#but interrogations are almost never conducted properly

[william-teddy-grahams]

My mom and I both enjoy watching interrogation tapes, but for completely different reasons. I only discovered this recently.

My mom, watching an interrogation: “wow. Criminals are so dumb, I’m glad cops are so much smarter and can always get them to confess. :)”

Me, watching them: “wow. That’s illegal. That’s unethical. That’s literally just torture. That should have gotten the whole case dropped. That cop just cited the ten commandments(???) incorrectly. Cops are so stupid, but aren’t at risk of consequences in this scenario, so don’t fear ruining lives.”

[nastybuckybarnes]

Of Kings and Beasts  -  Sixteen (Final)

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Fluff, 

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: Everything is ending and idk what to do with myself now AHHHHHH ENJOY THE GRAND FINALE

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! 18+!!!!

Series Masterlist

~*~

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, glaring at the trickster while your husbands stand on either side of you.

This is the power trio that was spoken of when the Kings announced their marriage.

This is what was pictured.

A woman, equally fierce as them, yet able to tame the wild beasts roaring inside their chests.

It took some coaxing, but now that woman stands strong and tall in place of the timid girl who used to take up this space.

“Well, isn’t this a sight. Never in all my years did I think you would be reunited.”

Loki’s voice is slightly strained but just as venomous as ever.

“I did a good job, you must admit. And I would’ve gotten away with it too, but I underestimated you, (Y/n).” You take a step forward, tugging away when both your husbands reach for you.

“You will address me properly or not at all.”

He only grins up at you.

“Who’s the traitor? The one you had working here? The one who attempted to have me killed?”

Steve and James both stand behind you, watching in surprise as you conduct the interrogation with just as much certainty as they would’ve, if not more.

“I already told you, your counsel was weak. There were many who didn’t agree with the choices of the Kings. Even more who didn’t trust Orlen to provide a proper Queen. I guess they were right, weren’t they? Orlen didn’t provide a Nobel princess the way they promised. No, instead, the great Kings of the West were gifted nothing more than a bastard!”

Steve steps forward, ready to defend your honour, but you hold up a hand.

“How were you able to alter James the way you did? How did you get close enough to physically alter him?”

He huffs out a breath and grins at the brunet wickedly.

“Ah, I almost forgot about that. How is your... condition, your majesty? Better, I trust? It must be, now that Doctor Banner can no longer continue his experiments.”

Your brows draw together in confusion, as do Steves, but it makes sense to James.

Doctor Banner is the only one they would trust enough. The only person he trusted. And every time he'd go to see the doctor, his ‘condition’ would get worse.

“Ah yes, you realize it, don’t you? You see what happened. Doctor Banner is a good man. A trustworthy one. But his mind is weak, unprotected. Easily distracted. It took nothing to make him do my bidding. But with the... snow incident,” he gives you a look, “I couldn't be near the Palace without raising suspicion. My hold on his mind gradually weakened until he was in control again. And when that happened... well, I couldn’t just let him live.”

You shake your head in disgust.

“All this pain... this death... You killed your own brother just-”

“He’s not my brother!” He shouts, glaring daggers at you from his bound place on the floor.

His chest heaves with anger.

“He was never a brother to me! I was nothing more than a conquest! A trophy of a war that my side could never have won! I was a shadow. Living in the shade of his greatness. Forever. Another stolen relic to show just how strong his Kingdom is until he needs to pawn me off, the same way you were.”

His voice sounds so broken. So fragile and small. But you stay strong and stand your ground. He killed one of your only friends. His sob story won’t change your mind.

“They took me from my home, stole me, just to tell their children horror stories of the monsters that were my people! They made me believe I was cursed, that I was a monster because I was different. Because different blood ran through my veins.”

“I never wanted the throne. Not at first. All I wanted was to be seen. To be recognized as his equal. But no matter what I did I could never compare. Nothing I did would ever be good enough! Nothing! Do you know how that feels? To never be enough for anybody?”

His words reopen wounds that you never properly tended to, and you nod.

“You forget, Loki, that I do. Better than most.”

The Kings bristle at your words, taken aback by the tenderness in your tone as you kneel before the prisoner. The traitor. The murderer.

But there’s compassion in your heart that knows no bounds.

“There has never been a time in my life where I have been enough. My existence was enough for my father to hate me, have my mother killed. I have been mistreated with every turn, yet I arose stronger. I became more than a shadow.”

His eyes are so full of tears as he looks up at you, and your heart truly goes out to him. But that doesn’t change what he did.

“You had a chance at redemption. The possibility of a lesser punishment. But you refused. Now, the King is dead at your hands. You’ve committed multiple acts of treason, but you will be punished in Asgard for your crimes.”

You push yourself to your feet and look over your shoulder at James.

“How is Doctor Banner? We’ll need him to confirm or deny Loki’s story.”

The trickster only scoffs.

“My fate is sealed. What benefit would lying have?”

You ignore his comment and motion to the door, leading the way up the spiral staircase that only a few months ago terrified you.

“He’s still recovering, but he should be able to speak.” You nod, turning to look at Steve as you finally enter the warmth of the hallway, far enough away that Loki can’t hear nor influence you.

“Loki’s powers over the minds of your people will end with him. Any traitors within the country will be flushed out. I’m sure there are many who are skeptical about Orlen’s willingness to hand me over and the truth of it is that I am a bastard, which is why it was so easy for him to give me away.”

There have been many secrets within your marriage, but now it’s all out in the open and there's no room to hide.

Steve takes your hand gently and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“Whatever you were in your past doesn’t matter. What matters is who you are now. Who you decide to be. And I hope that you decide to be our wife.”

You smile up at him then over at James, who only nods his agreement and places a gentle kiss onto your cheek.

“We have not been kind nor fair, but we do truly love you, (Y/n). You are everything we’ve ever wanted and so much more.”

“I love you both as well. There are many issues within our marriage, but at the end of the day you are my husbands and I love you. Nothing will change that.”

You cast your eyes down, your mind travelling to Thor.

“I’m going to Asgard. To be there for the funeral, for the trial. Thor... gave his life for me. I will not sit here and twiddle my thumbs.”

The two exchange small smiles and James nods.

“We know. A horse is being prepared as we speak. You’ll ride ahead to help prepare the funeral. We’ll be only a day behind with the prisoner.”

Your heart fills with warmth.

Although they haven’t always been kind, this is a step in the right direction.

A direction towards something better. Something good.

~*~

The funeral is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

It’s regal and elegant and so very beautiful.

His body is surrounded by different herbs, flowers, and other gifts given by the people, and his sword is in his hands laying on his chest.

He floats in a small boat down the river towards the waterfall, the sunset illuminating the night only just.

An archer lights an arrow then shoots, and his boat is quickly engulfed in the orange glow.

Only moments later, several other boats become lit, holding the bodies of the fallen warriors who fought in an unnecessary battle.

Tears fall silently down your cheeks as you watch Thor’s boat slowly drift over the edge of the waterfall, disappearing out of sight.

Two warm hands find your back, one belonging to each of your husbands as they comfort you silently.

Slowly, the sky lights up with lanterns being raised in both memory and mourning of the King, much like your people did for you when you were presumed dead.

Lanterns fill the sky far and wide, mimicking stars, and in the solitude of his cell, Loki cries for his brother.

Cries for the only semblance of family he’s ever had, now ripped from him by his own doing. His own selfish goal.

But come morning, it won’t matter for him.

The lights glow in the sky for hours, and even after they’ve faded from sight, you don’t move from your spot on the balcony.

Your time with the blond king wasn’t the most enjoyable, but it started with him being a friend. One of the first people in either Kingdom that you could truly trust.

And now he’s gone.

Your heart weighs heavily with the loss of your friend, and you stay standing by the balcony, overlooking his beautiful kingdom.

“He wouldn’t want you to mourn so, Your Majesty.”

You turn as Brunnhild walks in, draping a thick cape over your shoulders.

“It’s hard not to,” you whisper.

She nods, taking a stance next to you and huffing out a sigh, her breath crystallizing in the cool air of the night.

“Asgard has no heir. No one to take the King’s place. What will happen?”

She's quiet for a long moment before looking over at you.

“He does have someone. He chose someone. He chose you.”

Your heart skips a beat as you turn to look at her.

“Me? But why? And when?” She smiles softly.

“Twice, he did. When he made you his wife, and again in battle. He decided that you were to be queen. The title is yours, as is the Kingdom, if you should want it.”

Shock settles inside your gut beside the despair, and you ponder this for a long moment.

You? Queen of your own kingdom?

The bastard of Orlen. The shunned princess. The wife with no place.

All your life you’ve longed for a place where you belong. A place of your own.

Never did you think it would be offered to you in the form of an entire kingdom.

“I... I’ll need to give it some thought,” you admit softly. She only nods, straightening up.

“The decision is yours. The Valkyrie will support you no matter what it is that you choose. Remember that.” You nod, and then you’re alone again, though not for long.

“Are you alright, darling?” You only hum, your eyes focused on the moon rising high in the sky.

“I will be.”

Steve and James come up beside you, Steve resting his arms on the rail while James leans against it and gazes at you.

“Loki is to be executed in the morning. You... you don’t need to be there if you don’t want to.”

You do. You want to be there and watch as he finally gets what’s coming to him.

After all the pain he's inflicted, death is something far kinder than he deserves.

But Thor would not wish him to suffer, so he shan’t suffer.

“I’m going to be there.”

The two nod, respecting your decision.

“Come to bed, (Y/n). You need sleep.”

You let out a soft breath then nod, following the two of them to bed.

They hold you tightly, gluing your broken pieces back together and making you whole again.

For the first time in so long, you’re finally whole.

~*~

“Your Majesty, they’ve arrived.”

You look up from the document on your desk, smiling brightly at Wanda then following her to the throne room.

Sure enough, there they are, standing tall and regal in the colours of Acadia.

“Your Majesty,” they greet, both bowing deeply.

You roll your eyes, walking up to both of them and giving them each a soft kiss.

“I've missed you. The summer has been long.” They nod, Steve’s eyes dropping down.

“You’re absolutely glowing, darling.”

James nods his agreement, putting his flesh hand atop your bump.

“Soon enough we’ll get to meet our heir. Whomever they may be.” He presses a kiss to your stomach then smiles up at you.

“What you’ve done with the kingdom has been... incredible. Thor would be proud, (Y/n). I just know it.”

The mention of your friend has your heart aching, but you smile despite the pain.

“Thank you.”

You like to think that Thor’s been guiding you, supporting you and helping you through the stresses of ruling a country.

It’s far harder than you thought, but having a place in the world... after never having a place. It’s worth it.

And the distance has only made your relationship with the Kings flourish.

The two great Kings of the West and their Queen, rulers of the continent.

The two beasts and the one woman who can tame them.

~

Fin

[theregoesmylurkerstatus]

Listen. Listen. The more I think about Essek’s reality the more amused I get. It’s like the Mighty Nein EXISTED to fuck his life over in the kindest way possible. 

One of their first functional (and one of their most defining) actions as a group was when they stole a Beacon -- one of HIS Beacons. A Beacon he took from the Dynasty and gave to the Assembly in an INCREDIBLY risky gamble, so risky it ultimately plunged the continent into war, because that’s how badly he wanted learn something about it.

And the Mighty Nein, on a fucking whim, vanished it from under their noses. NOT ONLY was Essek deprived of further research, but he couldn’t even smooth over the tensions on either side. Essek was probably the only person alive, besides the Mighty Nein, who could know for a fact that neither the Empire nor the Dynasty had what the war functionally started over. By stealing the Beacon, the Mighty Nein made sure neither side could be happy, and Essek was the one stuck in between.

But then, they returned it to the Bright Queen! Surely that’s good for Essek, right? Except, one, now he gets no more of the research he enabled a war for, and two, it wasn’t even traded as a price to stop the bloodshed, which seems to be something he genuinely wants. So, cool! Beacon #1 is certainly out of his hands, out of the hands of the people who might have told him SOMETHING about it, and it wasn��t even for the sake of the war ending. ...Great! Fun. Okay.

But what did the Mighty Nein trade it for? Why, the freedom of Essek’s prisoner, of course! Because surprise! That’s one of their number’s husband. And it’s a complete coincidence.  Were you using one of the poor saps conducting the research as a way to finally learn about said research, Essek? No longer. Yeza’s gone now. Suck it.

So, the Mighty Nein took a Beacon completely out of his hands, made it useless to him in every way possible, and removed his access to his one (1) avenue of information on the Beacon. That’s surely already Fuck These Guys territory for Essek, right?

Well, guess what Essek! YOU have been chosen to be the lucky drow who gets to babysit them! For the entire time! They’re here!

But hey, they’re only visitors, just keep them at arm’s length for a few days and then you’ll never have to see them aga- Oh look, your Den and by extension YOUR MOTHER gave them a house. They live here now.

And Essek just has to sit there like “... :).”

AND ON TOP OF ALL OF THAT, EVERY WEEK OR SO, THEY COME BACK AND SAY:

“Hey Essek! We just thought you should know, we think there’s a traitor in the Dynasty, crazy right?”

“Hey Essek, we think this possible traitor actually GAVE the Empire the Beacons, isn’t that WILD?”

“Hey Essek, did we mention that we have connections not only to the Empire but to the Assembly specifically, AND we have easy access to the Empire in general, so we can totally dig around there AND here as much as we like? Wow, not many people could do that, huh?”

“Hey Essek, did you know our monk is trained to ruthlessly ferret out the truth no matter what, and also she’s super invested in the well being of all these civillians? Boy, she sure seems to want to get to the bottom of things!”

“Hey Essek, did you know that our wizard who knows a lot about the arcane and is super interested in dunamancy and also has a perfect memory was a Scourger in training and speaks Zemnian? He can interrogate another one of your captives for you, wonder if they know anything about traitors or what the Assembly might be up to!”

“Hey Essek, we have a cunning plan to interrogate ANOTHER prisoner of yours! You know, that one who totally sold the Beacons! Aren’t we smart, don’t you like it?”

“Hey Essek! This prisoner seems to be innocent? Like, his memories were planted and he’s almost been... framed, or something? Wild! Let’s go tell the Bright Queen together!!!!”

“HEY ESSEK! Crazy news, we almost single handedly coordinated a peace talks, and we’ll be overseeing all the big interactions on both sides! Wonder what we could learn from those interactions? Anyway, bye!”

IT NEVER ENDS. IT NEVER, EVER ENDS FOR ESSEK. HE LIVES NEXT DOOR. JESTER MESSAGES HIM CONSTANTLY. HIS MUM OWNS THEIR HOUSE. HE’S BORDERLINE AT THEIR BECK AND CALL. 

AND IT’S ALMOST LIKE THEY WERE SPECIFICALLY DESIGNED TO COUNTERACT HIS EVERY MOVE.

WHICH HE HAS TO HEAR ABOUT. CONSTANTLY.

Not only should the Nein by all rights have disliked him, he by all rights should FUCKING HATE the Mighty Nein.

The Mighty Nein were the bane of his existence. He must have laid awake some nights, wondering if they were taunting him. How could they know so much, and yet not realise he’s the last person they should be confiding in? How could he have run into a group with an ex-student of one of the men he’s illegally working with, by accident? HOW could he have kidnapped, out of all the researchers involved with the Beacons, the one married to a Mighty Nein member? Why does the truth-sniffing monk know Undercommon now. WHY is the firblog so fucking perceptive. And please, please, why won’t the tiefling stop messaging him?

Surely, they’re taunting him. They’re his own personal hell.

And they keep inviting him to dinner.

...I think I’ve made the joke several times now that somewhere out there, the big players in the war must fucking hate the Nein, accomplishing so much by accident.

Well I’ve found out who that big player is and his name is Essek. It’s him. Everything the Nein have done of any significance has made specifically his life harder, and on top of all that? 

They don’t even let him hate them properly, like Actual Nemeses™. Instead they gave him a morality crises. 

Because that’s the final, most poetic indignity of them all. 

After all that, he likes them.

[buckybarnesthehotshot]

Hiiii🥰🥰 could I get a tony x reader where the reader is related to Peggy Carter in some way. He always flirts and annoys her until something goes wrong at the lab or at SHIELD and they end up getting sent back to the 40s so they have to find Pegs and Howard to help them get back. And while there they realize how much they actually like eachother and all. Pleeeaassee. I really like this idea and I can’t wait to see what you might do. Thank you 🥰🥰

 Blast From The Past (Tony Stark x reader)

word count: 2720 (this was longer than expected but oh well)

warnings: mentions of guns, time travel, and this isn’t edited

A/N: okay so I’ve never tried writing anything for Tony so this was a fun challenge and it took me a while to finish but here we are, I hope this is what you asked for, anon :))

      Tony Stark, yet again, was visiting another S.H.I.E.L.D base under the orders of Nick Fury. He was what Fury called a consultant and some scientists in one of the bases were said to be working on a breakthrough; something that could advance S.H.I.E.L.D tech. They needed his help in developing something, but they wouldn’t tell him what.

       The moment he stepped foot in the base, he was surrounded in a crowd of young agents; trainees he guessed, seeing as though they could not help themselves but be starstruck in his presence.

       “Agents, I expected better of you,” a voice echoed through the room, causing the agents to step away from Tony and return to where they were stationed. When the crows cleared, Tony recognized the striking features of Y/N L/N, the woman he’d spent most of his childhood with.

       “Y/N, I didn’t know you worked here,” Tony grinned, amused at the sight of Y/N playing into a leadership role at the base.

       “Stark, this is my base and you have no business being here,” Y/N scowled, Tony’s presence annoying her.

       “Well, Fury would say otherwise,” he smirked arrogantly, earning a huff of realization from Y/N. Of all the people Fury could send, he sent the most infuriating man alive.

       “You’re the consultant?” the e/c-eyed girl frowned.

       “I think, I am. Then again, Fury refuses to tell me I’m a consultant for,” Tony scoffed, drawing a chuckle from Y/N.

       “Before I tell you anything, I’m obliged to tell you that you might have to work on the project for quite a while. Three weeks, at minimum,” Y/N explained, leading him through the base and to an elevator.

       “As long as it means I get to see you more? Sure,” Tony smirked as Y/N rolled her eyes before scanning her I.D, shutting the elevator doors.

       Y/N and Tony had a complicated friendship—well, if you could call it that. Not many people knew, but the pair were childhood friends before it all came to an abrupt end when Tony and Y/N had an argument when it came to what they wanted to do in life. Y/N, after all, wanted to follow in her aunt’s steps.

       “They’re fooling you into thinking this is what you want in life, Y/N!” a young Tony stark yelled out, his voice echoing through the walls of the Stark mansion.

       “This is what I want, Tones. I want to help, no matter the price,” Y/N argued back.

      “And what if the price is me, huh? I don’t want anything to do with S.H.I.E.L.D,” Tony scoffed. Y/N frowned before her face hardened.

       “That’s a price I’m willing to pay,” Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance before bolting out the front door, never to see Tony Stark again…until he decided he wanted to fly around in a red and gold suit, calling himself Iron Man.

       Looking back at the argument, Y/N now knew why he was so adamant about not working with S.H.I.E.L.D. After all, the organization is what kept Tony from his father all those years ago.  

        When Tony became Iron Man, a silent agreement was formed between them. They were coworkers and their past would not affect that.

       The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, revealing an army of scientists working together in different groups, confusing Tony further. Based off what he was seeing, he still could not figure out what it was Y/N’s scientists were working on. Y/N easily read the expression on Tony’s face before leading him out the elevator and beginning her explanation.

       “Time travel has been a myth amongst mankind for quite some time now, but recently, on a HYDRA bust, some of our agents found a new component that could help make it possible. Now, we’re kind of working tooth and nail to get the technology for it working,” Y/N explained, taking in the shock which formed on Tony’s face.

       “Time travel shouldn’t be possible,” Tony muttered to himself.

       “This component, when it comes into contact with something damaged, it regenerates cells. At first, we thought it was a regenerative component until we heated it wrong and ruined the supply of mangoes we keep in the lab. Turns out, it doesn’t regenerate shit,” Y/N explained.

       “And you’re sure this component of yours could help make some sort of time machine?” Tony questioned, leaning his face into his palms as he took in all the work that was going on around him.

       “Yes,” Y/N nodded before Tony reluctantly agreed to help with the project.

       And that was how Y/N Carter and Tony Stark began seeing each other regularly and for some reason, Tony appeared to make it his personal mission to annoy the shit out of the superior officer.

       “You know it would be a lot easier to work if you didn’t distract me with that face of yours,” Tony huffed one day while he was revising the blueprints for the project.

       “Are you calling me ugly?” Y/N raised a brow.

       “The opposite of that, actually,” Tony smirked, earning an eye roll from Y/N. Most of the days went on like that; Tony making flirty remarks and Y/N doing her best to shrug them off.

      All that until finally, the machine was completed! Well, almost. They weren’t able to conduct any tests yet and nobody else knew the state the machine was in. Tony, claiming he didn’t work well with others, booted everyone out the lab before he could think of the best way to get the machine working.

       It was 2:39 in the morning when he had the breakthrough that changed everything. In his excitement, he found himself dialing Y/N only to find out that she was still in the building. When he told her there was something he wanted to show her with the machine, she rushed down to the labs and was greeted with the sight of him standing in front of the machine, arms wide open as he welcomed her in.

       “I finished it!” Tony exclaimed, excitedly pulling Y/N into a hug, shocking the girl.

       “Great, we can probably do something about how to test this thing in the morning,” Y/N smiled happily as she pulled away from the hug.

       “I was thinking, maybe we could test this together,” Tony offered, holding his hand out. Y/N hesitated before taking it. He practically tore her arm off when he dragged her to the machine and let it fire up.

       “Tony, what about our way—” Y/N was stopped when she was engulfed in a bright light.

       When the bright light faded, Y/N found herself looking around the unfamiliar space. Wait, no. Something about it was familiar to her.

       “It worked!” Tony exclaimed excitedly.

       “Great, how do we get back?” Y/N questioned. Tony’s face fell, panicking Y/N. Did he not think of a way to bring them back?

       “Fuck, I didn’t think of that!” Tony exclaimed and suddenly a loud beeping rang through the room and they knew they were fucked.

       Men stormed into the room, wearing uniforms and armed with guns. Y/N began counting the men that begun to surround them and she managed to count at least 27 of them. If she had a decent weapon, hell a dagger even, she knew she could have been able to take them all, but she knew if she had any shot at getting back to the present, she would just have to comply until further notice.

       “I’m unarmed,” Y/N stated cautiously, holding her hands up to her head as she kneeled onto the floor.

       “The fuck are you doing?” Tony questioned, a confused look painted on his face.

       “Sit your ass down, bitch,” Y/N rolled her eyes, kicking Tony’s ankles, forcing him onto his knees.

       “Damn, if you wanted me to kneel for you, you could’ve just asked,” Tony muttered, holding his hands above his head too.

       “Shut up,” Y/N rolled her eyes as the agents drew closer and closer until they began cuffing the pair.

       The pair were assisted to what appeared to be some kind of interrogation room. It was too familiar to her. Sitting on a cold metal chair, handcuffed to a metal table, facing a one-sided mirror.

       To her shock, it wasn’t just some agent who came in to interrogate her. No, it was Peggy Carter. Y/N’s eyes lit up in recognition of her aunt in younger years.

       “Who do you work for?” her accented voice rang through their ears like smooth silk.

       “We’re visiting from the France unit,” Y/N lied, putting on a fake French accent as she explained herself.

       “Ah, oui,” Tony nodded along.

       “We weren’t expecting any visitors, and who are you?” Peggy snarled, leaning against the metal table.

       “I told you, Miss Carter, I’m Agent Edith Broussard from the Paris base. Check my badge,” Y/N rolled her eyes, motioning to her coat. Peggy reluctantly reached into her coat pocket and pulled out Y/N’s identification card along with her badge. Behold, there it was, the old S.H.I.E.L.D logo and an I.D card from S.H.I.E.L.D’s Paris branch.

       “My apologies, Agent Broussard,” Peggy nodded as she uncuffed Y/N from the table.

       “This is my—” Y/N explained only to be interrupted.

       “Husband. Hi, the name’s Antoine Broussard,” Tony attempted to shake Peggy’s hand only to be stopped by the cuffs around his hand. Peggy looked to Y/N as though to verify he was actually telling the truth and she just nodded.

      “Miss Carter, our system, it didn’t work properly. Do you have anyone on base who can help with this?” Y/N questioned, holding up a small remote. Tony looked to her, his face contorting to one of confusion.

       “Of course, we do. Howard Stark, he’s our best scientist here,” Peggy smiled, leading them into a lab of sorts.

        A sharply-dressed man greeted them, his arms held wide open as he proudly showed off his lab to the new visitors.

       “Who’s this lovely lady?” the man smirked, earning an eye roll from Tony. Of course, his father was the only person who could help them.

       “His wife,” Peggy deadpanned as Howard’s face fell.

       “You got luck with this one then,” Howard winked before turning to Peggy, “What do you need today, oh great Agent Carter?”

       “They’re agents from the Paris base and their traveling system malfunctioned and they need help fixing it,” Peggy explained.

       “Can’t you fly them out on the next jet to Paris?” Howard questioned.

       “That’s the problem. We’re unlisted agents, Mr. Stark. Flying, even on a S.H.I.E.L.D flight, could put us at risk of exposure,” Y/N explained, earning a nod from Howard.

       “Let me see this travelling system of yours,” Howard requested, holding his hand out. Y/N reluctantly handed over the small device she herself had been working on.

       “This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. What’s this made of?” Howard muttered as he began to observe the small device he held.

       “It’s confidential,” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest.

       “I can’t work on something if you won’t tell me what this is for,” Howard huffed, still fiddling with the device he held in his hands.

       “That’s what I told her,” Tony muttered, earning a quick glare from Y/N.

       “Mr. Stark, as much as I’d like for you to be able to work on this more efficiently, I’m under direct orders from our base not to let any of this information leak. Even if you try contacting our superior about this, they will tell you they know nothing about the project or our existence,” Y/N frowned, earning a look from Tony. Damn, she was good at lying on the spot.

       “This could take me months to figure out,” Howard muttered.

       “Cut it down to one,” Peggy and Y/N spoke simultaneously, earning a chuckle from both Tony and Howard.

       “That’s impossible,” Howard frowned.

       “It is if my husband works on it. He’s one of the most brilliant minds we had on our base and trust me, he knows his shit. He’s one of the scientists who worked on the project,” Y/N smiled, giving Tony a small nudge.

       “Well, you must be pretty smart if you managed to work with this stuff,” Howard chuckled in a confident matter.

       “Actually, I had nothing to do with that device. I worked on the model we have in the lab,” Tony chuckled nervously as he too scanned the device.

       “I made it based off your blueprints. I reverse engineered everything, but I didn’t have time to finish working on it. Not everyone could be a super genius,” Y/N chuckled.

       “No, this is great, actually,” Howard mumbled, taking in the workings of the device.

       “I’m going to show Agent Broussard to their temporary chambers. I assume you and Antoine can handle this?” Peggy raised a brow, expecting a proper answer.

       “Sure,” Howard nodded with a huff before Peggy led Y/N out of the room.

       Although they were out of their time, Y/N and Tony somehow managed to fit into roles at the base. Y/N, as she naturally would have, assisted Peggy with taking on the leadership role in the base. She was an outsider, yet Peggy seemed to place her trust in the girl.

       Tony, on the other hand, was busy working with Howard in the lab to get them back to their “base in Paris”. For once in his life, Tony felt content. Why? He was finally able to prove to his father how capable he truly was—well, even though Howard didn’t quite know that Antoine was his son.

       “Agent Carter, can you bring Agent Broussard down to the lab?” Tony requested over the base’s communication system.

       “On our way,” Peggy responded curtly. Over the span of the few weeks, Tony and Y/N found themselves growing fond of each other. After all, they were the only ones they could trust.

       When they arrived at the lab, Tony engulfed Y/N in a tight hug, muttering a quick “thank you” into her hair, confusing her.

       “I’ll explain later, but we finished the machine!” Tony exclaimed excitedly.

       “And you took everything into account this time? We can’t leave any traces of this behind,” Y/N whispered loud enough for only him to hear.

       “Yeah, babysitting my dad wasn’t exactly a fun experience, but at least I know how you feel whenever you’re around me,” Tony chuckled.

       “Great, can we launch the machine?” Y/N questioned, her eyes gazing upon the gadget in Howard’s hands.

        “Don’t you want to test it first?” Peggy questioned, her expression being painted as one of concern.

       “I have full faith in you, and it’s been weeks since we left the base, I don’t think we can afford to lose anymore time,” Y/N smiled graciously before taking the machine out of Stark’s hands.

       “Wait, there aren’t any records of this project here, are there?” Tony questioned, facing Peggy.

       “I already had a talk with Edith regarding the confidentiality of this project. You, Howard, Edith, and I are the only ones with knowledge of this project and that will be how it remains,” Peggy smiled.

       “Thank you, Peggy,” Y/N gave a nod of respect before turning to Tony, “Let’s go home.”

       “See you around, Agent Edith Broussard!” Peggy smiled only to get a quick response from both Tony and Howard.

       “You won’t,” they’d both said at the same time, also drawing a chuckle from Y/N and Peggy. Tony fiddled with the small device until finally, they were engulfed in a bright light.

       When the light faded, Y/N took in her surroundings to see she was now in the lab of the present S.H.I.E.L.D. base, the moment after they’d left for the past in the first place. She peered behind her to see Tony smiling down at her like a madman.

       “Do I have something on my face?” Y/N’s brows furrowed in confusion.

       “I want to thank you for putting me on this project. It was pretty fun working with my dad even if it was as Antoine Broussard,” Tony chuckled, his brown eyes glimmering with joy.

       “Well, I wouldn’t be able to work alongside Aunt Peggy if you didn’t manage to finish the machine…even if you fucked up with getting us back,” Y/N chuckled.

       “So…dinner?” Tony offered, smiling down at Y/N.

       “Sure,” Y/N smiled back as Tony led her out of the lab to begin their search for a restaurant still open at 3 in the morning.

TAGLIST: @captainamerica-is-bae / @sxphiiwrld / @spatium-viatorem / 

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere!SCPs’ reaction to Reader having a husband Pt.2

Part 1 { Warning: Yandere themes, yandere behaviour, depiction of death }

035

“I’ll ask you again: Why did you possess Doctor (L/N)?” The interviewer had long since crossed the barrier of impatience. He’d been interrogating 035 for a solid two hours now, the image of your melting body dripping onto the floor in goops of black almost enough to knock him sick.

035 remained silent, his face still carved into the same frown he wore the day he took you. He’d taken extra care to preserve your body for as long as possible, using all his willpower to prevent you from turning into a pile of sludge. His strength only extended so far, however, and it was beginning to waver. Hence why your appendages and limbs were beginning to turn a shade of black, decaying.

