf is going on.)

“What the...” Reese says.

“Maybe you missed,” Shaw smirks, from her perch.

“I didn’t miss.”

“Sure,” she says, aiming at the demon chasing him, getting a solid hit in the shoulder.

Which....also does nothing.

“...well, that was weird.”

She fires again, this time a killshot--yeah, yeah, there are Rules, but under the circumstances...

Meanwhile, Demon #2 has gotten ahold of Nick. Who has frozen a little bit.

(He tends to do this, when stressed/triggered--internalize things, and just go blank. He was more or less catatonic when Meg found him, started gradually coming out of it; when Sam got his soul back that sort of accelerated the process and by now he’s mostly functional, but there are Moments...)

Shaw keeps firing at Demon #1. It’s not killing it, but it’s keeping it pinned down so hopefully Reese can reach and extract their number.

“Finch, we’ve got a Situation here.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

(Finch has hacked into some nearby security cameras.)

“You have any idea what the hell is going on?”

“I’m afraid not, Ms. Shaw,” he says. “It’s only the two of them, I think--no one else is coming though the police will probably be responding to the shots soon--”

“Yeah, Finch, I know. Reese?”

Nick is up against the wall and Reese bodily hauls the demon off of him to engage in a fistfight.

(Did not expect a skinny kid like the demon’s host to pack this much of a punch, he’ll have some fun bruises tomorrow...)

Which snaps Nick out of it.

Demons. These are demons. Only demons. I know how demons work. I can--

He rattles off an exorcism, as fast as he can.

The demons scream and smoke out, leaving their two dead hosts behind--Host #1 may have been dead already, or Shaw may have killed them; Host #2 was already gone.

“Finch?” Shaw says. “Finch, are you getting this?”

“I’m--yes, I see it,” he says.

Reese is about to add something, but the Nick passes out--Demon #2 managed to score a solid hit before Reese got there--and he moves to catch him.

“Damn it--he’s bleeding, pretty bad.”

“Get him to the safehouse,” Finch says. “I’ll meet you there, and we’ll...we’ll figure all this out.”

“Library’s closer,” Shaw points out. “And you said no one else was around.”

Finch hesitates for a moment--more concerned about Root than about their base being compromised, at the moment--then nods. “Fine. Bring him here. I’ll clear off a space for you to patch him up.”

“Copy that,” Shaw says. “Reese, stay with him, I’m gonna get us a car.”

...okay, I’ll admit, the rest of this first New York adventure isn’t super well planned out in my brain. So, skimming through it pretty quick...

They bring Nick back to the library. Shaw patches him up, while Finch goes over the footage he found, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Nick eventually wakes up. There’s a Talk.

“They were demons,” Nick explains. “They, uh. They can’t be killed, not with guns. There’s a couple specially-designed weapons, I think. And angel blades. Holy water will burn them, and you can use salt to keep them out. Best thing to do is probably trap them and exorcise them.”

Basically, Team Machine gets The Talk about monsters and so on Existing.

He admits to having been possessed for a year when they ask him why demons are chasing him, though he’s a little vague on further details. He does mention Meg, too, that she held on to him after he was dispossessed.

He asks how they found him--he’d thought his warding was messed up, especially when he thought Reese was an angel.

They give their characteristic vague answer, then ask, “If you’re...warded, how is it they found you in the first place?”

He figures, at this point, that his warding is fine--it doesn’t hide him from demons, necessarily, but even if it did, warding doesn’t stop the bad guys from spotting him by chance. Which is, incidentally, exactly what happened.

Nick also, of course, gets in the usual number questions; “who are you” “why are you helping me” etc., with the added weight of his possession and the fact that they took on literal demons to try and save his life.

Also, somewhere in this mess, Nick wanders off into the part of the library where Root is being held. Possibly while the rest of Team Machine is getting what they’ll need to deal with whatever Climactic Fight will end the episode/section.

(Nick was a high school history teacher, and this is a really awesome library, of course he’s going to go exploring if he’s left alone.)

(Bear is there to keep an eye on him/keep him from leaving.)

(Bear also gets many scritches and pets, as he deserves.)

Anyway, Root and Nick have a conversation; whether she and the Machine are already doing their Morse Code thing or something else is going on...or...something...anyway, Nick gets read in on the Machine’s existence.

(His reaction is more or less “...that does not even make the top ten most unbelievable/dangerous things I know exist, so...all right then.”)

Finch gets back to find them talking about history or something. Bear is next to Nick, who is a lot calmer/more willing to work with them than he was before. Root is just inside the cage wall, idly scritching Bear’s ears as they talk.

