â this is your bodyguard for the next little while, agent brendon urie. â
___________________________________________
â
ðððððððð ððððððð ðððððð.
ððð ðð ððð ððð, ððð-ðððð.
ðððð ððð ðð ððð...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
✧ ✧ ✧
ON THE SURFACE, HAVING A SPY FOR A FATHER MIGHT SEEM LIKE THE COOLEST THING IN THE WORLD. And sure – at certain times, it could be. But there was so much more to it that no one would ever think about.
As a little girl, your parents chose to keep your father's real occupation concealed from you, if just for the time being, in order to give you a somewhat normal life; they had no desire for you to get caught up in the cruelty of the hidden world.
They were wonderful parents, always going above and beyond to ensure that you were happy, and to give you as much of a typical upbringing as possible. Yet, the fleeing from town to town and city to city at seemingly random occasions in the dark of the night did nothing to aid their cause, and you grew up less normally than they would've liked.
It was hard for you to understand at the time – why you couldn't have sleepovers or play dates every weekend like other children your age – but you never questioned them about it and soon enough, you had gotten used to not getting too attached to people. Or to places, for that matter.
It was only once you had hit sixteen that your father had enlightened you about everything. Your family had been living in a small, secluded town about an hour and a half outside Washington D.C. and everything in your lives seemed to be stable – the need to flee hadn't arisen in over three years, you had made a wonderful group of friends, and your life was as close to normal as you were able to get.
The night you found out about your father's real occupation was one you would never forget.
✧ ✧ ✧
Chestertown, Maryland. Five years earlier.
It was just after dinner and the three of you were doing the dishes, the usual weekday routine. There wasn't much conversation, just a bit of small talk, but as you packed away the last plate and hung up the dishcloth, your father said something that made your stomach do cartwheels.
"(Y/N), could you meet me in my office in five? There's... something I'd like to talk to you about."
His request caught you completely off guard, and you involuntarily let out a tiny gasp. You had never been in the office before. It was off limits to everyone except your father, so the fact that he was requesting your presence in that room was daunting, to say the least.