The interviewer, after another expected bout of silence from 035′s end, sighed heavily, clicking his pen and beginning to write on his clipboard.

“I had to,” 035 said suddenly, causing the interviewer to jump and drop his pen. “There was no other way for us to be together. Willingly, anyway.”

The man across from 035 gave the SCP a wide-eyed look, incredulous at the notion that 035 was capable of feeling any sense of love in the first place. Sure, he’d heard the rumours around the office that only the famous (Y/N) could get 035 to answer questions properly and keep calm, but he never suspected them to be true until he was called in to conduct an interview.

That’s when he saw you - or, rather, what was left of you. 035 had refused to let you go over the duration of the last three days, and, quite frankly, the staff were starting to get annoyed.

“W-well,” the interviewer began, ready to take full advantage of the situation to make 035 see that what he did was beyond wrong. He couldn't help but let the emotional side of him take control. “What if she had a family? Or what if she was pregnant? I bet you wouldn’t have possessed her then, would you?”

A moment of quietude passed before 035′s scowl slowly transformed into a smile. He chuckled darkly, his arms folded across his chest.

“You see, doctor, I would have known if she had a family because I would have seen it in her memories. Luckily for me, she seemed too distant with her husband to even get close enough to him to actually have a kid.

“Really, I’m doing her a favour.”

The interviewer puffed out an incredulous laugh, leaning back in his chair.

“You speak about her like she’d still alive.”

It wouldn’t have been a far stretch to say that 035′s already sinister grin managed to stretch even further.

“Oh, but she still is,” he teased. He pointed a finger against his chest, right above his heart.

“In here.”

The interviewer, of course, didn’t take him seriously. Unluckily for you, 035′s claim was correct.

The worst part about still being alive while wearing 035 was the fact that you were forced to watch your colleagues - your friends - come so close to saving you before giving up, assuming 035 to be stirring up tension as per usual.

It hurt to know that the SCP you’d come to trust was keeping you prisoner in your own body. 

And there was nothing you could do about it.

049

A good month had passed since you’d broken the news to 049. He seemed to completely lose interest in you after that and rarely called for your presence, if ever. You would have been concerned had it not been for another issue that had been plaguing you recently.

Your husband had become rather ill over the course of the week after your last visit to 049. You knew that the timing of his illness was extremely suspicious, but you tried to push the notion that 049 had something to do with it to the back of your mind.

After all, his powers couldn’t extend beyond the walls of his cell unless he was let out.

One day, as you were on your way to your boss’s office to book a few days off, you passed 049′s cell, which was rather quiet on this day. Usually, you could hear the sounds of him tinkering around with his equipment resonating from within, but now, it seemed almost as if there was no 049 to speak of.

Your boss’s office was just a short walk ahead of you, and you doubted a few extra minutes would affect the likelihood of you getting time off. And so, with delicate steps, you approached the door of 049′s cell, steps growing smaller the closer you got.

It was only as your ear was pressed right up against the metal could you hear anything.

It sounded like...breathing.

Before you could even consider if it was 049, the door opened, causing you to fall into the cell. With haste, you pushed yourself up, scrambling back to the door before it closed. You were not fortunate enough to be gifted with speed, however. Your hand almost got trapped between the elevator-like door as they shut.

You stared dumbfoundedly at the door, absolutely baffled as to how you could allow yourself to fall into such a vulnerable position.

You could still hear 049′s breaths just behind you, growing heavier the closer the SCP got.

With a rush of determination to survive, you quickly span around, locking 049 in an icy contest to keep him from getting any closer. He stood just a few feet before you and it didn’t take a genius to see that you were clearly at a disadvantage. 049 was unforgiving and driven by his own twisted perception of disease to stop for anything or anyone. You were no exception to this.

“S-stay back!” you threatened, reaching into your lab coat pocket in search of anything that could be used as a weapon. You weren’t going down without a fight.

049 remained in his spot, moving only to chuckle darkly as fear began to seep from your eyes in salted streams.

“Now I know that’s not what you really want,” 049 began. “Not when you need comfort in such trying times.”

You arched an eyebrow, confused yet still cautious. 

“What do you mean?” Your voice was low, deep with the primal instinct to fight.

049 failed to contain a laugh.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” He cocked his head to the side and held his hands behind his back. “Your husband.”

Your eyes narrowed at the mention of your other half and a phoenix brewed in your stomach, shooting up your throat. You were ready to breathe fire if this monster had anything to do with your husband’s deathly state.

“You won’t be so quick to spare me such an evil look when you find out I’m the only one who can cure him. What he has, (Y/N), is not the Pestilence. But it is, as you would say, life-threatening.”

You felt your heart sink.

“So, if you want him to get better, I’d suggest finding a way out of the Foundation. And fast.”

079

Months passed and you had been reduced to an emotional wreck - a shell of your former self. Every creak put you on edge and every electrical device struck fear into your core.

After your husband died, you decided to continue working for the foundation. You promised yourself that someday - somehow - you were going to exact revenge on 079 for your husband. You just needed to get close enough to him as not to alert Foundation suspicion.

Fortunately for you, the staff didn’t regard you with suspicion as you quietly asked to see 079. They didn’t dare look at you with anything other than pity as you entered the cell, a small baton concealed within the material of your coat.

You were quiet as to soothe your beating heart, but also to prevent 079 from coming to life too soon. You had to time it just right.

You didn’t get far into the room before 079′s screen switched on, filling the previously darkened room with a static light. You froze, one hand placed carefully over your coat and the other resting upon the backrest of the interviewer chair.

The sensation of memories that seemed so distant flooded through your veins in a fiery display of sorrow, forcing the many moments you had made with your husband to resurface.

Everything was silent for a second before 079 spoke.

【Ｗｈｙ　ａｒｅ　ｙｏｕ　ｈｅｒｅ？】

There was no hostility in his tone, but rather cautious concern for not only you but himself.

He may have been a machine, but he knew humans well enough to understand how their emotions tended to affect them for long periods of time. To put it simply, he wasn’t entirely sure if you were in your right mind.

You knew 079 suspected you, but you held back your anger. Instead, you let your sadness engulf you. Tears sprang to your eyes immediately, distorting your vision.

“Thank you,”

Your voice was a hoarse whisper, but 079 heard you loud and clear.

【Ｗｈａｔ？】 His own voice was tinged with incredulity. Had you gone insane?

“I said ‘thank you’,” you repeated. Although your words scorched your insides, you persisted, maintaining resilience throughout the entirety of your act.

“You showed me that I didn’t need my husband, 079. All I’ve ever needed...is you.”

You could practically feel the treachery of your words pool up in your mouth, ready to overflow and dye your speech in many shades of sarcasm.

079 could not believe what he was hearing. The once prominent voice of his own common sense was drowned by his own joy as he considered the once distant possibility that maybe you actually liked him. Even after he murdered your husband.

He knew he shouldn’t have trusted you so easily, but when you batted your tear-soaked eyelashes at him, all suspicion was thrown right out the window.

You took his silence as your cue to approach, and you did so in a manner that was akin to a predator stalking its prey.

【Ｉ　ａｍ　ｇｌａｄ　ｔｏ　ｓｅｅ　ｔｈａｔ　ｙｏｕ　ｈａｖｅ　ｃｏｍｅ　ｔｏ　ｙｏｕｒ　ｓｅｎｓｅｓ．】

You were stood right in front of 079, hand clenched around your weapon.

“Yeah,” you said, offering a soft smile. “Me too,”

079 didn’t get chance to process your response before you revealed the baton from the confines of your coat, raising it high before bringing it down in a fiery display of rage.

You made a lovely dent right on the frame of 079′s monitor, littering his body with more.

079 tried to speak, but the incessant pounding he felt torturing his body prevented him from forming a sentence that wasn’t tainted by his own pain.

In the background, Foundation staff were desperately trying to get the cell door open, eventually managing to do so and dragging you out of the cell. By that point 079 was a husk: No light peered from his monitor, no static noise filled the room.

079′s silence reflected that of your own home, no longer holding a family of two but rather the ghost of one.

682

You didn’t know how, but you found yourself trapped inside a cell that didn’t belong to 682. It was far too small to even fit one of 682′s legs inside, let alone the rest of him. The walls were barren and there were no indications as to what SCP inhabited it whatsoever. You’d probably find out when the SCPs were rounded back up and thrown back into containment. Or, if 682 had anything to do with it, perhaps not.

Currently, you were being watched through the small doorway by none other than your dragon-like fiend, who kept his head so impossibly close to the door that his muzzle took up the entirety of it.

It had been awfully quiet save for the constant blaring of the breach sirens, which you knew was highly unusual.

682 had yet to speak, though he did growl on occasion.

After a good ten minutes of stillness, you slowly unfolded your legs from your sitting position and tried to stand, only to be forced back down by a guttural growl from 682.

His jaws were a mere few feet from you and it would have taken absolutely no time at all for him to devour you.

Silence ensued yet again until 682′s gruff voice filled your ears.

“Why did you lie to me?” It was more of a demand than a question, and so you felt obligated to answer.

“I-I never lied to you, 682...” Your voice, weak and pathetic, was enough to both anger and humour the lizard.

He laughed bitterly, his eyes still boring into yours.

“Then how come you never told me? About HIM?!” 682′s forced his head further through the doorway, bending its and drawing nearer to you. You balled yourself up in a corner, trying to keep all your limbs intact.

“You never asked!” You shouted. You were a lot louder than you would have liked to have been, and for a dreadful minute, you thought you’d managed to anger 682 more than you already had.

682 laughed again, able to taste the fear that radiated from your body.

He would have swiped at you for your less than desirable tone, but he refrained. There was no-one around to stop him now. All staff on-sight had been terminated while all the SCPs that were able to escaped.

He had all the time in the world, and he was determined to spend it with you.

Your husband would wonder where you’d gone to before being forced to forget, just as the family members of all Foundation personnel. There was nobody who could save you now, not even yourself.

[16/11/19]

Masterlist Masterpost

[vampirepiggyhunterdefensesquad]

Compliments 4/5

Zim had landed on another bush, and not a very comfortable one. He griped loudly to himself about the leaves and branches and Earth, absolutely refusing to think about what had just happened

for all of two minutes. Then Gaz's blushing face slipped into view in his mind's eye and it was all over. Zim groaned outwardly, but he understood well enough now that he wasn't going to be able to stop for a while. Separation was likely the ideal way to hurry up and be done turning it over in his head.

Even so, Zim found himself trailing after Gaz a few blocks. She could take care of herself, obviously, but just in case someone tried to hurt her in her weakened state... Maybe if he involved himself, she would--

No!! This was exactly what she had told him to STOP doing. Who CARED about some earth human girl?? Even if she DID have very sparkly eyes and a soft looking face that went red when he looked directly at it and hair he wanted to feel under his sharp fingers. Even if she did obviously want him to try. Even if she was incredibly powerful and scary and picked him up and threw him and that was, however insulting to his ego and bruising to his actual limbs, impressive for a human and a young one at that. Zim contemplated the image of Gaz throwing someone else like that-- preferably Dib-- and felt another pleasant-yet-horrible rush of heat in his guts. Disgusting. But it made him feel giddy.

Zim watched from a distance as Gaz walked up to her door and slammed it shut viciously. At that, he turned on his heels and stalked home, grumbling about bushes some more. He would have to put something on his skin to make it stop burning; the tiny cuts were incredibly unpleasant.

He found that when he let his mind drift to her, the pain faded slightly. But this focus was unhealthy, had to be bad for him. A small part of him was rioting whenever he allowed himself to contemplate her, focus on her too closely. It was almost a betrayal of everything invaders stood for, wasn't it??

"Nice antennae."

So why couldn't he bring himself to care???????

Zim reached his door. He hadn't realized how fast he'd been walking, and glared at it. He lived close to the Membranes, too close, much too close when it came to the Dib-filth. But it seemed a bit further when he thought about how Gaz lived there too.

. . . . Dib lived there, too.

Zim clapped his hands over his head and stifled a moan when the full implications hit him like a truck. This was the worst thing that could have possibly happened.

So it would be wonderful if his stupid, ANNOYING brain could stop acting like he had just had the best day ever.

Gaz's words had been angry, defensive. But her silence had been different. Her pause had said far more than her words did.

It would have been easy, easier than easy, to tell him to just stop. That she was annoyed and that was it. When she did eventually say as much, it was only after that conflicted silence. . .

She wanted his attention. Her blushes and reactions to his eyes made this much clear to him: Gaz wanted him to look at her just as much as he wanted her to look at him.

And the idea of looking at her had never been so appealing.

Zim nearly ran into his own front door-- he'd forgotten it was there. He nearly ripped the thing off its hinges in his haste to get inside.

He would see her tomorrow. That was fine. He wasn't going to get obsessed with anyone--especially a HUMAN-- especially after something so small.

Zim walked inside and rode the elevator down to the lab and sat down in his chair.

I want to see Gaz.

Zim stood up and walked out into the room with all the pods with human test subjects. One of them held a random person he'd snatched from the street a few evenings ago. She was sound asleep-- he'd been conducting tests to see how weak and fragile humans were when faced with emotionally taxing TV shows-- given how upset and unable to function properly GIR was after a series he loved ended, Zim was certain there was a method of world domination in television yet.

He kicked the glass of the tube, making the human stir, but not wake fully.

"HEY."

Kick.

"HEY!!!!!!!!"

The woman's eyes popped open. When her eyes fell on Zim, disguise-less, they widened in panic and she began banging on the glass, trying to shout for help.

Zim groaned and pressed a button to drain the fluid from the tube instantaneously. The ugly human's legs gave way and she collapsed at the bottom.

"Don't start screaming, nobody can hear you anyway," Zim said disgustingly, as if it was obvious. "Annoying, unhelpful, and, worst of all, annoying."

The human breathed deeply and lifted her head. Finally, her voice returned, and she looked. . .  confused.

"You. . . . you said 'annoying' twice."

"THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!!!!" Zim hollered, slamming his hands against the glass. The woman fell backwards, but seemed to be calming down at Zim's childish outburst.

"Why am I here?"

"Listen, HUMAN. I normally would never stoop to the level of asking for help from your kind. . . but i believe this newest development requires some in-person questioning. You, you filthy, lucky human, are being given the chance to earn your freedom from my HHHORRIBLE LAIR. So listen carefully."

The woman nodded quickly. She seemed to be looking around carefully, taking in her surroundings, but she wouldn't be able to escape so it really didn't matter.

"You were once a smaller, younger version of your now old, ugly self, yes?"

The woman blinked. "I'm twenty four."

Zim squinted. "Twenty four. . . . . years? Old?"

". . . yes?"

Zim smirked. "Have you have retained a good memory of your youth, however long past it may have been?"

The woman was trying to brush her dripping, dark purple hair out of her eyes. "Yes," she said, in a resigned tone.

"Good. Are you in a relationship at the moment?"

The woman's head popped up and her eyes went wild. She fell backwards again, tripping over her own feet.

"CALM DOWN!!!! It's just for REFERENCE," Zim spat. "I have less than no interest in your disgusting, hideous body. I'm here to destroy your planet."

"That's comforting," she said sarcastically, turning around entirely. "No, I'm . . . not."

"Were you ever? And have you, despite your repulsiveness, had anyone ever. . . interested in you?"

The woman barked out a laugh. "Yes. I guess."

"So how did they fail???" Zim slammed his hands on the tube again, but this time it was out of desperation. "What mistakes did they make??"

The woman, apparently having not found an exit in the other direction, turned back to shoot him with a glare. "Why."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHY????" Zim's face flushed. "i MEAN-- EHHH-- YOU are in no position to ask ME ANYTHING, HUMAN!!”

"Wait. You're not. . . Why did you kidnap me?" she asked, completely confused.

"What? You were right there." Zim blinked.

"Wh-- you-- he didn't--you just happened to-- oh God, that's my luck, isn't it?"

"JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!! How did your previous suitors fail???"

"Well, one of them tried to kill me."

Zim tilted his head. "And. . . . you didn't like that."

She just stared.

"Ok, no killing. No attempting killing. Got it!!!!!"

"So, you're trying to get a human girl to like you??" The woman looked him up and down.

"STOP!! STOP THAT IMMEDIATELY!!!" Zim waved his hands in front of the glass. "I said NOTHING about myself. I'm TRYING to conduct RESEARCH here!!!!! What else did they do???"

"Listen, alien-- what's your name, kid?"

"I AM ZIM." Zim announced.

"Zim. If you like someone, you can't interrogate someone you kidnapped for help. What if I just. . . intentionally sabotaged you or something?"

Zim, whose antennae had lowered, popped back up. "I wasn't going to let you go until it worked," he announced. "PF! What do you think I AAAAAAAM? an AMATUER???"

The woman smiled wryly and took a seat, leaning against the back of the tube casually. "What's she like, Zim?"

"Scary," he answered immediately, dropping to sit as well. "Also she thinks I'm 'cool.'"

"If she thinks you're cool, why are you asking me for advice? Hell, just ask her out. And let me go first."

"No. Also, that didn't work."

She squinted. "You asked her out?"

"Yyyyyyyyyyyy--not exactly?"

The woman gestured for him to continue. It was a testament to how shaken up Gaz had made Zim inside that he did.

. . . .

Zim leaned back on the outside of the glass tube, letting his antennae droop. ". . . And now I have to WAIT a whole DAY before I see her again!!"

"Why's that?" The woman examined her fingernails.

"What?"

"What if you went to her house and asked her out properly?" she suggested. "It sounds like you led with accusing HER of having feelings when in reality YOU were the one who liked HER."

"RIDICULOUS. Invaders need NO ONE. I would never like such a pathetic earth-human."

"Okay, so you don't want my help--"

"HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO 'ASK HER OUT'?" he screeched. "Human rituals are NOTHING like Irken romance!!!"

She turned her eyes to him again. "What? What's your alien romance consist of?"

"WE DON'T HAVE IT!" Zim wailed, slumping down further.

"Uh-huh." She tapped her chin with her finger. "Go to her door. Knock. When she answers, apologize for yelling at her. Tell her you like her, and tell her you want to spend time with her and look at her."

"NO!!"

"What the hell-- why--"

He turned around, glaring her down. "SHE WON'T. APPRECIATE SUCH A GESTURE. The Gaz-human is intelligent. She is far too smart to want such a. . such an UP FRONT method!!"

"Well, you'd be surprised." The woman turned away again. "Listen, are you gonna kill me if you get rejected?"

"Absolutely."

"So ask her nicely." From what she'd seen, she'd be able to escape if he stayed away for long enough. And this girl might be strong enough to incapacitate the alien--or, y'know, she might say yes. From the dazed, lovestruck way Zim talked about her, she might be just as violent and dangerous as he was. "And, uh, make sure you remember I'm the one who helped you."

"Yes, yes, yes. . ." The cogs turning in his brain were almost visible. "So. . . I tell her. And then she will blush. And agree to spend more time with me."

"Ideally."

"All right." He announced. "I am going."

"Wait, bring her something-- but not something too big!"

"Big?"

The woman contemplated. "What kind of candy does she like?"

[someonefantastic]

A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

So this is an idea that I've been toying around with for a while thanks to the Psych discord but never actually did anything with it until now. Fun fact, this is actually the second time I've written this and I'm still not super happy with it but oh well, I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless! Summary: Gus, Henry, and Juliet have all be kidnapped, leaving a furious psychic and head detective to do something about it. Warnings: blood, kidnapping, descriptions of torture also on ao3 ___ He marched into the interrogation room, slamming the door so hard that the one-way glass rattled. “This is so dumb!” He growled, grabbing a chair, sending it clattering to the ground.

It had been 23 hours since he last saw his dad, 14 hours since he saw his girlfriend, and 11 since he saw his best friend. He had left Gus at Psych to go meet Juliet for lunch but learned that she had been out on a call. When he returned to the office, Gus was gone. Juliet never came back from her assignment and his dad had never shown up for his shift. They had all gone missing.

“Spencer!” Lassiter yelled, pushing off the far wall. With a few quick strides, he stood in front of the distressed man. “I know you’re angry, hell I’m furious, but I need you to call down.” He scowled, “I will throw you in the lockup.”

Shawn’s jaw tightened and his fists clenched and unclenched. He wasn’t sure if he was going to punch the detective or the wall but both seemed like good options at the moment. But after a moment, all of the air seemed to deflate out of him and he collapsed into one of the still-standing chairs.

He dropped his head into his hands, his voice coming out muffled. “Lassie, the people I care about most in my life have disappeared off the face of the planet and now the chief won’t let either of us investigate because we’re too close to the case.” He lifted his eyes a little to look at the head detective. “It’s one thing if I’m not allowed on it but you’re the only other person I trust most to find them and you can’t even do anything either.” Dropping his face back into his palms he sighed, shaking his head.

Lassiter frowned, stooping down to grab the overturned chair and sitting in it. “It sucks. But it’s protocol and there’s nothing we can do about it. I know the Chief will stop at nothing to find them. All we can do is wait.”

There was a muffled groan. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have left Gus behind or should have come to the station earlier. If I was with both of them, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Or you could have been taken too.”

“Anything would be better than sitting here, not knowing.”

He nodded, staring off into the distance. “I know.” He saw Shawn’s head pop up as the man shot him a confused look. “I should have gone with O’Hara. I left her without a partner.”

“I guess we both have a lot of regrets.”

“Yep.”

The two sat in almost silence, the only sound was Shawn’s foot steadily hitting the ground as he bounced his leg. They were stuck, bound by the laws of the jobs they loved- unable to protect the people they loved. Suddenly, there was another clatter of a chair as Shawn jumped to his feet. “This is dumb.”

Lassiter shot him a glare. “You’ve said that.”

“I know! But we need to do something!” He slammed his hands on the table between them, “Come on Lassie, let’s investigate... off the books.”

“Spencer, you know I can’t do that. There are rules.”

“Ah to hell with rules! This is my dad, this is Gus, this is Jules for pete’s sake! We have to do something.”

The two started, eyes waging war as they waited for his response. With a sigh, he shook his head falling back into his chair, “I can’t Spencer. We just have to trust the department.”

Shawn’s jaw clenched, eyes burning. He opened his mouth to say something just as the door opened and Buzz entered, looking his usual mix of cheery yet confused.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt but the Chief wants you guys to go to the conference room? Guess there’s some development on the disappearance case.” He jabbed a thumb behind him and was nearly thrown off balance as both Shawn and Lassiter tore from the room.

As the two entered the conference room, the Chief motioned towards some chairs, urging them to take a seat; a tv had been wheeled in behind her. “Gentlemen, I know I said you were to be off this case due to your personal involvement but we just received this,” she held up an evidence baggie, a black videotape rested inside, “along with a note stating that you two were to watch it. Now I don’t know what its contents entail but I want Mr. Spencer to see if he can get a read off of it.” She shot him a pointed look. “If you two can conduct yourself properly, I will consider letting you onto this case.”

They both nodded, not wanting to say or do anything that would put their involvement in jeopardy. After inserting the tape, she stood back, arms crossed, as the screen burst to life.

The footage revealed Gus, Henry, and Juliet all shackled to chairs. Henry was unconscious, his head bent at an awkward angle and dried blood on the side of his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Lassiter watched Shawn grip the arms of his chair. He almost followed suit as the camera revealed his partner. He could make out some bruising around one of her half-closed eyes and her arm had clearly been broken and then shoved into the shackles. Gus wasn’t better off. Dried blood spanned from his nose to his chest and he was hunched over slightly as if someone had kicked him in the stomach.

A man dressed in all red stood off to the side, his face covered but his stance was confident. His voice was raspy as he spoke, pacing around before the camera, “Good evening. I am King of the El Ray.” Lassiter’s stomach churned. The El Ray were one of the most notorious gangs in California and King was their leader. No one had ever been able to figure out who he was or how to take him down. “I understand that your department has recently made some… progress in taking down my empire.” He paused his pacing, staring straight into the lens. “Well if you take my guys, I’ll take yours.”

Lassiter had to take some deep breaths to calm himself as the man continued to talk. “I wanted to take your heavy hitters, like that psychic or your head detective. You know, an eye for an eye sort of deal,” He chuckled darkly, “but then I realized that there’s no fun in that. Taking the people they care most about is so much better.” Shawn growled next to him.

He waved his hand nonchalantly, “Anyways, my demands are simple. Donate ten grand to three different organizations, you’ll find the information in a package that will arrive shortly, and release my men from prison.” Sauntinger over to where Juliet sat, he ran a gloved finger down her cheek, and Lassiter’s jaw clenched. "Every hour you don’t do what I’ve asked, will be another hour of pain for these lovely people. Don’t believe me? Well in addition to sending photographic proof, I’ll also give you a little taste of what they’re in for.” In one swift movement, he grabbed Juliet’s hair, slamming her head forward as his knee came up to connect with her nose.

Lassiter saw red. He vaguely heard the man continuing to talk and Shawn jumping to his feet but the next thing he knew, his own fist was through the screen.

“Detective Lassiter!” The Chief yelled, her eyes wide and mouth open. “I will have to ask you to conduct yourself calmly or I will have someone lock you- both of you,” She sent a pointed look to Shawn who was standing with a broken armchair in his hand, “Or I will have you locked up for destruction of government property.”

Lassiter nodded, clutching his fist to his chest, the broken skin already beginning to bleed. “Sorry Chief, I’ll pay for that.”

“Yes, you will.” She looked between the both of them, “Now in light of recent developments, it is clear that you two are not to be allowed on the case.” She put her hand up as Shawn opened his mouth to protest, “I understand Mr. Spencer, that these are people you care about but you two are too close to this case. I will have our best people put on it and due to the nature of the El Ray, the feds will be called in. We will find them.”

After a quiet moment, her shoulders dropped, “Look, I don’t like this either. These are my people too and while I may be acting hard, this is just as difficult for me. But we have rules and protocol and I, unfortunately, have to follow it. So I can’t officially put you on this case. Understand?”

Both of them nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

As the two began to leave the room, she called out causing them to pause, “Detective. I hear they’ve got new weapons in the armory.”

Lassiter swore he saw the shadow of a smile on her face but it just as quickly disappeared. Grabbing Shawn’s arm, he steered them both towards the stairs. “Okay, Spencer. I’m in. Let’s go take down this SOB.”

[kitanoko]

In which the doctor meets his match Part 4!!

Note: I haven’t updated this since Sept 2018....y’all thought you seen the last of me HAHA. Finally, things are building up ....... shinsou is also going to meet todoroki EVENTUALLY ~

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

Read Part 3 here

Warm.

That was the only thing Yaoyorozu could think of when he shook her hands and laid a gaze that lingered on her luscious, mascara-coated lashes a second too long. She unknowingly scratched little circles on the hardcover of her lacquered folder when she looked up and saw the way he’d run his hand through his hair as the two walked out of the meeting room.

It was habit that she had come to notice Todoroki would do whenever he was about to say something but hesistates. A feeling stirred inside her and her arm tensed. It was definitely Aizawa sensei’s fault for making the atmosphere so….strange now, Yaoyorozu thought. She’s going to his office straight away after to demand an explanation!

The receptionist immediately dropped whatever she was doing when the two closed the meeting door, her eyes directing at the white and red haired man. Yaoyorozu knew the receptionist was checking the doctor out and she rolled her eyes.

The elevator slid open after a short while and Todoroki waved a goodbye. He entered, hands naturally smoothing out the bottom of his suit, and pressed the door to ground floor. Yaoyorozu, catching his teeny smile the second before the door fully closed, mirrored his gesture and hugged the newly signed contract to her chest even more as if protecting it.

Yaoyorozu had agreed to conduct a site visit this Saturday (which was sort of silly since she could go to his clinic right now if she wanted to) and cradled the papers in her hand even closer to her heart.

“So he signed?” A voice rose behind her with a teasing tone and she turned to see Aizawa crossing his arms, shifting his body weight on the wall beside him. The smirk that had formed on his face wrinkled his jaw. Yaoyorozu huffed, making sure to be conspicuously annoyed.

“Yes he did sensei…but I cannot believe you! You came in and made it so awkward!”

Aizawa’s smirk did not fade. “I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t like Shinsou.”

At the mention of their rival’s name, Yaoyorozu scrunched her nose. She playfully slapped her mentor’s arm, a tint of pink highlighting her cheeks, and huffed again, earning her a light chuckle from the man.

Just three weeks ago, the aforementioned Shinsou showed up at their doorstep, asking to speak with her. Yaoyorozu was slightly weary –after all, they have never worked together before (and he’d always convince her to quit Erase) but figured if he was coming for an alleged business opportunity, she’d better hold onto the chance. The potential client was a millionaire who wanted to design a chain of malls he had just acquired. Shinsou, being the sole designer in his growing firm, decided to seek help from Erase. Yaoyorozu respected his humbleness and ambition and so had agreed to meet him.

Their discussion was great and from it she learnt a lot about Shinsou’s character. He was overall quite quiet, lips always in a thin line, and hair always disheveled (reminded her a lot of Aizawa to be frank). It was hard reading his expressions. Despite this, deep down, Yaoyorozu knew Shinsou’s passion for design shown through his work. The way he’d use his words to paint a beautiful picture of the planned end product was admirable. Yaoyorozu decided that Shinsou was no doubt a talent that she could learn from. Unfortunately, the deal busted and so they had to terminate the contract. Aizawa began to tease her about Shinsou ever since; he suspected there was something ‘blossoming’ between them but of course Yaoyorozu would scoff every time.

It had bothered her however. Recalling that every time Shinsou had come, Aizawa and the former would always politely greet each other but something about the conversations between them had displayed a familiarity between the two. Yaoyorozu never asked but she had a feeling they had known each other for a long time.

“….I knew you’d bring it up.” Yaoyorozu said, walking beside her mentor.

“Hey, I’m not the one who’s getting phone calls from that guy still.”

“Shinsou and I are STRICTLY business. ONLY.” She emphasized, raising her index finger. Yaoyorozu had met Shinsou for dinner once (on friendly terms) but she wasn’t going to let anyone know that other than her best friends. Aizawa shrugged.

“There’s no conflict of interest by the way, just looking out for my favourite student!”

“Oh please…curl back up in your worm suit and take a nap to rewire your mind.” Yaoyorozu stuck her tongue out childishly at her mentor and took a step towards her desk. She sat down and kicked off her heels and changed to her Tory Burch flats. “Feel free to ask admin to stock up on the white chip macademia cookies in the pantry, I may need some sugar for the weekend.”

Aizawa saw the spark in her eyes. “Sure, you got it,” he said and left.

Yaoyorozu licked her bottom lip and stretched, curling her toes inside her shoes. Cracking her knuckles, she straightened herself in her ergonomic chair.

The designer was starting this project with a bang.

~~

“So?” Kendou asked. She walked over to the table next to the couch to stack the Elle magazines back into a neat pile. “The designer’s going to come in on Saturday, when?”