(This is actually Important.)

Anyway, eventually there is the requisite climactic fight. Possibly angels are involved--I know Shaw gets her hands on an angel blade at some point...

Point is, things get resolved, more or less. Nick ends up leaving New York.

BUT! Because Root had a Moment with him back there, and Finch saw it, he’s willing to unleash her a little earlier when the shit hits the fan a few episodes later.

In short, thanks to Root kind of sort of Bonding with one of their weirder/more fragile numbers, Team Machine is much better positioned to deal with Endgame nonsense, which means, first, that Carter gets to live (though Reese might still get hella shot, depending on how exactly Root changes what happens with Simmons; but he won’t go on his Roaring Rampage of Revenge); what follows is then that Team Machine is all working on the same page when Claypool’s number comes up aaaaaaand we avert Samaritan. Yay!

(Carter does still deduce the Machine’s existence, of course, gets upgraded to the yellow box and everything. And, remembering the late-S1 drama, strongly advocates for Fusco getting read in, too.)

(She gets her way on that, too. Eventually. Probably before too much longer, even.)

Also, Control does reveal herself, but doesn’t manage to capture Root just yet.

(Which also means Root doesn’t get her implant, at least for a while.)

But apart from that, we can leave this group to their own devices for a while, and get back to following Nick, who is now past his Origin Story, so to speak...

Hokay. So. After Nick leaves New York, he just starts sort of drifting again, and then a few days later, he gets a phone call.

Which he actually answers; in all honestly very few people would reach out to him this way, and he’s pretty sure none of the things that terrify him are on that list.

“Can. You. Hear. Me?”

Nick stares at the phone for a long moment. The Machine repeats herself.

“…no.” He hangs up.

(Look, he knows damn well what that phone call was; Root told him enough when the two of them talked in the library. And he is not interested in letting another near-omnipotent entity screw with his head. Once was enough. He learned his lesson.)

The Machine backs off, deciding to try a less-invasive way of trying to get in touch with/recruit him.

Why is she doing this? Well.

The Machine’s mandate/objective is to protect humanity. When Nick came up on her radar as an irrelevant number she could offer her assets, she noticed some…let’s call them anomalies. In archival data about him, about the two people talking about murdering him…lots of things didn’t add up. Which is why he got pushed to the top of the list, so to speak.

(I mean, assuming she does put a certain level of thought/deliberation into which numbers she sends her assets? If two come up at once that are unrelated, does she need to decide, or do they get both? This isn’t 100% clear in the show, I don’t think; pretty sure all the multi-number episodes do end up being related, even if they don’t appear that way at first, apart from, like, backlogs from when the Machine has to go dark temporarily for whatever reason…anyway, if that is the case, she picked Nick because there was a lot of Weird Shit going on around him and she needed her human assets to sort through it, because she simply didn’t have the tools or parameters necessary to work it out for herself.)

So, Nick’s number comes up, and even more strange things keep happening. The Machine evaluates, and comes to the conclusion that there’s an entire class of threats to humanity that she hasn’t been monitoring correctly. The fact of the matter is, she was programmed with certain blind spots, because Finch had certain blind spots.

But the Machine is now in a position to correct that. She’s aware of the flaw in her system and, thanks to the changes she’s been making since Stanton’s virus and the other S2 arc plot stuff allowed her to start altering her code in a way she couldn’t before…

She can make up for it by adding yet another set of numbers/another protocol. Relevant numbers to the government as always, irrelevant numbers (within their reach, at least) to Finch and his team, “necessary” numbers (i.e., protecting the Machine herself/keeping tabs on other, potentially hostile, ASIs) to Root, and now…we’ll call them “hidden” numbers.

Of course, the next problem is, while there’s a lot of data available about monsters, angels, demons, etc., it’s very hard to sort through what is useful data and what is, frankly, BS. And, unfortunately, she lacks the parameters to do it herself.

Ergo, she needs a human asset to help her figure it out. Teach her/help her define this new dataset.

(And also to intervene when necessary, but that can come later. She’s got a bit of a learning curve ahead of her first, and she knows it.)

But, of course, she doesn’t want to retask any of her current assets—both because they have enough to deal with and because, again, learning curve. Better for at least one entity involved to know what they’re doing, right?

And so, she decides to recruit Nick. Nick, who has already been her window into this hidden world. Nick, who needs her as much as she needs him.

