#and I’m not saying Jesse turning to drugs or any of this is their fault obviously

[oscopelabs]

Isn’t Everything Autobiographical?: Ethan Hawke In Nine Films And A Novel by Marya Gates

When asked during his first ever on-camera interview if he’d like to continue acting, a young Ethan Hawke replied, “I don’t know if it’s going to be there, but I’d like to do it.” He then gives a guileless shrug of relief as the interview ends, wiping imaginary sweat off his brow. The simultaneous fusion of his nervous energy and poised body language will be familiar to those who’ve seen later interviews with the actor. The practicality and wisdom he exudes at such a young age would prove to be a through-line of his nearly 40-year career. In an interview many decades later, he told Ideas Tap that many children get into acting because they’re seeking attention, but those who find their calling in the craft discover that a “desire to communicate and to share and to be a part of something bigger than yourself takes over, a certain craftsmanship—and that will bring you a lot of pleasure.”

Through Hawke’s dedication to his craft, we’ve also seen his maturation as a person unfold on screen. Though none of his roles are traditionally what we think of when we think of autobiography, many of Hawke’s roles, as well as his work as a writer, suggest a sort of fictional autobiographical lineage. While these highlights in his career are not strictly autofiction, one can trace Hawke’s Künstlerromanesque trajectory from his childhood ambitions to his life now as a man dedicated to art, not greatness. 

Hawke’s first two films, Joe Dante’s sci-fi fantasy Explorers with River Phoenix and Peter Weir’s Dead Poets Society with Robin Williams, set the tone for a diverse filmography filled with popcorn fare and indie cinema in equal measure, but they also served as touchstones in his development as person drawn to self-expression through art. In an interview with Rolling Stone’s David Fear, Hawke spoke about the impact of these two films on him as an actor. When River Phoenix, his friend and co-star in Explorers, had his life cut short by a drug overdose, it hit Hawke personally. He saw from the inside what Hollywood was capable of doing to young people with talent. Hawke never attempted to break out, to become a star. He did the work he loved and kept the wild Hollywood lifestyle mostly at arm’s length. 

Like any good film of this genre, Dead Poets Society is not just a film about characters coming of age, but a film that guides the viewer as well, if they are open to its message. Hawke’s performance as repressed schoolboy Todd in the film is mostly internal, all reactions and penetrating glances, rather than grandiose movements or speeches. Through his nervy body language and searching gaze, you can feel both how closed off to the world Todd is, and yet how willing he is to let change in. Hawke has said working on this film taught him that art has a real power, that it can affect people deeply. This ethos permeates many of the characters Hawke has inhabited in his career. 

In Dead Poets Society, Mr. Keating (Robin Williams) tells the boys that we read and write poetry because the human race is full of passion. He insists, “poetry, beauty, romance, love—these are what we stay alive for.” Hawke gave a 2020 TEDTalk entitled Give Yourself Permission To Be Creative, in which he explored what it means to be creative, pushing viewers to ask themselves if they think human creativity matters. In response to his own question, he said “Most people don’t spend a lot of time thinking about poetry, right? They have a life to live and they’re not really that concerned with Allen Ginsberg’s poems, or anybody’s poems, until their father dies, they go to a funeral, you lose a child, somebody breaks your heart, they don’t love you anymore, and all of the sudden you’re desperate for making sense out of this life and ‘has anyone ever felt this bad before? How did they come out of this cloud?’ Or the inverse, something great. You meet somebody and your heart explodes. You love them so much, you can’t even see straight, you know, you’re dizzy. ‘Did anybody feel like this before? What is happening to me?’ And that’s when art is not a luxury. It’s actually sustenance. We need it.” 

Throughout many of his roles post-Dead Poets Society, Hawke explores the nature of creativity through his embodiment of writers and musicians. Often these characters are searching for a greater purpose through art, while ultimately finding that human connection is the key. Without that human connection, their art is nothing.

We see the first germ of this attraction to portray creative people on screen with his performance as Troy Dyer in Reality Bites. As Troy Dyer, a philosophy-spouting college dropout turned grunge-band frontman in Reality Bites, Hawke was posited as a Gen-X hero. His inability to keep a job and his musician lifestyle were held in stark contrast to Ben Stiller’s yuppie TV exec Michael Grates. However in true slacker spirit, he isn’t actually committed to the art of music, often missing rehearsals, as Lelaina points out. Troy even uses his music at one point to humiliate Lelaina, dedicating a rendition of “Add It Up” by Violent Femmes to her. The lyrics add insult to injury as earlier that day he snuck out of her room after the two had sex for the first time. Troy’s lack of commitment to his music matches his inability to commit to those relationships in his life that mean the most to him. 

Reality Bites is also where he first positioned himself as one of the great orators of modern cinema.” Take this early monologue, in which he outlines his beliefs to Winona Ryder’s would-be documentarian Lelaina Pierce: “There’s no point to any of this. It’s all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know, a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle, and I, I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.” 

Hawke brings the same intense gaze to this performance as he did to Dead Poets Society, as if his eyes could swallow the world whole. But where Todd’s body language was walled-off, Troy’s is loud and boisterous. He’s quick to see the faults of those around him, but also the good things the world has to offer. It’s a pretty honest depiction of how self-centered your early-20s tend to be, where riding your own melt seems like the best option. As the film progresses, Troy lets others in, saying to Lelaina, “This is all we need. A couple of smokes, a cup of coffee, and a little bit of conversation. You, me and five bucks.”

Like the character, Hawke was in his early twenties and as he would continue to philosophize through other characters, they would age along with him and so would their takes on the world. If you only engage with anyone at one phase in their life, you do a disservice to the arc of human existence. We have the ability to grow and change as we learn who we are and become less self-centered. In Hawke’s career, there’s no better example of this than his multi-film turn as Jesse in the Before Trilogy. While the creation of Jesse and Celine are credited to writer-director Richard Linklater and his writing partner Kim Krizan, much of what made it to the screen even as early as the first film were filtered through the life experiences of Hawke and his co-star Julie Delpy. 

In a Q&A with Jess Walter promoting his most recent novel A Bright Ray of Darkness, Hawke said that Jesse from the Before Trilogy is like an alt-universe version of himself, and through them we can see the self-awareness and curiosity present in the early ET interview grow into the the kind of man Keating from Dead Poets Society urged his students to become. 

In Before Sunrise, Hawke’s Jesse is roughly the same age as Troy in Reality Bites, and as such is still in a narcissistic phase of his life. After spending several romantic hours with Celine in Vienna, the two share their thoughts about relationships. Celine says she wants to be her own person, but that she also desperately wants to love and be loved. Jesse shares this monologue, “Sometimes I dream about being a good father and a good husband. And sometimes it feels really close. But then other times it seems silly, like it would ruin my whole life. And it’s not just a fear of commitment or that I’m incapable of caring or loving because. . . I can. It’s just that, if I’m totally honest with myself, I think I’d rather die knowing that I was really good at something. That I had excelled in some way than that I’d just been in a nice, caring relationship.”

The film ends without the audience knowing if Jesse and Celine ever see each other again. That initial shock is unfortunately now not quite as impactful if you are aware of the sequels. But I think it is an astute look at two people who meet when they are still discovering who they are. Still growing. Jesse, at least, is definitely not ready for any kind of commitment. Then of course, we find out in Before Sunset that he’s fumbled his way into marriage and fatherhood, and while he’s excelling at the latter, he’s failing at the former. 

As in Reality Bites, Hawke explores the dynamics of band life again in Before Sunset, when Jesse recalls to Celine how he was in a band, but they were too obsessed with getting a deal to truly enjoy the process of making music. He says to her, “You know, it's all we talked about, it was all we thought about, getting bigger shows, and everything was just...focused on the future, all the time. And now, the band doesn't even exist anymore, right? And looking back at the... at the shows we did play, even rehearsing... You know, it was just so much fun! Now I'd be able to enjoy every minute of it.”

The filming of Before Sunset happened to coincide with the dissolution of Hawke’s first marriage. And while these films are not autobiographical, everyone involved have stated that they’ve added personal elements to their characters. They even poke fun at it in the opening scene when a journalist asks how autobiographical Jesse’s novel is. True to form, he responds with a monologue, “Well, I mean, isn’t everything autobiographical? I mean, we all see the world through our own tiny keyhole, right? I mean, I always think of Thomas Wolfe, you know. Have you ever seen that little one page note to reader in the front of Look Homeward, Angel, right? You know what I'm talking about? Anyway, he says that we are the sum of all the moments of our lives, and that, anybody who sits down to write is gonna use the clay of their own life, that you can’t avoid that.”

While Before Sunset was shot in 2003, released in 2004 and this monologue refers to the fictional book within the trilogy entitled This Time, Hawke would take this same approach more than a decade later with his novel A Bright Ray of Darkness.

In the novel, Hawke crafts a quasi-autobiographical story, using his experience in theater to work through the perspective he now has on his failed marriage to Uma Thurman. Much like Jesse in Before Sunset, Hawke is reluctant to call the book autobiographical, but the parallels to his own divorce are evident. And as Jesse paraphrased Wolfe, isn’t everything we do autobiographical? In the book, movie star William Harding has blown up his seemingly picture-perfect marriage with a pop star by having an affair while filming on location in South Africa. The book, structured in scenes and acts like a play, follows the aftermath as he navigates his impending divorce, his relationship with his small children, and his performance as Hotspur in a production of Henry IV on Broadway. 

Throughout much of the novel, William looks back at the mistakes he made that led to the breakup of his marriage. He’s now in his 30s and has the clarity to see how selfish he was in his 20s. Hawke, however, was in his forties while writing the book. Through the layers of hindsight, you can feel how Hawke has processed not just the painful emotional growth spurt of his 20s, but also the way he can now mine the wisdom that comes from true reflection. Still, as steeped as the novel is in self-reflection, it does not claim to have all the answers. In fact, it offers William, as well as the readers, more questions to contemplate than it does answers.

The wisdom to know that you will never quite understand everything is broached by Hawke early in the third film in the Before Trilogy, 2013’s Before Midnight. At this point in their love story, Jesse’s marriage has ended and he and Celine are parents to twin girls. Jesse has released two more books: That Time, which recounts the events of the previous film, and Temporary Cast Members of a Long-Running But Little Seen Production of a Play Called Fleeting. Before Midnight breaks the bewitching spell of the first two films by adding more cast members and showing the friction that comes with an attempt to grow old with someone. When discussing his three books, a young man says the title of his third is too long, Jesse says it wasn’t as well loved, and an older professor friend says it’s his best book because it’s more ambitious. It seems Linklater and company already knew how the departure of this third film might be regarded by fans. But it is this very departure that shows their commitment to honestly showing the passage of time and our relationship to it. 

About halfway through the film Jesse and Celine depart the Greek villa where they have been spending the summer, and we finally get a one-on-one conversation like we’re used to with these films. In one exchange, I feel they summarize the point of the entire trilogy, and possibly Hawke’s entire ethos: 

Jesse: Every year, I just seem to get a little bit more humbled and more overwhelmed about all the things I’m never going to know or understand. 

Celine: That’s what I keep telling you. You know nothing!

Jesse: I know, I know! I'm coming around! 

[Celine and Jesse laugh.] 

Celine: But not knowing is not so bad. I mean, the point is to be looking, searching. To stay hungry, right?

Throughout the series, Linklater, Delpy, and Hawke explore what they call the “transient nature of everything.” Jesse says his books are less about time and more about perception. It’s the rare person who can assess themselves or the world around them acutely in the present. For most of us, it takes time and self-reflection to come to any sort of understanding about our own nature. Before Midnight asks us to look back at the first two films with honesty, to remove the romantic lens with which they first appeared to us. It asks us to reevaluate what romance even truly is. 

Hawke explores this same concept again in the 2018 romantic comedy Juliet, Naked. In this adaptation of the 2009 Nick Hornby novel, Hawke plays a washed-up singer-songwriter named Tucker Crowe. He had a big hit album, Juliet, in the early ‘90s and then disappeared into obscurity. Rose Bryne plays a woman named Annie whose longtime boyfriend Duncan is obsessed with the singer and the album, stuck on the way the bummer songs about a bad breakup make him feel. As the film begins, Annie reveals that she thinks she’s wasted 15 years of her life with this schmuck. This being a rom-com, we know that Hawke and Byrne’s characters will eventually meet-cute. What’s so revelatory about the film is its raw depiction of how hard it is for many to reassess who they really are later in life. 

Duncan is stuck as the self-obsessed, self-pitying person he likely was when Annie first met him, but she reveals he was so unlike anyone else in her remote town that she looked the other way for far too long. Now it’s almost too late. By chance, she connects with Crowe and finds a different kind of man.

See, when Crowe wrote Juliet, he also was a navel-gazing twentysomething whose emotional development had not yet reached the point of being able to see both sides in a romantic entanglement. He worked through his heartbreak through art, and though it spoke to other people, he didn’t think about the woman or her feelings on the subject. In a way, Crowe’s music sounds a bit like what Reality Bites’s Troy Dyer may have written, if he ever had the drive to actually work at his music. Eventually, it’s revealed that Crowe walked away from it all when Julie, the woman who broke his heart, confronted him with their child—something he was well aware of, but from which he had been running away. Faced with the harsh reality of his actions and the ramifications they had on the world beyond his own feelings, he ran even farther away from responsibility. In telling the story to Annie, he says, “I couldn’t play any of those songs anymore, you know? After that, I just... I couldn’t play these insipid, self-pitying songs about Julie breaking my heart. You know, they were a joke. And before I know it, a couple of decades have gone by and some doctor hands me... hands me Jackson. I hold him, you know, and I look at him. And I know that this boy. . . is my last chance.”

When we first meet Crowe, he’s now dedicated his life to raising his youngest son, having at this point messed up with four previous children. The many facets of parenthood is something that shows up in Hawke’s later body of work many times, in projects as wholly different as Brooklyn’s Finest, Before Midnight, Boyhood, Maggie’s Plan, First Reformed, and even his novel A Bright Ray of Darkness. In each of these projects, decisions made by Hawke’s characters have a big impact on their children’s lives. These films explore the financial pressures of parenthood, the quirks of blended families, the impact of absent fathers, and even the tragedy of a father’s wishes acquiesced without question. Hawke’s take on parenthood is that of flawed men always striving to overcome the worst of themselves for the betterment of the next generation, often with mixed results. 

Where Juliet, Naked showed a potential arc of redemption for a father gone astray, First Reformed paints a bleaker portrait. Hawke plays Pastor Toller, a man of the cloth struggling with his own faith who attempts to counsel an environmental activist whose impending fatherhood has driven him to suicidal despair. Toller himself is struggling under the weight of fatherhood, believing he sent his own son to die a needless death in a morally bankrupt war. Sharing the story, he says “My father taught at VMI. I encouraged my son to enlist. It was the family tradition. Like his father, his grandfather. Patriotic tradition. My wife was very opposed. But he enlisted against her wishes. . . .  Six months later he was killed in Iraq. There was no moral justification for this conflict. My wife could not live with me after that. Who could blame her? I left the military. Reverend Jeffers at Abundant Life Church heard about my situation. They offered me a position at First Reformed. And here I am.” How do we carry the weight of actions that affect lives that are not even our own? 

If Peter Weir set the father figure template in Dead Poets Society, and Paul Schrader explored the consequences of direct parental influence on their children’s lives, director Richard Linklater subverts the idea of a mentor-guide in Boyhood, showing both parents are as lost as the kid himself. When young Mason (Ellar Coltrane) asks his dad (Hawke) what’s the point of everything, his reply is “I sure as shit don’t know. Nobody does. We’re all just winging it.” As the film ends, Mason sits atop a mountain with a new friend he’s made in the dorms discussing time. She says that everyone is always talking about seize the moment—carpe diem!—but she thinks it’s the other way around. That the moments seize us. In Reality Bites, Troy gets annoyed at Lelaina’s constant need to “memorex” everything with her camcorder, yet Boyhood is a film about capturing a life over a 12-year period. The Before Trilogy checks in on Jesse and Celine every nine years. Hawke’s entire career. in fact, has captured his growth from an awkward teen to a prolific artist and devoted father, a master of his craft and philosopher at heart. 