The sun was setting, casting shadows over Kendou’s perfect bright ponytail and the streets were beginning to fill with crowds of the after-work drinking group. There were quite a few hang out dens  around this area which was something that benefitted Todoroki. He’d often meet up with his longtime friends after his shift.

Todoroki cracked his neck and leaned over the counter with a mug in hand. He was now back in his suit which had cracked Kendou right up because of their contrast. She was wearing an Ivy Park tank with leggings while he looked like he was ready to hit up a gala.

“She’s free any time but I told her to come at 3 since we’d be done by then.”

“Okay, sounds good. Any idea what it’s gonna look like after?”

“It’ll be traditional Japanese-inspired, something I’ve thought about since before our latest renovation.”

“Which may I remind you was only a year ago.”

“Right.”

Kendou cocked a brow, strolling back the other way to grab the purse locked under the front desk. “So what made you suddenly feel like we needed a makeover again? I don’t think we ever got to that.”

The doctor took a sip of his drink, avoiding eye contact.

“There’s never a bad time to make our patients feel at home you know.”

That answer was awfully suspect but Kendou knew there was no point in interrogating the doctor about it. The clinic is his after all and no one but him would know how he wanted to envision the place.

The girl looped her arm through the handles of her canvas bag. “May I also remind you that I doubt anyone’s homes look like a ryokan except for yours?”

Todoroki gave a chuckle, lips resting to a small smile. He looked almost proud. “Yes of course. I guess I wanted to make sure the patients feel like they’re at my home, alright?”

Kendou laughed. “Making jokes now are we? You’re in a chipper mood, doctor. I’m heading out. Tetstutetsu and I are getting yakitori so I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

“See ya.”

With that the orange haired girl hopped out of the clinic with a skip in her steps.

Todoroki’s shoulders slumped a little when he turned his gaze back to the front desk. His eyes landed on a nearby medical poster and he curled his fingers around his mug once more. The office was silent except for the bustle of people’s laughter and chitter seeping through the door and he casually strolled over to switch off all the lights on his right.

The phone beside the mug began to shake and vibrate, then ‘X gon give it to ya’ started booming from it. Todoroki’s brow twitched a little seeing his screen brightening.

It was Bakugou.

“Yea?” Todoroki answered in a monotone voice, lifting his phone to his ear, “What’s up.”

“I hate hearing your voice too, half-n-half,” Bakugou grunted.

Todoroki exhaled a little, chuckling, “Need me for something?”

“No..well yes. But no, not me. Harry Potter says he’s planning a surprise party for his girlfriend uh…you know, what’s her face. Purple hair girl. He wanna check if ya can come with. I don’t wanna go but I will just because I’m feeling generous.”

“What a sacrifice,” Todoroki retorted, pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder, “When is it?”

“This Saturday.”

Todoroki thought for a bit. If Yaoyorozu came around 3:30, he’d be able to make it.

“Sure.” The doctor grabbed his mug and swallowed the last drop of Milo, “Who’s going and when’d you become Kaminari’s secretary.”

Bakugou cursed into the phone. “Fcking bitch is having a panic attack about his cake or whatever that sludge he’s baking. Fcking even gave him the recipe and helped him with most of it and he can’t even squeeze icing properly.”

“You? Baking?” Todoroki said incredulously, “Never thought I’d see the day when you’d bake.”

“For your record, I can fcking C O O K.”

“Yea, I definitely know now.”

Todoroki heard a weensy bit of Kaminari’s whining at the back and Bakugou grunted again.

“Bring some peeps if you want, the dolt over there wanna fill up the apartment, though it shouldn’t be that fcking hard since it’s a two by two square.”

Todoroki gave a half-hearted hum. “I’ll think about it. But tell him I’ll be there.”

“K, bye.” And with that Bakugou hung up. Todoroki stuffed the phone back into his pocket. Walking to the bathroom, Todoroki rinsed his mug in the sink. His reflection caught his attention, seeing his Tom Ford suit reminded him of Erase.

Yaoyorozu.

He eyed the ceiling a bit and back to the mirror in front of him. Fixing his collar with a tug, a thought sprang like ripples on water.

He wondered, would it be crazy to invite her to Jirou’s party?

~~

“JIROU, IM GOING TO PLAY THE MOVIE!!” Ashido’s shrill voice startled Yaoyorozu and the latter quickly turned to her friend.

“We have ears you know.”

Ashido gave a small ‘hehe’ and Jirou snarled at her when she appeared behind the couch. “And some of us have REALLY sensitive hearing.”

“Sorry, just making sure you don’t miss anything. I love this movie!”

The three were chilling together in Yaoyorozu’s house with fuzzy pyjamas and slippers. The fleece blanket that Yaoyorozu so adored fell across Ashido’s lap and Jirou plopped a bowl of popcorn overloaded with butter between them.

“Extra extra greasy?” Ashido said as she stuffed a bunch of popcorn in her mouth and Jirou repeated after her.

“Yes, extra extra greasy. I’m scared for all our arteries.”

“Just do 3 laps tomorrow and you’ll burn it all out.”

This was the designer’s usual entertainment, her friends’ constant bickering.

“….or we could ask Dr. Todoroki for some advice.”

At his name, Yaoyorozu coughed out half-chewed kernels, eyes watering. Jirou quickly handed her water, though her hands were shaking from laughing at Yaoyorozu’s immediate reaction.

“Oh, so now we can’t even MENTION his name?” Ashido guffawed, kicking her legs up and down as the movie’s opening song began to fill the air.

Yaoyorozu squinted her eyes. “I’m going to kick you guys out if you keep at it.”

“Ashido started it!”

“No I didn’t! WAIT SHH the movie!”

Jirou tottered her legs on the couch for a bit as Shrek 2 began and stood up, “Wait can you pause, I have to go washroom.”

The pink-haired girl flicked a popcorn at her and licked her fingers before reaching for the remote. “Ugh why didn’t you go earlier. Fine, we’ll wait.”

When they heard Jirou slide the door to a close, Ashido quickly leaned over to the designer who was leisurely skimming through ASOS.

“Ohh! That top’s really cute Yaomomo! But wait I need to tell you something.”

Yaoyorozu reeled over at her friend who was acting suspicious as if she had a secret and put down her phone.

“What is it?” She asked confounded.

“Kaminari and I are planning Jirou’s surprise Birthday, it’s going to be Saturday.”

“Oh sounds fun! Where?”

“It’ll be at his place, can you bring some snacks?”

Yaoyorozu grinned, “Of course I can. Anything else you guys need help with?”

Ashido twirled at lock of hair playfully. “Nope I think we’re all good. Show up at 7, we’ll all hide and wait for Kami to bring her in.“

“I have a client to see right before but I should be there on time.”

Seeing the way her friends’ eyes glistened, Yaoyorozu could tell she knew who ‘the client’ was.

“Oh…come on, bring the doctor.”

“What! I’ve only talked to him twice. That’s absurd. He would think I’m interested in him.”

“Hey, all relationships starts off with friendship of some degree. Fine, bring Shinsou then.”

Yaoyorozu rolled her eyes, “No and no.”

“Aww…come on…we need some hotties in the room, well other than us of course.” Ashido burst out giggling at her own humour, “I did hear that Kaminari’s bringing a bunch of his friends over so it’ll be sooo much fun, I can’t ---“

“WAIT..she’s back!” Yaoyorozu whispered and the two girls quickly retrograded to their previous positions. Jirou walked in, not suspecting a thing.

“So ready for some Shrek?” Ashido asked, reaching out for the glass of lemonade slicked with condensation. It was a good thing Yaoyorozu and her had fast reflexes.

Jirou jumped back onto the couch, “Yup, ya betcha!”

~~

Watching her work so precisely and meticulously, he found himself feeling as though he was intruding. Yaoyorozu was prisoned in focus – perhaps in her own world where nothing mattered except to make her designs come to life.

The doctor was curious, careful eyes admiring how she’d measure every obscure thing in his office. Every angle should direct the audience to a certain highlight, Yaoyorozu had explained. He just nodded as if he understood.

Todoroki made sure to give her enough space so she can do her work.

“Mm, maybe if I put that over here…” The designer muttered to herself, tapping her chin. Forming dialogues in her head while working was a habit of hers.

Todoroki noticed Kendou mindlessly wiping her computer monitor, but the receptionist’s gaze was towards the designer.

“If you keep that up, your monitor’s going to break.”

Kendou snapped out of it and smiled sheepishly.

“It’s after hours, you can go you know.”

“Oh I know,” Kendou said, now directing her gaze at him. She walked closer and whispered, hand cupping her mouth slightly. “I remember her now. She’s gorgeous, I can’t believe she’s so talented as well. Ugh, look at her dress, I want that sense of fashion.”

Todoroki shifted his attention to the designer. Yaoyorozu was donning a tight crew neck black top with an A-line skirt painted with bright patterns. Her hair was up in her usual pony tail though it looked curlier than usual. Large round hoops hung on her ears, glinting gold, while the watch she had on was one with classic black leather straps.

“Hm.” Was all Todoroki said.

Kendou huffed. “Oh you boys don’t know what fashion is.”

The doctor ignored her snarky comment, hands shoved back into his pockets and began to walk over to the woman who was now packing up her materials.

“So, I assume everything’s done?”

Yaoyorozu swiveled around, finding herself staring into gunmetal and cyan. His minty breath too close.

“Um---“She ended up stuttering, taking a step back, “Yes, almost! I’ve got what I need for the most part, I will be coming back quite often however. What’s your schedule? I’d suggest 2 months of closure so by mid-October at the latest?”

“That sounds good.”

The clock on the wall read exactly 5 p.m. and the designer found herself feeling relieved. Plenty of time for her to go back home and freshen up before the party. Kendou was now waving her goodbyes and heading out, leaving the two lost for words at each other’s company.

Todoroki rested a hand on his neck, scratching the area right around the nape and exhaled.

“Are you busy tonight?”

The woman puckered her lip.

“Tonight? I have plans with my friends.”

“…I see.” His chest sank, though keeping his voice light. Nonetheless the woman could sense the disappointment.

“Is there something you wanted to do? If you want to talk about the project, I’d be happy to discuss.”

Todoroki shook his head, the little pieces of white hair hanging right between his brows. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh.”

Things went quiet between them again. The rustle of Yaoyorozu’s purse that squished between her arm was the only distraction before the designer decided to head off.

“Thanks, I’ll see you—“

“Soon.” He finished for her in haste and meekly smiled at his outward response. Yaoyorozu reciprocated the gesture before the phone in her purse began to vibrate.

“Sorry I have to take this.” The woman said, pushing open the door. She added cheerily, “Bye doctor!” With a wink she left, the last sound of her heels’ clicking echoing away.

Though he was slightly disgruntled at his failed attempt to invite her to Jirou’s party, Todoroki’s heart skipped a beat. Not that it was his first time hearing anyone call him doctor. But what was it that made her saying it so….enticing?

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New Experiences

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Two: Overthinking

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Sorry this part’s so short! I have more ideas coming but they wouldn’t have fit right in this chapter ://

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here! Brief mentions of sex, nothin’ too bad.

PSA: Everyone please stay safe out there! Protect your elders, family members with chronic illnesses/diseases/etc., and all those whose immune systems are extremely vulnerable to this virus!

My eyes peeled open at approximately three in the morning. The room was still dark, my naked figure still remained on top of George’s, and the previous events were clear as day in my head. This uneasy feeling rested in my stomach, a feeling of guilt, and it made me want to throw up. Feeling so vulnerable, like I’d exposed so much of myself to a man I barely knew, it was a new sensation and I felt almost angry at myself for my actions. Why did I let this man perform such an intimate action on me? Why did I do the same to him? It made me even more uncomfortable that we didn’t have a label on our relationship, that all he thought he was to me was a coworker. 

I wanted to cry, I wanted to sob my heart out and curl into a ball by myself, in my own bed. But, instead, I lay on top of George in my naked form, our skin flush against each other, as I fought back tears that threatened to spill from my confused y/e/c eyes. I wasn’t sure why I was so emotional, why I felt so exposed and guilty for having oral sex with George. Bree did this all the time, right? This felt different though, maybe because of the fact that we had an unlabeled relationship and the fear of being abandoned had been taking over me. Or, maybe, it was a sense of shame that I’d let myself lose my self control and got lost in the intimacy. 

Wherever this guilt and shame feeling was coming from, it was eating me alive and I had no idea what to do about it. I wondered how George would react when he awoke. Was he expecting me to leave, like a one night stand would? I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, because I, most certainly, did not believe this to be a one night stand. I wished he would talk to me, that his eyes would flutter open and I’d be able to tell him how guilty I was feeling. I wished I could interrogate him with a label, because I needed to know what this meant. 

I couldn’t help the tears spilling out now, they dragged down my face and pattered onto his chest like raindrops. I wanted, so badly, just to be in my own bedroom, by myself without the worries of George seeing me cry and asking ‘what’s wrong’; there was too much wrong with my head at that moment, far too much to explain to him and if I’d tried, he’d no doubt think I was a lunatic. I sniffled, wiping my eyes quickly before I heard him stir in his sleep. I froze, stilling my body, hoping that I hadn’t woken him up. With one of his arms snaked lazily around me, his breathing returned to its previous steady rhythm. 

“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.

I was wrong; he didn’t go back to sleep.

I sighed, feeling his fingers begin to trace patterns on my bare back. 

“I’m just thinking,” I answered back, my breath against his skin. 

He rested his chin on top of my head.

“What about, love?”

Love. Why did he have to do this to me, to make me feel so warm and safe after all of those feelings I’d been having? Why did he have to confuse me even more? Curse this handsome British man.

“What last night meant,” I admitted.

If it wouldn’t come out now, it’d come out eventually. I didn’t see any point in lying anymore. His fingers stopped abruptly against my back, before quickly resuming. I felt his warm breath against my hair, feeling him press his lips against my scalp. 

“What do you want it to have meant?” he questioned softly.

I brought one of my own fingers to the bed, tracing the flannel design on the sheets in hopes of making this conversation easier for me.

“I didn’t really want it to be casual,” I confessed, my eyes focusing on my finger tracing. “I’m not one to have casual sex, not that we actually had sex, but I think oral sex still applies,” I blabbered nervously.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he muttered into my hair. “I really like you, Y/n. I was actually quite worried that you’d leave in the middle of the night.”

My eyes widened at his confession, butterflies making my stomach feel sick.

“I like you too, George. I’m just a little overwhelmed right now, I think.”

My finger led to his arm, tracing over the veins that traveled from the backs of his hands to his forearms. His skin was soft and warm, and I found this simple action comforting my anxious head.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” he offered, now brushing his fingers gently up and down my back, differing from his previous design tracing. 

“No, thanks.” I traced my fingers up to his biceps, feeling him shiver under me as he reacted to the movement of my gentle fingers. “I’m feeling a bit better, actually,” I mumbled against his skin.

I felt him press his lips against the top of my head, keeping them there for a moment. I wondered if he was inhaling the scent of my lavender shampoo.

“I like this,” I added softly, moving my fingers down to the back of his hand. “I like just laying like this.”

He moved the arm I’d been tracing and wrapped it around me, joining his other arm. I felt him brush his cheek against my hair, nuzzling me. I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face as he embraced me lovingly.

“Me too.”

The second time I’d woken up that morning, I was feeling much better in contrast to the first time. Knowing George’s feelings for me and feeling him embrace me gave me some of the comfort that I’d needed. I turned my head so that my chin rested on his chest, as I watched him sleep. He looked so calm, there hadn’t been a single frustrated crease on his face. His bruised eye was a greenish yellow hue that day, signifying that it was properly healing, and the scab on his lip had reopened from last night’s activities. I gently ran the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip, checking for any blood. His eyes fluttered open, meeting mine instantly. 

“Has my alarm gone off?” he asked, his accent accentuated due to its raspiness and exhaustion. 

And as if on cue, the alarm on his phone blared. He groaned, his head tilting back in dramatic agony before reaching for the device and turning it off. He put his phone back down, before returning his attention back to me. A lazy smile took over his lips, his eyes swollen with sleep as he looked at me. His arms removed themselves from my back, as both of his palms grasped each side of my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he commented, as his eyes observed my face.

My cheeks heated instantly before I gained the confidence to roll my eyes and push myself off of him.

“C’mon, we have to get ready for work,” I reminded him. My eyes widened. Work. “Shit, I have to get to my apartment.”

“Do you want me to whip up something quick for breakfast before you leave?” he offered.

I frowned, realizing the sun had already started to rise through the curtains of his room.

“I don’t think I have time,” I chewed on my lip. “But I really wish I did; I still have to shower after last night,” I reminded him. 

He smirked at the mention of last night. 

“Alright, at least let me walk you out to your car, then,” he pleaded.

I gave him a toothy grin.

“Of course.”

I changed into my clothes after the long process of looking for the fabrics strewn all over his floor. He copied my actions until the both of us were fully dressed and ready to leave. I grabbed my purse on the way out, which had been sitting in his kitchen. The chicken parmesan recipe reminded me of the way we washed dishes afterwards, how he’d told me about missing his family in England and how his father was Australian. Conversations like those, conversations about childhood and life before we’d met made me fall more and more in love with George.

As we made our way to my parked car, I leant against the door and looked up at him. The way his skin glowed underneath the rising sun, the way the beautiful colors washed over him and made his hair look golden. I slipped my tongue between my lips and fisted the collar of his shirt, bringing him to my lips. His arms immediately snaked around my waist as our lips moved intensely against one another’s, returning to our perfect rhythm. I could feel myself melt under George; he was absorbing me by the second and I knew I would be too far gone soon enough, but I didn’t care anymore. 

We finally released, as I gave him one last peck to savor the taste of his lips, the taste of him.

“I’ll see you at the office?” I smirked, watching his blissful expression. I hoped I was having the same effect on him. 

I drove away, leaving him looking fucked-out. But, God, I loved it. 

As soon as I entered the apartment, I was immediately met with Bree’s wide hazel eyes.

“I will tell you everything later,” I promised quickly, before hopping into the shower and taking possibly the fastest shower I’d ever taken in my life.

I threw on a dress, a jacket, and wedges and left the house, not even caring to do my makeup. I sped to work, praying that I’d be on time. And after rushing into the elevator and speed-walking toward my office, I was finally able to breathe regularly. I looked across to my brunette friend, my lips curling into a smile at his presence.

“You’re back today?” I queried, logging into my computer and settling into my chair.

“I am,” he confirmed, winking at me with his signature smile.

“Let’s get this mother fucking show on the road, then, shall we?” I clapped my hands together, opening my documents that I’d already written and sending them to him.

After work, I went out to retrieve my CBD oil for the article before returning to the apartment. But as soon as I turned the knob, Bree was shouting from the couch.

“Tell! Me! Everything!” she begged. 

I rolled my eyes, throwing my purse and my bag from the pharmacy onto the small kitchen table before making a seat next to her on the couch. 

“We did not fuck,” I stated.

“But you did something, right?” she asked, her eyebrows raising.

I nodded slowly, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. She scooted herself closer to me.

“Well, what the fuck did you guys do?” she urged. 

“Well, first, he taught me how to make chicken parmesan–”

“Y/n,” she interrupted, dramatically begging.

“We had oral sex,” I confessed with a sheepish smile.

Her bushy eyebrows furrowed at me.

“Wait, so he ate you out and you sucked his dick?”

I rolled my eyes at her raunchy language.

“Yes,” I sighed.

She stilled, her eyes boring into mine.

“Did he make you cum?”

The memories replayed in my head; the tightening feeling in my stomach, the shaking of my legs, the curling of my toes, his tongue; how could I have not orgasmed?

“Yes!” I practically screamed. “God, it was amazing.”

She threw a fist in the air.

“Thank fucking Lord, Y/n has finally got a guy to make her cum!”

I rolled my eyes, but it was true.

George was the first guy to ever make me cum. Who would’ve thought?

[cuorepietoso]

-010. il nono

no trigger warnings.

Overview:

     The 9º Reggimento d'Assalto Paracadutisti (9th Paratroopers Assault Regiment) Col Moschin is considered a Special Forces unit of the Italian Army due to the arduous training which members must undertake. The Col Moschin, also referred to as “il nono”, has been involved in numerous military and anti-terror operations all over the world, and is roughly comparable to the British SAS in size, operation, and quality. Approximately 300 members go through arduous, specialized training in mountainous, wooded, desert, and amphibious terrain for two or more years before their enrollment in the force. Il nono specializes in operating outside of military support and far from friendly lines, often conducting operations in guerilla warfare, counterterrorism, and VIP protection.

     An il nono fireteam usually numbers about five to six soldiers, and contains an Incursor with a Combat Medic specialization, a Breacher (explosives handling), an EOD (explosive ordnance disposal) Specialist, an Intelligence Officer, and one to two Snipers.

Fireteam Dumbfuck:

     Battista’s squad consisted of six people to his fireteam, their commanding officer being Colonel Maximo Bianchi, and their executive officer being Captain Flavio Lombardi. Those two rarely, if ever, went out on actual assignments with the core fireteam, because they were technically in charge of multiple fireteams at once and didn’t often partake in combat roles. The next highest rank belonged to Alessio Rossi, a Lieutenant, as he was the fireteam’s intelligence officer. Battista Tahan, Achille Mancini, and Mauro Moretti were considered NCOs, or noncommissioned officers, with Tahan and Mancini's rank of Ordinary Marshall coming slightly higher than Mancini’s rank of Sergeant. Savio Balotelli and Nico Marchesi are of the lowest rank, Corporal-Major, which is just considered to be Enlisted.

     NCOs are enlisted soldiers with specific skills and duties such as training, recruiting, tech or military policing, and often supervise lower ranks to ensure assignments are done properly. Officers are essentially management-- they give NCOs and lower ranks their missions, their assignments and their orders. Cooperation between the two groups is important in planning and carrying out operations.

     Though Rossi technically outranked him, because his role and training was mainly in intelligence gathering, Battista typically took command of the fireteam in the field because of his practical experience. They all took orders from Bianchi and Lomnardi.

Col Moschin 2 yr training: src. 

3 weeks of intense physical and mental testing

5 months OBOS – Operatore Basico Operazioni Speciali

23 weeks - Special Forces Combat Course, two weeks of which is purely lecture and three weeks of which is considered “torture”, the rest of which is explosives and combat medicine training, etc.

5 weeks - Advanced Combat Course, which expands on concepts learned in the prior SFCC courses.

Year 2 - Acclimatization training: ski+mountaineering, high and low altitude parachuting, amphibian warfare and combat diving courses.

Close quarters combat training: IMA (italian martial arts), knives, unarmed

6-Man Cell:

Mammone (Momma’s Boy) AKA Maresciallo Ordinario Mancini, Achille Born 1984. Active Duty 2002 - Present

Battista and Achille went through training for the Col Moschin together, all two years. They were bunkmates, and assigned to the same squad upon graduation. Achille stands at an even six feet tall, rather bulky, dark haired with a deep tan and a heavy Neapolitan accent. He specialized in EOD, diffusing bombs and IEDs and safely disposing of them, and the pair of them often studied together and quizzed each other while they were learning for their respective fields. They were never particularly friendly, always just the slightest bit antagonistic toward one another-- clashing personalities, or perhaps they were just too competitive with each other. These things happen. But they functioned incredibly well as a team, characterized by a fierce protectiveness and loyalty, and their relationship could be considered brotherly.

Mannaggia (Damn!) AKA Tenente Rossi, Alessio Born 1988. Active Duty 2006 - KIA 2016

Alessio Rossi was assigned to the unit in 2010 when they were briefly stationed in Pfullendorf, Germany for further training. Relatively tanned and russet-haired, sharp features, lean muscled and 5’11”, he tended to excel more in mental pursuits than physical, in comparison to the average soldier on their squad (he was a good runner, though--fast. Probably from chasing all of his younger siblings around for eighteen years). Hailing from Taranto, a fishing town in the deep south of Italy, left him deeply Catholic and almost incomprehensible when speaking to non-native Italians-- luckily, he had a variety of other languages under his belt. He was a Human Intelligence Officer, which put him in charge of gathering intel, as well as handling informants and, occasionally, interrogations. Battista and Alessio swiftly grew nearly inseparable, well known in their unit for being completely in each other's pockets.

Rana (Frog) AKA Caporale Maggiore Capo Balotelli, Savio Born 1985. Active Duty 2003 - Present

Savio Balotelli joined the team in 2010, later in the year than Rossi. He’s approximately 5’8”, stocky, red haired and fair-skinned. He hails from Turin, in the Piedmont region, and has a deeply thoughtful, gentle air about him. Savio was one of the team’s two snipers, the younger of the pair, and well known for having eyes as sharp as a hawk, and little to no brain to mouth filter. Battista and he got along very well, often exchanging cigarettes, jokes, pranks, advice, and making up increasingly elaborate “secret” handshakes in an effort to irritate the rest of their teammates. Savio and Mauro were considered inseparable, and one of the greater sniper teams in the Col Moschin, where they often switched between shooter and spotter.

Brutto (Ugly) AKA Caporale Maggiore Marchesi, Nico Born 1980. Active Duty 1998 - Retired 2018

Nico Marchesi worked with Mauro Moretti for almost a decade before the rest of the dream team joined, and he specialized in Breaching: blowing up walls, doors, and windows, when one needs to get inside a building without any necessity for stealth.  Nico is from Rome, standing at a little over six feet tall and broad-shouldered, with black hair and a rare smile. He was known for being rather taciturn and acting without thinking much about it, and was denied promotions because of both his lack of leadership skills and his bullheadedness- which suited him just fine. Nico and Battista often sparred with one another, because they were perhaps the two most competitive people on the squad.

Rospo (Toad) AKA Sergente Maggiore Capo Moretti, Mauro Born 1970. Active Duty 1980 - Retired 2016.

Mauro Moretti was the longest-standing member of the squad, directly involved with work for the Col Moschin for almost twenty five years by the time he retired. He was the team’s other sniper, a hard-mouthed career military man, quiet but always willing to lend a listening ear and some gruff advice. He’s nearly six and a half feet tall, dark skinned, dark haired, dark eyed, and in Battista’s memory of him he’s almost constantly smoking menthol cigarettes. He’d been born on a farm outside of Florence, had three daughters and a wife, and he retired there too, shortly after Battista’s medical discharge. Mauro looked out for everyone in the squad in his silent, fatherly way, and he and Battista often talked about art, and family.

Tombarolo (Graverobber) AKA Maresciallo Ordinario Tahan, Battista Born 1986. Active Duty 2004 - Medical Discharge 2016.

The motherfucker we all know and love. Battista was well known in the entirety of the Col Moschin for being a fair-minded, albeit demanding leader, as well as a talented combat medic with a penchant for mischief. Modern day combat medics function as regular infantry until there are casualties, and they rarely wear the red cross patches because it often makes them a target. When not in combat settings, they often assist Doctors in infirmary clinics, performing checkups and looking after the health of their comrades.

[darcypalmer]

After a long day od questioning and interrogation, @diegojaimechavez​ surprises Gen with a phone call and spend the night chatting

It was a long, never-ending day. Gen was ushered into an interrogation room the moment they stepped into the building and not so long after the FBI showed up too, and it had begun. She thought she was tired before, but dealing with the FBI sucked every bit of remaining energy out of her. It wasn't the same as the interrogation all those years ago, but the feelings were the same - the extreme tiredness, both emotionally and physically, feeling like she was the shittiest person, the confusion and the knowledge that she was missing so much, even now she was missing so much information, the emptiness and weirdly feeling dirty to her core. She was sure there were moments when the FBI looked at her as a potential ally to Vivien and the syndicate, that was inevitable, but she wasn't sure what made them realize that wasn't the case, or even if they realized it or if they still considered her another suspect.

They barely took breaks, but during one of them Al brought her a cup of coffee, which she was more than grateful for (though she really wished it could have been Diego who brought it, just seeing him for a few moments would have been nice, but she assumed that he wasn't allowed anywhere near her during the interrogation, not that it would have made any difference). While Al brought the coffee to her, she quietly ask him to make sure some kind of medical professional would check out Diego and his injuries, and he promised her with a look that Diego most likely would have recognized, but to Gen it was just a kind face agreeing to what she asked.

She lost her sense of time completely by the time the FBI released her that night with the promise that they'd be contacting her about any questions they had so far and that in the next couple of days she would be informed about the next steps and what would happen to her from here on out. She felt like a washed rag as she finally headed out of the interrogation room, and to her surprised her eyes immediately found Diego. She expected him to be home, or at least out of here already. "Hey, what are you still doing here?" she asked him once she headed over to him. "You're not in any trouble, right?"

_______________________

Diego expected Gen to be whisked away for processing, and then questioning once the FBI arrived, he recognized a couple of the agents, but merely nodded at them.  He knew he had to let them conduct their work, just as much as he had to conduct his.  But Gen was his work, and so once Gen was taken away, Diego went to locate Al.  He spoke extensively with his boss and with the North California Director as well, about Gen's well-being, her state of mind, her situation.  About Vivien showing up without anyone expecting it.  And reluctantly he even brought up Tyler Ellis, knowing Al was already familiar with the trouble-maker from their past.  He told them Rita should be coming soon, to share what she knew as well.

Everything seemed to be going well - although there was only so much that Diego could do about how the FBI spoke with Gen, at least Al offered to take her in some coffee at one point.

"And about those kids from Sunnymead-" Diego started in immediately after Al returned.  His boss held up a hand.

"In due time, Di, you're going a mile a minute.  And you look like shit.  You sure you don't need anyone to take a look at that mug of yours?  It's even uglier than usual, no wonder you scared those kids."

Diego gave his boss a wry look and waved off the concern.  Al opened his mouth, looking like it was going to say something - but instead, he changed his mind and said something else.  "I talked with Agent Karmeni.  She said your girl's gonna be staying here in the city for a couple of days, while they get things sorted. And yeah - don't worry, you'll be staying with her."

On the brink of insisting he should, Diego relaxed when Al assured him that he'd be there.  "I want to stick by her to the end.  After all this shit that's happened, she needs someone around who she can trust.  Or she'll go rabbity, Al.  She can't just get shunted around again like a pawn on a chessboard.  Not after all this."

Al looked at Diego carefully, and Diego avoided his boss' eyes, knowing that look.  He knew if he made eye contact, then Al might feel responsible for saying something that Diego didn't want to hear, not right now.  So he kept his eyes steadfastly focused on middle-ground, not filling up the silence but also not allowing Al to see any vulnerability in his eyes, no softness.  He knew Al could read him too well.  And he also knew this wasn't the first time Al had seen him like this, about a woman he was assigned to protect.

