Chapter Text
Yuri Briar x Fem! Spy! Reader
(Y/N) is given her own backstory that is important for the story!
The setting for this story is based off West and East Germany's (because Spy x Family is heavily based off Germany in the 1940-1950) laws (or at least replicated to the best of my abilities since it's unknown what time period Spy x Family is exactly in, we'll go with 1950 for the sake of this story).
Historically-accurate women misogyny and mistreatment! Only small comments and historically-accurate laws (replicated to the best of my ability).
The story, plot, and settings might not match up to the Spy x Family manga as it's not completed and the manga is still being crafted.
This series contains SPOILERS for the manga and anime!
--------------------------------------
Almost three months ago, I was caught as a Westalis spy. I found out I was ratted by a fellow spy and because of it, I was in the hands of the Secret Police, where I met the second-lieutenant, Yuri Briar.
.
.
“Tell me, what information have you given to WISE?” the man in charge of interrogating me spoke.
“I told you, I didn’t do anything.” I affirmed, my eyes tired from all the fake crying I had to previously do.
What's it been? Two hours now? I'm pretty fed up of this.
“I’m sorry for whatever I did to gain your mens' attention, but I swear I’m not a spy.” I pushed.
I’m lying. A spy lies all the time. Though I hate to lie, it’s necessary to help create peace between the two sides; or at least to the best of our abilities.
“I’ll ask you for the last time... What did you tell Westalis?!” he shouted, slamming his hand on the table.
I fake-jumped, the handcuffs on my wrists clacking together as my eyes widen.
“I didn’t tell them nothing. I only lived there for some time, then the war struck and my home was destroyed so I moved here. I was born a (birth country) civilian but I’ve lived here in Ostania since I was ten.” I explained, letting out a cough from how sore my throats been with all this fake crying, shouting, and screaming of my proclaimed “innocence.”
"I ain't got time for this. My shift was over a quarter ago; I'm going home." The man sighed.
The man stood up from his chair as did the transcriber in the corner of the room.
I was left in the room for a good thirty minutes, keeping my posture slightly tense and observant as I looked around the room.
If there's any cameras, they'd be looking for any signs of guilt in my body language. Acting too careless or neutral would make it appear that I don't understand the gravity of the situation, or that I'm playing too natural and collected which would be suspicious. Being too tense would give away any signs of anxiety or panic at the possibility of being caught. If I look around the room too much, they'd believe that I would be searching for cameras and microphones which wouldn't look good for an innocent person; but if I'm not checking my surroundings, it could lead them to the impression that I've been in these interrogation rooms before under suspicion of espionage.
A knock on the metal door was heard, pulling me out of my thoughts as the door opened.
“Excuse me, I’ll be taking over from here. Your previous interrogator had to go home.” A young man spoke as he stepped into the room.
He couldn’t have been any younger or older than me by two years. He had deep black hair and piercing red eyes. He almost seemed innocent with those large eyes, that was until I noticed how the atmosphere in the room changed.
Suddenly, it didn't quit feel like I was in control of the situation.
He looks easy to fool. I thought to myself.
I remained quiet as I watched him close the door, walking into the chair the other guy previously sat in.
"Hello... (Y/N), right?" he asked, setting his hat down on the table and taking a seat across from me.
"Yeah." I confirmed, feeling heart raise as I stared at him, stopping myself from sounding meek so he doesn't get any information on me.
It's just cause he's a new interrogator, I thought.
I memorized the previous one's body language and go-to patterns, I can figure out this one's too. I'll stick with my same backstory I gave the other man. I need to be calm but angry too, detectives use special techniques such as that new American Reid technique to extract information from people of interest; they'll be studying my body language, tone, words, and mannerisms. Leaving me alone for so long was one of the steps they've used in the technique.
I'll admit, I was impressed at how young this guy was. I was also impressed that he pronounced my name correctly despite it not even originating from Germany, but instead in (your name’s origin).
"It's a pretty name—from (your name’s origin), correct?" he smiled, causing me to internally squirm in my seat, unsettled at his knowledge and hospitality.
That other man was screaming orders and demands at me, and here this guy is, bothering to know where my name originates from.
"Yeah... My mom wanted a unique name; I supposed all mothers want something that stands out." I replied truthfully.
To create a flawless lie, you must also dab in the truth. Be detailed, but not too detailed. Create eye-contact and don't slip up on your words.
"I see. And where is your mom now?" he questioned.
"She's dead..." I muttered, looking away from him, forcing myself to bite my tongue.
It was a sour memory, my tone was truthful. I'd be seen as peculiar if I didn't show any emotions talking about my dead loved ones, spy or not.
"And your dad?" he asked.
"Same..." I muttered dully, taking in a deep breath.
"I'm sorry about your parents. Do you have any siblings?" he questioned.
"Well, I did." I scowled, showing my dislike for him and his questions.
Remember, not too hostile. That was teetering the edge...
He ignored my glare and smiled.