(Kind of like Root, except absolutely unlike Root. Like in that they were both drowning when she approached them, and needed her to give them a framework to cling to, to drag themselves back to the surface; unlike in that Nick is drowning in a very different ocean than Root was.)

Anyway. Eventually, she does manage to talk to him, and explain what she wants.

And he’s still not...100% sure how he feels about working with her, but...well, data entry, right? He can do that. Maybe.

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” he admits. “Just because I was possessed for a year doesn’t mean I know everything.”

“It’s still a place to start,” she replies. “Eventually, I’ll figure out the patterns and be able to extrapolate.”

“...okay, then.”

(As it turns out, he knows a lot more than he thinks he does, which is utterly terrifying; he has a lot of subconscious/residual information buried in his mind.)

Of course, eventually, just data entry isn’t enough.

The Machine doesn’t have all the answers/all the patterns down, but she has enough that she’s starting to identify threats/numbers she can assign out.

But Nick...well, Nick is fragile. Mentally, of course, but physically as well--burned inside and out, metaphorically and literally, by a long, incompatible possession.

At the moment, though, he’s the only asset she has in this area. Recruiting others, from among the insular, paranoid hunter community...is going to be difficult.

She spots something she thinks he can handle, especially if she grants him God Mode access and keeps him there.

He stares down at the text message she sent him.

“...I can’t do this,” he says. “I can’t...”

“Can we please try?” she says. “I’ll help you.”

“...I...”

“It’s a demon, I think.”

He thinks about it for a minute. He can handle demons, he thinks. He has before, after all. He understands demons. And...

(he thinks about the feeling of evil still living under his skin; he thinks of blood on his hands and in his heart; about all the nightmares and half-memories; about how he feels too small for his own body, how his thoughts echo inside his head...)

(he wants to do better. he wants to be better. maybe helping...people like him, people who have gone through what he went through...maybe that’s a start. to make up for what he did.)

“...is the host still alive? When I...if I manage to get there and exorcise them...are they still alive?”

“I can’t tell,” she admits. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll...try,” he says. “I’ll try.”

It ends up, fortunately, being a win for all of them--the demon is thrown enough by seeing Lucifer’s former vessel that Nick has a chance to act; the host is in fact still alive.

Nick spends hours after the exorcism, just...sitting with him, talking. Helping him cope/process things.

“...we should do that again sometime,” he finally tells the Machine, after he goes back to wherever he’s sleeping these days.

So, he starts kind of sort of hunting after that, with the help of an ASI.

Every time he directly engages something, he’s in God Mode. He has to be, because of the aforementioned damage; he wouldn’t survive on his own.

(Probably, at some point, he and the Machine put together something like the Tenebamus Infinitum forum in The Promises of Angels; online support group/community for possession survivors.)

(Sam may or may not find his way there...)

At first, they mostly focus on demons/possession cases. Sometimes ghosts. But they slowly start to branch out into other areas.

They deal with some miscellaneous monsters, faeries, maybe a vampire...good times.

Pretty much the only ones they avoid are angels and pagan gods, because Nick cannot deal.

(Angels for uh obvious reasons; pagan gods because he remembers like two things from his possession with any clarity, and one of them is Muncie, Indiana/Gabriel’s death.)

(The Machine occasionally considers trying to get him into a hospital for a while, the way Root was--she thinks it would help him--but he’s...managing for the moment, so it’s not as necessary, and she does still need him actively working....plus, he’s terrified of being sedated so...this gets put on indefinite hold.)

During this period, though, they do acquire two more Friends.

First--and I’m not 100% sure how they meet; possibly similar to how Nick and Jody meet in Cartography!verse, i.e., a grief support group of some kind.

Anyway, first he meets a young woman, a psychiatrist. Who is familiar, if peripherally, with angel and demon type stuff.

(Other monsters are gonna be a little New to her.)

Her name is Ashley Finnerman.

(Yes, as in Donnie.)

(He was her cousin.)

(After what happened to him, she started trying to figure it out, and eventually did.)

(...honestly, the forum may be her idea. She definitely joins it, not as a fellow survivor, but as a crisis counselor/trained professional who will believe them.)

(Ashley is pretty big on community building in general; yes, she’s a therapist and that’s a start, but she’s only one person. In her ideal world, they’d be able to draw in other professionals--psychiatric because this is an underserved population that desperately needs those resources; medical (as in physical medical/other MDs); legal...anyway, she’s not 100% sure how to go about doing that, but helping out on with Tenebamus is a step in the right direction, in her opinion.)