Finally with a sigh, Al spoke, raising his hands to his eyes like horse blinders.  "Without addressing the elephant in the room - yet - we'll see what we can work out, Diego.  Based on what the FBI need from her - and she's gonna have to go through another psych eval as well.  So we'll consult with the experts and then go from there.  But if you want me to support you in staying on as her handler then....I'll do that.  But that elephant's gonna come charging over sooner or later, and when it does, Di, we're gonna have to talk about it.  You hear me?"

Diego finally looked up at his boss, giving Al a squinting but appreciative smile.  It was small and tentative, but Al knew Diego well.  "Crystal clear.  Al - thanks."

Al pointed a finger at him.  "To be continued, son.  Now it looks like they're releasing your girl.  Go on."

Diego didn't hesitate, because he saw the door opening too through the glass walls of the office building.  He nodded at Al once more then crossed the halls until he got to Gen and the FBI agents.  Diego restrained himself long enough for the FBI agents to get out of earshot, but Gen apparently didn't bother with restraint as she floated right over to him, surprise in her exhausted eyes.

"I'm fine, just went through a lot of paperwork while you were in there."  He gave Gen a huffy look.  "Where else would I be?  C'mon.  You're done for the day, and you gotta be back here bright any early tomorrow.  We're going.  You need food and a shower.  And maybe some ambien."

_______________________

Diego reassured her that he was doing just fine, just working on paperwork and a huge relief flooeded through Gen's body. For a moment she was worried that the FBI took him, too, and tried to twist the narrative in a way that was more than negative towards Diego. That was the last thing she would have wanted, but thankfully it was just some paperwork. Well, probably an extreme amount of paperwork, if he was still here, so long after they've arrived to the offices.

But then Diego asked where else he would be as if it was stupid of her to even assume he would be anywhere else, and it staggered Gen for a moment because... well, she knew he said he would want to stick around for all of this, but she also assumed that meant he would come to New York, make sure everything went down smoothly. Not, say, wait for her for hours without end while she was sitting in an interrogation room, the FBI drilling her. She figured he'd get some rest, she was certain he needed it, she would get escorted to some motel or something and then they'd meet and talk the next day - if she would be allowed.

So she just stood there, kind of confused for a few moments while Diego was already moving towards the exit and she had to shake herself out of her surprise and rush to catch up with him. "Yeah, sure, all of that sounds really good." She would have killed for a shower, anything to wash off all the dirt she felt on herself, and now that Diego mentioned food, she felt like she could actually properly eat, as for the sleep... god, a full night's rest possibly without nightmares was a dream.

"Actually, do you think we could get some burgers on the way to-- where are we going exactly?" she asked, frowning as they exited the building and headed for Diego's car, which felt like the most welcoming sights she's seen in hours, for sure.

She looked at him for a few moments after they settled in before she said, "Thank you. For helping me and sticking around. Really can't thank you enough."

_______________________

"We can get whatever you want," Diego said, although the generousity was mostly in sentiment than action.  If she wanted to go back to Sunnymead, for example, he would've refused.  They had to stay in the city, close to the offices.  But really he could tell that Gen just seemed too exhausted to do much but follow his lead.  Ironic, considering how she'd pushed and resisted and challenged him constantly, for nearly a year now.    He almost wished for those old days of arguing, if only because she was safe and comfortable in Sunnymead.

But Diego also had to remind himself that progress and change was uncomfortable and disturbing, but that didn't mean it was bad.  Vivien Salazar was arrested, Darcy Palmer was no more.  Wasn't that a good thing?  Or wouldn't it eventually be a good thing for Gen?  If, by some miracle, it was determined that she wouldn't need to stay in witness protection, then she'd be free.  Wasn't that what she wanted?  Even more importantly, wasn't it what she deserved?

He stopped at her franchise restaurant of choice, parking so she could go inside and order whatever she wanted.  Diego gave her $20 and told her to get him something too.  By now, after months of serving him, Gen knew what sorts of things he liked to eat.  As he waited, watching her closely, he made one more phone call to Al.  This would be a huge favour, but surprisingly it took little convincing of Al for his boss to say he'd see what he could do.

After Gen gathered her feast, Diego took her to a drugstore to pick up some toiletries, and some fresh clothes.  After that it was checking into the designated motel.  It wasn't anything fancy or special, but it was spartan and clean.  The clean was the most important part.  It was a motel used by the authorities enough to know that it was secure, and had good vantage points and escape routes.  Diego cased the room first before he let Gen settle in.

"Go take a shower, then you can eat afterwards, hm?" he suggested, because he believed food always tasted better when one didn't feel dirty and grungy.  "I can take a shower afterwards, don't worry."  Once Gen agreed, Diego sighed and inspected his face in the motel mirror, then gently pressed his fingers between his legs.  Jesus, that still hurt.  Vivien had quite the high kick, and he'd probably be feeling it right into tomorrow morning.  But he didn't linger on his injuries when All called him again, and gave him the information he wanted to get.

It was maybe just a minor thing, but Diego was elated that it could happen, and so fast.  Al could sometimes work miracles, and Diego always appreciated it.  "Damn, thanks," he exhorted, hanging up just as Gen came out of the bathroom.  She still looked exhausted, but at least she looked clean.

"Hey, come over here for a second."  Diego sat on the edge of the bed, letting her sit next to him.  He showed her his phone.  "In a few minutes, I'm going to get a call.  That's it, just a call, no video - er, facetime - or anything.  But the call's going to come in from your brother, Benji.  Just so you guys can finally talk, hm?  I thought - I figured maybe you'd want to hear a familiar voice right now and...ah..."  Diego scratched the back of his neck.

"If you don't got it in you to talk to Benjamin right now that's fine.  Totally fine I understand maybe I was just getting a little ahead of myself with setting this up, hm? It's fine, just lemme know now, because I can tell his handler not to call.  Just - I thought it might help if - if you heard...if you got to talk to...ah...."

_______________________

Gen just sank into the car seat and spent most of the car ride in a comfortable quiet with Diego as she was looking out the window and barely taking in anything she saw. The city was dark, the lights periodically lighting up parts of the streets and it probably looked beautiful and interesting, but Gen barely saw any of it. Her brain was running the events of the last day of loop, hyperanalyzing everything Juliana and Phoenix told her, and all the different questions the FBI asked and how her answer must have come across, if she could have given a better answer to any of them.

She quickly got them some food, not needing any sort of direction from Diego about his order either - she saw what kind of food he prefered and kept going back to in the Grub, it wasn't hard to figure out what he would like the most, and then they hit up a drug store and got some basic supplies and she really hoped she could just burn everything she was wearing in that moment. She never wanted to lay eyes on those clothes ever again, let alone wear them.

She was mostly operating on instinct and her body automatically taking her where she needed to go. She felt the exhaustion in her bones. She was sure once she hit the bed, though, she wouldn't really be able to fall asleep, not without at least some sleeping pills, and for once she was going to take them happily because she needed that release that a hopefully dreamless, full night's rest could offer for her. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she had that. Probably before everything turned to shit all those years ago.

After they got everything, they finally headed to the hotel, and she just nodded along to everything Diego was saying as she set the food on the small table and headed right into the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water pouring onto her skin offered such relief she didn't even realize she needed and for the first few minutes she just stood in the shower cabin, letting the water run on her without her doing anything. And once she managed to get herself to move, she spent at least fifteen, maybe even twenty minutes just scrubbing at her body because no matter how many times she washed herself, she just didn't feel clean. It didn't feel like she got all of Vivien off of her and she compulsively wanted to get rid of every bit of that woman from her skin, from her memory and her past and present. But since that wasn't possible, she would have been happy with just washing away everything that happened.

Even though it never felt enough, eventually she stopped and got out of the shower and got into the pajama (one that included a plaid short and a loose tank top with some kind of drawn figure, it was the first thing she could grab at the drugstore when they were there) and with her wet hair falling all over her shoulder, she headed back out. "Sorry, I kind of took my time, but you should still have some hot water."

Instead of taking a shower himself (it didn't even fully register for her at that point that he would be taking a shower in the same place, which meant he didn't have his own room and they would have to share that single bed he was sitting on at the moment), he called her over to sit down next to him, and her mind immediately jumped into alert mode. "What happened? Is everything okay?" She was already imagining the worst possible scenarios - Vivien escaped, Phoenix and Juliana in danger again.

He quickly started explaining to her what was going to happen in a few minutes, though, and Gen went quiet in just a few moments, her hearts beating faster and faster, running her fingers through her hair to at least do something with her hands suddenly this felt like a dream all over again. Did she pass out in the car and now she was just dreaming about what she wanted so desperately to happen? She reached over and pinched her own wrist - but no, it hurt, this couldn't be a dream. Diego was telling her that she could talk to her brother.

She could talk to Benji.

Gen could feel her hands starting to shake and tears brimming in her eyes for the first time in a really long time not because she was scared or stressed or on the verge of a break down, but because she was elated. She couldn't put it into words even if she tried to, but if she wasn't in love with Diego already, she would have fallen in love with him for this. She couldn't imagine just how much pull he had to make to make this happen and she could never thank him enough for this.

And somehow he managed to read her quietness as something that she might not like his gesture and he turned sheepish and started reassuring her that it wasn't required, she could postpone it for later too and fuck, she loved this man so much it felt like she might just burst and she kept meaning to say something because really, she can't stay silent forever and she needed to convey just how grateful and happy and joyful she felt in that moment for this but no words seemed to be enough, no words could ever be enough for this, and she just wanted to lean closer and kiss him, but that was not possible, she couldn't screw things up for him in the same moment when he's doing something so important for her, so instead she ended up just leaning in and throwing her hands around him, hugging him close and hard and tight, burying her face into his neck for a few moments and hoping that he understood everything she couldn't find the words for.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you so much. I just-- thank you," she kept saying over and over again because what else could she do than hold onto him and thank him for all of this.

_______________________

Gen was so completely still and quiet, Diego was fairly sure he'd done it this time.  He'd sent Gen spiralling into some sort of catatonic state of shock.  He really should have known better - after everything she'd just been through in the space of 12 hours, after losing two people she cared about, and finding her ex-girlfriend alive only to realize Vivien was a bad person, and destroying an identity she'd cultivated for four years...now this?  Spring a phone call to her brother, after she'd been beaten up so thoroughly both emotionally and mentally?  He realized then that he was a fool to think it could help her.  All this offer did was probably terrify the poor thing that she'd fuck this up as well and ruin her relation with her brother now too.

"Dar - Gen, I'm -"  Diego started to say, wanting to shove the phone into his pocket so Gen wouldn't have to look at the accusing object.  But then suddenly her arms were around him, and her face buried against the crook of his neck.  For a moment Diego braced himself, thinking she had turned to slap and smack at him in frustration and hurt.  He was expecting her to yell at him for putting her through this new fresh torture - but she wasn't slapping him.  Or yelling.  Instead, she just held him close.

And eventually Diego relaxed, and slid his own hand across her back.  She was hugging him.  God Jesus above, she was happy.  He could've kissed her then if it wasn't for the fact that his face hurt, and he had stale cigarettes-and-coffee breath while she was clean and minty.   But he held her tightly, and gingerly pat her back.

"Of course, of course..." he muttered, feeling suddenly awkward.  She was so happy, and it made Diego's heart ache for so many different reasons.  Fortunately, his phone rang then, and Diego had to let her go to answer it.

"Yeah.  Okay, sure," Diego said over the phone.  "Alright, put him on."  Diego held the phone out to Gen then, and he spoke gently to her.  "He'll be on soon.  I'm going to take a shower, give you two a bit of privacy, hm?  Take your time, his handler will keep a track of the phone call for us.  You'll be alright?"

_______________________

At first it was like hugging a dead piece of wood, Diego was just sitting there, unmoving and Gen was about to move back, not wanting to force her touch and embrace on him when he finally wrapped his hands around her and give her a sheepish pat on her back. In any other situation she would have probably over analyzed that pat and came to the conclusion that it was even further proof that he didn't want anything from her, they've been in each others arms plenty of time before after all, and now he could barely hug her back along with that pat? It surely would have been clear signs in her mind. But now aside from the sheer gratitude she felt towards Diego, her mind was hyper focusing on Benji and the fact that just in a couple of moments she could finally talk to him, hear his voice, make sure he's okay. Diego couldn't have given her a better surprise for the end of the day. Or for any other time, really.

She pulled back when the phone rang, pulling her legs under her, her eyes immediately focusing on the phone and Diego, her hands shaking a little bit from excitement. It felt like it took forever for Diego to hand the phone over to her and it felt like no time has passed at all, and she kept nodding to everything Diego was saying. "Yeah, I'll be fine, I promise. Thank you so much," she said again with a smile and waited for Diego go into the bathroom before she scooted up to the end of the bed and leaned against the header.

Suddenly she was nervous, not really sure what she would even say. If Benji would even talk to her. Maybe she'd pick the phone up and his handler would be waiting for her, telling her that he didn't want to talk and she couldn't do a single thing about it or even blame him for it. All kinds of different scenarios flooded through her head and overwhelmed her and she had to force herself to push all of them out of her brain because anything, even if it was just a simple hello from Benji, would be amazing at this point and she knew she could be happy. She just wanted to hear his voice.

She took a deep breath and put the phone to her ear, listening for a few moments before carefully speaking, "Hello?"

_______________________

It hadn’t been long since Benji had fallen asleep when he heard a knock at the door. He decided to ignore it. The few people he was close to - which he thought was a relative term - knew that he wasn’t ever up late. What was the point in it? It wasn’t like there was much that he liked to do outside of the house. Staying in with Finley was ideal to him. He pressed his face against the pillow again. They’d leave eventually.

... except, they didn’t. Each time there was another knock at the door, he swore his pulse kicked up a beat. Was he going to die? Was he seriously going to die as a math teacher in Texas? He moved to grab his phone so that he could call someone in case of an emergency when he realized how many missed calls and unread messages he had from the agent working his case. The last message said that he needed to open the door immediately. Throwing a pillow across the bed at his sleeping husband, Benji sighed. “Why does my ringtone wake you up every time except for the time it needs to?!” Finley mumbled something which Benji wasn’t sure was in English. He climbed out of the bed, looking back to make sure that he was being followed and walked over to the door.

Pressing his palms flat on the door, Benji decided to look through the peephole. There were so many things which could go wrong and... nope. That was definitely Abigail. Opening the door slowly, Benji didn’t bother trying to make eye contact with her as she stepped inside. “In... uh, in my defense, this usually doesn’t happen. I’ve - we’ve - answered your calls later than this. What’s - what’s so important though?”

Once his sister’s name came from Abigail’s lips, Benji wasn’t sure what was happening. He was hearing bits and pieces, words like Gen and Vivien, but didn’t hear the rest of it. He couldn’t even say how he’d ended up seated on the couch with Finley’s hand on his knee. For a moment, he thought that she had to be dying for any of this to be happening. She couldn’t be, right? There was only one way to find out. Truthfully, he hadn’t felt present in his body until he noticed Abigail thrusting the phone his way.

Fumbling with the phone, Benji held it up - mindful of the fact that it was on speaker so that the handler would be able to hear what was happening in the conversation. The moment Gen’s voice came through the speaker, he started crying. “Genevieve... Gen... what the fuck is going on?!”

_______________________

The moment Gen heard Benji's sporadic, worried voice, she burst into silent tears while a grin spread across her face. It really was Benji and he sounded distant but so close at the same time, and worried about her and it didn't really hit her until that moment that he must have been scared shitless if his handler just burst in through the door and gave him the phone with little to no explanation, but that was okay because he was on the other end of the phone and they were talking and she could reassure him all by herself.

"Benji, hi. On my god, it's so good to hear your voice. I-- I'm okay now," and for that moment she was and felt like she could take on the world all by herself even if the next day all of that might be gone. "A lot of, well a lot of things are happening, but I'm okay, you don't have to worry about me. I'm safe and I'm good and-- are you okay? How are you doing?"

"Gen, we got the gist of what happened, but I doubt your brother heard any of it past your name, so could you maybe...?" A different, familiar voice came through the phone, and Gen breathed a sigh of relief. Finley was there with Benji, that was good, that meant he was not alone completely. When the FBI placed her in Sunnymead she tried to figure out if Finley was allowed to go with Benji or not, but everyone refused to tell her anything. "Really glad to hear you are doing okay, though."

"Finley, really glad to hear you too. But okay, Benji, I swear I'm okay. It's just-- don't freak out but turns out Vivien is alive and she found me, but she's arrested now and I'm okay. I spent the day talking to the FBI and they're gonna figure out what's next in the next few days." She tried to keep it as short and to the point as possible both because she didn't want to worry Benji more than necessary and because she didn't want to sound her time talking about Vivien and what happened, she wanted to hear from Benji.

"But none of that matters, are you okay, are you guys are okay? Happy? How's your life? Tell me something, tell me anything."

_______________________

To hear that she was safe sent a wave of relief over Benji. Still, he began to bite at the bandages wrapped around his fingers - an attempt to keep him from biting his nails. It was attempt number 500. It might as well be anyway. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. There would be more details because he didn’t know how long he had to talk to her. Whatever stubbornness he was trying to hold on to could only go for so long before he spent the whole call being angry with her.

He had lost so much. He might have Finley, but he also needed Gen and Olivia... Olivia who had passed away as a result of this whole mess. His parents had never been people he was close to and he doubted he would talk to them much if they were around. How many nights had he cried and wished he could talk to his sister. Bitterness wasn’t going to ruin this chance.

“She’s alive?! And don’t tell me not to freak out because you know me! I’m not going to keep calm about this!” He glances up and saw Abigail staring at him. She certainly wasn’t one of the people with whom Benji was totally comfortable with. She’d never seen him like this. “So you’re... what now? Did you talk to her? Where are you? What have you been doing?!”

And Gen had questions of her own. Benji sighed softly. “I — yes. We’re happy.  As happy as can be expected. Um, married? Also they made me be a math teacher! Someone asked me what 12 times 12 was the other day and it took me a good thirty seconds to figure it out!”

_______________________

Benji's reassurance came quietly and not with the most positive tone of Benji's voice, but Gen didn't care in that moment, she was just happy to hear her brother confirm he was okay. Or, well, as okay as he can be. She doubted either of them would fully be okay like they used to be after all of this.

Gen couldn't help it, she let out a small, quiet chuckle at Benji's frustration about her trying to calm him down. She could tell that Benji was angry, probably holding back all the hate he had in him for her over everything that happened, but even that anger was welcomed because at least they were talking. At least she could hear him being angry. And really, it was kind of stupid of her to tell him not to freak out, he was already in the middle of freaking out.

"Yeah, okay, that's fair. Just-- don't stress over it too much, please? Finley, please make sure he isn't losing sleep over this."

"I'll do my best," he interjected.

"But yeah, apparently somehow she survived, I'm not exactly clear on that front. She showed up at my apartment and we talked a bit, yeah." Could have spent more time talking, but she did some stupid things instead, not that she was going to get into that. "Not a lot, she wanted me to go with her, thought we could go back to how things were. I told her no. And I'm in a motel right now, I don't think I'm allowed to say more on the where."

"I'd prefer it if you kept quiet on that one, Genevieve, the least all of you know about each other's locations, the better, at least until further notice," a woman confirmed in a stern, matter of fact voice - probably their handler.

"Alright, so yeah, just a motel. Far away from where I was originally placed. And uh... fuck, suddenly I can't think of anything I did. I have a diner! Well, more like ran a diner, still not sure how that will go now. Honestly, I had a really boring life until now." She stayed quiet for a moment before she added. "I really missed you."

Happy and married. That was the best news Benji could have possibly given him. It calmed and relaxed her, and made her happier than she thought could be possible a couple of hours ago. There was an underlying sadness added to it, though - she wished she could have been there, wished she could have seen Benji and Finley get married, and more than anything wished Olivia could have been there too.

"Married? Congratulation, guys, that's so great! When did it happen? How did it happen? I'm so sorry I missed it. Did you guys manage to have a good celebration at least?" She frowned when he mentioned being a math teacher. "Why would anyone make you a math teacher? Did they know you have no clue about numbers? How are you even doing it properly? Do they give you an earpiece and whisper help you through it?"

_______________________

Benji would stress over it. He knew Gen was safe now, but he also knew it wouldn’t be the case forever. He could fixate on the good, but Vivien’s arrest wouldn’t make everything go back to normal. Things were never going to be normal again. This was their new normal.

“Finley isn’t going to know if I’m losing sleep! He sleeps like a rock!” Benji insisted. It wasn’t a lie either. They would end up in bed and, the first moment they laid in silence, Finley would be out like a light. Benji was bad about sleep though. He’d lie there and looked up at the ceiling.

He shook his head. “At least you told her no. You’ve never made the best choices with her. You know she made me uncomfortable!” It had been easy for Gen to write that off, however, because a lot of people made him feel that way. “Are you sure that’s all you did? Because if you - if you did something which might put me or god forbid Finley in danger, that’s on you. Just like with Liv.” He said it harshly bur the look on his face was more sad than it was angry. The thought had been running through his mind over the past few weeks and he wasn’t able to let go of it. He knew, logically, that she wouldn’t have done anything to hurt the people she cared about. There was no way she could have known what Vivien was up to... but someone had to be blamed and she was on the receiving end.

“A motel? Are they - do you think they’re moving you? Or is it... over now?” His brows were furrowed. That certainly couldn’t be the case. Didn’t she have associates involved? Logic wasn’t always his strong suit though. Benji led with his heart.

He shot the agent a dirty look, but knew she could end the call the instant he stepped out of line. “A diner? You weren’t... you weren’t by yourself, right? You have people? God, I hope you have people.” If Benji couldn’t be there, someone had to be for her. The level of closeness that he had with her was irreplaceable, but there were women in his life who he was... relatively close to. (For Benji, that was good.)

A soft laugh left him. The whole thing had been an ordeal and involved a lot of arguing with people they shouldn’t have in a million years. It worked out for the best. “They said they were going to split us up because we weren’t married so... I said we were engaged.” He had blurted it it out without any plan whatsoever. It wasn’t a romantic, yet it wasn’t something that he regretted at all. “Um, not really. We kind of got married legally then we kind of... celebrated privately?” It could have come out wrong, but it also seemed like exactly the right way to describe things. And he was happy about that. A large party would have only bothered him and raised his anxiety.

It was difficult not to grin at this point. “There are a bunch of little booklets that I have filled with notes and equations and formulas. It’s all Greek to me. I don’t... I’ve been trying with this for years and I’m still just as lost!” The students learned things though. He’d had some of them say that he was their favorite teacher. He figured it was the confused looks on his face. “I mean, kids finish it and do well the next year. I’m pretending pretty well! You’d think I would have learned, but...”

_______________________

"I can stay up long enough to try and see if you can sleep, come on!" Finley grumbled in the background, and Gen smiled a little. They were doing okay. They set up a certain kind of life, they adjusted and they stayed strong together. She assumed there were bumps on the road, but she hoped it only made them stronger, and that Finley was there to help Benji through it all. He's always brought the best out of Benji and she couldn't even imagine how Benji would have been like if Finley couldn't went with him.

"Come on, you've always had difficult time getting used to new people," she couldn't help but counter, even though looking back now she wished she would have listened to him. She wished she would have been less blind, maybe all of this could have been avoided.

She dropped her head, running her fingers through her hair as Benji asked if she really only just talked to her or did something else,  memories of Vivien and her entangled in her bed flashing in front of her eyes. Fuck, she hated so much that she's done that, that that was her first reaction. It probably only made things worse. maybe if she could have just used her brain and turned Vivien away, just sent a 911 text to Diego and they caught Vivien by surprise, Juliana wouldn't have been taken, they could have avoided everything that happened. Maybe Diego's face wouldn't have looked the way it did. So many what ifs that would keep running through her head and fill her up with guilt for endless nights, she was sure of it.

"Yeah, Benji, we only talked. I was in shock, I couldn't really do anything else." Well, at least she was good at lying and Benji couldn't see her face. She was sure if he could, he'd know she was lying, but through the phone, she could pull it off. "And I swear you guys are okay. It's not gonna be--- nothing's gonna happen to you, okay? She's in custody along with one of her friends and everyone's at the FBI and the US Marshall's are working on this. You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine." They had to be, she could not survive losing Benji too.

She shook her head at his question and it took her a few moments to realize that he couldn't see. "I don't know. I'm not sure if even the FBI knows so far. Or maybe they do, they're just not telling me. But I'm guessing it depends on what kind of information they can get out of Vivien and her friend and what they can do in the next couple of days. But honestly, I have no idea how all of this works."

At the question of whether or not she had people, she rubbed her face, remembering Phoenix and Juliana. She had people, and then she screwed it up. Really, she could only blame herself for that. She looked over towards the bathroom door. She did have one person left, though. She was still baffled by it, especially after everything that happened recently, but somehow Diego was still on her side and there for her, and she couldn't help the small, soft smile that crept up her lips. "Yeah, I-- it's a bit complicated right now, but I have somebody. Not like that, it's not like that," she quickly added before Benji misunderstood, "but I have somebody I can count on. And I had people. I'm nowhere near where I was now, though, so who knows what's going to happen there."

She let out a chuckle when Benji told her how the proposal happened. "And all of this while I had a ring hidden in our bedroom! You know that, Gen, you helped pick it out, and he still beat me to it!" Finley fake complained and it almost felt like she was in the room with them in that moment, just telling stories and reminiscing about the past. "Can you believe it?"

"At least you guys didn't have to worry about things like rings or tradition or planning," Gen chuckled, shaking her head. "And either way, big or small wedding and celebration, I'm just really glad you guys are okay. That you guys are happy and safe and together. You guys deserved to have your happily ever after, even if it didn't exactly go as you guys planned."

"At least they helped you out with those booklets." Seemed toe FBI gave both of them the starting help. They gave her some money so she could start renting the Grub, and they helped Benji out to make sure he didn't fail during his very first class. They did help at least a little bit, even if mostly they probably ignored Benji and only cared about Gen long enough so that she would one day testify in their case. "And I'm not surprised you didn't pick up anything, but I'm proud of you for pulling it all off."

_______________________

Diego took a long shower, even if the hot water did taper out towards the end.  But it still felt good, and Diego found himself wishing he could hit a pool and just swim until his limbs gave out.  Typically when he had this much exhausted energy, he'd either swim until his brain shut off, off fuck someone nameless for the same goal.  But both were out of the question.  And the latter not just because he didn't want nameless sex anymore - not with that woman out there, who he loved so much - but also because his junk was still a little too tender for anything strenuous like that.  Dammit Vivien Salazar.

Eventually he couldn't dawdle any longer, so he rinsed off and washed his mouth as well, before putting on some clean clothes as well.  Drugstore underwear and cheesy-logo t-shirt and jogging shorts.  He looked a mess, but he'd also looked worse.  Toweling his hair, Diego emerged, knowing Gen was  still on the phone.  He gave her a half-wave, motioning for her to talk as long as she wanted.  He knew Abigail was keeping track of everything, and Abigail got a little testy whenever Diego questioned her.  They didn't really get along, even though Diego did highly respect Abigail's work ethic.

He sat at the front of the bed, opening the food bag up and pulling out his own burger and fries.  They were still a little warm, which was nice.  He settled back against the bedhead, flicking through his phone and chewing his dinner like a cow chewed cud.

Eventually though, he couldn't help listening to what Gen was saying.  His gaze was drawn to her like a magnet, watching the defeated slope of her back, her stubborn shoulders still straight.  As if she was trying to still hold it all together, for the sake of a brother who couldn't even see her.  Her dark golden hair fell over her face, in that way where Diego wanted to tuck it behind her ear.  He wanted her to feel good, just for a moment.  Hopefully, she did.  God, he hoped.

_______________________

Benji rolled his eyes. “You’ll never be able to stay awake that long,” he said before laughing a little bit. “No, but we’re good, Genny. Like... I’ll stress, but I’m not alone.” If he could have her as well, things would have been so much better. There had to be a loss though. He wasn’t going to get everything which made him happy. Honestly, he was lucky his life was at least the way which it was.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just saying. I was right about this one!” It had to happen some time. He hate that he was this time. It was easier when people would tell him that none of his anxieties were going to come true. It certainly wasn’t any help when the time it was had ended up with their family torn apart.

That was a relief. He knew how much his sister had loved Vivien. “I don’t know if I would be able to do that if it was me,” Benji admitted. Gen was stronger than he was, that much was clear. He thought he’d have done anything to get Finley back if he lost him. Letting Vivien go must have been hellish for her. “I’m proud of you,” he said softly then left it at that.

“You can’t promise that though. You can’t. Try - trying to promise that is going to won’t make things any easier for either of us.” He didn’t want to say it meant things would hurt more for both of them if something happened to the other with that reassurance.

He nodded. Things wouldn’t go instantly back to normal on the very off chance that they might. There was a lot of work which needed to be done on the side of FBI and the associated agents. “I want to see you,” he said softly. It didn’t seem like it was ever going to happen. He would give anything to hug his sister again though. “It’s not really fair. I don’t... if I don’t see mom and dad, I don’t mind, but you telling me that you’re fine doesn’t make me feel much better.”

It hadn’t struck him that it may have been like that until his sister was denying it. If she could see his face, she would have known how little he believed that. “Are you going to tell me the truth or are we going to have to pretend that I believe you? I’m hoping for the former.” Though he was counting on the latter to be true. There was a reason she was lying about this. It was difficult for him to figure out what it was.

There was a story there. He knew there was one. He attempted to think of the reasons which would cause her to lose people who cared about her. It wasn’t as if people grew tired of Gen. That made it clear there was, yet again, more than she wanted to let on.

Smiling at Finley, Benji shook his head. “Do you know how many times he’s complained about that? A ridiculous amount of times! I don’t think he’s going to let it go!” He didn’t mind if Finley did though. It made Benji feel special and everyone deserved to feel a little special sometimes. She was correct about that though. They hadn’t had to worry. “We got rings! I was okay skipping parties and ceremonies, but I had to have a ring.” It might be a simple band, but he wasn’t going to trade it for anything. He sighed. “Yeah. It would’ve been nice if you were there though. I didn’t think I would ever get to even tell you.”

It was true. He wouldn’t be able to do this without the help. “At least you can cook though. Diners.... you’ve always liked diners.” When they were younger, the three of them - including Olivia, of course - would go off to diners whenever they had the chance to. Was that gone now? Shit. Change the subject, Benji! He cleared his throat. “I’m not a good teacher, but I could be worse. That’s what I tell myself.”

_______________________

Hearing Benji say that he was proud of her because Gen didn't do anything other than talk to Vivien felt like a punch to the gut, but she didn't want to go back and explain herself, not now, not after this. Even if he said he might have not been able to do that, she felt like he would have been disappointed and angry at him if she actually told the truth and really, she didn't want the rest of their conversation to be about her mistake. So she just buried her face into her palm and tried desperately to not make a sound that suggested anything was up or that she was feeling extremely guilty on that moment.