[oreoambitions]

Part 10 of ???

Parts 1-3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 5.5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Ao3 "There are only three things in this world that make money on any reasonable scale: sex, drugs, and violence. And you've gone and written violence out of the Luthor Corp equation." Lena purses her lips. Only Lilian could make L-Corp's turn away from military and weapons tech sound like the financial misstep of a fresh business graduate, and only Lena could somehow feel chastised in spite of all that she's accomplished. "L-Corp," she corrects, but Lilian either doesn't realize she's called the company by its old moniker or she doesn't care. In either case she brushes past Lena's words without acknowledgement. "The medical advancements you've made in the last few months are promising, but the simple fact of the matter is that saving lives won't save our bottom line. If you want to be National City's guardian angel, you're going to have to figure out how to pay for it. I don't think you have the stomach for drugs and it could be a risky gambit under Supergirl's nose. So it's sex.”

Lena swirls the bourbon in her glass absently, her eyes on anything but Lilian. "Somehow I don't think I'm stripper material," she comments, "but I'm sure I could find an online class, if you've really got your heart set on the idea." Of course that isn't want Lilian is talking about, but the dry quip falls from her lips almost without her say so. "Please," Lilian scoffs. "You're supposed to be a married woman now; you'll have to grow out of riding on the coat tails of your own sex appeal. I have something better in mind." Lena's hand stills. "Yes," she says, "Because all married women are demure and modest and never capitalize on their bodies for political or financial gain. I grew up in your house; I know how L-Corp's alliances were forged." Lilian's mouth forms a stiff line as she turns away to stand at the window, her own bourbon forgotten on Lena's desk. "It's different for you," she says. "The public breathing down your neck at every minute trying to catch you in a lie. I could almost pity you if you hadn't been the one to drag the Luthor name through the mud in the first place." "That was Lex," Lena mutters. She takes a quick swallow of the bourbon and prays the warmth of it will wash away her temper. "We were a respectable family. That comes with certain freedoms. And now this media stunt with Supergirl of all people-" Lena throws back the rest of her glass. "Not a media stunt, mother, but don't expect her for Christmas dinner; she's allergic to backstabbing and manipulation." "Then it's no wonder she's never seen with you."Lena puts her glass down with a distinct snap. She'd like another pour but too much bourbon is dangerous around Lilian and she's feeling that danger particularly acutely tonight. There can be a third glass, maybe even a fourth, when Lena is safe at home in her apartment. "Supergirl is away handling an urgent family matter," Lena says. It's a rehearsed explanation and she's sure Lilian sees right through it, but she depends on the easy oft repeated words to cover up the fact that her mother has struck too close to home. It's true that Kara hasn't been seen with her. It's true that Kara hasn't been seen anywhere for a month and a half. And it's true that it's Lena's fault. "And I suppose your upcoming court date doesn't qualify as an 'urgent family matter' in her eyes," Lilian sneers. She steps away from the window at last to retrieve her drink. "If you really did marry her, she's shaping up to be quite the negligent wife." Lena reaches for her wedding bracelet instead of the bourbon, rubs her thumb over it back and forth for a long moment feeling the weight of Kara's absence like a vice around her chest. Clark's words echo softly in the back of her mind. She loves you, you know. And of course she does. They're best friends, after all. This day and all days to follow. Isn't that what they swore to one another? So Kara will be there when it matters most, and Lena will be patient and steadfast while Kara is away. "She'll be here when I need her," Lena says aloud, as much to reassure herself as to put Lilian off. "But you didn't come here to lecture me about my marriage." "No," Lilian agrees, her eyebrows raised. "I came here to lecture you about sex. Specifically about William Dey." The name is familiar. Lena can't place it but she's heard it somewhere before in that vague way that she's heard the names of celebrities and political figures thrown about in conversation such that everyone is expected to already know them and so no context is ever provided. Lilian, blessedly, does not wait for an answer. "He'll be accompanying you to the gala, since your so-called spouse remains unavailable. I'll need-" "Supergirl will be there," Lena says, the words more forceful than they might have been if she were actually sure. "She'll want the press to see us together." "For your sake I wish that were true. I'll need access to your schedule so that we can arrange a get-together in advance, let the two of you find your rhythm. We'll want to coordinate your outfits, of course, but subtly. We can't sell him if he's wrapped around your finger; it's important that he seem desirable but not spoken for, you understand? I don't want you to tarnish his reputation." "Be seen with him but don't let him be seen with me, and appear to desire him but not so much that the public questions the validity of my marriage. Got it. Any other impossible demands?" "Yes: you could try speaking to me with a little respect while I try to put your name and your family back together in the wake of your foolishness and the absence of your restraint." Lena looks away. Supergirl will be at the gala. She'll be there and it won't matter what Lilian wants because everything will be okay. Six weeks of silence pound in Lena's head and she can't summon Clark's words or Sam's reassurances. All she can hear is Lilian. Your supposed spouse. Quite the negligent wife. "I'll have Jess get in touch to set up the meeting," Lena says. Her fingers fall from her wedding bracelet. "What is it we're using him to sell?" "Nothing yet," Lilian says. She pours herself another glass of bourbon and perches on the edge of Lena's desk. Lena considers a quip about respect but finds she doesn't have it in her. "If the gala goes well, we'll announce a line of William Dey smart watches by the end of the year." "We manufacture vanity accessories now? Shall we also put out a line of William Dey sneakers?" Maybe she does have a quip or two left in her after all. "The neural lace you're developing downstairs will never move on the market. The public struggles with the concept of vaccination; they'll never trust an implant, and especially not from you. But from a beloved Country star, an attractive young man with all the right press? Perhaps. If they're led to it." "You want to use sex to sell medicine." Lilian raises her glass as if in a toast. "Medicine and smart watches. But Lena? All the money in the world can't buy back your reputation. Do be careful." "I'll win the perjury case," Lena says. "The paperwork is in order. Argo is sending a representative to act as a witness." "There is the court," Lilian replies and then there is the court of public opinion. "Lena finally takes her place at the window, gazing out across the city as Lilian throws back another finger of bourbon and sees herself out. Unspoken words linger heavy in the room. "Where are you?" Lena whispers. She puts a hand to the glass and then, feeling foolish, snatches it back. Too much bourbon, or not enough. Kara will be here when it matters. She will. She made promises, said vows. She'll be there. And Lena has nothing to fear.

[stab-the-son-of-a]

Whumpers Only

I wish I could explain how this got away from me but I have no words. Not quite a caretaker, so, sorry anon, but here you go.

CW: Brief drug and alcohol mention

The itemized call history that crossed Detective Vance’s desk is deceptively extensive and several pages thick, despite being only for a few months’ span of time. Forensics still have their hands all over the cell phone itself, and the detective has a few choice words they could say about the forensic team’s work ethic, but they’re not in the practice of layering their insults in honey. Their bread and butter is to to dig and root around for information, like some sort of truffle pig, and their tongue is regularly knotted. The detective finds themself quite defective when it comes to spinning the same pleasant, nuanced banter, certainly not enough to keep up with the man down in forensics with the sugar sweet smile.

So, itemized call list it is. It took the detective an obscene amount of time to cross reference the numbers against every possible database and to confirm the pattern to the suspect's behaviors and narrow down which numbers are legitimate. Most of all, which of these numbers matches the spurious rumor of a hotline.

A ‘whump’ hotline. There are many, many similar mentions in certain circles and apparently coded messages sent through various forms of advertising, and yet, this is the closest Jesse has come to interacting with that sphere. They’re not sure, but they think that might be why they still can’t bring themself to finish dialing.

The information has always been there, readily accessed in the same sort of way drugs and alcohol are accessible - a thinly veiled barrier, a little social based pressure to avoid or partake depending on the circles. For years, Jesse has been a teetotaler and avoided whump content in any respect, and kept that influence from their life.

It’s odd to abandon that part of their life, that internal badge of never having indulged.

It’s for a case, however, so they finally stop their waffling and dial.

Not long after, on the second ring, someone picks up. “Hello and thank you for calling 1-877-WHMP-NOW, the whump specialist hotline.” The person on the other end, an operator of some sort, offers a friendly greeting.

Off balanced by just how cordial the other person sounds, Jesse hesitates a moment to collect themself. They just have to pretend to want to be a whumper. That couldn't be too hard. “Um…” they mumble, then clear their throat. “Um, hi, I... want to learn to whump. My name is-”

“Oh. Excuse me, I’ll have to place you on hold while a representative finishes with another client.”

The cheery hold music is far more underwhelming than anything else and Jesse frowns at the phone, as if it’s the device’s fault, before sighing and settling on their couch, one leg tossed over the arm while they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Eventually they start mirroring the words of the automated voice recording, interjecting with their own commentary in the brief pauses between statements.

“All our lines are busy at the moment.”

“And here at Whump Corp or whatever these moments last a lifetime,” Jesse snorts as they try yet again to find another position on the couch. Their curly hair serves little by way of cushioning from the carpet as they sit upside down. The phone sits a few inches away from their head, speakerphone enabled, and Jesse crosses their hands over their stomach and their ankles behind the back of the couch.

Undeterred, because of course, the message continues, “Please remain patient. Your time is very important to us. We will be with you momentarily.”

“Momentarily means for a short period,” Jesse corrects under their breath. It’s a small pet peeve, something that normally wouldn’t have drawn their attention either, but as they hear the same spiel for the dozenth time, it’s like getting the last final small pebble thrown in their face- just enough to burst the dam. "Not in a short period of time."

“We are currently experiencing greater than usual call volume. Continue to hold the line, and you will be connected as soon as possible.”

“How many people can there even be calling at 11am on a Tuesday?” Gravity draws Jesse’s blood into their head until the pressure and dizziness build uncomfortably. They roll off the couch and root around in their mini fridge for a drink. At this volume, they can hear the same three bar hold music repeat yet again, despite the distance. Cracking the seal on their iced tea, Jesse settles cross legged beside the cellphone. “Don’t whump on company time, guys, jeez.”

“Just a moment please, the next available team member will be there for you shortly.”

Letting out a drawn out groan, Jesse lies back and stares up at the ceiling. It’s been hours. “Starting to think I’m waiting for the next available team member to be born.”

Click. Jesse bolts upright, fumbling with the phone and nearly yeeting it across the room in their haste.

“All of our employees are currently busy assisting other clients,” the new voice announces. The faint static and electric tone warns Jesse that they’ve simply stumbled into another robot. “Your call and phone number has just been noted and a representative will call you back as soon as possible. We thank you for your understanding.”

“What?” That doesn’t make any sense. Jesse runs a hand through their curls, only to freeze as the line goes dead. “What?! No! I did not just sit through hours of happy fun time hold music just to get hung up on by a robot!”

Except that’s exactly what just happened.

They stare down at their screen in acute betrayal. What now? Try again? Their number is now in a whump call center database of some sort.

-

Half an hour after the call disconnected, Jesse still hasn’t moved from their position. Their mind is a blur as they try to figure out what it is they really ended up doing- if they would have to explain themself and the call to anyone- their family, friends, service provider, work. They don’t even know if anyone will know, let alone if they will care.

The house is absolutely silent, the muted television still playing in the background as they’d forgotten to turn it off or to return the volume.

Silent until the phone rings. Shock and no small amount of recklessness has Jesse answering the unknown number.

“Hello, and thank you for holding!” It’s the operator from before- Jesse recognizes the faint impediment or accent that sharpens the glottal sound of their h’s.

“I wouldn’t call that holding,” Jesse grumbles.

Either not hearing them, or not addressing their commentary, the operator continues, “At this time, I'd like to let you know that this call may be recorded for quality assurance and training purposes. Please answer the following survey questions.”

“I’ve been on hold for hours and you want me to perform a survey? About what? I haven’t even gotten helped!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, friend. Were you highly satisfied with your service experience?”

Bewildered, Jesse cries, “No!”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Did you receive the result you needed from your service interaction?”

“What interaction?!” Are they in the Twilight Zone? Are they still speaking English? Did they have a stroke and now they’re mumbling incoherently? What sort of madness was this, an elaborate prank?

“Thank you for your response. Did you receive friendly service?”

“I didn’t get any service! Rude would have been preferable!”

“Your feedback has been noted.”

Jesse groans again and scrubs their face.

“Was our service timely and convenient?”

“Not on your life!”

“Thank you for your responses. Now, would you recommend our service to others?”

They can feel their head pulsing and pounding, a twitch behind their temple and their eyebrow jumping, but as soon as they hang up, their blood pressure begins to lower with a rush of relief.

Their iced tea now room temperature and bitter, Jesse takes a few more sips and leans against the couch, resting their neck against the cushion. “What a disaster,” they sigh.

After a few seconds of blissful silence, their phone goes off again. Swiping the decline button with a vicious smirk, they return to enjoying what more of their day they can.

Said enjoyment ends with another call, and another.

“Fine! Hello?”

“I’m sorry, it seems we were disconnected. Please finish providing your feedback so we can improve our services.”

“My feedback is that this was an exercise is madness! You kept me on hold for over two hours, but you’ve repeatedly called me for a stupid survey when before you couldn’t give me the time of day!”

“I’ve very sorry you were not satisfied with the level of response and attentiveness. You are welcome to try calling again tomorrow-”

“Absolutely no-”

“As I was saying, Mx. Vance, you may call the hotline again tomorrow during regular business hours. Thank you for completing the survey and for calling 1-877-WHMP-NOW. Have a whumpderful day!”

“A pun?” Jesse tosses their phone to the couch and storms off to the bathroom to wash the rage and boiling heat from their face. “All that for a stupid pun?!”

-

Over at the call center, Gladys and Fran sit huddled around the phone, Gladys actually sitting on the desk and perched precariously on the edge. The speaker button still flashes from the abrupt disconnection.

“Did you hear them?” Gladys roars with laughter, holding her aching ribs. It took everything in her willpower and then some to keep quiet, both while listening to the detective while they were on hold, but especially while Fran spoke with them. Now free, she lets loose, uncaring of who else hears her. “Oh God, oh man, I’m gonna bust a rib. Babe, you’re the best.”

“I’m actually proud of that pun. Like, really proud.” Fran takes out their pen and quickly scribbles that one down.

“Uhhh, Fran, I’m pretty sure Craig in finance already-”

They raise up one finger imperiously and continue to write. “Let me have my moment, Glady-girl. Just this once.”

Smiling, she rolls her eyes and slides off the desk. “Since you gave me the best lunch break surprise ever, want to head down to the cafe?”

Fran takes a final quick look at their work space, how messy and disorganized it is now that it’s no longer Gladys’s chair, considers the amount of time left in their shift and how long this high of a well played prank might last, and wheels back from their desk. “Lead the way!”

“Oh, no, you’re my hero,” she insists, dramatically bowing to allow them to go ahead of her. The angle is perfect for a quick peck on the cheek before they make their way down the corridors.

[notcapableofbeingtheguy]

HANK’S TRANSFORMATION AS REACTION TO TRAUMA— DECENTER THE SELF

“I think the universe is trying to tell me something and I’m finally ready to listen.”— 3x07, One Minute

(Main Post)

To understand how Hank’s trauma transforms him over the course of the show, let’s start by thinking about what Hank is like at the beginning of the show.