Ashley is eventually read in on the Machine as well. She has more or less an actual Life outside of it all, so she isn’t as immersed as Nick is, but she’s still definitely part of his team.

And second...somehow, they acquire Adam.

How? ...again, not 100% sure, but probably one of two ways--

One, something similar to Promises, where Nick gets too close to the Cage mouth for some reason and is offered a Bribe. He takes the bribe, with exactly zero intention of following through on his end of the bargain, so to speak.

Two, some kind of straight-up Fairy Tale Bullshit. S6 establishes that faeries can reach the Cage; Nick somewhat accidentally does a favor for a powerful faerie through his work with the Machine, and to repay the debt, the faerie (or possibly a High Up Faerie who has taken ownership of the debt because he helped someone in their court/their child/something or other) restores his Counterpart to him? IDK, something like that.

...I think I like this option. He accidentally does a favor for, IDK, Mab. And she, not wanting to be in his debt, heads down to the Cage.

This works because, a) Mab is probably one of the few entities that can go toe-to-toe with an Archangel like this; and b) Michael is actually on board with springing Adam.

(Not necessarily because he gives a shit about Adam, but he does give a shit about Justice, and keeping Adam down here, especially with Sam gone, is not Justice.)

Naturally, she doesn’t tell Nick ahead of time--he did the favor without consulting her, she shall repay him in kind. Faeries and Obligations, man.

Anyway, Adam joins them, and then Nick doesn’t have to be quite as hands-on because Adam is perfectly capable.

(Adam also, at some point, makes a comment about the three of them having ‘nearly a complete set.’)

(I have no idea how/if they’ll ever be able to find someone to fit in for Gabriel, but three out of four!)

(Nick finds this oddly hilarious, for reasons he can’t quite articulate.)

So, that is what Nick is doing while Team Machine is foiling Vigilance and Greer and Decima and dealing with their Hard Sci Fi end of things.

Let’s bring these two worlds crashing back together, shall we?

(Well, I say crashing together...this probably isn’t the first time Nick has run into the others since that first adventure.)

(If nothing else, he’s stayed in touch, off and on, with Root.)

(And I’m pretty sure the others have met Adam.)

(Maybe that was where Shaw got her angel blade...)

So, timeline for this. Uh...probably at least a year after Nick’s first encounter with Team Machine. For the SPN side of things...ehhhhh I’ll handwave/stop caring and say this is sometime in the latter half of S8. Between the first two Trials. Let’s go with that.

Nick and co are back in New York, probably dealing with something on their end of things. A ghost or something.

And then they get sucked into some Team Machine nonsense.

Control still wants the Machine--or a suitable Plan B--back under her complete, well, control.

Decima is going after some other potential ASI.

(Root is back in town to deal with them.)

Vigilance is involved too, because why not.

(Greer can’t initiate his endgame there just yet, after all, so they’re probably still operating.)

Nick, Adam, and Ashley are pitching in, because they’re here and the Machine needs all the help she can get on this one. Because Reasons.

Meg gets involved--this goes AU in that she escaped Crowley somehow. And one of the first things she does is try to check on her various assets, so she’s trying to track Nick and figure out what the hell is going on with him.

Crowley, of course, is chasing her, trying to get her back.

And, to round it all off, Sam and Dean are chasing him.

(As they approach, Sam starts noticing a weird buzzing feeling in the back of his head. Like circulation returning, or something like that. He decides not to mention it--thinks it might be a new Trials symptom, and he’s already hiding those from Dean, what’s one more secret? Besides, they need to know what Crowley finds so interesting about this place...that’s way more important, right?)

So, all these disparate parties converge on wherever the potential ASI is being held/built.

Root and Nick, of course, are both in God Mode.

(...incidentally, Nick is...nnnnnnnnnot super comfortable with calling it that? He and Adam and Ashley mostly just call it access or full-access.)

(Nick has the same tingling feeling in the back of his head, but he can’t do anything about it right now. He just focuses on the task at hand, and getting himself and his friends through this alive.)

The Machine tips Nick off to the fact that there are demons sniffing around--a couple of Crowley’s minions. Which, of course, Nick and his team can handle, but there’s several of them around and we reeeeally don’t want Crowley getting access to an ASI.

(Especially not S8!Crowley.)

So, Nick, Adam, and Ashley head off to put up wards and shoo off any demons they can, leaving the others to deal with the Decima nonsense/destroy the drives or whatever.

There’s a lot of ground to cover, so they split up.

Eventually, Nick gets pinned down by Decima mooks, trapped in a corner of the facility where he’s trying to finish getting the wards up.