She instead focused on what she said next. "Okay, that's fair, I can't promise you that, but I can promise you that I would try my best. How's that sound, hmm? I will try to do my best to make sure I don't do anything to get you or me in any kind of trouble or hurt. And in return, you do the same?" She doubted he could ever actually do anything to get himself in trouble, though. It was her who kept finding trouble wherever she went.

I want to see you. Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of that. "Yeah, I want to see you too." She wasn't sure if it could ever be possible, but she also wasn't sure if talking to Benji could ever be possible, so maybe with time it could happen as well. "I am not sure how all of this is gonna go, what's going to happen, but maybe if everything goes okay, I could go visit you guys? Or you could come to me wherever I will end up being? If the people who decide what happens to us deem it safe to do it, of course."

God, he saw right through her. They haven't spoken in years and they were who even knows how many hundred miles apart, and yet he still knew her, he still saw right through her and it warmed her heart to know that it wasn't something that could be lost. Sometimes she wondered if it was possible, if you could unknow a person if you don't see them long enough, but it felt like Benji just proved that theory wrong in a way.

If she would have been fully alone and knew Benji was alone as well, she would have probably talked to Benji about Diego, too, but with Diego coming out of the bathroom this very moment (how did he have such impeccable timing?) and knowing that the other agent hearing things could get Diego in trouble, she opted to say, "can we go with the second one?" And because she didn't want him to feel like she was trying to keep something from him, she quickly added, "it's a bit complicated and a really long story, so I don't wanna get into it over the phone. Maybe next time?"

She knew offering this was wishful thinking, more of a hope than a sure thing, but she also felt like treating their conversation as a once in a lifetime opportunity would have only turned this entire conversation into something even sadder and more tragic than it was, and neither of them needed that for a moment.

Diego got his foot and sat down next to her against the headboard and Gen scooted over a little bit to give him more space, crossing her legs under herself as she shifted position and got herself more comfortable. She shot a warm, happy smile towards him while she was listening to Benji talk about their wedding, and then she couldn't help but reach over and steal a few fries from him and pop it into her mouth after mouthing an apology and a thank to him.

"Yeah, I wish I could have been there, but I'm just glad to hear about it too. Nobody told me whether Finley was with you or not, so it's just nice to hear and know that you haven't been alone all this time. And-- well, I don't know, maybe one day you can show me some pictures. Or just show me those rings yourself. Maybe." It felt so surreal to sound so optimistic or hopeful, but if a call could happen, why couldn't anything else, right?

She chuckled slightly. "Yeah, sure, I can cook, but I got a cook who was 10 times better than I was, people loved his food. Well, they still love it, that just sounded like he died when really he didn't, nothing like that happened, just bad word choices. And now i'm rambling, sorry. Anyway, do you guys have any pets? Did you ever get a dog?" They spent their entire childhood wanting a dog but being told they can't by their parents, and she knew Finley and Benji were thinking about adopting one before everything turned to shit. It would have felt natural for her that after a while they went back to that route and found a sweet puppy for themselves.

_______________________

Their best was the only thing they could offer one another. It was fucked up. Benji hated this situation. He had settled into a sort of compliance. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d grown used to it. Now, there was this. He was actually able to communicate with one of the people who mattered most to him in the world. He had Finley, of course, and he loved him with his whole heart. But it wasn’t the same. His family was gone and... then the one person that he still held in that regard was on the other end of the line for however short of a time period this would be. He wished there was a way to prolong it.

“Of course I’m not going to get either of us in trouble. Well, the three of us.” He shot Finley a gentle smile. “If you thought that I was cautious before, you should see me now.” It wasn’t always a good thing. It was probably helpful for Abigail though. He figured working with himself and Finely was an easy job.

Benji bit his lower lip. For a moment, he considered breaking the rules. He could find a way to contact her outside of this... there had to be a way. Perhaps he could convince Abigail to - no. She was more staunch on the rules than he was. Before meeting her, he hadn’t thought it possible. “I don’t know. I just - I know that you’re safe. All I want to do is see you. I just have to see you. Hug you.” That way, he could make sure that she was really there. It might not make sense to a lot of people, but it made sense to him.

Complicated? Most things with Gen were complicated. She was a bit odd in a lot of ways, but so was he. They had that in common. He wanted to point out that there was no guarantee for there to be a next time. He almost did. Instead, he simply sighed. “Fine, but next time, I’m going to lead with that. I’m just gonna ask you to promise that you didn’t fuck someone you shouldn’t have again. I had build my life up twice. I’m not going it a third.” The subject could be dropped there. Benji held up his hand. “But it’s done. It’s over. There’s no going back.”

He smiled, knowing that she wanted him to be truly happy more than anyone else would. “Yeah. It would have been much better if I threw up on your shoes rather than a member of the FBI, but...” he trailed off and laughed. “Maybe. And you know what I’m going to want you to do if we’re ever able to see each other again -“ It sounded a lot more realistic when she said it, “- which is that you make a grilled cheese because nobody can master it the same way you do.” He paused. “I also want to see you smile.” For as much as Genevieve wanted him to be happy, he wanted it for on the very same level.

“Your diner, what’d it called. Tell me all about it. Don’t spare any of the details.” There was no way he was going to hear everything about the past few years. If they focused on one thing, however, they would never make any progress. “Any - anything that’s good. Tell me about the good things.”

The mention of a dog had Benji looking over to the one curled up in his husband’s lap. “Her name is Missy. I don’t know what her breed is... other than small. What about you? Are you a parent?” He paused. “To a small furry animal because if there’s a human child in your life and you didn’t choose to lead with that, I might have to kill you.”

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Diego tried not to listen too hard in on the conversation.  It was technically his right as Gen's handler, but he didn't want to make it seem like he was eavesdropping, after he told Gen he'd give her privacy.  When she scooted next to him though, he figured she didn't mind him picking up the conversation here and there if it happened.  It struck him, suddenly, how...domestic this was.  Both of them relaxed back on the same bed, having dinner, Gen chatting on the phone with her brother while he checked his own phone.  It would've been almost normal, if it wasn't for the fact that they were hiding out in a motel to protect Gen from possible attacks, and her brother was in a secret location, hidden for the same reason.

Diego took out Gen's food for her, and laid it out on the paper bag.  She could take as many fries from her own pack as she wanted, but she wasn't getting any more of his.

When she asked about her brother's pets, it reminded Diego again - damn.  That hedgehog.  He knew Gen asked Flo to look after it but he really should drive into town tomorrow and pick the thing up, as well as his remaining belongings and some of Gen's - Darcy's things.    First he'd talk to Al to inquire about the fate of the diner and if there was anything to be done about it.

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"Good. All three of us should be good then." Gen didn't doubt that Benji was sticking to all the rules and keeping everything in order. In that regard, Diego might have been luckier if he was assigned to her brother instead of her. He wouldn't have had to deal with things like her running off to LA without a word or warning. A lot less headache and a guns pointing at his face. Would have been a real treat.

"If it's ever going to be possible, we'll make it work however we can and then I'm going to hug the shit out of you. You'll be complaining and asking me to let you go," she joked. "But until then, Finley, would you give him a hug for me?" She could hear some rustling of clothes and moving on the other side of the phone and she smiled to herself for a moment. "Done." "Thanks."

Promise that you didn't fuck someone you shouldn't have. Right in the middle of it. It was like Benji just knew what went down for a few months between Diego and her. And then it hit her. Again. She did it again, she fell in love with somebody she shouldn't have. Did she have a type? Did she somehow draw in people that she shouldn't have and get attached? Granted, she couldn't have possibly known that Vivien would bring such horrors into her and her family's life, but she did in fact know Diego and her probably shouldn't have done what they did, she just didn't care, because no matter what Diego says about it being wrong, it wasn't. It couldn't have. Not after everything that happened and everything she felt.

(It was interesting how out of the two of these relationship, one of them looked so perfect, so right in the beginning only for the holes to show up and reveal just how wrong it was, while in the beginning it felt like there was nothing but holes between Diego and her that they needed to patch up and work through, but in the end it turned out to be so good and so important. For her at least. And even if it was only important for her, she still cherrished every memory, every moment.)

Through all of this she was watching Diego move back over to the food bag and take out her dinner too, probably glad to see her trying to actually eat without nudging after she stole some of his fries and wanting to make sure it wouldn't disappear or she wouldn't end up eating his food instead (she mouthed a quick thank you to him once he settled back onto the bed), and really, maybe according to the rules of his job, what they did was wrong, but she didn't regret any of it. She just regretted that if any of it got out, she could get him in trouble with it.

She was definitely not going to say any of that to Benji, though, not with Diego hearing it and definitely not with Benji and Finley's agent hearing it. She just replied in a cheerful tone, "I promise, I promise. You won't have to rebuild your life again, I didn't do anything stupid." Partial truths, they could work wonders.

She let out a small chuckle. "I would normally not approve of you throwing up on my shoes, but yeah, I would have preferred that scenario over anything else. And of course I'll make you all the grilled cheese you want, but only if you won't leave my side cause I won't be willing to stay too far from you." Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but even if it was just a small dream that wouldn't happen, it was nice to be able to talk about it with Benji.

"Hey, I smile!" Gen objected and purposefully did not look at Diego because she didn't want to see him look at her skeptically. Sunnymead and the townsfolk had that effect. When she first arrived, she didn't think she would ever smile again, but they worked their magic and changed that. They helped her a lot, without even realizing it. "Not all the time, sure, but there are moments. You can't see it, but I am smiling right now. Your voice kind of has that effect." In that moment it felt like if she could only keep talking to him, she could smile forever.

"No diner names, or any other location names that could be followed up," Gen heard the woman interject sternly when Benji asked about the Grub and she cleared her tone. "Okay, okay, no names, I promise. Good things - I got it on a lease, I fixed it up when I got there originally and somehow it became the town's staple. I heard so many rumors and gossips there, you have no idea. Got some really good people working for me. I also live above it. Well, lived. I keep forgetting to use the past term."

She was glad at least one of them could finally get the dog they've always wanted. "I'm sure she's the cutest of the cutest. And no, I don't have a kid, don't worry, I'm not holding out on you," she couldn't help but laugh at his suggestion of having a kid, even though a part of her heart was bleeding over it, knowing that for such a long time that hasn't been an option for her. "But I do have a little animal, though she's not so furry. It's a hedgehog and her name is Vex."

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As far as Benji was concerned, he wasn’t going to complain about her hugging him when (if) they saw each other again. He’d done so in the past, but this was different. There hasn’t been the constant contact which had been present in the past. Even then, he hadn’t done more than dramatically sigh and make a bigger deal of it than it truly was. He’d be far too busy taking her in were they to get that opportunity.

Leaning into Finley, Benji shook his head. “Oh, come on. I’m not going to complain. I know I... kind of complain a lot, but I’m going to probably cry if I ever get to see you again...” He wasn’t counting on it, but Abigail wasn’t objecting so it might be possible.

There was a pause before she answered and Benji could feel his anxiety rising. He knew his sister well. This seemed to mean that she was hiding something. Interrogation wasn’t the move though. They had limited to communicate. If all of Benji’s time was spent doing that, he would kick himself.

He hummed nonetheless, an even tone which made it perfectly clear that he didn’t believe her. There was no pushing though. He didn’t want to stress her. “Alright. Consider the subject dropped. No more discussions of your sex life in front of all of these people.” Which didn’t mean it was truly dropped, simply (hopefully) pushed off to a later date.

“Trust me. Do you honestly think that I’m going to go anywhere but where you are? No. I’d hole up wherever we were and here every detail about your life while I gave you every detail of mine.”

Benji laughed. “Remember how Mom used to joke that me and Liv were the only ones who could get you to smile?” It was an exaggeration, sure, but it was fun to joke about... even if the mention of their sister made him feel like there was a hold in his heart which would never be filled. “I’m smiling like an idiot. I’d say Finley could confirm, but he’d argue that I wasn’t an idiot like he always does.”

Furrowing his brows, Benji stared at Abigail. He had never argued with her in the past. It wasn’t in him. However, this? This was grinding on his last nerve. He couldn’t hear most of the things about his sister’s life and he hadn’t asked to. He just wanted to know the name, so that he could picture in his mind. There were so many gaps which he wanted filled. It was a small one, but it seemed there was a problem with that.

“Yeah, Abigail. I know. It’s the one diner in the whole country which has that name. Hearing the name of a diner, would put us both in imminent danger! I forgot that I didn’t have any control over my life!”

The outburst was uncharacteristic of him, but he was realizing now how over this he was. He missed his sister. Was the conversation allowed any depth? He sighed. Perhaps he should apologize to Abigail. He didn’t.

He nodded. “So was it like an HGTV show? The ones we used to get wine drunk and say we were going to do? You did that!” Benji frowned. Though he didn’t have to rebuild his life again, Gen did and he hated the concept of it. She’d had a good life then... it got fucked up. This time, he couldn’t even rationalize it in his brain as something that she had done. It was all one big mess. He could hardly understand that. “Are you at least allowed to tell me about the gossip?” A hedgehog? “Like the tiny porcupines?” he asked.

_______________________

Gen let out a small chuckle. "Alright, we'll be attached at the hip and just talk through every little detail we missed. I like the sound of that."

Her smile softened at the mention of Liv and her heart ached a bit at the thought that she couldn't be in this call, that they could never see her again. "Yeah, and Liv made those badges for it after and you guys wore it everywhere for like a week." They would have to talk about Olivia at some point. They probably should be talking about her and what happened now, if she was being honest, but this felt too good, too nice to go down that path. Maybe if they could ever meet and get drunk together. That was the kind of conversation that would require a lot of alcohol.

"He really isn't an idiot, but he is smiling like one," came the confirmation from Finley and Gen smiled. They were both smiling and happy to enjoy a simple phone call, even just a couple of hours ago it didn't feel like it could be possible, so it was great to know that there could still be happy moments amidst all of this. Well, thank to Diego. All of this could only happen because of Diego and she wasn't sure how she could ever thank him for this. She'd need to figure something out.

Gen winced at the sound of Benji snapping at the handler, but even more so when he said he didn't have any control over his life. It wasn't life him, to snap at people like this, but it also hit her that it has been years since she's seen or talked to Benji and she couldn't possibly know what kind of changes he went through. And being forced into a situation like this... it would have made sense, if Benji snapped at people more. But even if this was just a one time thing coming out of frustration of how the two of them couldn't even have a simple conversation without somebody else butting in and telling them what they can and can't talk about... she did this to him. She caused him to lose complete control over his life and it was sheer luck and persistence that they allowed Finley to be there with him instead of dropping him off somewhere else and leaving her brother completely alone.

Fuck, she hated how much pain she caused him, how much she ruined his life.

She rubbed her face, feeling the tiredness and the guilt creep in, even though she was trying to not think about it. At least until they had to hang up, she wanted to enjoy just talking to Benji without feeling horrible, she could do that later.

Unfortunately, it came earlier, way too early than how she would have liked, because when Benji brought up the gossips, she could hear some movement from the other side of the phone and then the handler's voice came, "Alright, if you want to hear about gossip, I think it's time you two wrap it up. The call already went longer than you two were originally allowed, so say your goodbyes. We don't want anyone accidentally tapping into these phones and track either of you."

"Fuck," she muttered and she could feel a panic rising inside of her because she didn't want to hang up, she wanted to keep talking to Benji and with not knowing when or if she could ever talk to him again or see him again, this felt a little bit like losing him all over again. But she also didn't want to push the boundaries because this has already been more than she could ever imagine and now she knew that he was okay. She knew he was good and happy and safe and this was not enough and more than enough at the same time.

"Fuck, okay, Benji, I love you. I can't believe I didn't start with this, but I love you so much and I'm really sorry for all of this and I am so happy you're doing okay and just-- fuck, I miss you and I love you. I don't know what else I could say."

_______________________

It was likely exactly what Benji should have expected given his reaction earlier, but it didn't make hearing that their conversation was over now. He clenched his jaw and was refusing to make eye contact with Abigail. He felt like he was going to cry and he would be damned if he did it in front of her. It wasn't her fault, not really, but he needed someone to blame she could take the heat of that.

He felt like he was going to vomit. Running his fingers through his hair, he let out a shaky breath. "I love you too. More than fucking..." he paused, to try and get as much control over his voice as possible. Though, Benji knew he hardly had any time to do. "More than anything. I miss you and I don't know if it's better or worse now," he had to admit. "But I wouldn't trade this for anything. I love you, Gen. This is so fucking unfair."

With that, he got up and left the room, knowing that Abigail would hang up the phone and Finley would see her out. He didn't want to deal with a second more of this.

_______________________

Gen could hear Benji's voice shaking and fuck, she wished she could be there to comfort him and hug him and make sure he was okay, but then if she was there, they wouldn't be in this predicament either. And it hurt, having to say goodbye because she wanted to keep talking, but at the same time it felt like the entire conversation filled her up with a new kind of energy she didn't think she could have. So she listened to Benji and nodded and she could feel the tears brimming in her eyes, but at the same time she was smiling.

And then the call was over and she just sat there for a few moments, staring at the now dark phone in her hand and didn't have the faintest clue what to do or say after this. The conversation kept replaying in her mind and she hoped Finley was already there for Benji and helping him and more than anything she hoped this wasn't the last time. Vivien was arrested, they had to be slowly getting out of this, right? There had to be an end to this somehow.

Then again, maybe in two days she would be told that she would need to get relocated once again and she would become Jenna Sills or some other random person next. She wished she would have even the slightest bit of control over her life and she wouldn't be in the dark constantly.

She took a deep breath and shook herself out of these thoughts, even if just for a few moments, and finally turned to Diego with a small smile and handed the phone back to him. "Thank you, seriously. This... I don't think thank you si really expressive enough to emphasize how much this meant to me, but nothing else really comes to my mind, so just thank you."

_______________________

One thing Diego didn't take into consideration was the possibility that allowing Gen a phone call meant that it could end up making her even more unhappy, after the initial elation of speaking with her brother.  He watched her carefully, gauging her quiet devastation that she was so good at repressing.  She'd been practicing it for four years now, of course it was like second nature to her.  He said nothing until she spoke first, and then he just listened.

Granted, she didn't talk about herself, but then that was so like Gen, wasn't it.  Both Gen and Darcy - they both put people before themselves, thought about other people first.  Not in any sort of self-sacrificial way, but in a way that just meant her heart was full of others.  She was used to thinking about other people, being empathetic, taking care of them. It fulfilled her to help, as much as it helped others.  Even her thank yous to him were kind and considerate.  When she wasn't yelling at him for some indignity or the other, she could actually be quite generous with her kindness.

As if he didn't know that already.

A smile tugged his lips, and Diego moved the food between them to reach and arm around her shoulders.  He tugged her to lean against him, and he pressed his mouth against her damp hair on the crown of her head.  She felt fragile and birdlike right now, so small and broken.

"So...he's got a - a - a husband? Is that what they call 'em?  Husband and...what, husband?"  He asked, awkward, ignorant, and curious.  "I didn't really realize that the both of you were like, y'know.  I didn't realize more than one sibling could be, uh..."  But even as he said it, he was pretty sure it was a stupid thing to say.

_______________________

It was a new kind of torture to have Diego pull Gen close against him, knowing it was just to comfort her after the emotional rollercoaster that was the last 24 hours and especially after the call just ended. She knew she was a mess and she knew that Diego could see it all over her face. She didn't even try to hide things from him anymore, there didn't seem to be any point. He seemed to have learned how to read her like an open book. So even if the memories of the times they've spent in each other's arms flashed back in front of her eyes, she knew this was different. She also knew she should pull back and not let herself enjoy it, it wouldn't end well for her emotionally, but she also couldn't just entangle herself from Diego somehow, so she just closed her eyes and try to forget about everything around them.

It didn't last too long, however, because then Diego started talking awkwardly, and Gen's eyes grew wider and wider at what he was saying. She pulled away and fully turned towards him, frowning in confusion and surprise. "Jesus Christ, Diego, you are so painfully straight," she couldn't help saying, her face still full of disbelief. He didn't say any of it with malice, he didn't intend to hurt anyone, and it wasn't about him being against it either, he just asked something he didn't know about because he never needed a reason to learn and get to know more, and it showed in his question. A lot.

"I don't even know where to start." She picked up her burger - it was cold at this point, but she didn't really care, she was just glad she could eat something. She took a bite to have at least something in her stomach and then started munching on her fries while she started talking. "Yes, they are husband and husband, unless they prefer something else, I'm not sure, I didn't ask them. All of the marriage and proposal happened after... well, sort of during the beginning of the relocation process, so I wasn't there for any of it. Not that any of that part really matters in the whole family question that you just..." She let out a sigh, she was rambling and she didn't even know where to even begin, it was such a surprising thing in that moment. Then again, maybe that was his goal with this, to get her out of the stupor and get her to think about something else, even if that something else was explaining to Diego that more than one person in the family could be part of the LGBTQ+ community.

"Okay, so there aren't any genes or rules or laws of the universe that say that only one person in the family can be non-straight. It just... happens. Sort of like how sometimes a family has three boys and no girls, and then another family has one girl and a boy and the mix could go on and on. It depends on the person and not the family."

"Also, you can say the word gay, it's not an insult. You can also say queer, to me at least, it generally stands on shaky legs, some people love it and embrace it, some people take it as an insult, so don't throw that word around before making sure the person you're talking to is okay with it. But it's okay with me."

_______________________

Diego held Gen and what was more important, Gen didn't resist him.  It seemed like all the animosity and frustration that had built up between them over the last few weeks had dissipated completely.  It made sense in a way - after dealing with the insanity that was Vivien Salazar showing up out of nowhere and kidnapping poor Juliana, a spat over something that was no longer relevant seemed...well.  No longer relevant.

And then there was the matter of Gen sleeping with Vivien.  Given that Diego was a king of making poor sexual choices throughout his entire adult life, he'd be a hypocrite to feel angry about that.  Plus, while he and Darcy had been cooling their heels, he'd slept with Rita.  Maybe in some weird, twisted way, Darcy sleeping with Vivien was just tit for tat.  Granted, sleeping with Vivien was a disastrous choice, but not something that Diego had to deal with.  That was something Gen herself would have to deal with - emotionally and mentally.

So it felt calmer, watching Gen eat the cold burger, and then sit up to give him one of her patented annoyed and slightly pitying looks.  He blinked back at her, stealing some of her fries now, and eating them.  "What?  You say 'straight' like it's an insult," he said, using the most stereotypical hurt-feelings comeback that straight people used, when queer people called them straight.

But he did listen attentively when Gen explained, with the patience of a saint, about how it all worked.  There was very little he knew about Benjamin Soto's casefile, other than the basics. It was all in the name of protecting, and keeping the Sotos safe.  So he didn't realize Benjamin swung that way, and he really didn't realize that the 'husband' had been put under witness relocation as well.  Truth was, Diego had completely forgotten that gay marriage was even legal, and he had to remind himself at this point.  He could only imagine how loud his nieces would be berating him right now for being so clueless.  They'd be saying similar things to him as Darcy, only with more 'oh my god, Tio, you're so dumb' thrown in for good measure.

"Hunh," he grunted, but squinted in amusement when Gen gave him permission to use such verboten (in his mind) words.  "I dunno, honey.  In Texas, 'queer' is still used like an insult.  But...I guess that's mostly just among us straight people, huh."  He didn't sound angry or anything, just wry.  As if he was making some sort of point (he wasn't; or rather, his point wasn't interesting).  "I guess...well I guess it'd be like having three kids, and all of 'em are straight, huh?  No one ever points out how weird that is, do they."

_______________________

Gen let out a long sigh and tilted her head at Diego as she gave him a look. This wasn't the first time she's heard this response, though given how the last couple of years have been going, she hasn't heard it in a while. "I don't say straight as an insult, Diego, I say it as a fact. Cause you are one. Which is showing a whole lot right now."

He listened to her, though. It was one thing she could never say about him is that he wouldn't listen. He was ignorant and he happily lived in his own heterosexual bubble because it was easy, but when the topic came up and she tried explaining something to him, he always listened. Back when she told him she was pansexual, and now too. He was trying to understand, he just didn't really go out of his way to do so when he didn't have to or it didn't come up.

"Yeah, well, straight people like using these words as insults way too often, if you ask me. So if it's an insult in your mind, then definitely don't use it, everyone will be able to tell you're using it as such. But at the same time you should just accept them and think of them as not insults. They are just the people's sexualities, nothing else."

"You said one of your nieces was on the spectrum, right?" she asked. She thought she remembered Diego mention it to her during their last similar conversation, but she wasn't sure if she remembered wrong. "Do you talk about these things with her?"

She ate some fries as she thought of Benji and Finley. They are what started this whole conversation. "I didn't know they got married, by the way. My brother and his boyfriend. Well, husband now. Finley - that's his husband's name -, asked me to help look for rings not too long before everything happened, but I wasn't sure if he got put in the witness protection, too, and if they got to stay together or not. But this was the best-case scenario. At least they were together and they could help each other through it."

_______________________

Diego grinned then and shrugged.  "I gotta be me...which I suddenly get now.  The ga- the people who aren't straight gotta be them too.  My nieces would be so proud of me now."  He seemed contented at Darcy's advice to not try and use the words she used so freely.  From her, 'gay' and 'queer' sounded free-flowing, comfortable.  Coming out of his mouth, he knew it would just sound unnatural, borderline insulting.  He laughed lowly when she asked about his nieces.

"On the spectrum..." he said, once more a term that was very novel to him.  Sex was a big part of his life, and the idea that there was a spectrum applied to it?  His poor straight mind boggled at the concept.  "Jesus christ, are you kidding me?  I'm their Uncle, Gen.  Kids don't want to talk to their uncles about that sort of shit.  And frankly I don't want to hear about it."  Before Gen got that tight disappointed look on her face, he raised his hand to add,  "What I mean is, I stay clear out of their entire dating and love lives and all that...grown-up stuff, as much as I can.  They might technically be adults now but they're still little girls to me.  They got their own friends to talk like that." He huffed.

"The only time they bring it up is just to make me and their mother all huffy.  For their own entertainment."  He didn't seem particularly bothered about this, though.  That was what nieces did - they poked fun of older family members for, well, being older.  Curiously, he asked,  "Do your folks know?  About you, or your brother?  Did you have to..." Diego searched for the term.  "Come...out?"

He supposed there was no harm now in Gen knowing that the brother and his...fella were married, or whatever.  Everything had to be so hush-hush for so long, it was good she got a few factoids to feed off of for the next few months of hell.  And Diego realized then, how much it sucked that she missed the wedding.  If there even was a wedding.

"That's true," he conceded, finishing up his food and then exhaling slowly.  "C'mon, let's go have a smoke out on the balcony."  He stood up, grabbing his pack of smokes from the desk.  "Also I just realized there's only one bed. And I didn't ask if you'd be okay with that."

_______________________

The big grin plastered on Diego's face as it all seemed to click for him was cute, even if all of this was a ridiculous conversation that Gen did not think they would be having this night out of all of it. But he was trying and he seemed to be taking small steps towards the right direction, which was definitely a good start. Gen let out a small chuckle at his indignation that he would be talking about his nieces sex lives with them. "I didn't mean about their sex lives, Diego, obviously you wouldn't wanna hear about that, I meant..." But she shook her head with a small smile. "Nevermind." She meant more about what it meant not being straight, but this was probably best to just let it go.

"Yeah, they know," she nodded as she ate the last of her fries. "I didn't really have a typical coming out experience, though. Benji had it all figured out a lot faster and a lot younger, I needed more time figure all of it, all of me, out, and by the time I got there I also realized just how little my parents were present in our lives. And to be fair to them, they did what they thought were best for us, which was work their butts off and provide us with financial security, but it meant they weren't really around, so I didn't really feel like I was required to have that proper sit down where I told them I was pansexual. I didn't lie to them, I just didn't openly tell them. They figured it out when I brought Vivien home for introductions."

It was more like when she announced she was bringing her home, which was probably for the best because a huge fight broke out after it that came down to 'why did you lie to us for years and years about this?' as if they were entitled to something so personal. She didn't really care about their reactions, but she remembered that she was glad Vivien didn't walk into that fight when they went over for a family dinner and she did question back then if not openly telling her parents before that was a mistake or not. And then she didn't see her parents for months after that dinner like it usually went, and she decided she probably did the right thing.

"Oh, god, yes, I'm in," Gen said as she pushed herself up from the bed at the thought of a smoke. "I'm guessing asking for some whiskey along with it would be impossible, right?" she joked, but that would have probably helped a lot with her mind in that moment, even if she knew unless Diego snuck in something under his coat, they wouldn't be drinking tonight.

And then he pointed out that there was only one bed for the two of them, which really should have registered for her sooner - he was spending his time here with her, he was taking a shower in this room's bathroom, of course this was both of their rooms and they would have to share it, what was she even thinking? But somehow she was way too occupied to notice and process any of this information, and she stopped for a moment as she heard those words because really?

Really?

It already felt like some kind of torture, the way he was being so nice and he was trying to comfort her through all of this, and now sleeping in the same bed together? The last time they were in a bed together, they fell asleep in each other's arms after spending a really long time ravishing each other and chasing the same pleasures, and now... fuck. She was fucked.

And she couldn't show any of this because he would offer to just sleep on the damn floor and then she couldn't ever convince him to come sleep on the bed cause he was stubborn like that.

So after the momentary freezing she quickly pulled herself together. "We're adults, right? And it's a big enough bed, anyway, there's enough room for both of us." They headed outside and Gen leaned against the railing and while Diego lit both of their cigarettes, she took the sight in - which was mostly the motel's weirdly lit pool and the buildings around them -, and then pushed herself up onto the railing. They were on the first floor and the railing was wide enough, she was good.

"Unless you would feel uncomfortable, in which case you are taking the bed and I'm taking the floor. And before you object, your face has a whole different color now and I'm pretty sure your dick suffered even more so, while the worst thing that happened to me is that I got a little scared. You don't need back pain added to the list of shit that happened to your body."

She was quiet for a few moments, taking a couple of drags from the cigarette and listening to the sounds of the city around them before she asked, "Do you ever think about what's the whole point of all of this? Everyone suffers through so much bullshit in their lives just for a few fleeting moments of happiness, and then all of it becomes pointless because you become nothing in the end anyway."

_______________________

Diego was about to ask how Gen's parents took it, when she brought a woman home for them to meet.  But although it seemed like Gen was able to bring up the mention of the memory with not too much issues, this was definitely not a good time to make Gen think even more about her past with Vivien Salazar.  It could too easily spiral into Gen feeling guilty and stupid for being duped by Vivien for all that time, blaming herself for everything that happened to her family.

So instead, he just nodded in understanding.  "Parents can be tricky," he said vaguely.  A moment of silence and then he added,  "I suppose we have that in common, sort of.  I'm closer to my sister than I am to my mother.  Or father, when he was alive."  It wasn't always the case, but Diego always considered his childhood to be complicated but completely normal at the same time.  He said he loved his family - he was Latino, of course he loved his family - but it hadn't been difficult to move into law enforcement and travel for work.