At the beginning of the show, Hank is the picture of toxic masculine arrogance. In the Pilot, Walt envies Hank for his power and confidence. Hank is cool, successful, manly, and everything Walt feels he is not. But we as the audience see how Hank’s ego is hurtful to those around him: he is callous, racist, misogynistic, and focuses more on the power involved in his job (the ~thrill of the bust~) than his potential to do good. What we don’t yet see, initially, though— and what it takes a great deal of trauma to reveal to Hank— is how his masculine arrogance, his obsession with himself, is also hurtful to himself.

Over the course of the first 2 and a half seasons, Hank experiences several traumatic incidents of witnessing and inflicting violent injury and death. First, Hank kills Tuco in a shoot out. Then he witnesses the tortoise explosion in El Paso. And he reacts to this trauma by engaging in increasingly reckless violent behavior— starting with bar fights, and ending with his brutal beating of Jesse.

Why does Hank react in this way? I believe it’s because, up until his beating of Jesse, Hank’s ego prevents him from properly coping with his PTSD. Hank is shaken by the violent incidents he is involved with in the field— exhibiting clear symptoms of PTSD. He has panic attacks and insomnia and startles at loud noises. Hank interprets all this as his mind and body failing him, failing to live up to his idea of a proper man and a proper cop. To accept that he has PTSD, that he has reacted to these situations emotionally, rather than brushing these violent instances off like a Real ManTM, would be to totally shatter his image of himself. So, he doesn’t accept this. When Walt suggests Hank talk to a therapist upon returning from El Paso, Hank immediately rejects the idea, saying “[if you] start going down that road, [you can] kiss your career goodbye” (2x 08, Better Call Saul). He has so built himself up in his own mind, that he believes if he admits any weakness, he will lose everything— his job, the respect of his wife and friends, himself. He won’t confront his trauma, and he won’t confront his reaction to it, and he certainly won’t confront how his natural reaction to the trauma makes him feel (frustrated, humiliated).

So he turns the anger and frustration he has with himself and his failing mind and body outwards. He is violent and reckless. In episode 3x03, I.F.T, Hank has a panic attack in a bar bathroom, from thinking about the possibility of being sent back to El Paso. And then he proceeds to pick a fight with two other patrons, under the guise of DEA business, but clearly actually because he needs to outlet his rage and panic. And Hank’s reaction is even worse when he believes Marie has been hurt (after Saul places the false call in Sunset). He is first thrown into a panic, and then into an uncontrollable rage— leading him to brutally beat Jesse. But this turns out to be the turning point for Hank, the moment when he truly, authentically changes in response to his trauma.

Let’s focus in on the brief moment in between Hank’s beating of Jesse, and his grueling near death experience with The Twins. The crucible moment when Hank’s transformation as I have described it— his decentering of the self— begins. This moment is actually one episode, and it’s one of my favorites: 3x07, One Minute. In beating Jesse as he did— blatantly outside of the boundaries of his job, Hank realizes he has gone too far. This violence touches his personal life— he fears for Marie’s life, and reacts by beating a civilian as a civilian— and so it is harder to make excuses for it as just another part of being in the DEA. Hank knows what he did was wrong. And this is (forgive the metaphor) the Jenga piece that makes the whole pile topple. He finally admits to himself (and to Marie) that “ever since that Salamanca thing” he’s been “unraveling.” He admits that his shooting of Tuco and the El Paso incident are the reasons for his violent and wrong behavior— that they have damaged him. He finally admits that he has been traumatized, and he has reacted to it poorly.

And after admitting this, Hank does something incredible. Something unprecedented in terms of who we have seen him to be previously in the show. He admits fault, he takes responsibility, and he quits the DEA. We see Hank truly and honestly humbled— he admits to both his weaknesses and his wrongdoings, with an unparalleled level of grace and self-awareness. He starts to become a better, more honest, more responsible, less arrogant person. He even weeps openly in front of Marie. This episode is Hank’s high point of the series, in terms of integrity and strength of character.

But then, oh then, there is fresh trauma for Hank.

Hank’s violent injury at the hands of The Twins, and his grueling recovery, hammer home even harder the fears and insecurities Hank had when his trauma was just emotional. Hank’s injury brings him to his lowest point— he is bed-bound, unemployed, and needs his wife’s help to take a shit. Everything Hank was feeling before— about the failure of his mind and body to live up to his masculine ideals— comes back with a vengeance.

And this does continue to humble Hank in the positive sense I described above. I believe that the incredible detective work that Hank is able to do in seasons 4 and 5 is enabled by this increased humility. I think it’s very apt when Hank says, in One Minute, “the universe is trying to tell me something and I’m finally ready to listen.” Hank’s strokes of investigative genius — first those that lead him to Gus Fring, and then the pivotal revelation that Walt is Heisenberg— could well be described as him simply listening to the universe, in a way he wasn’t ready to before. Gus had primed the DEA to never suspect him with his cop-loving act, but Hank was able to get outside of that bias and make that mental leap when all the other officers refused to believe it. He listened to what the evidence told him. And, though you could argue that Hank finding Gale’s book in Walt’s bathroom was purely random, I think Hank’s willingness to even consider Walt as a potential Heisenberg (let alone to extrapolate that possibility from a set of initials and a visually identified handwriting match on a random book) shows significant growth. There are countless moments before that in the series of incredible dramatic irony, where the idea of Walt as a drug dealer would occur to Hank, and he would immediately dismiss them as ludicrous. Because, of course, if Walt were a criminal, Hank would have to be an idiot to have been fooled by him for so long. There was a barrier of ego that was keeping Hank from considering that possibility. And only when it was removed, was Hank ready to listen to what the universe revealed to him.

But, the effects of Hank’s injury on him are not all positive.

Hank is brought SO low, and is SO humbled by his injury, that it moves to the point of humiliation. And he reacts to this by turning his attention away from himself and towards his fanatic obsessions. He decenters himself, by centering his whole life on something else. First there are, of course, his minerals. Then, he becomes obsessed with taking down Gus Fring. Then, finally, he becomes obsessed with taking down Walt.

This fanaticism is bad for Hank. His fanatic obsession with minerals almost destroys his marriage. His legally dubious pursuit of Gus Fring threatens his fragile career (and, unbenknownst to him, puts him on Gus’s hit list). And his fanatic pursuit of Walt eventually leads to his death. This fanaticism goes so wrong for Hank because, I would argue, fanatic external obsession ignores the self, where true humility accepts the self in all its flaws. Think back to Hank’s humble behavior following his beating of Jesse. Hank actually thought a lot about himself— he analyzed the patterns of behavior he’d had since his encounter with Tuco, admitted to his weaknesses, and took responsibility for his actions. He deflated his ego by taking a look at himself honestly, rather than by refusing to look at himself at all. But, after his injury, this is just what Hank does— refuses to examine himself, instead spending all his energy on something else. And that turns out to be Hank’s fatal flaw.

If Hank had examined himself instead of buying so many minerals, he would have seen he was ashamed of his physical disability and was taking that anger out on his wife. And he could have rectified that much sooner. If Hank had examined himself instead of relentlessly investigating Gus Fring, he would have seen that he was going back to the same type of crooked police work that he previously realized he was doing and quit the force because of. And he could have conducted his investigation more safely and ethically. If Hank had examined himself instead of fanatically pursuing Walt, he would have seen that he was furious with himself for failing to see Walt was Heisenberg sooner, and felt a need to redeem himself. And then maybe he would have been humble enough to ask for help from other DEA agents instead of going it on his own. And maybe, he would have survived.

Ironically, Hank’s attempts to think less about himself and his problems, actually ended up letting those problems rule his life.

Hank’s story is, in the end, a tragedy. We see the kind of positive growth Hank is capable of. His reaction to his trauma— the way he uses it to become a better person, husband, and detective— is often inspiring. By season 5, because of this growth, Hank arguably becomes the hero of the show. But, painfully, he isn’t able to grow quite enough. His ego remains involved in his detective work— though this time in the opposite direction (he frantically tries to ignore himself, rather than inflating himself, but this ends up involving him too much in his work nonetheless). And this, among the various sins of other characters, leads to Hank’s death. Which is so painful to see, because we know what Hank was capable of in terms of self-reflection, growth, and integrity. We know what he fell short of.

[hotchgan]

Winning a Battle, Losing the War: Chapter Two

Summery: The team rushes the decode Mr. Scratch’s message

A/N: @yourlocalheartbreaker helped me with this idea so thank you to her! Disclaimer: I don’t know what’s it like being in a mental hospital so this may not be accurate.

Taglist: @ellyhotchner @unionjackpillow @eleanorbloom

Warnings: drugs, mention of serial killers, mental hospital, attempted murder, mention of murder and death

Here is part one!

The team left the hospital and went to the Behavioural Analysis Unit building and went to the briefing room. Garcia just told us that Peter Lewis emailed her. Knowing the serial killer, he is probably offering some deal in exchange to telling us what drug he used on Aaron. We told Jessica we had to go and she said she should also go because staying there was no use. Jack is still pretty shaken up after seeing what happened to his father.

The team went into the briefing room and waited for Garcia to come with her laptop. She quickly came in and projected the screen on the wall. She opened up the email that Peter Lewis sent her.

I see you’ve figured out what happened to Agent Hotchner and who did it. Well this is going to be so much fun now that I’m offering you a deal. You have 72 hours to decode this message. Decode the message and I’ll give you the antidote to cure Agent Hotchner. And to make this more exciting, every day you fail to decode the message, I’ll kill an innocent citizen. Good luck. - Mr. Scratch

The team all looked at each other after reading the email. They didn’t have any choice. They have to help Hotch and in order to do that is to play along his game.

“Well, what’s the message we have to decode?” Emily asks.

“Uh right here”, Penelope says as she clicks on the PDF in the email. Inside the PDF is a message that writes ...

18424 )90”8; 49@$ (49753 619) 17@;58+9, 048:+3 28””8@: +97;56, =84*i;8@, 22172 7#@

“Reid, do you recognize this? Is it some code spies used back in the days or something?” Morgan asks Reid. Reid looks at the screen and frowns.

“No ... it’s just random numbers and symbols. I don’t think it has any significant meaning”, Reid replies.

“Well it has to, he said we have to decode it in seventy-two hours”, Emily says.

“Ok well what do you think the message will tell us, like would it be a riddle or a phrase?” Rossi asks Reid.

“I uh ... I don’t know. I’m trying to think all the possible things each symbol would mean but I just ...”, Reid replies.

“How about you just trace back the email. We’ll arrest Lewis and force him to tell us where the antidote is”, JJ says.

“I tried that at first but he had deleted his email address after sending us the email which means I can’t do that ... this is our only option”, Garcia replies to JJ. The team says silent for a moment.

“Well what do we know, Lewis somehow drugged Hotch so I think we should start there”, Morgan says to the team, immediately taking leadership since Hotch isn't around.

"What about the code?" JJ asks Morgan.

"Emily, Reid, and Rossi will stay here and figure out the code while the rest of us go figure out how Lewis drugged Hotch", Morgan replies. The team nods and starts working on their tasks.

Meanwhile, Aaron is still isolated in the room. Every once in a while, a nurse would ask if he needs to go to the bathroom or is hungry which Aaron would shake his head. He doesn't know who those people are or why he is here. All he knows is that he's supposed to kill anyone he sees or else something bad would happen to him.

But he can't do that since he's chained to the wall. He hopes the voice in his head will understand. But who was that little boy? And why did he call him dad? He tried to remember if he had met the kid somewhere but he doesn't remember him. But he does look familiar ... He looks like someone Aaron used to love.

“Aaron! Come!”

Aaron looks at Haley and smiles. He runs over to her.

“Look ...”, Haley says, pointing at the sunset. Aaron looks at the sun that is setting down.

“It’s so pretty”, Haley says. Aaron stares at her.

“Yeah ... it is”, Aaron says. Haley turns to face Aaron and smiles. They both share a kiss. At that time, the only thing that mattered is that they both love each other.

Haley ... Aaron thinks. He doesn’t know who she is but he knows he loved her. And that the little boy looked like her. Was that boy actually his son? Is that why he didn’t seem scared of him? Suddenly the door opens and Aaron flinches. A nurse walks in with a tray. And puts it down in front of him. Aaron backs away.

“I’m not going to hurt you”, the nurse says softly. She walks up to Aaron and takes the cage out of his face. Aaron doesn’t say anything and just stares at her.

“I’m guessing you’re hungry right now so I brought food”, the nurse says. Aaron looks at the tray. There is beans, a piece of bread, and some vegetables. Aaron stares at the food. The nurse gives him a water bottle.

“And here is some water. Don’t worry, it’s not bad as it looks”, the nurse says with a smile. Aaron shakes his handcuffs that is still cuffed to the wall. The nurse calls the security guard and he come to unlock it.

“Try to attack someone and we’ll strap you to the bed”, the guard grumbles. Aaron rubs his wrists and nods. The nurse and guard leaves and Aaron starts eating. It’s not bad but not good either. He wonders though, what is happening to the boy right now.

Morgan, JJ, and Garcia go into Hotch’s house where Jessica was staying. It was late at night and Jack was probably sleeping. Jessica opened the door and let them in. Jessica is still wearing a turtleneck to hide the bruises. They all go to the living room and sit down.

“Coffee?” Jessica offers. Morgan nods and JJ and Penelope ask for tea.

“So what brings you here?” Jessica asks.

“We were wondering how Peter Lewis drugged Hotch and was hoping you would tell us”, Morgan replies.

“Well I told you that we were eating ice cream and then suddenly he just ... snapped”, Jessica says.

“You said that he came into the house for maintenance”, JJ asks. Jessica nods.

“Do you know if he went to the kitchen?” JJ asks.

“Yeah he went to the living room and then into the kitchen”, Jessica replies.

“Can you show us?” Penelope asks. Jessica nods and shows them the kitchen. She told them how he went through the cabinets and the washing machine.

“Did he went through this?” Morgan asks showing Jessica the drawer.

“Yeah, why?” Jessica asks. Morgan opens the drawer to show all the spoons, forks, and knives in there. Jessica gasps in realization.

“JJ, put all of these in separate bags so we can go test them”, Morgan asks. JJ nods and starts doing as he’s told.

“I-I didn’t see him. I just left a for a second- I swear and-“, Jessica starts rambling again.

“Jess, this wasn’t your fault. It was his, ok?” Morgan says to Jessica. She nods wiping a tear from her eye. It took a while to get the utensils into separate bags but they did and sent them to the lab. They then go into the briefing room where Rossi, Emily, and Reid is staying at.

“We think Lewis infected the spoon Hotch used and it’s why he’s acting like that”, Morgan says to the team.

“Well we noticed that these symbols were only used in the twenty-first century as codes. Some serial killers used them to send to police stations and news reporters”, Emily says.

“Yeah and we’re trying to see if we can use those messages to decode this message”, Rossi adds.

“Ok, I’ll go check up on Hotch”, Morgan says. The team nods and continues working on the message Peter Lewis sent them. Morgan leaves the building and drives to the hospital Aaron is staying at. Twenty minutes later, Morgan is following a nurse to Aaron’s room.

“He seems to be in a calm state right now”, the nurse says. Morgan nods and was about to go in when the nurse stopped him.

“Wait! I know Hotch is some sort of nickname but stick to his first name. It seems to trigger him”, the nurse says. Morgan nods and goes into the room. Inside he sees Aaron who is sitting on his bed. He wasn’t handcuffed this time. Aaron immediately back away as he sees Morgan walking towards him.

“Aaron ... it’s just me”, Morgan says. But the voice in Aaron’s head says something different. Aaron suddenly jumps up and attack Morgan. Morgan freezes in shock as Aaron starts punching him. Morgan kicks Aaron off him and holds his wrists so he won’t hurt him.