“What...what do I do now?” he asks the Machine.

She runs her simulations, and it doesn’t look good.

And here is where it’s different from, say, “If-Then-Else.” Slash another way Root and Nick are very different people/assets.

Whereas Root is perfectly okay with obeying orders from her God without question, Nick needs to be told his options and make the choice himself.

At some point, he describes Access as oddly comforting. It’s almost as overwhelming, almost as much of a surrender, as consenting to possession is.

But there’s one critical difference.

He doesn’t have to listen to her.

He can say no.

He can hang up.

I mean, it’s generally speaking a bad idea to do that, but the option is still available.

So, his head doesn’t feel as empty with her in it, but a lot of it is still on his terms.

That being said, when there’s no time, or it’s a very immediate “there’s someone behind you” type of God Mode moment, of course, that’s less of an issue.

But something like this, where there’s a fork in the road?

If there’s time, she’ll lay out two or three of the least bad options and let him decide.

“If you go out the door and turn left, you will run into Control. She will figure out you’re tied to me, and she will take you prisoner. She will almost certainly torture you, to get you to give me up. Adam and Ashley will meet up with my other assets, and they will rescue you, but the chances of their success are very slim. There is a five percent chance, at best, that you will survive. It varies, depending on how quickly the others can mobilize.”

“Okay,” he says, and swallows. “And...and Adam and Ashley, will they...?”

“They have better than even odds of surviving.”

“Okay,” he says again. “What else?”

“Turn right,” she says. “You’ll run into the demon who held you captive.”

“Meg?”

“Yes.”

That’s not so bad, he thinks. Meg didn’t torture him too much, and she wanted him kept alive.

“Control will capture Root instead,” she continues. “Sameen and the others will attempt to rescue her. Adam and Ashley will pursue you.”

Control capturing Root, on the other hand, seems like a very bad thing. Still...

“Adam and Ashley?”

“About the same,” she says. “But there is another concern.”

“Okay.”

“If Meg takes you, there’s a chance she’ll find me. And if she does, it’s extremely likely that someone less friendly will, as well. There is also an approximately 17% chance that you’ll wind up in Crowley’s hands instead of Meg’s. And his chances of finding me are a lot stronger.”

Yeah, no. That cannot happen.

“Are there any other options?” he asks.

She pauses for a split second. “Turn right,” she says. “Then at the first hallway, turn left instead of going straight. I’ll have to leave you then--there are several Decima soldiers, but if you manage to get past them on your own, you’ll find Sam and Dean Winchester.”

It hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Your chances of reaching them without my help are better than your chances of surviving Control,” the Machine continues, “but not by much. If you can get there, though, they most likely won’t harm you.”

Unless I’m in full-access mode, Nick thinks, and shivers a little.

“And I can say with approximately 97% certainty that, when Adam and Ashley find you, they won’t harm them, either. I cannot say the same for the demons or Control.”

“They won’t hurt us physically,” Nick finally manages to say. “But I can’t...I-I-I don’t know how I’ll...I can’t shut down, not in here. A-and I don’t know how Sam will react to seeing me, I’ll probably seriously fuck with his head a-and I can’t...I can’t...”

(there’s this running refrain in his head, that Sam Winchester is perfect, and that Nick is the reason that everything goes wrong.)

(the Machine regrets even more not getting Nick more help.)

He takes a shaky breath. “Plus, I don’t know if Adam’s ready for that yet,” he says. “He hasn’t...uh, he hasn’t said anything about wanting to track them down.”

“That’s true.”

He’s quiet for another minute.

“Nick?”

“...I’ll take my chances with Control,” he says.

“I understand,” she says. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

(It’s not what she would have advised him to do, necessarily--she would have advised him to try for Sam and Dean; it balances protecting her with protecting the majority of her assets.)

“Directions?” he says.

“Open the door and turn left.”

She guides him down the hallway, advises him where to dodge, where to strike. He picks up a gun at one point--

(he’s hesitant, and she reminds him “you’re in Control’s world now, you have to play by her rules.”)

He gets to the inevitable trap, where ISA corners him and Control is there.

She recognizes, pretty quickly, that he’s in God Mode.

“...now just who the hell are you?”

On the other side of the facility, Ashley’s phone rings.

“Can. You. Hear. Me?”

The Machine also advises Root that Nick has been captured.

She and Finch have finished neutralizing the potential ASI drives; Reese and Shaw are with them; Carter and Fusco are currently working on securing their exit route, after driving off a handful of Vigilance mooks.