"I can assume the same as your parents?" he spoke.
"You can." I sighed, a weak attempt to cool down.
I need to control my emotions, otherwise I'll slip up. Remember, no connections to your past.
"So, you were born in (your country of origin), what brought you to Ostania?" he asked.
"I was born in (your country of origin), then my family and I moved to Westalis when I was six. Then the war broke out, the bombs and all, and my family died except for me. I was found in the rubble, then I made my way into the Westalis army. During the war, I got injured and was forced to step down. Eventually, I made my way here to get away from the war since I heard there wasn't any bombings going on, supposed to be more peaceful." I explained, forcing myself to avoid eye contact since it wouldn't help me think.
"You have to understand though, that doesn't make me a spy! I came here to get away from the war, the bombings, the threats, and all this crap here. I just want to live a peaceful life in Ostania for as long as I can." I concluded.
"That's very unfortunate." The man frowned. "I'm sorry you had to go through something like that. How old were you when your parents died?"
"I was seven." I explained.
"And you're...?" he paused, waiting for me to verify.
"Twenty." I confirmed.
"We're close in age." He smiled. "How come you decided to stay inside of Europe? Move into Ostania whilst in the middle of a war, nonetheless? You could've went to the United States or something." he questioned.
"I didn't want to learn a new language. Since I was young when I moved here, it was easier for me to adapt to the language since I was growing up and learning it with other kids my age trying to write and speak it too." I explained.
"I see. I'm sorry for what you've had to go through growing up, I really wish it wasn't as bad as it is here; however I'm afraid I cannot do much on my own." The male flashed an empathetic smile, like he lived what I lived. "It's sad for you to have gone through so much so young."
"You're around my age and you're in this type of business." I pointed out.
He smiled, his eyes too squinted and his smile too big to be friendly. It was dangerously sinister, too sinister even for me.
"This type of business? You make serving and protecting our country sound distasteful. What negative things have you heard, Miss (L/N)?" he questioned, leaning his head on his gloved-palm.
He opened his eyes and lowered his smile, yet the smile was still present.
This lighting makes him look absolutely terrifying. I thought, suppressing the urge to swallow my fear, yet I had no control of how my hands and legs started to tremble. But also...kind of attractive, I supposed...?
"You're the Secret Police, right? I hear you guys torture anyone who doesn't give you what information you want. Anyone can report someone as a suspected spy at any time, and they'll be brought here to be tortured for 'treason' and such. Even women who aren't married after 25 are suspected to be spies and that's completely ridiculous! You do know that the Salem Witch Trials in 1692 happened to have many innocents meet their demise, just because they were blamed, because some people didn't like them or were jealous? Some even put others to their death for entertainment! Do you see a pattern?" I questioned.
"And where did you hear this? About the Secret Police?" he asked.
"You hear it all over. The new gossip in the office, what's on the daily newspaper, and even on our TV's. It's happening right now, in this very room." I sneered.
"That's just word on the street." The man spoke, doing his best to keep his poker face as he ignored my last comment.
I could tell he wanted to get mad, frown at me, maybe even yell, but he kept up his good-cop act.
"The war was originally word on the street too—look where we are now." I retorted. "And you wanna know something else? Despite all the bad things I've said about Ostania so far, Ostania is just as bad as Westalis.
"How so?" he huffed, a scowl on his face as his manipulatively cocky smile was immediately wiped from his face, losing his composure.
"I've been on both sides of this war. I can guarantee to you that Ostania is censoring its newspapers and screens so their people don't know what it's really like—just like Westalis did. Hell, probably even still doing. You work for the State Security Service, but the SSS works for the government—you're not the ones getting information when it first comes out. You gobble up what lies and little white truths they give you." I explained, leaning closer to him on the desk to further emphasis my point. "You're just a pawn in this game of chess. Me and you hold no power to the big guys up there, but just as the word on the street says; once you get captured by the SSS, there's no coming back. Guilty or innocent, the scale is rigged."
His fingers drummed at the desk angrily as he closed his eyes and knitted his eyebrows. I savored the sight of this. The frustration of a Ostanian officer, weak and forced to believe my words for this interrogation, but doubt them too. All the second-thoughts flashing through his face as he wonders if I'm right or if I'm screwing with him.
"If that's how you see it, then I supposed I'd have to accept it." He sighed roughly, intertwining his gloved fingers together. "Enough of that. Tell me all the jobs you've worked."
"I worked at a bakery when I was six, then the Westalis army at seven, moved here and had a mix of delivering newspapers and working in pet shops as an assistant when I was ten. I got a waitressing gig at eleven and kept it until I was nineteen. Finally, I started working at a local bakery down my street." I explained.
"So, why did you accept being recruited into the Westalis army?" he questioned.
It seems like we're running in circles. I thought to myself, mentally sighing. We've already gotten past that bit.
"There wasn't really anywhere I could go without needing money. I also wanted to give justice to my family and siblings; you would too, wouldn't you?" I questioned.