“Aaron! It’s me, Morgan. Remember?” Morgan says again but Aaron doesn’t seem to hear him. Aaron kicks him in the stomach and Morgan releases his grip. The nurses and security guards quickly come in. The guard handcuffs Aaron to his bed and the nurses pull Morgan away.

“Are you alright?” The nurse asks Morgan.

“Yeah, just a few punches. But why did he act like that? You said he was in a calm state”, Morgan asks the nurse.

“We don’t know. We’re still figuring out what is triggering him”, the nurse says. Morgan nods as the nurse starts stitching him up. Suddenly his phone rings. Morgan tells the nurses to wait as he answers his phone. Emily was calling him.

“Yeah, Emily?” Morgan asks into the phone. Morgan then frowns.

“What do you mean there is a dead body?” Morgan asks. He then checks the time. It’s been twenty four hours. Morgan then remembers what Lewis said in the email. Everyday the team doesn’t decode the message, he kills someone.

[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.”

[lambourngb]

"Explain the tearaway pants again?"

“you can stay afraid ( or slit the throat of fear and be brave)” - title from Gang of Youths, and that’s all @haloud ‘s fault.

“Explain the tearaway pants again?” Alex asked, picking up the soft, shiny fabric from the box with an incredulous look to Kyle. Of all things he would have predicted as a birthday gift from Kyle, tearaway stripper pants was on the last page of the book, right before a father-son vacation voucher. 

Which he had also received, as a birthday gift from Eric, his latest and most recent now ex-boyfriend. His heart was in the right place, since Alex did say he was estranged from his dad, and well-meaning but ignorant Eric, who called his parents daily, thought a trip to baseball parks would help.

It was hard to explain to anyone he dated that when he said he wasn’t close with Jesse Manes, that it wasn’t just parental tension over his sexuality that could be eased with more talking. How do you say to someone that your dad didn’t just hate his sexuality but had attacked and maimed a teenager over it. That even drugged up with Alex waving a white flag of surrender, even faked as it was, his father had shut down any mention or acknowledgment of who Alex was. 

It was just easier to say that he and his dad did not see eye-to-eye and that it was unlikely to change. Alex had that weird thought that people, even alien shaped people, should be treated with dignity and not eradicated from the earth. There was no common ground to be found over genocide.

“I thought on the weekends, when you were wearing the prosthesis, you might find some use in easy to remove pants if you had your boyfriend over.” Kyle smiled, and moved to show him the tearaway seams that were cleverly hidden. “You told me that sometimes the mood fizzled because of getting undressed-”

“Ah,” Alex acknowledged, looking down at the box again. Another small white lie was coming back to bite him. It was true, getting undressed with someone new, was an ordeal. Forrest had handled it the best, outside of Michael, knowing just when to offer help and just when to back the hell off, but ultimately the secrets and running off because of a text about alien nonsense wore thin with him. After Forrest, he gave up on trying for a deeper relationship considering the number of secrets he guarded and went back to using a dating app which resulted in a few less-than-desirable responses to his leg.

Blaming the fizzle, on his awkward way of undressing, to Kyle was easier than mentioning that some guys lost their interest when the theoretical knowledge of his amputation became factual.

“You hate them.” Kyle reached for the box, which Alex tightened his grip on stubbornly.

“No, these are great and thoughtful, thank you. I was just thinking about the fact, I ah, Eric and I broke up today.”

“What?! Seriously?” Kyle glanced around Alex’s house with a clenched fist, as if he was waiting to see Eric appear, so he could fight him. “That dick broke up with you on your birthday? I never liked that douche.”

Alex smiled weakly, “You thought Eric was great, don’t lie.”

“I thought he was great because he didn’t act weird about your friendship with Guerin, and he’s one of the best scrub nurses in the OR but if he broke up with you on your birthday-”

“Okay well no need for workplace awkwardness, I broke up with him. In fact, you should probably take his side.” Alex gathered the wrapping paper to ball it up, and stood up to head into his kitchen, with Kyle following on his heels. He lifted the trash can lid, picking up the trip voucher on top to hand over to Kyle before disposing of the colored paper. “It’s not his fault, he is just probably too idealistic about the world for my taste.”

“Jesus, a father-son bonding trip? Yeah, no.” Kyle shook his head, before leaning against the countertop and studying Alex intently. “I don’t blame you for dumping him, I mean, you told him about how your dad treated you right?”

Once upon a time, to keep Kyle from demonizing Jim Valenti, the only man who was ever kind to Alex, he had revealed the extent of the abuse he suffered growing up. He never imagined that Kyle would end up being a part of his daily orbit, so it was at the time, a safe admission. The only reason he had any sort of comfort around Kyle now was he knew that Kyle had his own reasons for hating Jesse Manes. The support he received wasn’t pity, it was shared pain. Kyle understood, and of course Michael understood, but the rest of the world? He couldn’t trust it.

There were days when he wished he had been able to conceal the truth from Maria as a kid.

“My dad is a level of evil that approaches comic-book villain. It’s hard to come up with the vocabulary to explain it. It’s definitely not first date ground to cover.” 

“You could just say what you said to me, that he was an abusive, homophobic dick.”

“I tried that actually, with Matt, but his dad is Army, so he thought I was just talking about typical macho man bullshit. His dad called him a fairy and won’t pick up the phone when he called his mom, but he’d never tried to kill him for being gay.” Alex rubbed at his forehead, and shrugged dismissively, “even if I could explain it, there’s still alien bullshit to worry about. Forrest couldn’t deal with my secrets, so…”

“Now that, my friend, we can commiserate over. Even if Stef understood my friendship with Liz, she was less supportive of running out on her to answer Isobel Evans' every little call. As Rosa calls it, those bitch ass aliens, strike again.” Kyle picked up his half-empty beer from the counter to clink against Alex’s in solidarity.

Later, after Kyle was gone, Alex wandered out to his patio to light a fire. Despite the voucher from the now ex Eric and the funny gift from Kyle, his birthday had gone well. Maria had treated him to an amp for his sound setup, an expensive gift had it been new, but this one was reconditioned by Guerin. Liz and Max had treated him to lunch at the Crashdown with a four show pass at the local concert hall. Rosa had baked a gourmet cake, and even Isobel had dropped off a bottle of expensive scotch. 

Though it hadn’t worked out, Forrest had texted a nice birthday message along with an invitation to join a group of his friends for an antique market trip to Santa Fe. 

Alex tipped his head back in his chair, listening to the crackle of the firewood settling in the pit and finally allowed himself to think about Michael, or more specifically the absence of Michael today. It was pressing on a bruise, to consider the gift from Maria might actually have been a joint gift. He didn’t think they had gotten back together again, but he wasn’t sure.

The gap in knowledge about Maria warred with the feeling that maybe Michael had forgotten, and it ached. He wasn’t sure which hurt more. 

His phone vibrated against his leg. Alex placed his beer on the ground next to his chair and opened the notification. It was his security system letting him know that someone had pulled up to the front of the house. His heart thumped painfully but hopefully as he recognized Michael’s truck.

Sitting with his back to the gate made him itch in anticipation but not fear as he heard the crunch of Michael’s boots against the gravel. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, sorry. Um, happy birthday” Michael replied as he closed the distance in the dark to Alex’s chair. He threw himself into the chair gracelessly, before picking up his phone to check the time, “I’m not too late am I? This says it’s after midnight.”

Shivering a little, even though it was warm, Alex took a sip of his beer. “You’re never too late, Michael.”

The words settled between them, weighty and revealing. Alex immediately wanted to take them back. That was too truthful. Perhaps he was getting maudlin because of his birthday, but having Michael, someone who knew him inside and out, after a day of feeling just out of step with everyone else, was a balm on his heart.

Michael placed his hat next to them on the patio, glancing back toward the house with a sympathetic glance. “I figured. And um, I heard from Valenti about Eric, so, I thought you might not turn me away if I showed up.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Alex took another long swallow, staring into the flames, as the previous comfort of Michael’s presence faded. Not a pity visit. He couldn’t take that. Not daring to look at Michael because seeing his profile lit up by the firelight always did things to Alex’s heart, he finished his beer. Things he was still working on letting go of for his own good. “I’m fine, it wasn’t serious with Eric.”

“I’m glad you’re fine, but that’s not why I’m here.” 

There was a rustle of paper that caught Alex’s attention, and as he finally turned to face Michael, he froze. There was a folder in Michael’s hand. He couldn’t help but remember the recent past, where the cover of a folder barely covered the horrors of within. It was always gruesome intake forms or grisly after action reports that gleefully detailed the murder of civilians and the incarceration of aliens.

Michael shook the folder gently, “go on, it’s not gonna bite.”

Pressing his lips together in resignation, Alex reached for the folder. As rocky as things had been in the past, he was certain Michael wouldn’t try to hurt him on his birthday. It wasn’t his fault that Alex was a pessimist. Flipping open the manila cover, he paused again. His eyes roved down a list of names and numbers, along with a familiar family name.

“That’s my grandmother’s name,” Alex furrowed his brow in confusion looking over to Michael, as he leaned forward in happy anticipation.

“So last year, remember how I went to Texas with Max,” Michael began, and paused at the pained expression on Alex’s face. Right, it was unlikely that the beginning of Maria’s feelings had been forgotten. “Dumb question, okay well, we met an old woman from the Mescalero Res and her granddaughter. They were practicing some fake faith healing con game, which kinda pissed me off, until I realized the props they used were drawn from a visitor they had.”

“A visitor?”

“Yeah, they used lights to make their hand glow when they healed. She described a woman who lived there, and never spoke but had that ability. I drove there last month to ask her more about it. It turns out this woman was introduced to the tribe by your grandmother.” Michael smiled broadly, his fingers tapping with impatient energy. “So I went to the Diné people to ask about her. I know she’s passed on, but she left stories. An oral history. Err, they didn’t want to talk to me, being a white guy, but after I fixed just about every car on the Res-”

“That’s where you’ve been every weekend?”

Michael looked pleased, “You noticed?”

Caught out by just how aware he was of Michael’s movements, Alex gestured, “That’s not important, um keep going with your story.”

Still looking pleased, Michael picked up his tale, “So after I fixed every piece of shit car, every finicky generator, and promised that I would only repeat this to another member of the People, they told me what happened. Your grandmother and great-grandmother ran a sort of underground network for women in trouble. One night, in 1947, a group of ...visitors found her and her mom on the side of the road. They were waiting for supplies, from a sympathetic doctor.”

“Wait,” Alex stuttered, looking down at the list of names and numbers. “Are you saying-”

“They saved ten crash survivors that night, and scattered them to other tribes for safety.” Michael reached over to tap the paper, “I have no idea where they went, that’s still a secret to me, but… some of my people lived, free. Because of your family.”

Overwhelmed, Alex squeezed his eyes shut tightly. It was no use, he could feel the tears spilling out rebelliously down his cheeks, as he sucked in an unsteady breath. The weight of his name, of the evil done by his father, was still there, but now there was a counter-balance. Harshly Alex gasped for another breath, shuddering as a sob broke through his control.

“Sweetheart, oh god, I didn’t mean to make you cry-” Michael murmured, distraught as he shifted closer, placing a tentative hand on Alex’s shoulder. The simple touch unleashed what shaky hold on control Alex had, as he collapsed into Michael’s arms. Without hesitation, Michael pulled Alex into his embrace, letting him shake in the safe confines of his strength.

The poison that Alex had felt, writhing under his skin, from as long as he could remember was slowly being lanced and drained. It didn’t matter that Michael had never blamed Alex for his family, no words could touch that reservoir of toxin inside him that marked him a Manes Man. Only actions could. 

On the day celebrating his birth, Alex could finally feel peace regarding the blood in his veins.

“I’m sorry, I should have let you know I was looking into your family after Arizona’s grandmother mentioned it. I was going to, if my campaign of fixin’ shit didn’t work, ‘cause you’re a member, they would have talked to you, I just wanted to give you some good info. But if I crossed the line, I’m sorry-”

Alex silenced Michael’s apologies with his lips.

His action halted Michael for a moment, before he groaned against Alex’s lips and deepened the kiss hungrily. His hands came up to cup Alex’s skull gently even as he increased his efforts of climbing into Alex’s skin through the sheer connection of the kiss. Long moments passed as Alex bit gently before diving into the silky heat of Michael’s mouth.

The need for oxygen won at last over his other instincts and reluctantly Alex broke the kiss. He kept his forehead pressed against Michael’s as they traded deep breaths in the silence. Closing his eyes, Alex spoke quietly, “If *I* crossed a line just then-”

“You didn’t, as long as you’re not sorry.”

Looking up at Michael’s dark, still slightly stunned eyes, Alex smiled weakly, “I’m not, but I admit, I didn’t see this happening. With you. I thought you didn’t want to go down this road again.”

Michael reached up, combing his fingers through Alex’s soft, growing dark locks gently. “I don’t want to go down the *same* road, but I was hopin’ we might find a different path. And full disclosure, we’re kinda ahead of my plans. I didn’t think you were gonna dump Eric today-”

Huffing a soft laugh, Alex replied wryly, “I wasn’t planning on it, but he thought my dad and I could patch things up by going to Wrigley Field together. He bought me a Field of Dreams-themed trip for me and dear old dad.”

“What. The. Fuck.” Michael blinked a few times, clearly running the words through his mind for meaning. “For one thing, you don’t even like baseball, and for another, your dad is a homophobic murdering psychopath.”

Alex burst out laughing at the offense in Michael’s voice. Pieces slotted into place, knowing that Michael understood not just on a theoretical level, but a deeply personal level just how fucked that suggestion was about Jesse. “God, you’re right, I hate baseball.”

He captured Michael’s hand, still stroking through his hair, and pressed a soft kiss on his rough calloused palm. Hands that had spent weeks working tirelessly for free just to get Alex some answers and peace about where he came from and who he was. A fresh burn of tears threatened as he thought about the effort Michael had expended.

“More tears?” Michael remarked softly, feeling the wet brush of Alex’s eyelashes against his hand. 

“Happy tears.” Alex straightened and got to his feet, holding onto Michael’s hand. He cast a considering eye on the fire, deciding it had burned down low enough to install the fire pit cover. Rubbing his thumb against the silky seam of his pants, he tugged Michael toward the house, “So Kyle got me these pants for my birthday, and they were the second best present I had today.” His smile turned wicked as he led the way toward the bedroom with confidence, “I would really like to show you how they work, if you’re interested...”

[transbibennyweir]

Sarah coming out to her family as vampire -Al

you got it! this was really fun to write. find it on ao3 as well

Getting turned into a vampire by her now ex-boyfriend was not on her list of high school ‘need try this at least once’, but Sarah learned that there were actually worse things than being a vamp. If anything the first week was tolerable if not nerve wrecking. The second was even manageable. By the third the lying and rat eating and overall weirdness of her new day to day life felt almost natural. Well, as natural as fighting the undead and chasing down rodents for a midnight snack could feel. Even after becoming a full on vampire things weren’t too different, the impending dread of never aging and all her friends and family dying still weighed on her, but at least she was more confident now. More herself in a way that might have scared her if she was still her fledgling or even human self. And maybe it should scare her more.

Maybe the fact she could eat people should still freak her out. Maybe living seemingly forever should terrify just as much as it first did. Maybe she shouldn’t be even consider telling her parents about any of it, but there she was; sitting across from her parents at their dinning room table. Over the course of her time as a the undead she felt more and more like a stranger in her own home, a stranger to her family. Sometimes she could say she was a stranger to herself.

“Mom, dad,” her voice came out nervous and quick. “I wanted to talk to you about some stuff. I know I’ve been pretty distant about my life this year, but I figured now is as good a time as any to fill you in with what’s been going on with me.” A part of her was kinda glad she didn’t have a beating heart anymore, less distracting with it not drumming in her ears.