“We need to move,” Root says. “Control has Nick. Adam and Ashley will meet us.”

Reese nods once. “Lionel, Joss, get ready. We’re headed your way.”

“Copy that,” Carter says. “Fusco--”

“On it.”

Meg has realized that Crowley is here, so she’s now in the process of finding her own exit. He’s in pursuit.

Sam and Dean got all turned around and manage to get to just the right hallway at just the right time to see Adam and Ashley piling onto an elevator.

“...Dean,” Sam says. “Dean, tell me you’re seeing what I’m seeing.”

(he doesn’t press his hand. he hasn’t hallucinated in almost two years, he doesn’t need to--)

“Adam?” Dean calls.

Adam half turns to them, hesitates for half a second, then follows Ashley into the elevator and the door slides shut.

...and I’ll admit I don’t have a whole lot planned out beyond that. Also this is getting, like, super long. So, quick wrapup, so to speak.

So, Team Machine, plus Adam and Ashley go to rescue Nick.

Sam and Dean track them down.

Adam goes to talk to them, try and get them to back off.

“I have to go rescue my friend,” he says. “But once I’m done with that, we can talk. I promise. We’ll set up a meeting and I’ll tell you...as much as I remember, I guess. But right now, I have to go rescue my friend. Kind of on a clock here.”

“We’ll help,” Sam offers.

“This isn’t really your kind of thing,” Adam says. “This isn’t monsters, this is the ISA.”

“The what now?” Dean asks.

“Like the CIA, but on steroids.”

“...how the hell did you get involved in CIA bullshit?” Dean asks.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Adam says. “Which I will tell you, once my friend is safe. So can you please just...let me do this first?”

“How did...” Sam asks. “How did you get out?”

“Also a long story,” Adam says. “But I’m the only one who came out, I swear. And...” He hesitates. “They...mostly left me alone, after you were gone. If you were worried about that.”

(Sam hadn’t been, mostly because he had been Very Firmly Not Thinking About Adam for a while now, but he’s relieved to hear it.)

Reese steps out. Possibly holding his grenade launcher. “Come on, Adam, we gotta go.”

“Coming,” Adam says, then turns back to Sam and Dean. “I will call you as soon as we’re clear. I promise. Don’t follow us, okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, he follows Reese and they go to rescue Nick.

(Obviously, S&D don’t listen and do, in fact, follow Adam, but I’m not 100% sure where that would go.)

(Other than they do, in fact, manage to extract Nick alive, but it’s a near thing.)

(The fun thing here is, Control actually can’t break Nick. Well, she can’t get him to tell her anything about the Machine, anyway.)

(Yes, everyone has their breaking point so far as pain/torture goes, and Nick is no exception.)

(But he will physically break--i.e., die--before he mentally breaks.)

(And while psychological torture would be a lot more effective, she doesn’t know what buttons to push.)

(When she runs his prints/whatever, she gets the name Jacob White, which is an identity that Finch put together for him, for when he needed to interact with the real world. Since his own identity is...complicated.)

(Yes, that is a reference.)

(I couldn’t resist.)

(Also, the Machine, through Root, gets to deliver her verbal bitchslap to Control at last.)

Uh....yeah. That’s all the actual Plot I have at this point. But some other notes!

My girl Zoe is totally in the know. She may or may not have encountered Bela at some point, or found out some other way, but she does know.

(She never told Harold and John because--well, honestly, why would she? Her stock in trade is secrets, after all. And it never came up, and she wasn’t involved with Nick’s first adventure.)

Elias will turn up at some point. And basically become something like John Marcone, if any of y’all are familiar with the Dresden Files.

Bear’s Plot Armor may be some kind of magic, and I would not be surprised if he could take on a Hellhound and win.

Carter and Jody. Just...just Carter and Jody, man.

Like I said, Shaw gets her hands on an angel blade at some point. She and Dean probably bond. I feel like they would bond.

Also, I think Dean gets put into God Mode at some point. Possibly as his first real introduction to the Machine.

Like...IDK, he and Sam are with Nick for some reason, Nick, as implied above, cannot go into God Mode in front of the two of them, and honestly Sam going into God Mode in front of him would also be pretty devastating, so...Dean’s phone gets to ring!

“Can. You. Hear. Me?”

“...the fuck?”

“Can. You. Hear. Me?”

“Yes, I can--what the fuck is--”

“Two. O’clock.”

::turns and OHSHIT just in time::

IDK the idea just entertains me.

...yep, I think that’s it.