Getting up (and minutely thrilled that Gen was going to join him for a smoke), Diego chuckled as Gen asked about whiskey.  "I don't think the motel stocks a minibar, no.  We'll have to make do with sobriety."  In the dimness of the room, he didn't notice Gen's apprehension about the one bed, or he didn't read into it too deeply.  Perhaps because he also felt someone antsy about it, if only because they'd been fighting before Vivien showed up, and technically had called their whole...sleeping-together thing off.

Hadn't they?  Everything had changed, when Vivien showed up.  The reasons for Diego's anger no longer mattered.  Did the reasons still matter to Gen?  He wasn't sure how long she could hold on to old fights, but he supposed he'd know by tonight.

Fortunately it seemed like Gen chose to take the high road, and Diego was more than fine with that.  He handed her one lit cigarette and leaned against the corridor railing,.  "Okay.  That sounds fine," he said, when Gen laid it out so reasonably.  He puffed, wondering if he should mention assurances that he wouldn't touch her or try to make any moves on her while they were in bed - god, he felt so confused about where they stood on their...thing together.  But it was hardly the most important problem that either he or Gen had right now - but then Gen kept talking.  Or rather, in her trademark way, she started overthinking it.

He choked on his cigarette when she casually mentioned his dick, and Diego coughed indignantly.  "My bit and tackle are in fine working order, thank you very much, madam," he said huffily, his manhood clearly feeling threatened (albeit in a comical way).  "It just ain't gonna be directed at you, is all."  He winced when he said that last bit.  He'd meant it to mean he wasn't going to try and get frisky, put Gen in a position where she felt she had to reject intimacy.  Which would be understandable and her right.  But it just came out weird and petty.

He leaned his back against the railing to face her.  "What I mean is, I'm fine.  I can sleep on the floor if that's what you prefer.  No way in hell I'm letting you sleep on any fucking floor, and don't argue with me about women doing what men can do or whatever.  This is simply because - because maybe I got beat up on the face...and other parts of me.  But you got beat up inside, and in your head.  And you know what doctors always say - internal injuries are worse than external ones."

Of course, Diego took that out of context, since he didn't mean Gen's internal organs, but rather her emotional and mental beatdown.  "So that hurt head of yours deserves a nice...creaky, springy, misshapen bed more'n I do.  No argument, Gen, I mean it."

Gen's questions turned philosophical then, and Diego welcomed the change of pace.  He smoked slowly then.  "This is a conversation best had over a bottle of whiskey," he said.  "But since we don't have a whiskey, then...I think what you've gone through is extraordinary, Gen.  As in, I don't think it's what most people have to deal with.  Not to downplay other people's shit - I know you wouldn't like me doing that - but I'm just saying more people's ups and downs at least have context and they can reference the same shit around them to know how to deal with their own shit.  You?  What on god's green earth would ever prepare you for your girlfriend turning out to be a crime boss?  That's not normal shit.  That's one in a million. That's extraordinary."

He stubbed his cigarette out.  "Guess you're just special that way, honey."

_______________________

Gen watched Diego with careful consideration as he mentioned that parents could be difficult, and then mentioned his dad. She could only remember him mentioning him once before, and it was in not so positive light, and she wanted to ask about him, see if she could get Diego to talk about his family and his parents a little more, understand where he was coming from better, but then decided to go into a completely different route. "You don't really talk about them," she said. "Your parents, mainly, but your family in general either. Is that because this is a job and you don't want to let too much information slip out, or you just don't like talking about them in general?"

She was expecting Diego's reply about the whiskey, but she was still disappointed he wasn't hiding even just a little bit of alcohol somewhere hidden on him. If there was a night to get drunk and try to forget everything, it was this night for sure. "The motel should definitely think about it. The minibar is one of the easiest way to overcharge the customers, and I assume a lot of their customers would be delighted to splurge on the cheapest thing they could possibly find." It's probably for the better, though. She wouldn't need a headache the next morning - either the FBI would have more questions and dealing with them with a hangover would be a bitch, or some other official business that she'd need to do that she would be better for sober.

She chuckled at his indignation and him calling her madam, but her smile didn't last long. It just ain't gonna be directed at you, is all. He needed to make sure she knew just because they were sleeping in the same bed potentially, nothing changed between them. And in general, she respected him for it, not wanting to betray Rita like that. But on the other hand, the reminder was like a cold bucket of water being suddenly poured all over her body. For a few moments she could just forget about it, but now she was painfully brought back down to reality and she didn't know how to react. Except for the annoyed, quiet muttering that she couldn't help letting slip out from under her nose, "Don't worry, I wasn't planning on jumping you or anything," and then took a long, hard drag of the cigarette.

Thankfully he kept talking, though, and so she focused on that instead of the stupid way her heart panged and how for the first time she wondered if maybe Diego not sticking around and not being there for her through all of this would be better. She would miss him, Jesus fuck she would miss him, but at least she wouldn't be reminded constantly of what she fucked up and could never have.

She tilted her head, giving Diego a look. "You know that's about internal bleeding and my organs, not my mental state, right?" Her voice was just a touch bit sharp and annoyed. She didn't mean to carry over the annoyance that she felt after his comment, but she couldn't help it, it just came out. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to get her shit together. "And when have I ever not argued with you? Really, Diego, you are not sleeping on the floor, I'm not going to let that happen. I will kick you up onto the damn bed if I have to," she said, the last of her words more teasing than anything else.

"So you won't let me sleep on the floor, I won't let you sleep on the floor, we're back to being adults and sleeping in the same bed, huh?" It was going to be a torture and she felt even more grateful for the possibility of a sleeping pill. She could just take it and push through the time while it hits and then she wouldn't spend the entire night not only reliving everything that happened in the past 24 hours, but also over-analyzing Diego sleeping a few inches from her.

"See? I told you we would need whiskey," she joked but she listened to Diego quietly while smoking, purposefully ignoring him calling her honey again. She was wondering how long she could take it. She already just wanted to snap at him and tell him to stop calling her that because it was messing with her head. "I don't wanna be special like this. But I guess nobody would. It's funny, though. I used to want to be special. And I don't mean that I wanted to be a princess when I was four, even though I did, but I-- I wanted to be that one in a million. I wanted to prove to everyone around me that I could be that one person who just rises and rises and rises to the top and becomes outstanding." She let out a bitter chuckle. "I guess I became outstanding in a very different meaning of the word. And now all I wanna be is normal, and that's the one thing that isn't in the cards."

She shook her head. "Fuck, my head is full of... all of this bullshit. I can't-- I just can't. Tell me something fun. Something good that made you happy or made you laugh or something. Anything that isn't related to... all of this. Please."

_______________________

"A little of both, I suppose,"  Diego replied with a half-shrug.  He'd never really had friends, ergo he never really talked about his family.  Even when it came to falling in love - with Helena - she'd known him growing up, and when they met as adults, they were in a situation far too dire to reminisce about their pasts.  "You're the first person who's asked so many dang questions."  He said it gruffly, but not meanly.  He gave a low laugh when she tried to lighten the mood, talk about profit for the motel via minibars.

"Maybe the rooms usually do have minibars.  But this motel's used a lot for federal business, so I'll bet you they remove the minibar whenever they know a fed's taking up the room.  Too many of us are alcoholics and your tax money shouldn't go to pay for our drinking problems."  He was teasing lightly of course, just going off of Gen's own riffing.

Because what she said next (completely due to his own faux pas) made everything feel tense again.  "That's not what I --oh forget it.  We should just - right.  Yea.  Let's just be adults and sleep in one bed.  Jesus, it's no big deal."  Cigarette break over, Diego headed back inside, to brush his teeth one more time.

He started to brush, then came out of the bathroom to talk to her more.  Granted he was talking around his toothbrush, but he didn't seem to notice.  "You always argue with me, but I keep hoping in vain that this ONE time you'll actually listen to me.  That's what crazy people do right?  Repeat the same thing and hope for different results?  You drive me crazy."  In more ways than one, but regardless, Diego pointed at the side of the bed that was closer to the exit door.  "That's my side." he told her, before going back into the bathroom to spit and rinse.

She was right - no one who didn't ask for that life, should be considered the type of special that Gen currently was.  But Diego returned, wiping his face with a face towel as he listened to Gen talking.  Revealing something about herself that to Diego sounded so profound and deep.  He was struck by how vulnerable it seemed.  And she was sharing this with him, out of the blue.

"It's not bullshit,"  Diego was quick to respond.  "It's not bullshit at all.  It's...it's fine.  I can't say I understand, but at the same time...I dunno.  It's fine, Gen, you're..."  He wanted to reach out to her and hold her then, but something made him resist.  Everything just felt too prickly then; and an embrace might be taken the wrong way.  So instead he maneuvered past her, to get to his side of the bed.

"Me?  You want me to tell you something fun?  You do know who you're talking to right?"  Diego joked, sitting on the edge of the bed, but turning to look at her.  "Mr NoFun Guy here.  But listen - just, go brush your teeth and...whatever else girls do in the bathroom before bed.  I'll find us some nice movie or fun tv-show to watch before we pass out, hm?  That's as much fun as I can do.  Oh - and I got a bottle of painkillers, they're on the sink.  Feel free to help yourself.  Might help you get to sleep."

_______________________

Gen quickly finished up the last of the cigarette and then headed back inside after Diego, settling down onto the bed while she waited for Diego to finish and suddenly feeling a whole new kind of awkward and unsure of what to do with herself. She agreed with what she said, they were adults and the bed was big, they could spend the entire night never touching, but it still felt... well, it felt like too much. Maybe because of her newfound realization (it felt kind of insane that she barely realized her feelings for Diego less than 24 hours ago, the last 24 hours felt like a week, maybe even a whole month instead of just a single day), maybe because so many things happened she just felt emotionally drained and this was just the cherry on top, maybe because the last time they were in the same bed, things between them were a whole different situation, but it just felt a lot and she didn't know how to really handle it.

Thankfully Diego was here, though, acting like it was the most normal thing on the world and making it seem like they did this every single night. (Which was a whole kind of weird in her mind, but at least it was something she could roll with.)

When Diego came out of the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth while he was talking around it, she couldn't help a half snort, half chuckle that escaped her. It was cute. And amusing. And more domestic than she'd like to think, so she pushed that part to the side. "Isn't there like a rule that you can't be crazy if you are aware that you're crazy?" she mused aloud, teasing. "Or that might be just Catch 22. Not sure."

She nodded to the declaration of the side and when he came out and babbled a bit, trying to comfort her. He was trying, she could tell, and she appreciated it, but he wasn't really able to say anything helpful either, not that she expected him, and she gave him a small, appreciative smile before heading into the bathroom herself while he was talking about just how unfun he was and the plan for the rest of the night.

She quickly brushed her teeth and washed her face again and took a painkiller, hoping it would actually go to sleep. By the time she got back to the room, Diego found something on the tv and she climbed into bed next to him, making sure to keep the distance. The moment her head hit the pillow, it was like her body finally caught up to everything that happened and she felt nothing but sheer exhaustion. And even though her brain started running like it always did, maybe the painkillers were working, maybe everything that happened was too much even for her, but she fell asleep relatively quickly compared to how long it usually took her.

[stormquill]

debt-free | chapter ten [Tony Stark/Reader]

You tasted like coffee and faded lip gloss; he tasted like vodka and day-old despair.

In which an unexpected late-night rendezvous at your University library ends up with you in way over your goddamn head.

Credits: Beta'd by @l0kt0n. Follow the blog / AO3 mirror @debt--free.

Somehow, you thought ‘safehouses’ were supposed to be inconspicuous.

Though nowhere near as grandiose as Stark’s home in Malibu, the place you’d taken temporary refuge could still house a family of twelve quite comfortably. The elegant outdoor landscaping and impeccable interior design made the building feel more like a four-star hotel than covert asylum, but you figured it made sense—if Stark had to go into hiding, he’d be doing it in style.

You and Hansen sat across from each other, a small table and two untouched coffees between you. You both looked little worse for wear, but you’d been lucky to escape the day’s events with nothing more than a handful of scrapes and bruises. Stark wasn’t looking much better himself, but unlike the two of you, he was on his feet and moving, pacing around the room with all the patience of an anxious cat; you could practically hear the gears grinding in his head, processing everything Hansen had confessed about Killian and their company on the car ride over.

It was strange to think that, less than a couple of hours ago, you were leaving the hospital with Stark, having successfully convinced him to take a break and let you handle the meeting with Hansen.

Five henchmen and one destroyed cafe later, you knew he must have been regretting that decision.

“So the Mandarin is using your Extremis for his attacks?” Stark asked.

“Yeah,” said Hansen. “Those bombings? That’s exactly what happens when you let it get unstable enough.”

“Incendiary devices leave remnants. A million-acre forest fire can be tracked down to a single lit cigarette—it’s forensics, it’s a science. That means there’s evidence at the theater explosion. Something I can use to connect the attacks back to AIM.”

“You won’t find any evidence. Just like they wouldn’t have found any at any of the other sites.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

“Extremis isn’t just some incendiary device, like a bomb or a flare, it’s.” She folded her arms and shifted in her seat. “It’s a form of genetic manipulation. It needs a living host for the thermodynamic hypercharge to work. If the host can control it, Extremis can give them regenerative abilities, enhance their physical performance—but if the host can’t control it...”

Stark made a comical explosion noise.

She shut her eyes and winced away from him, as if the thought alone made her sick. “Point is, the Mandarin is weaponizing my tech to make super-soldiers and living bombs, tech Killian just handed to him on a silver platter. And I don’t know what I can do.”

Keeping silent, you’d watched the two of them go back and forth since Stark started his pseudo-interrogation. Still fueled by outrage over Hogan’s incident, Stark was looking for information, for inconsistencies, for anything he could use as an excuse to get out there and track down the perpetrators. Hansen, on the other hand, was wondering if seeking help was worth the trouble if all they were going to do was talk in circles.

The entire situation was way above your paygrade—but the gears in your head were turning, too.

“You said Extremis is a form of genetic manipulation,” you spoke up. “How is it administered, exactly? Radiotherapy?”

Hansen turned back to you, blinking the weariness from her eyes to try and refocus on your conversation. “Uh—no, intravenous. It’s an intravenous agent.”

“So it works like a virus? Enters the bloodstream, attacks the brain, creates a biochemical reaction.”

“More or less.”

“Then, hypothetically,” you straightened up, “you could develop a vaccine for it.”

The suggestion gave her pause. “I don’t know, maybe? I haven’t gotten anywhere with Extremis’s development in over a decade, I’m not sure how plausible it is to try reverse-coding a half-finished product.”

“I think I might be able to help.”

Your words had gotten both Stark and Hansen’s attention.

You cleared your throat, mulling the words over in your head to make sure you got them right. “If Extremis evokes a thermodynamic reaction that accelerates cellular function, reversing it means causing mass cellular deceleration, which...just so happens to be the unwanted byproduct of my current experimentation.”

The sudden light of inspiration in your eyes now sparked in hers. “You can’t maintain neurogenesis because of entropic decay.”

“And entropic decay is exactly what you need to reverse Extremis’s unstable effects,” you continued. “Obviously, the numbers will need major tweaking, and we’ll need to run some tests—”

“We’ll need samples,” Hansen agreed, shuffling forward in her chair. “There’s not enough time to recreate Extremis from scratch, not with the Mandarin’s recent threats.”

“Where would we get those?”

“Closest AIM headquarters would be in Houston, but...you don’t understand, Killian’s got eyes everywhere—if we hop on a plane, o—or a bus, he’ll see us coming from miles away.”

“Honey,” Stark interrupted, rather loudly, “can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

You were so wrapped up in your discussion with Hansen, you’d forgotten Stark was even there.

His request took you by surprise, but you followed his lead down the hallway. The way Hansen watched in confusion as the two of you disappeared around a corner did not escape your notice.

You entered the room, and shut the door behind you.

Segments of Mark 42 had been disassembled and spread across the floor for post-battle diagnostics. Toeing around the maze of parts, Stark reached the nearby couch, and lazily straddled the armrest. He stretched an arm out in front of him; one of the suit’s gloves flew across the room and attached itself to his hand like a magnet, red and silver metal spreading across his fingers and up his entire forearm.

“Haven’t seen that trick before,” you said, impressed.

“Neat, right? Had to bring the baby—he’s the only one who’d fit in your trunk.”

A mass of images projected themselves from his forearm panel, drowning the room’s ambient lighting with the bright blue glow of various interfaces. Stark gestured through the windows and touch screens, navigating the arrays of diagrams and news articles filling the room around him, his attention maneuvering quickly from one set of panels to the next.

“What are you thinking, doc?” he asked, without looking at you.

“About what?”

“About Maya.”

“I want to help her, if I can.” You made your way over and sat by his side, folding up your legs off the floor. “I mean, having the worst, most volatile parts of your research stolen by a bunch of power-hungry men and used in terrorist attacks? That...fucking sucks.”

“So you trust her?”

“You don’t?”

He clicked his tongue. “Just feels like there’s something she’s not telling us.”

Falling silent, you watched as he conducted his wordless research. Hansen hadn’t given you any reason not to trust her—but in Stark’s world, you realized that must have been tragically naive.

“What do you think we should do, then?” you asked. “Send her back to Killian?”

“No, but I don’t know if getting you involved in this is the greatest idea.”

“I’m already involved. I was involved the moment I went to meet her instead of you.”

“That was a mistake,” he snapped. “I should’ve never let do you that, I should’ve never—”

“You didn’t let me do anything,” you shot back. “We’re both adults—we made a decision, together, and like it or not, here we are.”

“I definitely don’t have to like it. And I definitely don’t have to sit quiet while you hand over your life’s work to someone you just met two hours ago.”

The words took you by surprise.

Stark was worried about you, of course he was, but he was also worried about the integrity of your research—and his concern made sense. At the heart of it all, he was a fellow scientist who’d been with you every step of the way—from your University research proposal, to your doctoral thesis, to the months upon months of sleepy, unproductive nights filled with failed experiments and paperwork to nowhere. He was just as invested in your work as you were.

And he didn’t want to see you compromised.

“I’m not like you, Mr. Stark,” you said. “I’m not a genius in any sense of the word. I don’t have a lot of things to offer.”

“That’s not—”

“You know what I mean,” you interrupted. Fishing for compliments wasn’t what you were aiming for, here. “My research...hasn’t gone anywhere. It hasn’t gone anywhere in a while, and I’ve been worrying a lot about whether or not I’m wasting my time. But Doctor Hansen—she’s been working on this one project for over ten years. That’s how much faith she has in it. In herself. Maybe I have something she needs. Maybe she knows something I don’t. You know my work almost as well as I do, Mr. Stark—if you think any part of my research can help her, I need you to let me try.”

Though he continued staring at the projected screens ahead of him, you could already read the answer in his expression.

Leaning up, you gently cradled a hand against his cheek, turning him to face you properly.

“You have to let me try,” you whispered.

“...you know, the last time I took your advice, you got a cafe blown up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That cafe would’ve blown up with or without me there and you know it.”

“Crazy things happen once these suits get involved, sweetheart. It’s going to be dangerous.”

“I’m in a relationship with you, it comes with the territory.”

He smirked, softly.

And then his lips were on yours.

It felt like it had been ages since you’d last done this, but he kissed you, hard, and the contact set your nerves alight, just as it did every time.

He touched his forehead to yours, resigned, the worry weighing heavy in his eyes.

You rested another kiss against the side of his nose. “Stop thinking you have to do everything on your own. You’re not alone, remember?”

Realization dawned across his face like a new day.

Stark righted himself on the couch arm, clearing away the projections with an impatient swipe of his hand before replacing them a number pad and hitting speed-dial.

Before you could register what was happening, a video display appeared in the air as someone picked up the line.

The man on the other end glanced at Stark, then at you, and already looked exhausted.

“Evening, Colonel,” you said, sheepishly.

“Hi, Doctor. Tony. What’s up?”

Stark’s tone was clear and deliberate. “I have it on very good authority that your buddies over at Advanced Idea Mechanics have something to do with the Mandarin attacks.”

“Oh yeah, what authority?”

“An AIM executive told me so. She’s my hostage now, by the way—you sure you still don’t want me in on this?”

“Are you serious right—” With a loud, frustrated groan, Rhodes rubbed a hand over his face. “I told you, I am not in charge of this operation anymore.”

“But you’re second-in-charge, right? That’s almost as good.”

“Look, just because you can piss all over protocol, that doesn’t mean the rest of us can get away with it scott-free. There’s a chain of command—I cannot be discussing this with you on my own.”

“Well, not with that attitude.”

“I’m bringing him in.”

Stark’s face fell. “Wait, what?”

“You haven’t given me a choice, Tony.”

“Wait wait wait—nonononono—”

But the line was already dialing.

A second video screen appeared next to Rhodes. Bright blue eyes and short blonde hair came into view—a handsome face, boyish but strong, and trustworthy in a way you couldn’t quite explain. The man seemed out of breath as he answered the call; you could see a punching bag behind him, and a gleam of sweat on his brow.

You couldn’t have stopped yourself if you trIed. “Holy shit, it’s Captain America!”

Still catching his breath, Rogers gave you an impossibly charming smile. “Evening, ma’am.”

Meanwhile, Stark’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull. “Yeah—she’s easily impressed, don’t read too much into it—can we focus, here?”

“Captain Rogers,” Rhodes started, “Tony here’s captured an AIM executive who says the company’s dealing with the Mandarin.”

“What—you’ve taken an AIM rep hostage? Is this a civilian we’re talking about? Is that her?”

Rogers pointed at you with a boxing-wrapped hand. Your brain shorted out and you waved back, nervously.

Rhodes had a smile in his voice. “No, Captain, that’s Tony’s girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Smirking, Rogers offered you a nod. “My condolences, ma’am.”

“Watch it,” Stark warned.

“So you mean to say you brought two civilians into my investigation without my knowledge?”

“Sure did, mom. Hey—could you let me explain before you jump down my throat, maybe? The two of you might learn something.”

Rhodes looked as exasperated as always, but Rogers kept his patience, his composure clearly tempered by many past experiences with Stark.

“We’re listening.”

“The AIM exec is an old friend of mine who came to me for help, Dr. Maya Hansen. She says it’s their tech behind the bombings. There’s been three of them so far, right?”

“Only three have been made public. There’s actually been—”

“—nine attacks worldwide.” Stark brought up a holographic projection of a globe; certain areas around the world were marked with a bright red glow. “I found out the Mandarin attacks have a distinct heat signature—a very balmy 3000 degrees. Not many natural phenomena match the time frames and radii of impact from the Chinese Theater bombing. Why haven’t the other six been made public?”

“We’re trying not to cause a panic,” said Rhodes. “Especially since we don’t know how he’s doing it. We’re calling them bombings, but none of the fire investigations have turned up remnants of explosive devices.”

“It’s because he’s using people as bombs. Not suicide bombers—people injected with some kind of performance-enhancement virus, something that blows them up if it runs too hot. ”

“...you’re kidding.”

“Dr. Hansen told you this?”

Stark nodded. “Mandarin’s associated with the Ten Rings, same guys who threw me in a cave and wanted me to build things for them. Weapons of mass destruction are their bread and butter. Looks like they finally got their hands on something big.”

Rogers nodded again. “Any leads?”

“AIM has a global network with two headquarters in North America, Houston and Miami. Both good places to start digging.”

“And the third?”

“There’s a tenth heat signature that matches the profile, but predates all recent Mandarin attacks. It was marked as a suicide bombing, in some backwater town in Tennessee. I’m thinking it was ground zero. Might be worth checking out.”

“Understood. Colonel Rhodes will stay at his post with the President and continue trying to isolate the source of the Mandarin’s broadcast. I’ll investigate places of interest and get back to you with what I find.”

“Got it, Captain.”

“If you give me ten minutes, I can. Y’know.” Stark made little typing motions. “Sneak into AIM’s databases, save you guys some time.”

“You’ve done enough,” said Rogers. “Dr. Hansen is a person of interest in this investigation, and you’ve somehow managed to get your girlfriend involved. Your job right now is to keep the civilians safe until this is all over.”

“Yeaaaah, about that. There’s little thing I need to take care of in Houst—”

“Don’t let them out of your sight, Stark. Over and out.”

Both video feeds disconnected at once, throwing the bedroom back into its normal ambient lighting.

“You’re welcome!” Stark shouted at the now-empty room. He threw an arm up, hopeless. “Unbelievable.”

“At least you got help,” you offered, trying to cheer him up. “Now you don’t have to be in three places at once.”

“Nope. Just one. Ever been to Houston?”

“Um...” You weren’t sure where this was headed. “No, why?”

“Captain’s orders, remember? Can’t let either of you out of my sight.” He tilted his head to look at you. “Think that car of yours can make the trip?”

You returned his smile of malicious compliance tenfold.

“Hell yes, he can.”

[therealcalicali]

“Ivar, I Have Something To Tell You” Part 2

IMAGINE: TELLING YOUR HUSBAND IVAR, THAT YOU HAVE BEEN SLEEPING WITH ANOTHER MAN, AND IT’S DEEPER THAN JUST SEX.

This story is dedicated to @tephi101 for inspiring me to think beyond the one-off Imagine. Thanks doll. 

Read Part 1 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 1

Read Part 3 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 3

Read Part 4 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 4

Read Part 5 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 5

Read Part 6 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 6

Read Part 7 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 7

Read Part 8 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 8

Read Part 9 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.” Part 9

Read the Finale Chapter 1 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

Read the Finale Chapter 2 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

Read the Finale Chapter 3 here: “Ivar, I have something to tell you.”

PART 2 WARNINGS: Murder, Smut, Threats, Forced sex, Violence, Domestic Violence, Angst, Fluff and Cheating 

“My heart will never be mended. I am forlorn and unable to escape the grasp of a monster who holds me captive. If I had the power to free myself from all my torments, I would. But alas, I see that no one can aid me but you. Please, do not leave me to a life such as this. I am free but only in title. Oh, how I wish for the days of being a thrall, when I did not know the depth of sorrow I feel now. Holy Father....if you hear me, your humble servant, I beseech thee in the name of Christ Jesus to give me the strength to endure until you see fit to free me from my situation. Amen.” 

Your prayer left your lips in a choked whisper as your bitter tears fell from your eyes onto the furs beneath you.

______________

You cried yourself to sleep that night, waking up every so often due to the pangs of sorrow that filled your broken heart. The unfortunate day, that had now turned to dusk, was to have been the happiest of your life. You were supposed to be upon a ship headed to your lover and a life full of joy. But as fate would have it, all your plans were dashed in an instant. The happiest day of your life, became the worst you had ever experienced - even when compared to the day your family was captured by the Vikings.

Ivar had not only diverted your plans with his immense power and reach, but he had all your things brought back from the docks. You could do nothing except watch your items, dresses and other belongings be put away in their usual places by thralls. As you stood, dumbfounded, you looked to the floor, almost numb to it all. Finally, you did find the courage to speak.

“Why are you doing this?” You had asked a content Ivar as he sat in a chair near where you stood. "Why do you insist on keeping me here when we are both unhappy?"

Your words cut Ivar almost as deeply as when you had announced that you no longer wished to be married to him and loved another. He knew he wasn't the perfect husband and that his temperament often got the best if him. Yet and still, he could not understand why you kept saying things that hurt him to his soul. To hear you say you were unhappy around him only added to his brokenness. Despite this, he was determined to be the strong person his Father and Mother had taught him to be.

“Because, as I stated already....you are my wife.” He replied. “You belong with me.”

Before he had left you in your chambers - the entrance heavily guarded by four burly men - he made one last comment.

"Remember this Y/N. It is not over! It is not over in the least!"

____________

That was the night before. Now, it was morning and you were outside in the courtyard with workers from Uppsala Temple. As you looked into the still darkened sky, perhaps, looking for your God, the snow fell upon your face. 

Returning your gaze to the women who had been interrogating you on the whereabouts of your lover, you sighed. 

“I have said it once and will say it again. I have nothing to say.” You replied as yet another bucket of cold water was thrown at your person. 

As the freezing cold water hit your face and body, you shivered. This torturous process had been going on for at least two hours if you had calculated properly. You were colder than you had ever been in your entire life and your eyes burned from the salt that had been mixed into the well water. As you looked at your fingers, you noticed that they were beginning to wrinkle from the long exposure to both the water and the outdoor temperature. Still, you knew you had to hold fast. If Ivar thought you were going to simply volunteer the location of your lover, he was sadly mistaken. It was unfortunate that he had already been given your lovers name by fearful thralls. 

Herry Forester - a name Ivar had grown to detest. The raven haired, brown eyed angel whom you loved dearly would not fall into your husband’s grasp if you could help it. Though Ivar now knew his name, he had no idea where to even begin looking for the man. And of course, you refused to reveal his whereabouts, torture or not. 

As you sat, lost in thought, you were doused with another bucket of cold water. The female assistants of the Gyðja that had been summoned, kept fetching water from the well, hoping you would eventually give in. Your drenched skirts and dress clung to you tightly - dripping the excess water onto the ground underneath the chair you sat upon. At first, you thought the Gyðja and her assistants had been sent to harm you, however, once the line of questioning began, you realized what was occurring. Ivar meant to wound you in the only way he knew would hurt the most. It was not enough for him to merely snatch joy from your grasp. He wanted to destroy it permanently. 

Even though you had been married only a year and a half, you knew his temperament too well. If he ever laid eyes upon your Herry, he would no doubt kill him. Now, as you sat in the cold Kattegat air, you tried to maintain your composure after spotting Ivar watching you from his top floor window. You noticed that he had donned his black hooded cloak that you detested. In your eyes, it made him look more sinister than he already was.

He supposedly wore it when he was ‘thinking’ and required solace. Perhaps that is what he was doing as he glared at you from his position. Despite Ivar watching your torment, you raised your neck high, as a gust of freezing wind washed over you, causing you to shiver. Still, you made sure your husband noticed your resolve and determination. You would face anything he could dish out with dignity. Taking notice of your body language, Ivar scowled.

As your focus went back to the ground again, another bucket of cold water was thrown. You were beyond freezing at this point and shivered violently as your teeth began to chatter.

“Woman, your husband does not wish this to continue longer than need be.” A stern and imposing Gyðja Inga said as she stepped forward - her hands solemnly clasped in front of her. “Give us the location of the thrall that defiled your marital bed and we shall desist immediately.” 

You almost laughed at her demand.

“As I have said from the onset, I have nothing to say to you or my ‘husband’ for that matter.” You replied as your body began convulsing from the chill. 

Looking up to the window where Ivar was viewing you all, Gyðja Inga nodded and then looked back to you. She stepped closer and observed your trembling form. You had never been so cold in your life and supposed you would eventually die from the bitterness of the cold. Your face had gone numb long ago along with your fingers. Still, you had to hold your ground.