“It isn’t drugs, right?” Her dad blurted suddenly worried. His tie worn low around his neck from just coming home from work. “That Jesse boy hasn’t done anything to you either?”

“Michael!” Sarah’s mother nearly shouted, slapping her husband’s arm. “Don’t say things like that! ‘Sides our Sarah knows how handle herself. Right, sweetie?”

Watching the exchange between her parents caused a slight laugh to calm her nerves back to something more manageable, her chest feeling lighter. “What? Ha, no. Not anything like that and I could totally beat Jess’s ass if he tried something now.”

“Sarah!” Her mom squeaked as her father laughed and ruffled her hair. “Mhm. So, what’s this you want tell us?”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Just have spit it out. Everything is going be okay and if not... Well, if not then she hoped Benny still knew how do the brain wipe spell. “Right, Okay. So I know this is going sound crazy and make zero sense, but uh, ha I’mavampire.” She flinched into her self waiting for the reaction, she felt the worse yet to come. There was silence then a sudden booming laugh coming from her father first followed by her mother’s more soft giggle.

“Sweetie, that’s very funny, but I think you’ve been reading Dusk too much again.” Sarah’s mother giggles muffed into a charmed smile. “What’s this really about?”

Perhaps Sarah was too use to the strange, unexplained supernatural world of mystery and magic that if someone walked up to her and revealed they were a creature of the night, she’d believe them no questions asked. Maybe that was a worrying thing to just accept but somehow there was stranger things to accept as truth. Granted your own child being a blood sucker might be a hard pill to swallow no matter how use to the weird one might be.

“No, mom. Dad. I’m being serious here. I can, I can explain it. Mostly.”

“Sarah, don’t be ridiculous. If you’re going ask for a family meeting at least try not waste our time with these jokes.” Her father said, his tone even but annoyed. Funny how her short temper came from him. Even more funny that they were both quick to get annoyed now. Sarah’s frustration just slightly getting the better of her, and in a moment of total dumbassery she flashed her fangs with a hiss and snake yellow eyes. Shit. Okay. Okay. Well, maybe they can’t deny it now?

Then her mother screamed because of course she’d scream. “Damnit, Lynn I told you there was something wrong with this town!” Now her father felt the need to shout because shouting always helped. “Who did this to you? Was it that Jess boy? I’ll-I’ll kill him. No-I’ll rekill him!” Her father ranted and began to pace around the room as her mother fanned herself to calm back down. Although it wasn’t do much to ease herself. Sarah held her mother’s hand.

“What? No-Well, I mean. Yes, yeah this is kinda sorta totally Jess’s fault, but I uhh kinda killed him. More or less. My friends helped. Y’know the ones. Erica and those three weird boys.”

“The dorky ones?” Her father asked, stopping his pacing around the room.

“I mean... yeah.” Sarah replied slowly.

“And what are they? Human? Wizards? Vampires? Leprechaun?!”

“I think wizard falls under human but yes to like the first three.”

Her mother held her chest whispering some nonsense to calm herself down, it wasn’t working and the constant talking was going drive Sarah up a wall. “My baby is dead. But she’s right there. Undead. My baby is a little undead monster-”

“Hey!” Sarah and her father shouted at the same time. “I’m not a monster! I even get my blood from a human friendly truck and I help the town from being like wracked from whatever weirdness of the week I have fight.” Okay so maybe that wasn’t super reassuring and helpful, but she was feeling honest.

“Great, a vegan vampire!” Her father said tiredly.

“Listen, between grandma’s sixth toe and cousin Hector’s French Fry nipples I feel like I’m still the least weird person in the family.”

The laugher was back, if not more manic then before. Her father sat back down out stretched his tie as a nervous tick. “Hah, the truth is your mother and I have noticed that this town can be pretty... Strange, to say the least. But I just thought it was because it was toxic waste not because the whole place is basically haunted.”

“Cursed more like it,” her mother whispered. Sarah winced, all things considered this was going more smoothly then she would’ve thought. Which is great, totally. If only her mother didn’t look like she was a manic giggle away from losing her marbles. Suddenly realizing what she said her mother quickly corrected herself. “But! But-but we still love you, Sar-bear. I guess you’ll really be our baby girl forever now.” Their shared smiles were sad but honest. Sarah’s parents would always love her and living forever felt less scary knowing their love for her would last just as long. The comfort reaffirmed by a family hug between the three of them.

“And you made sure to get back at that Jess boy? Stake through the heart or something like that?” Her father asked half jokingly.

“Michael! Don’t encourage staking people through the heart.”

“It’s okay mom. He totally deserved it. Plus, I learned how do my makeup without a mirror which is a bonus.”

“You’ll have teach me that trick.” Her mother laughed, relaxing into Sarah’s touch.

This time their shared smiles felt less stained and sad and more hopeful now that there weren’t secrets and a cavern of distance between her and her parents. Maybe this wouldn’t be as painful of a change as she thought. Maybe it’d be just as manageable as week two of starting out her vampire life, just now she had a little more support to get through it all. So yeah, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Now if she could just tell them about every other weird thing in her life that would be perfect.

[super-hero-girls-netflix]

What if a superhero accidentally killed a villian? How does the crew react to that?

Wowza, uhmm there are a lot of layers to this question and I'm very glad you asked it.

1. Who the villain was- what kind of villain was killed? What kind of crimes did the villain commit?

Obviously if the villain was a serial killer his/her death wouldn't be as much as a scandal if (s)he were a common burglar.

And they wouldn't mourn Starro's death the way they would if they killed Catwoman. Since Catwoman is human with a human mind.

If they killed a brainless monster or a being of destruction the heroes as a whole wouldn't mourn as much. Maybe a bit of regret but to them Starro's death would be equal to the death of a deer. Or maybe even a rabies infested dog. Most likely killing Starro would be a victory.

If they killed Catwoman, who is human they would all be terribly guilt-ridden. Same for any of the other villains. I wouldn't be surprised if they fell into a state of depression. Of course how hard they take it depends on the rest of the questions.

If they killed a common burglar- a petty thief- they'd be absolutely horrified. They'd question their morality, they'd be miserable. And depressed. But this also depends on the rest of the questions.

If they, by chance, kill a serial killer they'd be able to justify to themselves. That 'way goes around comes around'. They'd still feel terrible but it wouldn't be the same as the scenario above.

2. When did it happened?

Did it happen during the day? The night? People are more vulnerable at night and daytime can add detail to the memory of the kill.

Did it happen before the villains scheme to go into action? After?

If it's after, and if the scheme is nefarious like...say, letting Metropolis get destroyed by a meteor then it's likely that the sting of killing someone wouldn't be as terrible as if it was before the villain did anything and we're still technically innocent.

3. Who killed the villain?

Okay this may seem weird but depending on who did it the reactions of the killer and the team can be very different.

If Diana did it the team might fall apart because Diana would definitely fall apart. Diana, at heart, believes that most people are good. And strives to protect them. If she were the cause of another's death no matter how terrible the person she'd come undone. The team might follow her example or strive to help her amend her mistakes.

If Jess did it she'd be a total wreck. After all after becoming a superhero her pacifist ideas have loosened a bit. She went from avoiding and actively discouraging violence to getting involved and actively protecting. (Remember the misgiving tree? She mourned a tree.) She'd shut in, depression would claim her. She might even forfeit the ring and refuse to become a hero ever again. The team would try to convince her otherwise but she is pretty stubborn. Of course the reaction would greatly depend on the rest of the questions.

If Zee did it she'd be completely blindsided and fears her had pushed aside will come back full force. Fears of her magic, of her own darkness. Depending on the degree of the criminal her response will very much vary. If it's a petty crime she'll be a wreck. Same if it's the popular villain gang. But if it's a serial killer or something she might pretend to brush it off. Pretend to believe her friends consolation. Pretend she doesn't feel guilty. But it would eat her up and she would self-destruct. The other variables will also be mentioned later. The girls would react accordingly seeing through her acting and trying their best to help her move past it.

If Kara did it it would bring a lot of darkness. All of the times someone called her evil or dark or stupid will consume her an either...she will believe it or she will rise from it. This largely depends on who she kills and how she does it's and how the girls react to it. The girls reactions will range from supportive to worried for her.

If Babs did it her whole mindset would shift. Maybe she'd become dark and gloomy. Maybe she'd become paranoid after all her father is a cop. Maybe she'd numb herself to the guilt. Of course this largely depends on who she kills. If it's a petty thief she'd definitely throw in the towel or at least seriously question her worth as a superhero. Same if she kills the popular villain gang. A serial killer (this is just an example) or Starro would just grey up her mind set not quite enough to take down her will to do good. A lot also depends on the other questions. Her team would be terrified for her, after all Babs isn't Babs without her excited smile and will to do good...but they'd be supportive if not overly protective. Just like they would for the rest.

If Karen does it I don't even know what will happen. She is so complex and has anxiety and is angry, it's hard to pinpoint exactly how she'd react. Especially since she's so human and contradictory. An enigma. But I think it the death can be justified it will be. Karen is very practical. But then again her anxiety might kick in and bring with it depression. She might find herself as lacking, think everyone hates her. I don't doubt that the SHG squad would work hard to put her at ease and protect her from her own thoughts.

4. How was the villain killed?

This is also an essential question to ask yourself when imagining the girls reactions.

Please imagine this:

Don't read if you are the squamish type.

Batgirl slitting a villains throat with a throwing knife.

Now... Zee sending them to another dimension in where they can't breath the air and die.

Both terrible gruesome deaths, right? But how come Babs' scenario sounds so much worse? It's more personal, a blade stained with blood is more vivid then a (wo)man disappearing and never returning, isn't it?

If the villain- forget the level of evilness- was strangled to death by the lasso (intentional or not) it would be deemed worse than one superpunch to the head...worse than instant death.

It's simply deemed worse when a person suffers before their death. Simple as that. It's also worse when you can see the death or when it's ugly- like a super shock to the brain (courtesy of Bumblebee) would be less scarring to see then having your intestines ripped out.

5. What was at stake?

This is a curious question. One often overlooked but it's actually very important.

If the kill was done as many civilian lives were at risk the kill can be seen or even interpreted as something heroic. If the kill was done by someone who was torturing people or holding hostages than it can be see as if the death was nesecary even.

But if the kill was flat out without saving other lives it isn't as 'acceptable'.

Hey, don't look at me! The human mind is weird.

6. Was it purposeful or accidental?

Okay obviously if the death was purposeful there is going to be slim chances of redemption or even regret. In fact if it's purposeful it shifts from kill to murder. Which is bad. (Though I can't see this ever happening)

If it's accidental then there's a lot of emotional turmoil. And pain and regret. It will be a long road to recovery if it's even possible- knowing these girls they will bounce back- and even longer or shorter considering the other mentioned aspects.

(I'm just adding this for anyone wondering but don't worry I remember the question. 😁)

7. Where there any witnesses?

The media and the view of others can grandly affect how the SHG squad heal.

If the media paint them as hero's depending on the circumstances they might bring to believe it or it will in turn make them feel more guilt. A life is a life after all.

If the media paint them as dangerous vigilante threats (as no doubt Lex Luthor would try) then either they'd get on the defensive (insisting it wasn't their fault), believe and submit to the public opinion (like Kara has done before), or become bitter and forget their original mission to do good.

Media and the public opinion can greatly support or hinder their overcoming of the death.

Also, having another account of what happened can warp how the killer remembers the kill. That's why in investigations the detectives don't like when witnesses discuss what they saw to each other since it might alter the memory.

8. Was the villain more at fault for the death or the hero?

This is pretty straightforward.

Did the villain trip over Wonder Woman's lasso and tumbled to their death? Or did the villain misuse one of Batgirls gadgets and blow themselves up?

If so, the heroes aren't truly at fault. Just maybe partially responsible.

And I have no doubt the SHG squad will recognize this and support the hero sort of responsible for the death.

9. Was the villain already injured before the fight? Or was the hero?

This is kind of a weird question, right?? Well it can be a real game changer. If the villain- say they are human- was already dying of cancer it might not seem as terrible. Or if the hero was sort of drugged and that affected their performance than can they truly be held accountable for their actions? (OF COURSE) Like isn't it the drugs fault that Kara wasn't able to fully control her strength or that Babs' aim was muddled?

Of course it doesn't excuse the death, of course not. But now there's an excuse. Something to blame.

Same if the villain came out with an injury. Is it truly the hero's fault that the villain wasn't as capable for the fight as usual?

It might seem silly and morally dubious but it is a legitimate factor that would come to play in their moral crisis. After all human minds seeks to justify their actions, even the purest and goodest (yes, I said 'goodest'. Deal with it) of minds do that.

10. What emotions were involved?

This is truly a game changer.

Was Zee angry when she cast the curse?

Was Kara angry when she threw the punch?

Was Diana angry when she attacked her opponent?

Was Babs angry when she aimed the blade?

Was Karen angry when she aimed dher blasters?

Was Jess angry when she fought the villain?

That anger can be confused by themselves in the fight as murderous intent. Anger or any negative emotion can be confused as hope for the villains harm.

If the reason for the fight was revenge than the SHG killer would think themselves evil. Which will affect them greatly.

...

So.... that's that. In case you didn't know kill means to take a life. While murder means to take a life with malicious intent.

Thanks for being patient!!

Note: I know this was long and a short reply was probably expected but I really liked your Ask and how complex it was and I wanted to make sure it was paid the proper amount of attention.

Happy day!!

[drbibliophile]

Sunday Romance 1-10-21

Prompt: Fix you 

Word count:  1453 

I really haven’t been writing lately except for these prompts.  Too many other distractions in life including a child that is trying my patience.  So it goes.  Christian’s current face claim is Henry Cavill but with darker blue eyes.  I still haven’t figured out Jessica’s.  

TW:  mention of drugging someone  

Tagging:  @sunday-romance @viawrites-andacts (if anyone else wants to be tagged, let me know) 

Jessica woke slowly.  White sheets.  She didn’t have white sheets.  Soft pillow.  Where was the other one she always put over her head?  She stretched.  Soft bed, much softer than the one she had.  Where was she?  A deep breath brought in a familiar scent, something musky but pleasant, comforting.  Really, where was she?  She sat up a little more to survey the room.  White walls, pale woods, accents of cherry, sparse furniture, and so not her own room.  So why was she here?  

She closed her eyes, trying to remember.  The morning was clear.  More Simon babysitting duty then hanging out being bored on the set while he filmed.  From there she’d escorted him to the hotel and the party they were having for Naomi’s birthday.  It was Naomi, wasn’t it?  That was where things got fuzzy.  Why were they fuzzy?  She hadn’t had any alcohol.  She didn’t drink and she was on duty so she especially wasn’t going to drink.  She vaguely remembered Christian was there.  Did she talk to him?  She really couldn’t remember.  She pressed the heels of palms over her eyes.  Why couldn’t she remember?  Did someone drug her?  But if they did why was she still clothed?  What was going on?  

She heard a faint clank, drawing her attention back to the room.  So where was she?  Time to find out.  Slowly she sat up and felt some nausea.  It was nothing that she couldn’t manage.  She glanced at the other half of the bed, noting that it was untouched.  She frowned but let it go.  She stood when she felt steady enough.  More nausea but it faded swiftly enough.  She looked for her boots but didn’t see them.  Her sweater was on the single chair in the room. She pulled it on, wondering where her jacket was.  Her head felt clearer, but she still wasn’t sure where she was or what was going on.  

She opened one door to find the bathroom.  She used the toilet quickly and washed her hands.  The only clues she had was an electric toothbrush and Crest toothpaste.  Nothing sparked any recognition in her.  She opened the other door and was greeted by the smell of bacon and coffee.  Her stomach grumbled.  She could hear someone singing softly.  She recognized the voice instantly and felt immediate delight.  Christian.  