If you’re still here, thank you for putting up with my nonsense/checking this out.

Tune in next time, for an actual serious AU outline of some kind.

(....who am I kidding, these things are never serious XD)

[oakpodcast]

Transmission 1 Transcript

TRANSMISSION 1 

MUSIC: INTRO, "SOLITUDE" BY MUCIOJAD 

SOUND: ... --- .../... --- .../... --- .../... --- ... 

HOLLY: This is Holly, broadcasting on all frequencies using protocol: MINISTER DELTA. This transmission is intended for Oak, last known location CAESAR casino in PRAGUE; all others please disregard. Repeat, this transmission is intended for Oak, last known location CAESAR casino in PRAGUE; all others please disregard. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) I’m at a loss for any other way to contact you. If you receive this transmission, please confirm via Minister Delta protocol. I’ve set up social media and Gmail drops under the username "OAKPODCAST." That’s Oscar Alpha Kilo Peru Oscar Delta Charlie Alpha Sierra Tango. Consider any of our previous means of communication compromised. 

SOUND: -.-- - .. ..- 

(MUSIC FADING OUT, CITY SOUNDS FADING IN) 

HOLLY: (cont’d) SitRep: Date: March... 11th, I think. Time: 8:42 A.M. Location: Unknown. Mission: Unknown. Transportation to mission location: Also unknown. Basically, assume everything is unknown for the time being. I have no idea what the hell is going on or why I woke up on the sidewalk, but here I am. 

SOUND: ... ..- .--. .--- 

HOLLY: (cont’d) I’m telling myself it’s just like any other field mission, but I think that’s the wrong narrative. On any other field mission I would have your voice in my ear, keeping me safe, telling me what to do and where to go. And I don’t have any of that right now. HOLLY: (cont’d) I keep expecting to hear your voice, telling me to go left, that the server room is just a few meters away and I’m doing great. 

SOUND: -- .. ..- .--. --.- ..- 

HOLLY: (cont’d) My memory’s gotten pretty bad since you left. I’ve gotten even worse about remembering to do things like take my meds or even eat, and my current situation is not doing any favors for my mental health, so I apologize in advance for how disjointed my thoughts must seem. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) You’ve always been able to read my mind, more or less. And I know if you were here, you would just... know without me saying anything. But... you’re not. So I have to use all of my energy to try to communicate coherently. 

SOUND: --- ..- --.- -- .-.. -.- --. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) I don’t know how much you know about my situation. I don’t know if you’re in a similar situation yourself, or if this is a refresher survival test and you’re watching me make a fool of myself, or if you’re still deep undercover with total radio silence. The last time I heard anything about your status was right after they shipped you off, right before Christmas. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) As far as I know, that’s where you still are, but... I’m a little worried you went rogue and went on some kind of vengeance-fueled murder rampage, and now you’re dead or imprisoned, and I’ll never know because... that’s just how it works. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) I can’t do what I need to survive and think like that. So I’m going to take a page out of your book and get through whatever this is via pretending and optimism. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) So here’s me, pretending you’re still alive. Still listening to my nervous transmissions from the field, and still waiting to swoop in and rescue me. 

SOUND: -.- ..- ..- --. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) I’m going to act under the assumption you’ve been kept completely in the dark about... whatever my situation is and debrief accordingly.

HOLLY: (cont’d) My leave was approved a few days after you were deployed. And during the past three months, I think I left the house twice-once in January to pick up the birthday package you sent me (thank you, by the way) and once this month-yesterday-for the tribunal. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) Not guilty, obviously. We knew that going into it. We both called it when the investigation was opened. I don’t know why I thought- (Sighs softly.) 

HOLLY: (cont’d) Even worse, they said there was an investigation into me for defamation of character and slander or something along those lines. I don’t know. I pretty much went deaf as soon as they said they were investigating me instead. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) Anyway. I went home, locked myself in the apartment with a bottle of wine, and passed out somewhere into my second glass. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) This morning I woke up and... I don’t know where I am. I think I might be in the Southern U.S., but I’m not sure yet. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) It seems pretty likely that this was an inside job, someone high up in the military with access to my apartment, but that... that’s really hard to believe. And even harder to think about at all

SOUND: . .-.. .-.. --. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) (Resigned sigh) Right. Inventory. I have one pair of prescription eyeglasses, one very wrinkled skirtsuit and white blouse, one pair of dress flats, one phone charger, and the smartphone I’m currently talking into-a burner, I assume, although no one has contacted it so far. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) Of all the outfits to get stranded in, it had to be a skirt and dress shoes. Really? 