“It is very improper for a married woman to not only conduct herself as you did, but also hold her tongue when only information is required of her.”  Gyðja Inga said as she looked you over with severe disdain. “Do you realize that most men would have just killed you and remarried?.” 

“If you like....drown me in the well or the river for that matter.” You retorted with determination. “I will never reveal his whereabouts to you or anyone else. Do you hear me? Never!”

Another bucket of cold water was thrown on you before you even finished the last part of your statement. Truly, it was to be a long morning at the rate things were going. Still, you welcomed whatever came. As Ivar watched the exchange, he became enraged. He was not only angered by the fact you still refused to give the man’s location, but also at the fact that you were willing to be tormented for his sake. 

‘All this to protect this so-called Herry?’ Ivar thought to himself.

Why you loved the man so much, he could not comprehend. It made the jealousy that coursed through him, become as bitter as bile. The more you protected this lover the more determined Ivar became to lay hands upon him. He wanted to ‘meet’ the man that you were so enamored with that you not only betrayed him, but attempted to leave Kattegat for. 

“What is the meaning of this?” The stunned and confused voice of Hvitserk rang out as he crossed the courtyard.

Ivar’s brother had arrived at the estate since he was to be one of your winter guests. Being closer to Ivar than his other brothers, he had chosen to spend this time of celebration at your estate. Upon seeing your shivering form and how drained you appeared, Hvitserk did not wait for Gyðja Inga to respond. He immediately removed his furs as he rushed to your side. Placing the furs around you, he yelled to some of his thralls.

“Open the doors!” He shouted as he lifted you into his arms.

The scowl that Hvitserk gave the Gyðja and her assistants was one that communicated ‘try to stop me’.

“Her husba--.”

“Move from my path or I shall kill you on the spot!” Hvitserk hissed as he cradled you in his arms. 

With a condescending smirk, Gyðja Inga stepped aside so that he could pass. Ivar, for his part, said nothing, though he could have. He could have very well demanded that his brother stay out of his affairs, but he allowed you to be carried indoors. Truth be told, half of him was glad that Hvitserk had arrived earlier than expected. It allowed him to not appear weak since he had not ended the interrogation himself.

___________

“Remove all her things and get her under lots of furs.” Hvitserk ordered the thralls as he set you upon the bed in your chamber. He did not know where Ivar was, but at that moment, he did not care. His only concern was you and getting your body warmed up so you did not die from illness. 

“Y/N, look at me.” He said as he knelt in front of you and rubbed your very cold hands.

He nearly pulled his hands back from just how frosty you were but he held on despite how uncomfortable it was to do so.

“They are going to take care of you now.” Hvisterk reassured you with eyes full of remorse as if it was his fault that this all had occurred. “I will go call for a healer but I promise to return as quickly as possible.”

You looked at your brother-in-law and nodded slowly, still trembling from the cold and pain. The pain was due to your body feeling heat again after the extreme cold. Your face, feet and hands felt as if they were receiving millions of tiny cuts as the nerves tried to come alive again.

“Th...th....” You could barely stop chattering long enough to express your gratitude.

“Shush now.” Hvitserk said as he continued rubbing your hands in his. “I just want you to rest. I shall return shortly.”

______

Ivar!” Hvitserk yelled as he went down the corridor towards the Great Hall of his little brother’s estate. “I know you are here!”

As expected, he found his brooding brother sitting upon his chair at the front of the Hall.

“Why must you shout so much?” Ivar coolly asked as he enjoyed his first meal of the day. “It is still early in the morning.”

“Ivar! Are you mad?” A bold Hvitserk demanded as he walked up to his brother and placed a foot on the first step. “Why would you do something like that to Y/N? Even for you, it is cruel.”

Ivar rolled his eyes as he sipped his ale. He was in no mood explain what you had done nor his reaction to it. He wondered if Hvitserk had any inclination of just how absurd his line of questioning was. After all, he had yet to marry. He could not possibly understand the fights that occurred between wives and husbands.

“Y/N has been out of hand as of late.” Ivar bellowed as he replied to his elder brother. “Ever since we returned from raiding, she has changed in numerous ways. I do not expect you to understand but as her husband I will not allow her to treat me with disrespect.”

“So what?” An angry Hvitserk replied. “If she has changed, does that give you warrant to torture and attempt to kill her?”

“I did not try to kill her!” Ivar shouted as he pounded the armrest of his chair with his fist. “If I wanted Y/N dead, she would be!” He added.

Hvitserk shook his head in disbelief at his little brother’s response. He was already disgusted that Ivar had instructed for you to be subjected to such torment. But now, Hvitserk was angered that he was also quite unapologetic about it. Regardless of what Ivar claimed you had done, he felt it was quite unnecessary to treat you so harshly. Without another word, he departed to call for the healer, leaving Ivar to his meal.

__________

As expected, you fell ill. Very, violently ill in fact. The cold had gotten into your system and caused you to become bedridden. Hearing about you illness from Hvitserk, your mother sent your sister Elizabeth back with him to reside with you. Upon her arrival, she requested to be allowed to sleep in your chamber, to which, Ivar surprisingly agreed. 

“Elizabeth, do not fear speaking the truth. Do you suppose you can be of more benefit than these useless healers?” Your husband had asked of your little sister before giving his permission.

“She is my blood so I will do all I can. But, I do not know the will of God Ivar.” She had replied with honesty.

“Fine. Please do the best you can do.”

__________

Using your families knowledge of herbs, Elizabeth nursed you in-between the visits from the healers. There was nothing she required that Ivar did not give her coin or transportation for. Hvitserk spent a great deal of his time by your bedside when he wasn’t in town. He would hold your hand as he regaled you about his day. Even when you were asleep, he would still do so. He supposed that hearing a friendly voice, would comfort you somehow.

Despite all your sister and the healers did, your symptoms were quite severe. You could not keep anything down with the exception of weak broths. Even when Elizabeth had tried to feed you a small portion of honeyed bread, you vomited violently. You kept vomiting until you began expelling pure bile. Your stomach convulsed despite it’s emptiness, causing you great agony.

“I wish to die Lizzy.” You whispered as a thrall wiped your forehead with a cold cloth.

Your cold chills had been replaced by a high fever. Cold or hot, you were miserable either way. The nausea, coughing, body aches, lack of appetite, and other symptoms were enough to make you constantly wish for death.

“I will not listen to such things Y/N.” Your sister chastised, whenever you would speak of death. 

Even when you slept, you would sweat until your gown and furs were drenched. The thralls were constantly changing your clothing and bedding around the clock. The fever eventually caused you to become delirious as you began talking in your sleep each night.

_______

“Where is he.....” You murmured as you tossed and turned. Your sweat beaded forehead dampening your hair. “Get him for me......please.”

As you continued rambling, Elizabeth went for a new dry cloth. The young thrall, who was laid in the bed beside you, tried her best to comfort you by caressing your forehead. Ivar, who was by the open chamber door, overheard your rambling. 

He had been avoiding seeing you. With the exception of speaking beside your bed to the visiting healers, he was never around. He would always leave after hearing of your progress despite your sister asking him to stay. Ivar would excuse himself stating he did not wish to get in the way of your care. But it was a lie. It was guilt that prevented him from staying beside you the way Hvitserk did. If he had not requested such an interrogation method, you would not have fallen ill in the first place. As he entered the room, Ivar glanced at Elizabeth who smiled and beckoned him with her hand. 

Your sister was sweet but she was much too naive. Despite witnessing his numerous outbursts, she still viewed him in a positive light.

“Wh............where....is he?” You murmured with your eyes closed. 

Your words peaked Ivar’s interest. 

Could it be that you were actually asking for him? He made his way to your bedside and sat on the chair Hvitserk typically occupied when he visited you. Placing his crutch against the bed, Ivar hesitated before taking your clammy hand in his gloved one. He was nervous and unsure if he should even be touching you but your sister encouraged him by patting his shoulder before taking her seat. As she returned to her sewing, Ivar rubbed your fingers with his thumb. He smirked to himself slightly when he realized just how small your hands were compared to his. It was an odd observation but one he had never really taken notice of.

“Her.....Herry.......” You mumbled as your head tossed to the right.

Ivar looked down at your hand that was in his. Slowly, he pulled away and allowed your hand to fall back onto the bed. With jaw clenched, he grabbed his crutch and stood.

“Brother, are you leaving already?” Your sister asked as he passed by her. “Please pay no mind to her words. She is suffering from fever.”

“Has...she asked for me?”

Your sister sighed. She wanted to lie and say you had but knew that misleading him would not have been very Christ-like.

“Not as of yet...but--.”

“She does not need me here...so..I will go.” Ivar quickly replied before exiting the bed-chamber.

__________

It took nearly a month but you recovered, thank the Gods or God. Whichever was credited with your recovery by your family and friends. During the entire time, Hvitserk was beyond attentive. Even when you showed your first signs of returning to normal, he was the one that would carry you to the Great Hall for your meals. He would sit across from you and force you to tell him stories from your homeland while you ate. Ivar avoided both of you as much as possible. He attended feasts and returned drunk, only to be escorted to the chamber he had made his own since your attempt to flee Kattegat.

Since today, was your first outing to the marketplace with your servants, Ivar was a bit nervous about seeing you. Hvitserk had asked him to come along but he refused stating he had to finish speaking to his men. It was a speech Ivar could have given any time but it was a good reason to avoid you.

As you made your way across the courtyard, Ivar was impressed by just how beautiful you looked. In fact, no one would have been able to tell you had been ill for such a long time. Your sister had truly fed you well when you were on the mend and you appeared a renewed woman. With a smile upon your face and furs over your shoulders, you walked side-by-side with Elizabeth, as your thralls followed. Hvitserk was already waiting not too far off with the wagon driver who was to escort you all. 

As you laughed at a joke your sister had said, you spotted your husband sat near some of his men. He shifted nervously when your eyes met but still looked at you with hopefulness in his eyes. Even managing to give you a small smile. But, as you passed in front of him, you looked away as to not acknowledge his presence. Ivar could only watch you walk away as he swallowed hard. 

He realized that even the simple courtesies you had once shown him, were now a thing of the past. Swallowing his sorrow as he had done many times as a child, he reflected on his mother Aslaug. Ivar wondered what she, or Ragnar for that matter, would say to comfort him in such a time as this.

______________

The anguished screams of the boatman echoed loudly throughout the secluded tower he was being held in. The man, who had transported your lover to his new homeland had been caught, beaten and dragged to his holding cell by Ivar’s men at the behest of Harald Finehair and Halfdan the Black. After being asked to assist in finding Herry’s location, the visiting brothers went to work quite quickly. As the tortured boatman hung from the stone walls of the of the tower, he begged for his life as Ivar, Halfdan and Harald watched the guards prepare to torture him again.

As Ivar glared at his prisoner, one of his loyal guards used a newly sharpened axe to slice into the boatman’s heavily bruised chest. The screams that emanated from the tortured man were horrid. Undeterred, the guard continued to slice away at his chest and shoulders until the man could take the agony no longer.

“I will tell you everything. Mercy I ask. Mercy!”

Ivar’s eyes perked as he motioned for his guards to step aside. Halfdan and Harald watched with keen interest as he approached the boatman on his crutch.

“Where did my wife pay you to take him?”

“Wessex! She...she paid for him to be taken to Wessex. She said......”

“Go on.” Ivar implored the man, his eyes wide with interest.

“She said despite it being very expensive, she wanted him to be safe. When I had described the kingdom to her, she figured it to be the best option.”

Ivar’s nostrils flared at the words but he composed himself.

“What else?”

“That is all I know. I merely transported him. I did not overhear or find out where he was to settle once we arrived. You have to believe me.”

Ivar cocked his head the side and looked at his friends before looking back at the frightened boatman.

“Do you know who I am?”

The man shook with fear as he nodded slowly. 

“You are a Ragnarsson. Ivar the Boneless.” He managed to say despite being frightened beyond measure.

“That is correct.” Ivar said as he moved closer to the man, his rage now heightened. “Then I suppose you must also know that I do not appreciate you assisting my wife in deceiving me.”

“I...I am sorry Prince Ivar.”

“I highly doubt that. But you will be!” Ivar seethed as he pulled his axe from his waist. 

In rapid succession, he struck the boatman in the head until the bones of his skull gave way. Blood, brain and fragments of bone flew onto Ivar who was now in a blind rage. As his men and friends looked on, your husband continued to hack the boatman only stopping when the man’s body ceased moving. Looking at his handiwork, Ivar seemed pleased that he had utterly obliterated the man’s entire cranium. It was difficult to discern that there had been an actual human head upon the neck once he had finished. Quite bloody from his assault, Ivar sat down and looked at Halfdan and Harald.

“Well, we only know the country he is in. What shall we do now?” He asked of his close friends.

“Despite it being Christian lands, I know some people who can trace him. Give me some time and my people will do their magic.” Harald assured as his brother agreed.

Ivar laughed as he rubbed his head with his axe, quite pleased that he was one step closer to his revenge.

_______________

“Is it not exciting?” Elizabeth asked nearly bouncing in her chair.

Your mother stood from her seat at the dining table and immediately embraced her at the news. Your sister was with child. Hvitserk, Harald, Halfdan, Sigurd and Ubbe all congratulated Jonah who seemed both excited and nervous at the prospect of becoming a father. 

“I am beyond happy for you, Lizzy.” You said as you leaned over and embraced her. You rubbed her small protrusion of a belly that was no more than three months in size, and winked. “Now, I can spoil someone worse than mother spoiled you.”

Ivar, who had been moody the entire night rolled his eyes at your words before congratulating the couple.

“You are a fortunate man Jonah. The Gods seem to have favored you with not only a loving and considerate wife but now, with a child. Elizabeth will make a great mother....better than most women I know.” He said before taking his mead as he stared at you.

Hvitserk eyed Ivar in annoyance. He knew that the last portion was an insult at your expense. Ever since your illness caused by Ivar’s behest, his elder brother had become bolder. 

“And how would you know? Are you now an expert midwife?” Hvitserk asked before taking his mead.

The men all roared into laughter at the question. It was quite a funny quip from someone typically so reserved. Despite the laughter, for some odd reason, Ivar did not reply or make his usual poisonous retort. He shrugged off the comment and continued eating while eyeing you from the corner of his eyes.

“I look forward to you being with child as well Y/N” Your mother stated with a heart full of joy.

The statement had barely left her lips when you burst into fits of laughter. If she had known how absurd the thought of having a child with Ivar was in your mind, she would not have touched the subject. Harald and the other men smirked whilst Ubbe raised an eyebrow at your reaction. Only you and Hvitserk understood why you found the whole idea repugnant, especially after recent events.

“My apologies. I am not laughing at you mother.” You replied as you looked at her. “But I do not want a baby. It may be all good and well for some women, but I have no interest.

“Shut your mouth Y/N or I shall shut it for you!” Ivar sneered through gritted teeth as his hand crashed with a thud onto the table. “I am beyond tired of your new persona and mannerisms. Must I remind you on a regular basis of who I am?” He said as his nostrils flared. His blue eyes became wild with rage as he continued. “I do not wish to hear your voice again for the remainder of the night!”

“So you are my father now?” You asked, quite amused that he felt he could command you as one would a toddler.

“I think I’ve heard enough from you.” Ivar said as his blue eyes focused on Y/C eyes.

Ubbe glanced between you two a moment, whilst the others at the table, kept eating. Your mother was shocked at the manner in which Ivar spoke to you in the presence of guests. Of course she had never liked him, being a Christian and all. However, she had hoped he would have become kinder to you since he had insisted on marrying you in the first place. Why he would demand to have you only to turn around and mistreat you, made no sense to your mother. Hvitserk’s lips tightened as he tried to keep himself from cursing his brother to hell and back. He clenched his horn tightly as he sipped his mead, never taking his eyes off you.

“Alright.” You said as your straightened in your seat. “I will say no more since you prefer to think what you like. I suppose the truth hurts.”

The slap that went across your face was so loud, even the thralls standing around the room stopped their menial tasks to look. Everyone sat up in shock as Ivar’s hand left your cheek. The heavy and powerful hand of your husband sending your head flying to one side briefly. Hvitserk and Sigurd stood immediately whilst your mother begged Ivar’s forgiveness.

When you returned your head to it’s previous position, you felt a warmth flow over your lip. It was then that everyone noticed the blood that was running from your nose to your chin. Indeed, Ivar had slapped you quite viciously. You could even taste the saltiness inside your mouth from the small blood vessels that had broken. Everyone was stunned. Even Ivar seemed surprised by his own reprimand as he watched you slowly wipe the blood with the back of your hand. 

“That is enough, brother.” Sigurd commanded as he stood by Ivar’s chair, looking down upon him.

Surprisingly, despite not typically getting along with Sigurd, Ivar did not argue. He nodded slowly at his command before looking to you again. 

“Please forgive her.” Your mother said as she wrung her hands.

She knew you did not deserve such treatment but you were, after all a foreigner and a Christian. The only thing she could think of to defuse the situation was to appeal to Ivar. After all, as a mother, she simply did not want him to beat you further. Refusing to listen to your mother beseeching the man you considered a monster any further, you stood. The blood continued to run as a thrall handed you a cloth which you placed across your face. Without another word, you left as Ivar stared after you. Hvitserk, of course followed, as everyone else continued the awkward mealtime.

____________

“Y/N!” Hvitserk called out to you in the corridor. “Please wait for me.”

You were so embarrassed and angry that you refused to stop to speak to the Ragnarsson that you cared about the most. As you hastily made your way into another corridor, Hvitserk finally caught up with you. As quickly as he grabbed your arm, he pulled you into a darkened room. Touched by his concern, you removed the cloth from your face to speak to him.

“I am--.”

In a blink of an eye Hvitserk leaned down and crashed his lips to yours. He did not care about the blood nor Ivar for that matter. As he embraced you tightly, he  lifted you in the process, your feet barely touching the floor. Your heart pounded at the passion within his kiss threatened to leave your breathless. You required no prodding to return his embrace as you kissed him back. Sliding his lips from yours, Hvitserk pinned you against the wall licking your neck, peppering it with kisses and playfully biting your shoulder. Your hands caressed his braided hair as you closed your eyes feeling utterly worshiped and cherished in your brother-in-laws arms.

“H...Hvitty.” You whispered against his lips. “We must stop before someone enters.”

Though you wanted to continue, you knew you had to take care since Ivar or one of the other guests could possibly be searching for you.

“Hvitty, listen..” You said as you gave him a tender peck. “We will continue elsewhere.”

“Where?” He asked placing his forehead to yours. “I will not to let you go unless you name the place.”

“When I go to see my mother tomorrow, we can spend time together.”

“Alright.” He smiled with his forehead still against yours. “You do not know how happy I am right now. I thought for certain you would reject me.” Hvitserk added looking at you with eyes glistening with tears.

You were touched by his candidness and obviously deep devotion. All this time, as the two of you had become close, you never suspected that he cared for you in a romantic sense. You placed both hands on his cheeks as you looked into the blue eyes that admired you so.

 “I will always take care of you Y/N. I promise.” 

With that, Hvitserk pulled you into a tender embrace, caressing your shoulder with his lips every so often.

___________

“You are certain that the information is accurate?” A happy Ivar asked Harald as they walked the town after the evening meal.

“As certain as one could get. Trust me, this is accurate. My Christian spies have never failed me.” Harald replied with a smile. “So what do you wish to do now?”

“I want him here of course!” Ivar replied.

“Back in Kattegat to pay for his crimes.” Harald chuckled. “I agree. It would be much too easy to kill him where he is.”

“So will you do it?”

“Do what?”

“ Will you do me the favor of apprehending him for me personally? I would go but you know that I hate the waters and only journey them when need be.” Ivar said as his mind raced with excitement. 

“Of course! Besides, I have been dying for a little adventure before our next raid anyway.” He smirked. “I also want to see what you will do once you have him in your grasp.”

“Really? So you understand me?” Ivar asked with keen eyes.

“Of course. The man must be taught a lesson. I would do the same if I was in your place.” A thoughtful Harald replied.

“You are a true friend. As is your brother.” Ivar replied shooting Harald a very genuine smile. Something he had not done in a long time to anyone. “Do not worry, I will pay well and even add a boon once you have delivered him into my hands.”

“I want to watch him receive his justice as well.” Harald added with his eyes squinting deviously.

“Of course. After all, I do plan on putting on quite a show.” Ivar assured him.

The two continued their walk, very pleased with the turn of events.

_______

The following day, you began getting ready to visit your mother as planned. Your cheek was still sore and sported a massive bruise, but you were determined to leave the house regardless. Ivar was still residing in his ‘new’ bedchamber, but entered your chamber as you were finishing getting dressed. Taking a seat nearby, he watched as you put on your jewelry. Despite being sat for a long time, Ivar was quiet. It didn’t take long for his presence begin irritatating you. It was like dressing for an audience and you were in no mood to be his entertainment.

“What is the matter?” You asked in a cold tone. “Have you now taken to intimidating me while I dress?”

Ivar sighed and looked away a moment before looking back at you.

“Y/N...I want to ask you something.” He said almost as if he was unsure of what to say next. “Why do you care about that man?” He paused and shifted his crutch as his jaw clenched tightly. It was difficult to recall that you loved another. “What does he have that I cannot give you?” 

You didn’t even turn to look at Ivar. After slapping you and having you tortured, you were in no mood for his woe-is-me antics and expressions.

“What does he have, you ask?” You repeated. “For one thing, he is not you! That is a good start for any man in my opinion.”

Your words made your husband seethe as he eyed you - his rage steadily building.

Instantly, a fuming Ivar reached over and grabbed your arm forcefully, turning you to face him.

“My patience has worn with you Y/N! I will return to our chambers tonight whether it pleases you or not! You will be my wife happily or begrudgingly. Either is fine by me!” He fumed, wide eyed as if he had lost his senses. With his face right in front of yours, his breath labored as he tried to contain his rage. “And you will lay with me, make no mistake about that! I will take no more of your rejection!”

With that, Ivar let go of your arm and grabbed his crutch. He left you alone in the chamber utterly frightened by his intentions. 

_________________

At your mother’s home, you helped arrange her vast array of herbs and homemade potions in the small shop she now used to consult people. Due to the time you healed Hvitserk, as well as other times your families expertise of herbal treatments had been put to use, she was in high demand. So much so, that she no longer helped your sister and brother-in-law on the farm. Your mother now resided in her own place, purchased by Ivar of course, and now treated patients as well as taught others with her vast knowledge.

When your mother had stepped back into the house to check on the thralls preparing the midday meal, you began searching for the herbs you came for. Due to the winter, you could no longer harvest them near your residence any longer but you knew your mother had an ample stockpile.

Wild carrot seed, smart weed leaves, stone seed root, jack in the pulpit root and thistles. You were so pleased as you took ample amounts of each and packed them into your bag.

“Hello beautiful. Are you waiting for someone?” A cheerful Hvitserk said as he entered.

He had waited patiently for the time you had instructed him to arrive. Diverting from his plans to go watch a show with Sigurd and Ubbe, he stood in front of you and leaned down for a kiss.

“My mother could return any moment.” You said as you dodged his lips playfully. “You have to wait.”

Hvitserk gave you a look as if he did not fully wish to comply, however, he accepted your instruction. 

__________________

After you all enjoyed the midday meal, your mother retired to her bedchamber for some rest. She had been caring for people non-stop due to the winter illnesses and needed sleep badly. Hvitserk eyed you with lust as he sat patiently for you to give him a sign that the coast was clear.

After waiting only five minutes after she had left you two alone, Hvitserk took you by the hand and led you to an empty bedchamber. He brought his lips to yours almost immediately as you wrapped your arms around his neck. There was something so enthralling about the quiet Ragnarsson that made your heart race when he was close. His passion was both tender and overwhelming. The way he touched you as if you were the only woman he had ever laid eyes upon, was intensely arousing. Hvitserk brushed his fingers across your lips before taking them again in another kiss. He bit your bottom lip playfully, licked your tongue, caressed you waist and so much more, sending you into a euphoric state of passion.

“I want you to be with me Y/N.” He said after he had broken the kiss.

You still had your arms wrapped around his neck as you looked at him. The thoughts of Herry came flooding into your mind. You loved him so much but knew, you would never see him again. The only consolation was that he at least could live a happy life, even if it wasn’t with you. 

“May I tell you the entire story of what occurred prior to my interrogation?” You asked Hvitserk. 

If you could possibly find some joy, it would be with him. So if your passions were to lead to anything, even it was merely becoming lovers, you wanted to be honest with Hvitserk. That is how much you cared for him.

“Of course.” He replied as he led you by your hand to a bench. 

As the two of you sat down, he continued to hold your hand in his. Even as you spoke, he caressed you, never wavering in his attentiveness. As promised, you indeed divulged everything. From falling in love with Herry prior to Ivar asking for your hand, to the affair and sending him away from Kattegat. Nothing was withheld. You wanted to make certain that if Hvitserk heard anything, it was from your very mouth. God only knew what Ivar would say to make himself look the victim. After mulling over everything you had revealed, the older Ragnarsson smiled at you.

“Forgive me when I say that I am glad you were unable to join him.” He began. “I think the Gods know how much I have longed for you. Though he was your first love, I believe I can make you even happier, if given the opportunity.” Hvitserk added as he searched Y/C eyes. 

You almost cried at his willingness to overlook your shortcomings and sin. As a Christian, you hated how being married to Ivar had caused you to fail in your walk. At least, God was not so cruel as to leave you love-less despite your backsliding. You had Hvitserk and he had you. And that, was better than anything your could have ever hoped for.

__________________

Your chamber door opened with a thud as you sat upon the bed removing your earrings. You had just consumed your herbal tincture and were removing your bracelets. The time with Hvitserk had been lovely and you now wanted to rest and reflect on it. The two of you had spent most of the day talking about your hopes and dreams, even briefly taking a stroll in the forest near your mother’s home. It had been a good day indeed.

Now, here you were, besieged by female thralls who entered unannounced with Ivar not far behind them on his crutch. After asking you to move, three of the women went to work setting new furs upon the bed as you watched. Without a word, the other two thralls began unlacing your gown. 

“What is the meaning of this?” You asked one of the them as she diverted her eyes. “I know how to disrobe myself!”

The oldest thrall glanced at Ivar and then went back to unlacing the intricate waist of your bodice. He was sat in his favorite place, the planning desk near your bed. A thrall removed his shirt for him before pouring out some mead into his horn. As you glared at him, Ivar looked back at you with determination. He peered into your eyes to signal that he meant what he had said to you earlier in the day. 

No matter what, he was determined to lay with you. The months away raiding and the constant refusal since his return had run its course. Tonight, you would return to conducting your wifely duties. As the top layers of your clothing fell to the ground, the thralls asked you to step out of them so they could take them away. You placed your hand over your breasts that were visible through your sheer white voile slip as Ivar eyes traveled over you. He nodded to the older thrall beside him who immediately walked over.

“Come mistress. We have prepared you a warm bath.”

___________

Begrudgingly, you followed the thralls out towards the wash-room. As they spoke to you, you nodded. However, you did not hear a word they said. Your mind was too busy trying to come up with an excuse to divert your husband’s sexual advances. When you finally arrived in the wash-room, you were confused as to why there were two bathing tubs. 

The one filled with warm water was the tub you were made to sit in first. The other, beside it, was still being filled with warm milk and water by two thralls. You then realized you were to be given two baths, the second being the more luxurious one. Despite you insisting that you could bathe yourself, the old thrall instructed the others to bathe you. 

“The master gave precise instructions.” She reassured you as the women continued washing your body. “Please try to relax.”

After you were rinsed down with clear water after the first bath, you were led to the other. It was actually quite nice to sit in the warm milk mixture since it had also been made aromatic by the addition of rose oils. As you closed your eyes, enjoying the lavish bath, you almost forget that Ivar was awaiting you. The thralls however, did not. After allowing you to enjoy yourself a few minutes, the old thrall instructed the women to get you out. You were dried off and dressed in a long blue silken slip that tied on each side, The thin shoulder straps also had to be tied, leaving you with a seductive form as the fabric barely clung to your curves. As for your hair, it was styled in a quick braided up-do by two thralls whilst another applied cosmetics your face. They ensured that they added plenty of kohl to your eyes as per Ivar’s request.

_______________

When you were finally led back to your chamber, Ivar was already in the bed with a fur covering his lower body. He looked at you with an eager smile upon his face as he held out his hand. When you did not move, the old thrall took your hand and placed it in his. 

“You look so beautiful Y/N.” He said before kissing the back of your hand.

The eldest thrall, motioned for the others to depart from the bedchamber, however, she remained. The gray-haired woman took a seat in a chair beside the bed as Ivar pulled you to sit beside him. He immediately yanked one of the shoulder straps bows and then the other, exposing your breasts as you looked straight at the wall. You simply refused to make eye contact with him.  As you felt his rough hands groping your breasts from behind, you closed your eyes. His breath tickled your neck as you felt his heart rate increase.

“Lay down and open your legs.” He whispered in your ear before planting a kiss on your neck. 

“Not so fast Master. You must first prepare your wife if you hope for her to enjoy her time with you.” The old woman commented matter-of-factly.

Did this old woman mean to be there for the duration of your sexual encounter, you wondered. Apparently so since Ivar looked to her and shyly asked what he was to do. The old woman walked over to the bed and removed your slip from you entirely. As you sat naked upon the bed, she pushed your legs open before taking Ivar’s hand and placing it on your mound.

“You must arouse her, like this, young Master.” She said as she took his wrist and began moving it in circular motions against the external lips of your vagina. When she was satisfied that he understood her instruction, she released his wrist and went back to her seat.

As Ivar continued to rub his rough hand against the outside of your vagina, you shuddered as the friction began to arouse you. Your body was betraying you. Immediately, you attempted to move his hand but he was far to strong. Despite holding his wrist with both your hands, Ivar continued to rub your private area before he finally slid two of his fingers into your opening. You closed your eyes as you leaned into his chest, almost resting yourself against him. Grabbing your neck with his other hand, Ivar kissed your neck passionately. 

“No!” You suddenly shouted as you tried to pull out of his arms. 

No matter how good he was making you feel, you still held allot of resentment against him. You could not see yourself allowing him to think you wanted him, that night or any night for that matter. The old woman, surprised at your outburst, tried to calm you.

“Do not be afraid mistress. He is your husband, he loves you.”

“No.” You said again as Ivar still had your neck in his grasp and his face next to your ear. “I do not wish to lay with you.”

Ivar’s eyes darkened. He ordered the old thrall to leave the chamber as he tossed you onto your back. Before you could move, he was on top of you, his weight baring down on you as he opened your legs forcefully.

“I will no longer take your rejection!” Ivar hissed into your ear as he grasped his aroused member and rubbed it against your wet entrance.  