She moved quickly, stopping as she reached the open room.  To her left was the living and dining room combination with floor to ceiling windows revealing Mt Hood and Mt St Helens.  To her right was a gallery kitchen with an island.  Christian was at the stove, frying bacon and pancakes.  He had Airpods in his ears.  His head bobbed in time to his music.  He clearly hadn’t realized that she was there.  

She watched him, caught again by the beauty of him.  The shirt he wore hung loosely on him as did what had to be ancient sweatpants.  A smile stole across her face.  Of course he’d wear those sweatpants.  Why would he not?  She took a step towards him just as he looked up at her.  A wondrous smile spread over his face, making her still. 

“Hey,” he greeted, pulling his Airpods out of his ears.  

“Hi.”  

They just studied each other.  He hadn’t brushed his hair nor shaved off his stubble.  All those dark brown curling locks just perfectly tousled.  He was smiling, drawing out those long dimples on either side of his mouth.  Damn, he looked so good.  Her fingers itched to touch him, trace over the lines of him, and find out just how soft his lips were.  She’d decided a long time ago that they would be soft.  They had to be.  Nothing that luscious could be hard.  Soft and so easy to kiss and… 

She frowned.  Something smelled like it was burning.  “Chris,” she started.  

He frowned then turned to the stove.  “Oh, fuck.”  He pulled the pans off the heat and snapped off the gas.  She could see the pancakes were definitely burnt as was the bacon.  He scowled.  “Well, there goes my brilliant idea of trying to fix you some breakfast.” 

She smiled.  “That’s what you get for listening to the Go-Go’s.”  

He looked at her, his eyebrow arching in his signature way.  “Are you disparaging my musical taste?”  

“No, I would never do that.  I may mock it, but I would never disparage it.”  

“Oh, because mocking is so much better than disparaging.”  

“Of course it is.”  Her smile eased to something kinder.  “Thank you for trying, though.”  

He rewarded her with a stunning smile.  “You’re welcome.  At least I know the coffee is good.”  

“You sure about that?” 

“Darling, there are many things I know and trust me when I say I do know how to make a damn fine cup of coffee.”  

She grinned, trying not to laugh.  “You’ve been hanging around Sam.” 

“And why do you reckon that?”  

Her grin spread.  “Your attempt at a Texas drawl is showing.”  

“Attempt?”  She nodded.  He placed his hand over his heart.  “You wound me, sirrah.”  

She did snort.  “One, sirrah applies to men not women, and two, that’s not a half-bad accent.”  

“Not half-bad?  Dang… damning me with faint praise again, aren’t you?”  

“Absolutely.”  She hoped he caught the tease in her voice.   

“And here I was trying to make you breakfast.”  

“Which you burnt.”  

“Not my fault.”  

“Why not?”  

“Because it’s…”  He stopped, snapping his mouth shut and straightening his posture all at the same time.  

She frowned.  “What?”  

“Nothing.”  

“It was something.”  He glanced away, not answering.  “Tell me.”  She moved closer to him.   

“You’re not going to like it.”  

“Try me.”  She was close enough to remember why the musky smell before was familiar.  

He sighed.  “Jess,” he whined.  

“Chris,” she whined back.  He shot her an annoyed look.  “What are you scared of?”  

“That you’re going to run and I’m not going to see you again.”  

She frowned in confusion.  “Why would I do that?”  

He groaned, tilting his head back before looking at her.  “Because every time I say I like you, you get that deer in the headlights look then you head for the nearest exit and I don’t want you to go.”  He stopped.  “I like you, Jess.  I really, really, really like you and I think you like me, maybe, but I don’t know because again there’s this whole run away from Christian any time he says he likes me thing so I don’t know if it’s me, if it’s you, if it’s something else, but I like you and I want to get to know better and I want to kiss you so bad sometimes it keeps me up nights and that was probably the wrong thing to say.”  He dropped his head, his hands resting on his hips.  “Fuck.”  Quiet stretched between them.  He finally glanced up at her.  “You’re still here.”  

“Yes.”  

“Why?”  

“I don’t know.”  

How to explain it when she didn’t quite understand herself?  She had the urge to run, but the urge to stay was stronger.  For the first time she didn’t want to leave him, but why?  Why involve herself with him and all his baggage?  Christ, he had a lot of baggage, but so did she.  In fact her baggage probably outweighed him despite the fact he was a celebrity and everything.  Yet in this moment, it was just her and just him and truth be told, she did want to kiss him, to feel the weight of him against her.  But he was Christian Danner.  Did she really want that exposure?  

“You’re thinking,” he said, breaking the quiet.  

“Yes.”  

He shook his head.  “Don’t think.  It only hurts the ball club.”  

Her lips twitched towards a smile.  “Or your chances of being kissed.” 

Surprise then joy crossed his face.  “You’re thinking about kissing me?”  She nodded.  “Then please, by all means, think away.  Do not let me interrupt you.”  

She snorted, trying not to laugh or smile, but not succeeding.  How did he manage to always draw a smile or a laugh from her?  “What am I going to do with you?”  

“Anything you want.”  

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Anything?”  

He moved as close to her as he could without actually touching her.  “Anything,” he vowed.  

“Dress you in a tutu and cover you in glitter?”  

“If that turns you on, yes.”  

She grinned.  “As tempting as that is, I think I’d rather do something else.”  She leaned closer to him, raising up towards his lips.  

“So no tutus and glitter?”  

“Not yet.”  

He grinned.  “So there may be tutus and glitter later?”  

She rolled her eyes.  “Just kiss me.”  

“As you wish.”   

[builder051]

Jonestown verse - something along the lines of post mission adrenaline crash combined with ill advised alcohol volumes

Jess leaves the liquor store with a bottle of Jack in one brown paper sack and a bottle of Grey Goose in the other.  She hasn’t even taken off her workwear yet, though it hardly matters.  She prefers to fight in jeans and a black t-shirt.  Only the biker gloves give her away as something less than a normally dressed civilian.  Or perhaps something more.  

Nat’s waiting for her in the alley behind the rickety shop, still dressed in her black catsuit as well, and eyeing the bars over the neon-lit windows.  

“You sure that place is safe?” she asks.  “Sure they sold you what you asked for?”

“Yeah,” Jess replies, raising her brows.  “I go there all the time.”

“Good.”  Nat snatches the bag with the taller neck and pulls the cap from the bottle, tearing the paper a little in the process.

“No need to go wild,” Jess says somewhat accusatorially as she works slowly on the lid of her own drink.

“What?  I’m thirsty?”  Nat drops the cap on the dirty pavement and screws down on it with her heel, then tips back the vodka, her cheeks puffing out as she swallows it down in earnest.

Jess takes a carefully measured swallow of the Jack, enjoying the burn on her winded throat.  She can’t imagine what Nat’s feeling at the moment.  Well, actually she can, and she doesn’t like it.  

As soon as Nat surfaces for air, Jess grabs her elbow, staying her before she can tip back the bottle a second time.

“Hey,” Nat protests, trying to pull away, but Jess uses more than a little of her strength.

“Not letting you drink yourself into a hole,” Jess warns.  “Not tonight.”

“But-” Nat protests, attempting to pull her arm back.  All it accomplishes is a slight sway on the spot; her bicep is locked beyond retrieval, and all the good fighting is doing is knocking her off her feet.

“You’re too tired for this.  Give it a rest.”

Nat’s cheeks are still pink from exertion.  Nearly four hours of running up and down side streets, shooting at targets, dodging bullets themselves... it’ll do that to a person, even those as fit as they are.  

“Stop it.  I know what I’m doing.”  Nat’s eyes flash with something that may be real anger.  Jess doesn’t like to see it.  Doesn’t like to deal with the fallout of it.  But she hates scraping Nat up off the sidewalk even more.

“I’m not sure you do,” Jess says gently.  “This isn’t your game, Nat.”

“Hmph.”

When Jess softens her voice, she softens everything.  Nat yanks the bottle from her temporarily limp grip and tips it back again.  From the sound of the hollow splash, she has to have downed at least a third of it so far.  The redness in Nat’s face is quickly fading down to an ashen grey that shimmers with clammy sweat in the moonlight.  Something’s about to happen, but Jess isn’t quite sure what.

“Nat?”

“What?” Nat snaps around a gurgling breath.

“I think you should stop.”

“Why?”

The bottle begins to bob in Nat’s grip, tapping against her teeth as her hand shakes.  Her knees start to resemble over-stretched rubber bands, quivering in place and threatening to snap.  Jess wonders if it’s alright to touch her, or if Nat will lash out, clock her in the teeth, bite her in the soft flesh of the inside of her elbow.

Then, all of a sudden, the truth of the matter seems to hit Nat full in the face.  She gulps audibly and begins to sink toward the filthy alley floor.  The paper-wrapped bottle slips from her grip and rolls away, spilling clear fluid as it goes.  Jess is glad for it, that fate is confiscating the drink so she doesn’t have to.  

“Ok, down you go.”  Jess takes Nat around the shoulders and gently pushes, pressing her down to all fours.  She pats her between the shoulder blades once, and the vodka comes splattering back up amongst a spray of sputtering coughs.  

“Fuck.  You.”  Nat turns her head sideways to look up at Jess, spit and alcohol dripping from the side of her mouth.  

“Glad you feel that way.”

“’s your fault.”

“It was a hard day,” Jess corrects.  “Sure, I gave you my vice, and it didn’t work out.  But that’s on you, babe.”

“That’s on you, babe,” Nat mocks. “Yeah, right.”

“Hey, next time I won’t buy you any.”  Jess looks to the bottle of Jack, safely out of the way beside her foot.

“Maybe I’d be grateful for that?” Nat coughs.

Jess gives a short laugh.  “Finally got your thoughts in order?”

“This so wasn’t worth it...”  Nat fights another retch.

“Just let it out,” Jess says.  “Quit trying to be so stoic.  Quit trying to power through shit.”

“I just... wanna be like you.”  Nat spits harshly.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.”  Jess doesn’t mean it to come out sounding so cruel.  “I mean, maybe I like you better when you just be yourself.”

“Don’t go all girl scout camp on me.”  Nat rolls her eyes.  “And please don’t tell me not to drink and do drugs.”

“Me?”  Jess shakes her head.  “Never.”

“Good.”  Nat wipes her mouth and sits back on her heels.  “I love you, you know.”

“Yeah.”  Jess sits as well, taking up her bottle of Jack so as not to spill it.

“Can I have that?” Nat asks.

“Fuck, no.”  Jess sips it, as if marking it for her own.

“Just checking.”  Nat grins.

“Damn, you’re an odd one.”  Jess shakes her head.  “But I guess I wouldn’t wind up with anyone else.”

“Too right.”  Nat laughs and stifles a hiccup.  “Same here, I guess.  Same here.”

[slash-em-up]

Marry Your Monsters Pt. 8

We start to head back into movie-territory, which is not great for anyone.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Miranda lay languid and boneless against the thin mattress of the hospital cot. Draped in nothing but scratchy sheets, she felt blissful as she watched Jesse idly caress her leg. Her husband looked at ease for the first time that night- but she supposed a few orgasms would do that to anyone. 

Jesse lay stretched across the opposite end of the cot, Miranda’s limbs tangled with his own as he ran his hands over her exposed skin.

“I think we just made another baby…” she joked quietly.

Jesse huffed and pinched her big toe in reprimand, causing her to giggle. Sliding his hand up, Jesse began to massage Miranda’s calf.  

Her eyes closed with a groan.

“Fuck you have no idea how good that feels…”

The kneading fingers tightened and flexed until the tense knots under her skin released.

Miranda lurched forward in her best attempt at a sultry wriggle while weighed down by her stomach and yanked at Jesse’s shoulder until the tall man was pulled up to lay next to her, moaning silently as Miranda sucked and kissed at the skin of his neck and shoulder.

“Mmm… I wish… you could kiss me…”

Her hand rose to touch the underside of the plastic mask covering his raw skin.

Jesse stiffened against her.

She knew immediately that she’d said the wrong thing as Jesse gently but firmly pulled himself from her embrace.

She sighed.

“I’m sorry…”

Jesse swung his legs so he was sitting on the side of the bed, facing away from her.

“Can – do you… want to talk about it?”

Broad shoulders visibly tightened.

“Jesse it’s going to be okay… we’ll get through this… no matter what happened, it’s not your fault it’s…”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before Jesse was up and moving.  

The small metal side table was the first thing to go – flung across the room, smashing into the cement wall with a loud CRASH.

Miranda yelped and jerked as Jesse continued to destroy what little furniture was in the small suite. Chairs and medical equipment were tossed around like they weighed nothing.  

A tray of metal tools crashed against the floor next to the cot, shocking Miranda out of her stasis and prompting her to yell loudly at her husband.

“JESSE STOP!!”

The tall man flew at her like a tower of rage.

His single brown eye blazed as he grasped her shoulders in a nearly crushing grip. His shoulders heaved and he shivered with unspent momentum; and for a moment Miranda was afraid that he didn’t see her – just a new outlet for his destructive energy.  

But he did nothing more than stare at her. Gaze hard, angry, and so different from the man who she’d made love to less than an hour ago.

This was a stranger.  

“… Jesse…”

Nothing.

“Jesse you’re hurting me…”

Strong hands slowly released her bare skin, showing pale, bloodless marks that would definitely turn to bruises later.

The flaming anger in Jesse’s brown eye slowly banked until it was no more, swallowed up by a growing mixture of horror and disgust as he stared down at his naked wife, looking at him like he was dangerous.

He was.

He was dangerous.

More than most knew. 

But he’d never been dangerous to her. 

Never to her.

But now…  

Now his exterior matched the core of him and the monster was finally, fully released.  

He couldn’t stay here.

Without a single glance at Miranda, Jesse grasped his sweats from the pile of clothes on the floor, yanking them aggressively up his hips before marching out of the room.  

He slammed the door, not bothering to lock it behind him as he strode quickly down the hallway.

Where the fuck was everyone, he needed to kill something.

----------------------------------------------

Anyone who knew Spann would tell you that she was tough to rattle. 

She’d pulled herself up from a life of absolute anonymity to become a key player in The Organization. 

Was this where she wanted to be?  

No, not necessarily.

She had her sights set a bit higher.

ChromeSkull’s right-hand fixer was playing a side-game that she didn’t approve of. If the resolution to that happened to leave his position open? Well, she wouldn’t mind stepping into his shoes.  

She already did most of Prestons job anyway.

Her lips pursed slightly as she shot off a text to her wife, Lisa. The footage from the Miami whores death was taking longer to process than she’d anticipated.  

Another late night at the office.

She sneered at the sound of Prestons heavy breathing on the other side of the video. Fucking amateur probably came in his pants. Or vomited. She couldn’t say which one was more likely, or more satisfying to her right now.

Her phone dinged.

L: I’ll be waiting up, I want to hear about the wife

Spann smiled lightly. She didn’t keep secrets from Lisa. That was the one stipulation she had when becoming involved with someone – she needed to trust them implicitly. Lisa had wriggled her way close enough to pull Spann to the alter. Fuck, she loved her.

And they were both intensely interested in the new player Preston had introduced into the game.

Mrs. Cromeans was not supposed to be here. Jesse had made it clear from the moment he put on the mask that his then-lover, now wife, would have nothing to do with the violent side of their work. As far as Miranda was concerned everything that Jesse did was on the up-and-up.  

That made her arrival… complicated.

They weren’t exactly subtle with the hardware set around the abandoned factory. They had no need to be. And now Preston was cock-blocking her attempts to corral the situation.  

What was his end game? What would he gain from having Jesse’s wife discover the truth about her husband’s ‘business’?  

Not knowing was driving Spann insane.

She was pulled from her contemplation by the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall.

Prestons office door across from hers was filled with towering tattooed skin as Mr. Cromeans appeared and wrenched the door open.  