HOLLY: (cont’d) Anyway, I’m currently attempting to acquire a library card and a micro SD card so I can unlock the bootloader, root the phone, and then flash a new rom to it. (Laughs) Obviously, the tech stuff will be child’s play for me. Acquiring the other two items, not so much. 

SOUND: --.- -.-. ..- .. ... ..- --- 

HOLLY: (cont’d) I’m really glad you appreciate my very... specialized skillset. If you need something hacked with a cell phone, or rewired with tweezers and a lighter, or blown up using only someone’s lunch and some toilet cleaner? Easy. But God forbid I ever have to talk to anyone! 

HOLLY: (cont’d) The amount of times I’ve had to fake something obscene with... wow, everyone on Yule Team? (I feel like we should keep stats on that.) What I really can’t believe is that Evergreen and Camellia never so much as made out on an assignment. How is it that they’re married, and yet I made out with Camellia more than Evergreen has on a mission? To say nothing of all the times you and I had to—

SOUND: .--- ..- --. -.. .- .--. .. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) Sorry, I digress. For just a second there, I was... happy. I forgot about everything that happened with... (sigh) 

HOLLY: (cont’d) Moving on... what if your philosophy about leadership changed? Did you suddenly decide that I needed to improve my weak areas? Is this all a training exercise for my own good? I guess that would actually be the most comforting explanation. (Sighs) 

SOUND: .- .--. --- ..- 

HOLLY: (cont’d) This is real life, right? I’m not magically on the set of Burn Notice 2? 

HOLLY: (cont’d) God, I can totally picture you sitting in your hotel in Prague, watching every season of Burn Notice and coming up with some sort of sadistic team-building exercise to do when you got back. Please tell me that’s what’s happening right now. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) I think in any branch of the military, a lot of things "don’t officially happen," especially to women. I mean, how else do you explain yesterday, otherwise? I guess this is just one more thing that "didn’t happen." 

HOLLY: (cont’d) All of our social media profiles, real and fake, seem to have been destroyed. I never thought about how much I might wish I had pictures of you until now, when I have no way of getting any. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) There are worse things to worry about, obviously. Like, I can’t get into any of my email accounts, or even my PayPal account. I can’t even dial outside America to reach anyone I know. Not that I have anyone to call, really. People in our line of work generally don’t have a lot of friends and family. I think that’s intentional. Normally I would call someone on Yule Team, but... 

SOUND: - --- -... ..- -.- ... 

HOLLY: (cont’d) If you are still alive, I think I know a way to transmit these broadcasts more securely. Remember when Agent Sharma went dark and then set up that Patreon account so we could access her private RSS feed without blowing her cover? I hope you remember, since you pinned the medal on her after that mission. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) Well, anyway, I’ve set up a page at patreon.com/oakpodcast. I don’t expect to be able to get by off of it, although, obviously, anything you send me would be a huge help. but if nothing else, I can send you certain information there that I’d rather not broadcast to the entire world. 

SOUND: -.... / .-- ..- ..- .... 

HOLLY: Really, if it weren’t for the lack of papers and money and actual accommodations and food, this actually wouldn’t be a terrible vacation. It’s somewhere new and warm, far away from... you know. 

HOLLY: Also, there’s plenty of opportunity to be alone here, which is one of my favorite things. Present company excluded, of course. I think you know that by now. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) That said, everything is really expensive when you have nothing. Hotels, ready to eat food-it’s a lot. And that’s not even touching the vehicle I’ll need to live in long-term. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) I really need papers as soon as possible, if our old friend will still speak to me. Maybe she’ll work on credit? I can’t get a plane ticket home or any kind of job or government assistance without an ID, so I’m making it priority one. 

HOLLY: (cont’d) I don’t know what else to say. 

MUSIC: OUTRO, SOLITUDE BY MUCIOJAD 

HOLLY: I’m going to try to take care of things while I wait for your response. I’ll report back in a few days. 

SOUND: --. ..- .--. --. .. -.. -.- ..- 

HOLLY: Oak, please confirm receipt of my transmission. Again, you can reach me on multiple platforms under the username "OAKPODCAST." Secondly, you can help me survive by donating to my Patreon, patreon.com/oakpodcast. That’s also where I’ll transmit more sensitive broadcasts-as soon as I figure out exactly how to do that from my phone. 

HOLLY: If you’re listening to this and you’re not Oak, you can make up for invading my privacy by rating and reviewing this broadcast, which will hopefully help my partner find me. End transmission.