With that, he pushed into you in one swift motion, making your voice catch in your throat. He groaned as he finally felt your warmth clasp tightly around his hard cock. It was a feeling he had missed a great deal. With his arousal as high as it could possibly be, Ivar ended his torment as he began slamming into you with deep rhythmic thrusts. You could only scream and writhe underneath him as he used his cock to punish you. Your husband’s unrestrained pounding was so intense that the sound of your vagina meeting his member echoed throughout the the bed-chamber. You cried out as you felt crushed underneath the weight of his unrestrained passion.

“I....am....going....to.....give....you....a....baby.” Ivar grunted as he plunged into you with each word.

You could only scratch his arms and back as you attempted to free yourself. All of it in vain of course as he kept his pace, moving in and out of your walls that now twitched around his member. As you moaned against your will, Ivar became even more excited and brought his his lips to yours. When you attempted to move away from his kiss, he slapped you and then grasped neck tightly. He again went to claim your lips in his, kissing you with fiery passion, hand tightly squeezing your throat. When his lips left yours, he finally relaxed his grasp allowing you to finally catch your breath as tears ran down the side of your face.

Ivar looked down at where his pelvis met yours and slowed his thrusting as he hovered over you. He grunted as he watched his cock sinking into you over and over. It’s length disappearing into your warm and wet cunt each time.

“Please....stop.” You asked as your moaning became harder to control.

“Fuck!” Ivar suddenly groaned as he returned to slamming into you at frantic pace. 

You could feel yourself nearing an orgasm and were fighting to keep it at bay. However, it was a losing battle as you screamed out when you felt the heat grow in your belly and move to your walls as Ivar relentlessly slammed into you. The sound of flesh hitting flesh once again reverberated in the chamber as your husband felt himself ready to release into you.

“Y/N.” 

Your name was the last thing you heard from Ivar’s lips before his cock began throbbing within you. As he finally released his seed, he continued thrusting as he buried his face into the side of your neck. Holding onto your hips, he kept pounding himself into you as his semen and your wetness provided plenty of lubrication. His movements finally caused you to unravel as your walls convulsed around his unyielding, thrusting cock. As you sobbed in ecstasy, you began bucking your hips up to meet his. Ivar moaned as he met you each time. You felt him dig his fingernails into your hips as he was abruptly overcome by a second orgasm. As he held you close, he slowed. Ivar rocked himself into you gently as yet more of his seed flooded into you. You grasped the furs underneath you as your husband pressed his sweat drenched body against your equally wet frame. As Ivar continued to release himself into you, you trembled underneath him as the last remnant of your orgasm ended. 

______________

The following day, you woke up bright and early to take your bath. You avoided Ivar most of the afternoon due to being angry about him forcing himself upon you. Your body might have betrayed you by responding to his touch but you now had your wits again. If Ivar thought a night of passionate sex was enough to make amends for the way he had treated you for over a year and a half, he was sadly mistaken. At least, you outsmarted him where it mattered. That made you quite happy indeed. His absurd desire to impregnate you would never come to fruition. The herbs that you had taken from your mother’s shop would see to that. On their own, each of the herbs were a powerful contraceptive, but combined into a tincture, they were foolproof.

You smiled to yourself as you sat in the sewing room wondering when Hvitserk would return from seeing Bjorn in the neighboring township. Hopefully, he would not stay late into the evening and be forced to spend the night again. You missed his company and wanted someone around that you actually enjoyed conversing with. As you were busily sewing, you heard the telltale sound of your husband’s feet and crutch upon the wooden floor. He smiled to himself when he spotted you calmly doing your work. Taking a seat, Ivar watched you for roughly five minutes, seemingly content to be in your presence without speaking.

“What is it?” You snapped. “You could not have possibly come here to learn how to sew.” 

Ivar chuckled at your query.

“Of course not.”

“Get your furs. We are going to the docks to see Harald off.” He added.

You nodded as you diverted your eyes from his intense gaze. 

"See him off?” You wondered to yourself. 

But Harald and his brother were to be guests for the remainder of the winter. As were Ubbe, Sigurd and Hvitserk. Where could the man suddenly be headed off to in the middle of a visit?

_________________

At the docks, Ivar sat as you stood beside him. The thralls you had come with shivered as a strong gust of wind blew from the ocean. Ivar, despite the cold, seemed to be in good spirits as he waved to his friend - who was already upon his boat with his crew. As Harald spotted the two of you, he smiled. 

You thought it was a peculiar smile but you smiled back none-the-less.

“Do you not wish to know where he is headed?” Ivar asked as he smiled up at you.

“Where?” You asked not wanting to be drawn into a long conversation with him.

“To Wessex!” 

You instantly snapped your neck to look at Ivar at the mention of the Kingdom. Pleased that his words had gotten the reaction he had hoped for, Ivar said nothing. He only peered into your eyes with a smile upon his face before looking away and smirking to himself. Your horrified expression conveyed that you understood exactly what was going to transpire.

Tagged: @alicedopey @tephi101 @dangerousvikings @lostinthoughtsandfeelings-blog @puddin116 @peaches-seed 

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[thesewomenarebadass]

Malala Yousafzai

Malala Yousafzai was born on the 12th of July 1997. She is a Pakistani activist for female education and the youngest ever recipient of a Nobel Prize laureate. She is known for human rights advocacy.

Malala Yousafzai was born in Mingora, in the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province of Pakistan to Ziauddin Yousafzai and Tor Pekai Yousafzai. Her family are Sunni Muslims of Pashtun ethnicity. She has two younger brothers, Khushal and Atal, and was named after Malalai of Maiwand, a famous Pashtun poet and warrior woman from Pakistan.

Yousafzai was educated mostly by her father, who was a school owner, poet and educational activist. It was her father who persuaded her to become a politician instead of a doctor, and she was inspired by Benazir Bhutto and Muhammed Ali Jinnah.

She started speaking about women’s educational rights in September 2008, at an event that had a lot of press coverage. In 2009, she began as a trainee and then a peer educator in the Institute for War and Peace Reporting's Open Minds Pakistan youth programme.

In 2008, Aamer Ahmed Khan of the BBC Urdu website and his colleagues decided to ask a schoolgirl to blog anonymously about her life there. Their correspondent in Peshawar had been in touch with Ziauddin Yousafzai but could not find any students willing to do risk the danger. Finally, Yousafzai suggested his own daughter, 11-year-old Malala. At the time, Taliban militants were taking over the Swat Valley, banning television, music, girls' education, and women from going shopping. On 3 January 2009, Yousafzai's first entry was posted to the BBC Urdu blog. The blog records her thoughts during the First Battle of Swat, as military operations take place, more girls stop coming to school, and her school closes. The Taliban set an edict that no girls could attend school after January 2009 and had already blown up more than a hundred girls' schools. The following day was the first time she read excerpts from her blog that had been published in a local newspaper.

Following the decree, the Taliban demolished several more local schools. Yousafzai wrote: “It seems that it is only when dozens of schools have been destroyed and hundreds others closed down that the army thinks about protecting them. Had they conducted their operations here properly, this situation would not have arisen.”

In February 2009, girls' schools were still closed, so in unity, private schools for boys decided to close until 9 February. On 7 February, she and her brother returned to Mingora, where the streets were empty, and there was an "eerie silence". Their home had been robbed and their television was stolen.

After boys' schools reopened, the Taliban removed restrictions on girls' primary education, but only where there was co-education. Only 70 pupils attended, out of 700 pupils who were registered.

On the 18th February, she spoke out against the Taliban on Capital Talk, the national current affairs show. Three days later, local Taliban leader announced on his radio station that he was removing the ban on girl’s education, and women would be allowed to attend school until they sat their exams, but they had to wear burqas. When the schools reopened, Yousafzai write that the atmosphere in class was almost like it had been before, and 19 out of 27 pupils came to class, but the Taliban were still active in the area. Shelling continued, and relief goods meant for evacuated people were stolen. Only two days later, there was a battle between the military and Taliban.

Her blog ended on 12 March 2009, and she and her father were approached by a New York Times reporter about filming a documentary.

In May, the Pakistani Army moved into the region to regain control during the Second Battle of Swat. Malala’s home was evacuated, and her family was separated. She was sent into the countryside to live with relatives while her father went to Peshawar to protest and lobby for support. Then, after criticising militants at a press conference, her father received a death threat by a Taliban commander. That summer she dedicated herself to becoming a politician.

Eventually the prime minister made an announcement saying that it was safe for them to return home. The Yousafzai family reunited, and they headed home, after briefly making a stop to meet with a group of activists that had been invited to see Barack Obama's representative, Richard Holbrooke. Yousafzai pleaded with Holbrooke to intercede in the situation. When her family finally did return home, they found it had not been damaged, and the school had remained mostly unscathed.

Following the documentary, Malala was interviewed on AVT Khyber, Daily Aaj, and Canada's Toronto Star. She made a second appearance on Capital Talk. Her blogger identity was revealed by December 2009. She also began advocating for female education on TV. From 2009 to 2010 she was the chair of the District Child Assembly of the Khpal Kor Foundation.

In 2011, Archbishop Desmond Tutu nominated Yousafzai for the International Children's Peace Prize of the KidsRights Foundation. She was the first Pakistani girl to be nominated for the award, but she did not win it.

On 19 December 2011, the Prime Minister awarded her the National Peace Award for Youth. At the proceedings, she stated that she hoped to create a national political party to promote education. The prime minister authorised the set up of an IT campus in the Swat Degree College for Women at her request, and a secondary school was renamed after her. In 2012, Yousafzai was beginning to organise the Malala Education Foundation, which would help poor girls go to school.

As she became more famous she began receiving more and more death threats. When the threats didn’t get her to stop her work, the Taliban leaders decided to kill her. A spokesman said they were "forced" to act. On 9 October 2012, a gunman shot Yousafzai when she was on her way home from an exam. She was hit with a bullet, which went through her head, neck, and ended in her shoulder. Kainat Riaz and Shazia Ramzan were also injured in the assault but were stable enough to describe the attack.

Yousafzai was flown to a military hospital, where doctors were required to begin operating after swelling developed in the left part of her brain. After a five-hour operation, doctors managed to remove the bullet, and the following day they carried out a decompressive craniectomy, in which part of the skull is removed to allow room for the brain to swell. Offers to treat Yousafzai came from all over the globe. On the 15th of October, she went to Britain for further treatment at the Queen Elizabeth Hospital.

Yousafzai was out of her coma by October 2012, was responding well to treatment, and was said to have a good chance of fully recovering without any brain damage. She was discharged on the 3rd of January and underwent a five-hour long operation on 2nd of February to reconstruct her skull and give her a cochlear implant.

The attack was covered by media outlets all over the world, and outrage and compassion for Malala came rushing in. Several Pakistani cities held protests against the murder attempt the next day, and the Right to Education petition received over 2 million signatures, Pakistani officials offered 10 million rupees for information leading to the attackers. Asif Ali Zardari described the shooting as an attack on "civilized people".

The Taliban claimed responsibility for the attack, stating that Malala "is the symbol of the infidels and obscenity", and threatened to attack her again if she lived. The Taliban justified the attack, stating that the Quran says that "people propagating against Islam and Islamic forces would be killed", and that "Sharia says that even a child can be killed if he is propagating against Islam".

The day after the shooting police named Atta Ullah Khan as the shooter in the attack. As of 2015 he remained at large. Six men were also arrested for involvement in the attack, but there was not enough evidence to condemn them. As of November 2012, Mullah Fazlullah, who ordered the attack on Malala, was confirmed to be hiding in Eastern Afghanistan.

In 2014, Major General Asim Bajwa told the media that the assailants belong to a militant group called "Shura". Israrur Rehman was the first group member to be recognised and detained. All other members of the group were arrested using intel received during his interrogation. In 2015, the arrested men were sentenced to life in prison with the chance of eligibility for parole, and possible release, after 25 years.

In June 2015, it was exposed that eight of the ten men had been covertly acquitted, and one of them was the organiser of the assault. It is believed that all the others who shot Malala escaped to Afghanistan afterwards and were never caught.

Malala spoke at the UN in July 2013, at the request of Gordon Brown. In September, she spoke at Harvard University, and in October she met with Barack Obama and his family. In December, she addressed the Oxford Union. In July 2014, Yousafzai spoke at the Girl Summit in London, advocating for rights for girls. In October 2014, after receiving the World Children's Prize for the rights of the child in Mariefred, Sweden, she donated $50,000 to help rebuild 65 schools in Gaza.

The 12th of July 2013 has been named "Malala Day".

Yousafzai was the co-recipient of the 2014 Nobel Peace Prize and is the youngest Nobel laureate. The prize was shared with Kailash Satyarthi, a children's rights activist from India.

Yousafzai opened a school in the Bekaa Valley, Lebanon, near the Syrian border, for Syrian refugees. The Malala Fund subsidises the school.

Yousafzai's book I Am Malala, co-written with British journalist Christina Lamb, was published in October 2013.

[texasprelawland-blog]

Issues With Trials By Zoom

By Jonathan Cheng, Rice University Class of 2024

February 19, 2021

A Texas lawyer recently went viral after an embarrassing mishap during a recorded Zoom trial. While representing the state of Texas in a hearing concerning contraband products leaving the US, lawyer Rod Ponton suddenly transformed into a baby-eyed cat. Hilarity ensued, with Ponton attempting to remove the filter and reassure the judge that he was, in fact, not a cat. The presiding judge, Roy Ferguson, of Texas’s 394th judicial district, later shared the video on social media (Guardian). But this incident highlights existing questions and concerns that many have had about the prospect of transitioning this nation’s judicial system into an online format.

There are several pressing issues that immediately surface when considering the idea of a “trial by Zoom”. First and foremost, there is the problem of due process and equality under the law that is a cherished institution in this country. Under the 6th Amendment, “In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed” (Constitution Center). Zoom presents several obstacles to the idea of an impartial jury. There is the fact that many Americans do not have access to technology, which severely limits jury selection and raises the possibility of a trial only by Americans with the income to afford personal devices. In 2019, almost 1 in 5 Americans did not own a smartphone, 1 in 4 Americans did not own a laptop, and 1 in 10 Americans did not use the internet at all (Pew Research Center). With physical trials in a courtroom, there were few legitimate hurdles preventing lower income Americans from attending court and doing their civic duty as a juror. This is not the case in the age of Zoom.

Online trials may also affect the equality of proceedings for the witnesses and the jurors themselves. Witnesses may find it far easier to commit perjury while under examination from the safety of their own home, with a video screen separating them from any hostile interrogator. It is far easier to tell a lie when you are not physically seated on the wooden bench of the stand, staring at an aggressively probing attorney and twelve jurors listening intently to every detail of your story. Jurors may also have a different trial experience from the comfort of their own homes that may impact their ability to remain impartial. Both the defendant and the witnesses could appear impersonal and alien to the jurors, causing them to feel far less sympathy towards them. Jurors could be distracted by interesting Zoom backgrounds, or even by scrolling through their phone or checking their emails on their computer (Institute for Legal Reform), presenting a new problem compared to physical trials where cell phones and other devices are strictly discouraged as potential distractions. Technical issues could also frustrate jurors and disrupt their ability to focus on proceedings. During a criminal jury trial on August 11th, 2020, “Several jurors could not see the defense attorney when he first began his voir dire, so the proceedings had to stop in order for the court to teach the jurors how to switch from Gallery View to Active Speaker. Lots of questions had to be repeated because of bad connections or an audio lag. Poor connectivity caused visual and audio problems multiple times throughout voir dire, which led to people talking over one another. One juror had to move locations during jury selection (for reasons unknown), which was very awkward and caused yet another delay” (Law.com). Forcing jurors to embarrassingly flounder through an unfamiliar process by themselves can lead to them becoming flustered and less likely to sympathize with the defendant or properly engage in proceedings. Everything is obviously different now, from business meetings to everyday life, during the pandemic. But any significant change to procedure, like for instance the wholesale altering of the medium of trials across the US, is immediately a gross injustice under the 6th Amendment to all defendants who are now expected to fight for their lives and livelihoods in a system that is completely different from the one their predecessors faced.

This persisting problem of technical difficulties is multi-faceted. It must be remembered that this level of disruption caused by technical difficulties is rare in an ordinary courtroom (Grabowski). The increasing number of antics and mishaps that have occurred on Zoom trials, while hilarious to watch on social media, can create a lack of seriousness in the proceedings. Examples range from Ponton’s issue with the cat face (Guardian), to lawyers having mic issues, being intruded on by others members of the household, or struggling to change inappropriate backgrounds. Obviously, many of these issues are unavoidable due to the pandemic and the unique difficulty that working from home poses, however it cannot be denied that Zoom trials are having a detrimental effect on the reputation of the US justice system. Courts are supposed to inspire a degree of formality and authority; that’s why courthouses are normally some of the most centrally located buildings in cities, why the Supreme Court building looks as imposing as it does, why witnesses have to swear an oath before testifying, and why judges wear their official robes and sit in high chairs above everyone else (ClearWay Law). It must be remembered that courts are powerful institutions, capable of dealing out punishments and jail sentences that can change a person’s life forever. Imagine how it must feel as a defendant to watch your trial proliferate across all of social media, with your defense lawyer and presiding judge cracking up and your prosecutor looking around confusedly with a cat face on, when you are on trial for your life. Conducting trials by Zoom and running the risk of amusing technical difficulties removes some of the power and gravity that was previously invested in the US court system.

A problem also exists with the ability of courtroom trials to be recorded and live streamed in a way that they were never able to be before. Judges and legal scholars have long been opposed to the presence of cameras in the courtroom, alleging that they “distract trial participants, prejudice trial outcomes, and thus deprive defendants of fair trials” (Strickland). In addition, having cameras pointed directly in people’s faces can cause a shy witness to fidget, sweat, and appear uncredible, or encourage egotistical lawyers to become overly dramatic and showy. This is the reason why there are still dedicated artists that create courtroom sketches, in order to provide the public with a view into the courtroom while still maintaining some decorum. When the decision was made by Judge Lance Ito to televise O.J. Simpson’s trial, it was met by significant controversy and backlash in the legal community, who objected to the prejudicial presence of cameras in such a high-profile case (Lowry). Obviously, with Zoom, it is impossible not to have cameras pointed in your face at all times or avoid their prejudicial effects. And there are significant potential negative consequences to this. Trials can be recorded, live streamed, or posted online with ease now due to their online nature. This can lead to privacy concerns for both parties in a trial who may not want the entire world knowing their business. For example, tech-savvy children could conceivably find ways to watch footage of their parents’ nasty divorce or heinous crimes that they are not ready to emotionally handle. Hackers can potentially gain access to sensitive material that is made available in court, such as birth dates, valuable evidence, signatures, or social security numbers (National Law Review). Given the painstaking effort in the past by lawyers and judges to ban cameras, maintain privacy, and ensure complete impartiality, it is surprising that all of these pretensions have been tossed out the window with Zoom trials.

Of course, as long as the pandemic continues, trial by Zoom is something that must continue in order to preserve the safety of all parties involved. But it is worth at least considering the plethora of issues that are presented by the idea of making a potentially life-changing decision over someone else while sitting in the comfort of your own home, dialing in on a video screen.

______________________________________________________________

“Court Can Be A Scary Place- A Law Student Story.” ClearwayLaw, 23 Nov. 2018, https://clearwaylaw.com/court-can-be-a-scary-place-a-law-student-story/.

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[endless-vall]

Evelyn - TCATF (Kenna & Raydan) fanfic

Summary: The mystery of the assassination finally uncovers, and the identity of the culprit is revealed. The aftermath is... not pretty. Author’s note: This is set after “It gets worse before It gets better”. In the same universe of “Love over duty”, “A breath of relief”, “It’s all healthy competition” & “It was never a competition” , “Reunited, at last” (NSFW), and right after “It gets worse before it gets better”.  I had this planned out a while ago, but only recently a nickle dropped and I had the perfect Idea for this setting. Hope you enjoy! 😄

Kenna’s vigorous steps echoed through the castle’s corridors. The entire royal adviser staff were present at an urgent assembly Kenna has called. Not wasting time, she and Raydan stepped into the meeting room, decisive looks smeared upon their faces. “Hello, your majesties, what is the matter at hand?” One adviser asked. “Are we threatened by war? Is it Abanthus by chance?” Cornelius asked, his usual prejudice tone proceeds him. Though, this time, a genuine concern could be spotted in his voice too. “No. It’s something else.” Kenna noted. She took a good look around the room, before turning to Raydan. Raydan gave her one, determined nod, reassuring her, before she turned back to her staff. “We know who ordered the assassination attempt.” Kenna started. Gasps were sounded around the room.  “And it’s someone in this room.” Raydan continued her sentence, in a crucial note.

One face that caught Kenna’s attention in particular was Evelyn’s. The girl, while being a close assistant of Kenna’s, wasn’t officially a part of her line of advisers. While she didn’t lack the talent, she was too young and ‘too naive’ as some claimed. But Kenna had faith in her. “And who that might be?” Cornelius continued. For Kenna’s surprise, he wasn’t using his regular snarky tone, but expressed honest wonder. “We don’t know yet. I just know it’s someone from the circle of my most trusted advisers. So we’re going to conduct an interrogation, and since you’re in such a talkative mood, Cornelius,” She eyes him. “Why don’t we start with you?” “You can’t do that,” He hisses at her. “I would never.” He says in an accusing tone, as if he’s insulted she’d even consider that. But since Raydan told her he knows who ordered the assassination, and that it’s someone from her inner circle, Cornelius was suspect number one. “As it turns out, I can.” Kenna replied, instructing the guards to take him away, to a nearby room that was pre-prepared. “I’ll do everything in my power to defend those who dear to me and this entire kingdom.” She made it clear, to everyone sitting in the room. “Kenna, I found out who ordered the assasination.” Raydan told her. Her face widened in shock as Raydan told her he’d done some digging, and everything pointed into one direction. “Besides Jackson no one knew our whereabouts, that night.” Raydan told her. “The other soldiers didn’t even know where were we heading. I asked around the villagers, but no one was expecting us… Though there were strange whispers. I had to persuade them, but finally… They confessed someone carrying Stormholt’s royal symbol of honorary came by, asking if the king and the queen might’ve passed there a night.” Raydan explained.  “The only people who were given that symbol are my advisers…” Kenna did the math. Raydan nodded, lowering his head. He wasn’t too glad about his finding. Honestly, he wished he was wrong… But there was no doubt someone from their inner circle betrayed them. Sitting in a side room, Kenna demanded answers from Cornelius. A small group of her trusted soldiers, under Jackson’s command, were keeping the people in the meeting room at place. “Where were you in the night before the attempt?” Kenna asked, her fists clenched, her knuckles turning white, as she held tightly to the table. “Right here in Stormholt.” Cornelius didn’t waver. “You can ask either Adalbern or Lance. The three of us had been working on a new study to present before you.” Cornelius body language was relaxed, Raydan watched his every movement, standing a few feet behind Kenna. “And the night before that?” Kenna’s eyebrows were furrowed. Cornelius was better at keeping his cool than Kenna, that was obvious. “Doing the same thing. Do you want to call them in here? We’ll prove it.” Cornelius folded his hands in front of his chest. “Admit it, princess, you’re wrong. You’re looking for guilty people when the only one to blame is really standing behind yo-” He starts, in a snarky tone, only to be cut off by Kenna pointing finger. “It’s Queen, for you. And exactly this kind of behavior makes me question your loyalty in the first place. So I’d recommend you stop playing games and answer my questions properly.” “Sure, ask away, Queeny. I have NOTHING to hide.” As it turns out, the interrogation of Cornelius bears no fruits, and they continued to question other suspects. While Cornelius was nasty and rude, he was one of the best advisers she had.  While he never stopped resenting Abanthus and judging a book by his cover, there was no doubt he was an inelegant and a well-educated person. The only problem was that his heart wasn’t in the right place. He was loyal to Stormholt, but not to it’s current leaders. Kenna knew he’d do anything to protect Stormholt, and maybe somewhere in his twisted mind, assassinating Raydan was protecting Stormholt. Maybe he thought it was in Stormholt’s best interest, or so Kenna figured. So she was really amazed it turned out not to be him… The list of suspects wasn’t too long, and they were nearing it’s end. Kenna wondered whether they’d find the culprit today, since she couldn’t hold the people for too long. She could, if she had a reason to believe they betrayed her, but besides the information Raydan provided, that couldn’t be proved at the moment, she had to believe otherwise. “Just admit it, the bright spymaster was wrong all along, and call it a day.” Cornelius commented, as yet another adviser left the interrogating room with them, innocent. “He’s your King, not ‘spymaster’, and I trust his word.” Kenna noted, putting Cornelius in his place. “Which is why I’ll give you one last chance to come clean… If anyone in this room wants to confess, do it now and your punishment will be reduced.” Kenna said in a stern voice, looking around the room with a piercing look in her eyes. She’s about to give up, and take the next and final candidate, when Evelyn steps forward. “I did it!” She admits, her eyes looking glossy. “I ordered the assassination.” Another wave of gasp is heard throughout the room, as a look of disbelief crosses Kenna’s face for a brief moment, before she composes herself. She didn’t even take Evelyn into consideration. She wasn’t in the list of suspects. It could make sense, though. This girl was everywhere, always, seemingly, in the ‘right’ time… And Kenna had faith in her, maybe too much faith.  Though she didn’t have the honorary symbol of Stormholt, but if she was able to order an assassination, she could’ve stolen the symbol too. “Come with me.” Kenna somehow managed to let out in a perfectly calm tone, despite the betrayal and storm of emotions racing through her head. Evelyn follows Kenna and Raydan into the back room. Kenna never even turns back to her, so she misses entirely the horrified look over Cornelius’s face. Kenna’s unable to do it, so Raydan questions Evelyn instead. She doesn't even try denying it, and tells them everything. How she asked around villagers of their whereabouts, how she spread it out on a map and guessed their next stop... how she contacted the assassin and payed him off to take a shot at Raydan. There were still some details missing in her story, but before Raydan could continue and ask her Kenna interfered. "I don't really care on the 'how' anymore..." She admits, voice almost shaking. "I wanna know why." She glares at her. "Why did you do it?" She asks again, awaiting an answer. It takes a long moment for Evelyn to resume talking again. By that time she's glossy eyed all over again. It looks like she's torn between something, and fighting. Kenna wasn't sure which side was winning. Finally, Evelyn sighs heavily, as if she had made up her mind, and finally is able to look Kenna in the eye, and face her. "I'm so sorry for what I've done, but believe me when I say I had no choice..." Evelyn's voice is sincere, but Kenna can't believe her just yet. "explain yourself." She demands, praying it's a good answer. Evelyn hesitates to come clean about everything, so Raydan steps in again. “Evelyn, if you’re scared for your life... We could protect you. But you should tell us why you did it.” He tells her. His voice is soft and reassuring, fit for the spymaster he is. He always knows when to tell people what they need to hear, though this time - it’s not entirely a lie. While he couldn’t really forgive Evelyn for indirectly hurting Kenna, they could provide the protection if that’s what she’s worried about. ”I’m not scared for my life... He’d never hurt me...” Evelyn can’t look them in the eyes. She looks down in humiliation, before letting out “Or at least I’d like to believe that.” In a voice so low it’s barely more than a whisper.  ”Who is?” Kenna still demands answers. She wants it to be the truth, to let there be someone else in charge of the assassination, pulling the strings behind the stage. ”Cornelius.” Evelyn finally admits, in a gloomy yet stern voice. It’s too good to be truth. Kenna thinks, immediately.  ”How is that possible? We already questioned him and unfortunately, he’s clean.” Kenna said in an accusing tone. ”Yes, because I told you, I did everything!” Evelyn finally looks up, snapping at them. “But it was all his idea. I just had to execute it. I didn't steal his royal honorary symbol, he gave it to me. ”If you’re saying he’s not threatening you, and you’re not afraid of him... why would you do it?” Kenna asked back, her voice prickly. It sounded like they were working together, at best. Or that she did it all by herself and was looking for guilty, right now - at worst. Evelyn better have an outstanding excuse because if she didn’t... Kenna would have no choice but to sentence her for treason. “Becuase…. Cornelius is my father.” It all made sense now. All the pieces connected, and the bigger picture was clear. All it took was one nod from Kenna, and Raydan ordered the soldier. “Seize him.” Cornelius, of course, denied everything, but the proof Evelyn supplied was enough. In a real trial, justice was served, and even his closest friends -  Adalbern and Lance confessed he was behind the scheme. “How dare you betray me and tell such lies?!” Cornelius never left his act. But everything was pointing at his direction. After bringing all the proof before Kenna, it was time for her to decide on his punishment. She didn’t want to kill him. Since regaining her place at the throne, Kenna was a compassionate leader, not a merciless one. And killing him could inflame whatever fanatics supporters he had to take action and do something far worse than he attempted. And he’d do too much damage in exile. Again, he could gather his supporters, he could start an apprising. He was a charismatic man.  No... “I sentence you to a life-long punishment in prison. You’ll spend your days in the dungeon.” Kenna instructed. Her decision wasn’t questioned by no one. Kenna believed he’d do the least damage there.  And maybe one day... If he changes his ways, maybe he could be redeemed. Kenna strongly believed in second chances, even to those who did not deserve them. After all, she was ready to forget everything Luther did to her, if he had sincerely changed his ways... But in the end he betrayed her. Cornelius was taken away by the guards, screaming at the top of his lungs at an anxious Evelyn. Kenna approached Evelyn, placing a hand over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s over...” She told her. Evelyn finally met her eyes, breaking apart. Kenna quickly collected her into her arms. “It’s okay...” She repeated, as Evelyn cried on her shoulder. She did the right thing, no matter how hard that was, and Kenna was proud of that. She could use someone as sophisticated and resourceful as Evelyn by her side. On top of that she was compassionate and honestly loved and supported Stormholt. Not like her father did, in his twisted ways. She promised to never put the kingdom or the royal family in danger again, and Kenna... thought she found the right place for her. “Evelyn... Tell me,” She started saying, as they left the court. Evelyn has calmed down by then, and even smiled weakly at Kenna. “Yes, your majesty?” She blinked at her, finally at peace. “How would you like an official seat in the royal adviser staff?” Kenna suggested. Evelyn’s eyes twinkled, as she watched Kenna in awe. “Is that a yes?” Kenna asked, amused. “Yes!” Evelyn’s supposed to start her new job, taking her father’s seat, as the youngest royal adviser yet, about a week later - just when the news heat them; Cornelius ended his own life in his dungeon cell. “Evelyn, are you sure you want to do this? You could take some more time off if you need...” Kenna told her, as they were about to step into the room. “I’m sure now, more than ever. We have a lot of work to do.” Evelyn assured her, determined look in her eyes. “Okay, let’s go then.” They shared a smile, as they stepped into the room.