Watching silently, Spann observed the shirtless man huff in anger at the empty space his second was supposed to inhabit. Stomping inside she could hear him rifling through the desk, looking for god knows what.

He stepped back into the dimly lit hall moments later, looking agitated.

Spann decided to shoot her shot.  

“Sir…”

Jesse’s head snapped in her direction; brown eye zeroing in on her in a way she could only describe as predatory.

She licked her lips, determined to keep any intimidation she might feel off her face.

Jesse crossed the small hallway in two strides, not leaning into Spanns space but definitely letting her get a feel for how much height and raw strength he had on her. As if she didn’t know after hours upon hours of watching him butcher and hunt and torture from the safety of the other side of the camera.

‘Find me a fish, Spann. I need a challenge.’

Spann blinked.  

The nomenclature the Organization had adopted to refer to their quarry was quaint.

Piggies were whores – drug addicts – drains on society. Jesse’s particular brand were all beautiful women he lured in with money and good looks.

Fishies were different – they had status, families, some kind of connection; but one of those connections had placed them in the Organizations eye-line – and not in a good way.

Fishies were rarely permanently ‘hooked’. More of a catch and release until whatever connection they had could be handled to satisfaction.  

To have ChromeSkull go after a fishy was… rare.

But rarity was something Spann was adept at overcoming.

She smiled up at her boss.

“I think I have just the thing to cheer you up.”

[neuropathicgypsy]

So there's this guy who isn't so great...

So i saw a photo of him and I'd seen it before but this time i was thinking about some dark shit...

And I realized who he is...

It doesn't always happen that way... Actually... Like it was dark but not bad... Then what i remember was bad...

And so may be this girl was lying and it was the way it was initially with the memories about this guy... And maybe she did deserve her ass beat...

But their relationship wasn't as he wanted me to believe... Like it was more like how she said it was...

And may be 100% like she said... Like maybe it really does only take 20 minutes for an abortion. How would i know? I never had one... Or may be her mom was confused... About what time i dropped her off... Idk im trying to remember 10 years later and frankly i don't even care.

I washed my hands of both of them fully in 2008....

So now randomly he's popped back in my life... And completely random...

I didn't have a problem with him until he kept lying to me... Like for real lies like "I'm coming over" and he doesn't. Like that. Not like i think he's lying... Like its really obvious hes lying... Like its a fact.

Then i was all fuck this shit. And Matt happened to be with him and I waited like 8 hours and he did this huge song and dance and so i told Matt, punch him 5 times, at least 2x in the face.

So Matt did... Cause dam dude it was ridiculous. I already seen him and i already identified his alter ego but i was okay to over look it. Like it wasn't my relationship and it wasn't like it been 10 years since she had him arrested for beating her and i went with her to the court...

Yeah he definitely can't handle alcohol...

Like he would be cool at my house at first but as the night wore on... I would be like 2 hours later... Time for bed and make an excuse of life i had the next day instead of drinking and hanging out all night

He would be all "its nine o'clock!!" And i would be all "yeah Tom, sometimes we all have to grow up and admit responsibility"

Yeah sometimes he was a bitch... Like when i said anything with sense he would be all "i need to duct tape her mouth"

Or that one time he wanted to put me in my kitchen trash bin... I told him i didn't give a Fuck so he put it over my head and i told him to pick up the trash off my kitchen floor and he did then swept it and left a big pile in the floor...

But overall he was just his unique self that i kinda got used to...

Because his drama with my friend was between them -- unless my friend bitched about him later, like when we took the kids to the park, and i tried to help her figure him out.

Anyways so now i know my friend wasn't lying about him...

And i know other shit he did... Like to me...

Cause i actually knew him in Alabama, NYC, Texas, Oklahoma and now here... Like a stalker...

And so i am wondering... Should I tell him what i know? What i remember? The bad things?

Or should i just not?

I wonder if it will do any good... Like Why for put myself through his bull shit when i really just want to be left alone?

Do i want to remember?

No... I don't want to feel my ribs feeling like they're about to break or sharp pains on the side of my head -- the side closest to the wall in the bed so he could say i fell instead of it being on the side where he slept...

Like being drugged... So he can lie as to why he and my ex husband thought it was great to spike drinks.... Like ...

I don't care. I really don't.

He knows what he did and I just want him to go away. Obviously he isn't going to stop... Obviously he shouldn't be around the female human...

But what I'm just gonna pull evidence out his ass? My ass? Prove it?

I really don't think i can...

He already was sentenced 9 months for what he did to my friend.

May be he learned... Idk.

Obviously hes not going to come over and despite his recent meddling, people have come to their senses about him... Like he totally doesn't give a shit about me. Or them.

So obviously i left him when i was younger, between his father and mine, i got out of the house with him and he quickly moved on to "someone better" and he brought her over and the next one an the next cause he thought when i told the girls he beat me, i was jealous and trying to break them up...

When i was saying, I am so glad i left and I'm left alone 90% of the time and he isn't all up my ass bugging me and being weird and hitting me cause he had nothing else to do and no brain activity. And that it could happen to them, too. For no fucking reason.

It took a while, too for his dad to help me understand it wasn't me... Like he was just crazy... Stupid. Jealous. And dumb. Not too long but i did have to be taught that there's no difference between an abusive boyfriend or girlfriend or husband and an abusive parent or sibling. I always thought i really did something wrong

Now I know... I let him live and i was afraid of him and to let the "monster inside of me" out. And i was afraid I wouldn't win and i would die at his hands.

Now I'm not. Now I don't even care although I know for a fact he could probably break my neck in less than 10 seconds... Not because I'm suicidal or don't care about myself.

But because I do care about myself and I know that i can kick his ass. I know i don't have to and i know i can kick his ass soft enough that he behaves better and also that i can kick it so he never breathes again.

Because I'm angry. At what he did to me. Im angry that i believe without a doubt he would do it again if i didn't know all HIS male friends that would kick his ass, without a doubt until he quit bleeding.

Because I'm angryi have to feel the physical pain he did to me and i have to remember the bruises and the tears and the frustration and annoyance and knowledge that i wasn't loved.

Because I'm angry my fucking ribs hurt.

Idk that night he put on his act. I wanted him dead. Like i didn't care. I wanted to. I really did. I wanted to care about his life and his safety but I didn't. I hated him. With every cell of my being.

Matt said "i only punched him 2x in the face" i was all go back and hit him 10x in the face!!! Like it wasn't enough and i KNOW Matt did to to what he deserved not tappy tap tap.

I heard that over a week later, on Halloween, his face was still mangled... Like 6 broken noses and 5 black eyes... Like... Obviously he only has one nose and 2 eyes but there was enough damaged tissue for more.

I dont even feel bad... Like i still feel,it isn't enough. Because now i feel pain. And have since Halloween when the people he went to the carnival with left because i left. And haven't seen him since. Because they figured out thwt he was purposely keeping them from me, in line for the Haunted House for nearly 2 hours... I was not gonna stay..,

They could got out of line and sat with me at the fire they gave more logs for and rejoined him when he was near the front... It was cold where they were. They could even had taken turns in line.

It wasn't something i could do... I didn't even know they were there until after I left. All i was told was they would be about an hour... Which made no sense cause i thought they said they were already there... So what for an hour?

For the first time in forever it was just me and my kid for Halloween. We could done anything. My kid actually wanted to do the Haunted House... But didnt want to wait in the 36°F line for over an hour.

Its a good thing they left too, i got beat up in the Halloween Haunted House before, too.... Perfect place... Dark.. Scary... All perfect for "accidents" with no real person to take fault... Just accidents...

So really... I'm like part of me wants to tell him i know what he did...

But more i just want him to not exist.

And then another part of me still likes him and wishes he has grown up and realized he could be better than he allows himself to be. Part of me feels sorry for him.

I know he just wants to be loved and safe Just like we all do...

And I could love him as a friend as I had in the past... Knowing hes not been trustworthy in the past makes it easier to protect myself.

I handled him quite pperfectly 11 years ago... Until my ex husband I was married to then, started encou stupid and dangerous and evil entertainment.

I still don't understand the point to drug someone to have sex with them. Like dude. You're saying you're not good enough to be liked with a person sober and woke and living normal.

So that says a lot about a person... That they have no confidence or true love for themselves.

I been for real single in my house for 10 years...having only long distance relationships. I dont feel the need to drug someone to allow them to like me. They either do or they don't.

Im curious as to why they dont but i dont care. Some people just do not get along with others. Its that simple. I don't like plenty of people and to have to explain myself or be pushed around because of it totally pisses me off. I don't like you, simple as that and I'll hate you before I love you.

I see the most problem with criminals is they dont love themselves but usually demand others to while not believing others do... So they beat them.

Its really really sad. Its horrible. How they can't break that barrier to love just themselves. And then turn themselves into unlovable trash that they shouldn't be.

So at the end of the day, if you don't want to be loved. Then i won't love you.

Its the most difficult lesson a person can learn and its the most saddest and heartbreaking. But also the strongest making, most wisdom learning lesson.

And so I can turn off my feelings, my warmth, my caring for someone whom asks me to. Most especially someone whom has or would try to beat it into me.

Life is: Survival of the Fittest, is it not?

If you cannot love yourself, cherish yourself enough to take risks then you cannot survive.

If you cannot believe you are loveable then your actions will cause you to not be loveable.

But yet people like Jesse James and "Tom" don't have a problem with being greedy and asking for more and more and more. Like vampires with empty souls sucking down unicorn blood in the forest like they want to live on a page of a Harry Potter novel.

And so my question is, do i tell him what i know he did to Me? Or does he just want to relish in the delight of what he got away with so that He can devise ways to lie to make me some sort of pawn in his life, someone to use?

Why waste my time?

Friday in about 15 seconds i lost my child support check... While looking for it lost another check for $2.40...Then at the bank moments later literally $5 disappeared from ny hands.

Then the next day i had taken off my shoes in the Wal-Mart wheel chair shopping cart... While wheeling around... Lost my dam shoe.

I didn't even bother to look for it.

And my cat was kidnapped... Then i sent someone to fetch him... "Tom" let him get kidnapped again... Then he got fetched again.... And i have yet to see him... So im like what the fuck? Its been over a week... I tried Thursday night to go ask the neighbors but all the gates were locked...

Then i got this like flue feeling thing where i want to puke all day and all these body aches and I just want to sleep.

And Every thing is pissing me off...

And know why? Cause this curse if u dont acknowledge the dead on Halloween with a fuckking Hello then i get all this bad luck. Happens every time.like excuse me ass holes i deal with you 300 days a year and i can't have one with my kid?!

Its absolutely ridiculous

So id much rather sleep then to decide to care about someone whom has shown they do not care about me.

But is it wrong?

Should I tell him all those hits and attempts at giving me amnesia were temporary and i know exactly who he is and that he's still lying and that I know he was all trying to marry my friend then still get with me?

His dad says that he knew hitting me made me leave so that's why he hit my friend. And his dad says that she wasn't pregnant and that same as at my house it was more all over him than him on her... Unlike when he was with me

And i know i still have a lot of memories that don't fit right that are messed up.

But I know exactly what happened between Sara and Tom according to Sara's words to me. Because that part of my memories have never been affected. Even if i was drinking... Because i didn't drink a lot because i get migraines if i do. Mostly wine coolers or rum and juice...

Plus there was two adult sized male idiots, a seemingly whore type person and then 3 children 2 under the age of 5. So obviously someone who wasn't stumbling and posing a threat to the kids by falling over on themselves had to be present.

I just got drunk enough... So that i really didnt give a shit about all the stupidity I saw in the adults around me. And could say shit like "you know Sara, sometimes you're really dumb. Hes told you like 40 times to get off him and you're still on him So when tomorrow you're all black and blue and he says you tripped going down the stairs and i saw you walk down them just fine, I'm not really gonna care. I mean its not like he told you or anything. 46 times"

But while sober... I would worry why he was so mean to his girlfriend. Why she would always be rejected by him. And why she would allow herself to be treated so horrible. If my friend told me always to get off them, i would feel sad. Sometimes I have had to tell my kid not to touch or lean on me because i have pain... But i try to adjust so that they can... As i have a lot of numb spots next to highly painful areas.

But between Tom and Sara... I felt it was weird,volatile and and dangerous. And they shouldn't be together.

I even asked him once cause Sara would go inside with my ex a lot... Hmmm.. Idc.

"Why don't you like Sara to touch you?" And his face would be red.

And i would say " okay so then when do you like Sara to touch you?" Cause then i would tell her So she could get her affection...

And it was always difficult to get him to talk about himself.. Until for two nights I didn't talk to him and when we we're alone after he kicked me under the table most of the night, all angry in my face why i wouldn't talk to him...

"Oh why because you called me duct tape for 6 months telling me not to talk to you. And then when I did or have tried to "get close to you" as i would a friend, you just sit there all dopey and smile and don't even answer a question i ask you"

You know then sara comes out and says i said he was on dope.

And she denies it...and I'm tired of her being oblivious to every dam thing on the fucking planet. And i straight out accuse them both of being on meth...

And so while trying to faceplant herself on his Dick shes all "we should leave"

So then i throw them out and they both refuse to move. What. The. Fuck.

He claims hes afraid to leave cause she is all dopey on his Dick.... And hes all shes gonna rape m3 and all tries to,hide behind me,touching my body to use me as a shield and tries to jump over the railing of my porch!!! But acts like hes afraid to and asks my permission like 14 times. Dude you're a grown ass man why the fuck are you asking that's dumb. We were on the lower level anyway. Literally 4 steps, including the top.

It always seemed that stupid and annoying.

So i really didn't care when he went to jail, sentenced for 14 months and got out in 9..

Or when on New Year's Eve, i took her and her kids Christmas presents and she hadnt got any of us anything... And I had bought and took her cigarettes and she didn't want to share when i ran out... Or when I said we needed to leave because my kid wanted to go home and she told me that I was being a bad friend because I'm a good mom... Because I was going to leave... Then we went to the bonfire which my kid liked and so Sara said if i wanted to smoke her Winstons... Then i had to go get them and she threw them .... Because she was jealous all her neighbors were talking and laughing with me because i actually do know how to socialize.

And i quit being friends with her that night.

Left .... And every time she text me after i just told her to shut up and fuck my husband....but she didn't know because shes so sef absorbed that 2 months prior I told him i wanted a divorce.

On Thanksgiving.

In front of my uncle....

And so... Still... Should I tell him I think he's a complete ass hole with something to hide or a chicken shit that is making it look like he does.... And allow him to explain himself or not...

Because I a fucking tired of him trying to get into my brain. Hes all hiding. I'm not.

I heard in 4 months he hit me 15 occasions... I used the calculator and it was once every 8 days. I was 16. He was 23.

That enough makes me want to not talk to him. But i also don't want him to be all well that's your fault Sabrina. And blame me all kinds because I gave him a chance. I gave him a 100% chance.

Then when he blew me off more than once,including in DM.. I was all forget you then.... But then when I said i didn't want to fuck him, he lost his Goddam mind. Like dude... So yeah... When were we ever going to anyways when you can't even drive to someone's house? Or set up a date and actually go to it? It was So irrational the way he reacted. What? I'm a cum bucket? Like what he's gonna random run into me at Wal-Mart an pound me from behind in the family bathroom while i hold onto the toilet seat??

Seriously. Hes not rational

So I'm like to tell him what I've been told by th3 dead and what i remember... Its just a waste of effort, isn't it?

[lets-talk-appella]

i’m nobody’s but yours

Chapter 14/25 - Beca

Summary: Beca is straight as an arrow. 100%, totally, completely straight. Except for one problem that 100%, totally, completely changes everything: Chloe Beale.

Title borrowed from Calum Scott’s “If Our Love Is Wrong.”

Word Count: 3k

Rating: M (for dark themes, homophobia, masturbation, and eventual smut in later chapters)

AO3, FFN, and below.

Beca stares out the passenger window of Chloe’s car without seeing. She kind of wishes Chloe would turn the radio on but doesn’t have the energy to suggest it or to do it herself.

She wonders what Chloe’s thinking.

Honey, with your looks, you should be able to get any cute boy you want.

Between you and me, they make them better out there than they do here.

That interaction should never have happened. The date was supposed to be just them, where they could be themselves. They weren’t supposed to run into her dad and Sheila.

Beca clenches her jaw around the howl of anger trying to escape her chest. Is this some kind of sign? she wants to yell at the world. Are you trying to tell me that what we’re doing really is wrong?

But no. Beca’s never been one to believe in any higher power dictating her life. Those teenagers hadn’t cared that she and Chloe were there as a couple.

Besides. Kissing Chloe had felt too perfect for Beca to really believe it was wrong.

Even if Sheila’s comments had been some sort of sign, Beca fully intends to ignore it.

Chloe hasn’t said a word since they’d left the roller rink. That scares Beca far more than Sheila does. Chloe deserves better than what happened. If that had been Chloe’s family surprising them following a date, they could have kept holding hands – at least, that’s the impression Beca gets from hearing about Chloe’s parents. They wouldn’t have minded.

It had hurt when Chloe had tugged her hand away, but not from the force of the pull. Pretending to be something they’re not is becoming harder by the day. Beca knows that if Chloe were dating a “cute boy” or even a girl who was out to her own parents, she wouldn’t have had to pull away like that.

Chloe deserves better, and Beca’s sure she realizes it.

The car stops, jerking Beca from her thoughts. She blinks in surprise, seeing they’re already back at the Bella house. Chloe puts the car in park and turns it off. She doesn’t say anything, though, and she doesn’t look at Beca. By the way a muscle in her cheek stands out, Beca can tell she’s clenching her jaw. For a scary moment, Chloe’s posture is so rigid that Beca’s reminded forcefully of Aubrey.

They sit in silence. Beca can’t even hear Chloe breathing.

She knows she has to say something.

“Chloe? Are you… do you still want to be with me?”

Even the mere thought of Chloe leaving sends a sick twist of pain to her gut.

“Yes.”

Chloe’s reply is instant and soothing. She looks at Beca for the first time since leaving the parking lot, and Beca’s stunned to see the same pain and fear she feels reflected back at her.

“You still want to be with me?” Chloe whispers, eyes wide and scared.

“Oh, God, of course,” Beca exhales in a rush. “That’s – nothing changed.”

Chloe gives her a shaky smile and closes her eyes briefly. “Good,” she says, reopening them.

Just like that, Beca can breathe again. Most of the dense tension in the car is erased with those simple assurances, and Beca allows herself a moment to calm her racing heart.

Still. She knows she has to acknowledge what happened, or it will sit between them and fester like an open wound.

“I – I’m sorry,” she says, knowing the words aren’t really enough to fix it.

Chloe’s eyebrows rise. “For what?”

Beca shrugs uncomfortably. “For… what happened back there. I – that shouldn’t have happened. I’m so, so sorry.”

Chloe turns to her fully, unbuckling her seatbelt so she can twist her upper body toward Beca.

“That wasn’t your fault, Bec.” Chloe’s voice is more delicate, perhaps, than Beca has ever heard it. Somehow, that only makes things worse; it would be better if Chloe yelled.

“I should have told them about me,” Beca replies, trying to make Chloe understand that yes, it is her fault. “About us. We shouldn’t have to pretend like that.”

Chloe reaches out, maybe to touch Beca’s shoulder, but then changes her mind. She retracts her hand, a crease forming between her eyebrows.

“Would it have made a difference to tell them?” Chloe asks, her tone turning icy.

“Probably not,” Beca winces at the harshness of Chloe’s voice. “Are you angry?”

“Yeah. Furious.”

Beca closes her eyes and raises a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Wait, no – I’m not angry at you, Bec,” Chloe’s quick amends brings Beca’s attention back up to meet her earnest eyes.

“Never at you,” Chloe continues. “I’m… I didn’t think they’d be like that. I really didn’t.”

“It’s just Sheila,” Beca growls in frustration. “My dad… he doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t stop her, either.”

“Has this kind of thing happened before?”

Beca nods, pursing her lips. “Just. She’s said things. About gay people. And how she hates seeing it, thinks it’s disgusting. If she’d seen us holding hands...”

Beca lets her voice trail off, not liking to think about it. If Beca’s mom were still alive, she wouldn’t have cared. She’d have wanted to meet Chloe.

I’ll always love you. No matter what.

Beca sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair as she shuts down the memories of her mom. “It’s... this isn’t fair to you.”

Chloe shifts in her seat, but Beca keeps going.

“I’m sorry. I understand if you’d rather – you know, go find all those ‘cute boys,’ or –”

Beca cuts herself off with a dark laugh, only half-joking. A lance of pain shoots through her chest, making her wince, and Chloe does reach out and touch her arm then.

“Beca, stop,” she says. “I don’t want that. I want this. I want… what we have.”

“I want this, too.”

Chloe looks at her strangely and she drops her hand from Beca’s arm.

“So… you don’t want Jesse back?” she asks in a tight voice, speaking to the steering wheel.

“Ugh! God, no!” Beca blurts, feeling her face twist in disgust. “Absolutely not!”

It makes Chloe laugh and grin at her, eyes sparkling.

“I mean, he’s fine,” Beca backpedals with a huff, feeling the need to defend him after that. “But I don’t... he’s not you,” she finishes, not knowing what else to say besides the truth.

Chloe’s expression softens until she’s looking at Beca in a way that makes her stomach flutter and insides warm with happiness.

“We okay?” Chloe asks gently.

“Yeah,” Beca sighs, relieved. “We’re okay.”

It’s a little alarming, how much better that knowledge makes her feel despite what Sheila had said to them both. She knows she probably loves Chloe. She’s probably loved Chloe this whole time, and in the way Jesse had always wanted her to love him. She’d feel guilty about it if it didn’t make her so happy.

They haven’t labeled what they have, and with a thrill of nerves she knows probably aren’t needed, Beca thinks it might be time to do so.

“We haven’t really, um, talked about it, but, uh, are we… girlfriends?” she asks tentatively, the word feeling foreign in her mouth.

Chloe looks at her, startled, as if she hadn’t expected Beca to bring it up. A small but pleased-looking smile grows on her face, and Beca’s hands twitch in her lap.

“I’d like that,” Chloe nods.

“Right,” Beca breathes. “Then… Chloe, will you be my girlfriend?”

The wattage of Chloe’s smile would probably be enough to light the whole block.

“Yes,” she says, bouncing a little in her seat in excitement. Then, her expression turns serious, but by the way her eyes brighten and cheeks twitch, Beca can tell she’s holding back a smile.

“Wait, I gotta... Beca, will you be my girlfriend?” she asks in an outrageously pompous voice.

“No.”

The shock on Chloe’s face snaps Beca out of her act, making her laugh loudly. “Sorry,” she grins. “That was mean. But I had to get you back for when I asked you out!”

“That was mean!” Chloe hits her lightly on the shoulder, but there’s no real force behind it. “I deserved it, though,” she admits with a smile.

“Yeah, you kinda did,” Beca agrees, but then tries to school her face into a more serious one. “And to answer your question… yes, I’ll be your girlfriend. Duh.”

“Awes,” Chloe smiles. “In that case…”

She’s already unbuckled her seatbelt, so Beca doesn’t get much warning when Chloe starts to lift herself from her seat, swinging a leg over the center console. With an excited thrill to her center, Beca realizes what she’s trying to do. She unbuckles her own seatbelt and hastily shoves her seat as far back as it can go in time for Chloe to straddle her, settling astride her lap with a knee on either side of her hips.

“Oh, wow, hi,” Beca breathes, her hands resting on Chloe’s hips without her conscious command.

Ever since their first date, Beca’s been noticing that more and more: her hands moving automatically to find Chloe. Touching Chloe, and being touched by Chloe, has become like a drug shooting through her system until it’s all she craves in life.

“Hi,” Chloe whispers back. “This okay?”

“Totes,” Beca replies, a little ironically.

Chloe rolls her eyes, leans down while Beca tilts her chin up, and then they’re kissing.

Kissing Chloe is like nothing Beca has ever experienced. The way their lips fit together, all warm and soft and perfectly aligned as if they’re matching pieces in a puzzle, sends fire racing down Beca’s spine. Chloe’s lips, careful and slow, meet hers movement for movement, pressing and insistent, but never rushed or demanding.

Chloe’s hands land on her shoulders, occasionally venturing up to stroke lightly down the sides of her neck in time with a slow song only she seems to be able to hear. Beca can tell she’s holding back, keeping things under control, maybe trying to protect Beca still, despite her position on her lap.

It ignites a spark of frustration deep within Beca – she’s not fragile, she’s not some porcelain doll waiting to be shattered – and so Beca slides her hands around to Chloe’s lower back, pulling her closer and drawing a surprised gasp from Chloe’s throat. Beca draws Chloe’s lower lip between her own lips, tracing her tongue over it slowly, carefully, until, with a sigh, Chloe opens her mouth.

And that’s definitely Chloe’s tongue now, meeting hers and slipping into her mouth. It makes Beca moan, and Chloe presses even closer. The hands on Beca’s neck rise, following the form of it until they slip into her hair. They don’t tug, but they guide, until Beca’s head is tilted back further and the angle on their kiss deepens, Chloe’s tongue dipping into Beca’s mouth before retreating.

At the loss, Beca experimentally nips gently at Chloe’s lip. Chloe makes a sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper and the sound of it sends heat shooting through Beca’s body. Her hands shift, seeking out the hem of Chloe’s shirt and pushing past it as if it’s not there, until her touch finds the soft and smooth skin of Chloe’s lower back.

Chloe whimpers properly then, moving her hands from Beca’s hair and pulling back to drop her lips to the side of Beca’s neck. It makes Beca choke on air and forces her head back further against the headrest as Chloe presses light, feathery kisses to her throat, careful not to use too much force as to avoid leaving marks. It tickles a little, and Beca squirms under her as she kisses her way down. She reaches the base of Beca’s neck and seems to hesitate, but then a warm wetness is dragging its way up her skin, and Beca’s mind is thrown back to the body shots at the unmistakable feel of Chloe’s tongue on her neck.

Beca hears herself groan and her hips lift automatically; it’s a little embarrassing, but Chloe only whimpers again and sits more firmly on Beca’s lap. Beca’s hands continue their exploration of Chloe’s back, sliding upward but purposely staying away from her bra strap. Instead, when Chloe reunites their lips in another tongue-filled kiss, Beca digs her nails lightly into the skin on either side of Chloe’s spine and drags them down toward the waistline of her jeans.

Chloe moans unrestrainedly into her mouth, the sound ricocheting around Beca’s brain and causing something hot to coil and pool low in her stomach. The feeling is both familiar and unfamiliar; familiar because Beca knows what it is and why it’s there, but unfamiliar because it’s Chloe causing it. It’s Chloe making her toes curl in her shoes and kissing her like her life depends on it; it’s Chloe surrounding her, pressing ever closer, turning her on.

It makes Beca groan and change the angle of the kiss, wanting to learn Chloe the way she deserves. As she does, though, the back of her neck prickles and she instinctively opens her eyes just a crack to make immediate and direct eye contact with Lilly, standing outside the passenger window and looking in to watch them.

Beca shrieks and jolts in surprise; she startles Chloe, who jerks up and smacks her head on the ceiling of the car with a squeak of pain.

“Shit, are you okay?” Beca asks, her voice raspy and not her own.

“Yeah…” Chloe says through gritted teeth, rubbing the top of her head.

They look at each other, then simultaneously turn to stare out the window. Outside, Lilly sucks her cheeks in and makes her fish face at them, pulsing her lips.

Beca sighs, her face warming.

“I guess we need to tell them.”

***************

The DSM leader is hot.

The female leader. Not the tall, dark-haired guy, but the tall, blonde woman. Kommissar.

She’s hot and it’s confusing.

Beca hears the words fall from her lips with a mild sense of horror; she’s never called anyone “physically flawless” before. And she’s not lying when she drops the “sexually confused” bomb, either.

She can’t help it; Kommissar is stunning, and at this point, there’s no question in Beca’s mind that she’s attracted to her. That’s all it is, though, a surface-level physical attraction. There’s nothing weird about it, and it has absolutely no potential of going anywhere. It’s not like she’s gay, for god’s sake. She simply recognizes attractive people.

She can’t stop complimenting Kommissar.

She likes the way it makes Chloe look at her.

(Kommissar is hot, but even she has nothing on Chloe Beale.)

***************

“Beca and I are together,” Chloe tells the room at large.

Beca half-glances in her direction, not expecting her to be that blunt about it. But then again, it is Chloe, and she’s not sure what else she thought would happen.

The announcement is met with nine blank stares; eight in person, the ninth being Aubrey, Skyping in on the Emergency Bellas Meeting Chloe had called fewer than five minutes ago.

Beca holds her breath, waiting for a reaction. She expects Aubrey, at least, to be outraged. Beside her, Chloe stands stock-still, eyes wide. Beca squeezes her hand once, trying to reassure her.

Stacie laughs, loudly and openly. “Dear god, finally!” she groans, throwing her hands up into the air in exasperation.

“Whoomp, there it is,” Amy says, then returns to texting on her phone.

Cynthia Rose smiles and huffs. “About damn time.”

In the back of the room, Beca spots Emily handing a $20 bill to Jessica with a pout, with Lilly and Ashley consulting some sort of log book.

“Hey, did you just –”

Beca’s cut off by Aubrey’s voice, annoyed and slightly tinny through Chloe’s laptop speakers.

“Gremlin, if you hurt her, I will drive over and cut out your tongue.”

“Aubrey,” Chloe admonishes, “don’t do that. I’m becoming fond of her tongue.”

“Gross,” Aubrey says, closing her eyes in disgust.

“I’m not gonna hurt her,” Beca says, trying hard to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck.

“Yeah, yeah,” Flo cuts in, waving them aside. “We know. She’s precious and your intentions are pure. Great. You’re blocking the TV.”

“So… is this okay?” Chloe asks, ever the concerned captain. “If you guys are worried about anything, just tell us.”

“Hey, no sex on my bed,” Amy says with a glare. “Other than that, it’s fine. Now, go, resume licking each other’s faces or whatever.”

The rest of the Bellas nod, seemingly uninterested. Lilly stares, making her fish face again.

Dumbfounded, Beca and Chloe move off to the side, escaping into the kitchen with an awkward shuffle. Beca leaves a seemingly shell-shocked Chloe at the counter in favor of reaching for the bag of tortilla chips on top of the refrigerator.

“That’s… it?” Chloe asks when Beca returns, chips in hand with one already on the way to her mouth.

Beca shrugs. “Now you know how I felt when I came out.”

“Hmm. Disappointing.”

“A little, yeah.”

Beca crunches on her chips for a moment, thinking, while Chloe pouts in front of her. It could have been worse, she supposes. At least they know they’re being supported by the Bellas. Then, something occurs to her and she pauses mid-crunch.

“Was Aubrey serious about cutting out my tongue?”

Chloe looks at her thoughtfully for a minute, then grins. “Let’s just say… don’t test her.” she says and leans forward to peck Beca on the lips. “Wanna go upstairs and make out some more?” she asks with a wink so casual that it makes Beca want to explode.

In a rush, Beca swallows the remnants of her chip, then tosses the rest of the bag down onto the counter before grabbing Chloe’s hand and making a beeline to the stairs, Chloe’s bright laughter echoing in her ears.