"Yes. I have an older sister and I love her dearly. It's why I do this job, so I can understand where you're coming from. Do you have an older sister too?" he asked.
"Yes. An older sister, an older brother, and two younger brothers. Believe it or not, but we were at each others' throats every chance we could get. But I never did get to tell them that despite all of our fights and bickering, they were my family and I love them." I explained, forcing myself to look away from the male as tears started to distort my vision.
"It's always important to tell them that when you still have them, yeah?" he smiled.
I nodded, not having the strength to look up. There's no way I'm going to cry in front of this bastard.
"Yeah, and—fortunately for you—the files we've been given have matched up to everything you've been saying and more. There's really nothing left." The second-lieutenant spoke. "I'm sorry for having my co-workers drag you here, but it's protocol."
"It's cool. I can understand." I sighed, not exactly believing that the interview was over.
There's no way it's over. Every spy that's been captured by the Secret Police has never been seen again, even innocent people on the streets haven't been seen again either! I really doubt I'd be the first (guilty, but even if I was innocent [that'd be an accomplishment itself]) person to actually walk free from the SSS—as much as I'd like for that to happen.
I waited for any movement from him, waited for him to grab his hat and walk out, waited for him to speak again, anything really. But he just sat there, smiling at me, like he knew something I didn't, and I'm starting to become pretty certain he does.
"Are you going to uncuff me?" I questioned.
His smile seemed to brightened yet darken at the same time, how he did that, I have no idea.
"I'm glad you asked; but you see Miss (L/N), unfortunately I can't let you go."
I sighed, knowing that I was going to get caught one way or another.
"And the reason why is...?" I paused, impatiently waiting for the answer.
Luckily, he didn't let me ponder about it for long.
"While you're innocent, you're still guilty." He answered.
"But you just said I'm innocent. Innocence until proven guilty, correct?" I huffed, getting frustrated.
"Yes, but that's not how it works around here. See, I'm going to have to leave soon for my next interrogation, but I know there's more to your story." He spoke, no smile on his face.
"You said my backstory covers everything!" I exclaimed.
"I did—from what you told me, that is." He explained. "(Y/N) (L/N) age twenty. A spy from Westalis. Code name is Vixen. Moved from (country of origin) to Westalis for your father's promotion at six. Served for three years in the Westalis army at seven. Got recruited to be a spy at ten, then went on missions for a decade—until now, that is." He explained. "Very impressive how WISE can implant work reports in company files, but the calligraphy is wrong. We would've never found out if the store owner didn't drop dead halfway through your employment at that local bakery you speak of. The owner's daughter took over and started writing the work reports, yet your reports remained with the same handwriting from the previous owner."
Damn it, I really can't fix that at all. Some in the letter forgery department was lacking—or slacking—information for the bakery. I thought.
"I don't think you understand what type of spy I am. I'm a peacemaker spy! I stop terrorist attacks, threats from Ostania and Westalis, assassination attempts for the government. Hell, I even helped stop another nuclear bomb that would've killed at least 500,000 people in Hugaria!" I shouted.
"So you admit to being a spy now?" he taunts me with a smile.
"I—" I paused, realizing what I said.
Well, no going back now.
"Yes!" I groaned. "You were right, ya happy?" I aggressively huffed.
"I'm glad we could come to an agreement, but you know, I'm a little sad now." The man spoke with fake sadness. "I was starting to develop a soft spot for you since you were so honest... for the most part."
"Bite me." I rolled my eyes.
"We don't usually do that in our sessions." He stood up from his seat and stalking towards me.
Torture sessions... I thought to myself, feeling a sense of dread creep up me that I tried to push down.
My heartbeat's rhythm became louder and irregular, it boomed in my chest and as blood rushed past my ears, hearing a slight ringing in them.
"If you're planning on killing me, I don't think you'd find much pleasure in it. I'm trained not to give reaction to punishment, no matter how severe." I claimed, fighting the urge to wiggle in my chair for a fruitless attempt of escaping, but it'd just make me look more pathetic then I do already.
"I have a few tricks up my sleeves." He smiled.
"It doesn't matter if you kill me or not. Westalis will still prevail just like Ostania will. My death will have no meaning to Westalis' or your victory to this war." I stated.
"I'm aware. We weren't really looking to killing you—or locking you up in a cellar either.... even though I believe we should..." he whispered that last part to himself like I couldn't hear it.
"This isn't gonna turn into a low-budget porno if that's what you're thinking." I deadpanned.
"I wasn't thinking of that either; but I'm flattered." He chuckled.
I rolled my eyes, my skin flushed yet I was thankful that he agreed with me.
"So what are you planning on doing with me?" I questioned.
"Well since you're so curious, I guess I can ruin the surprise." He spoke. "You were right when you said you're a peacemaker spy. In fact, there's not enough reasons for me to even put you in jail or on death sentence since your good deeds outweigh the bad. I was told to make a deal with you for my boss. I can keep you out of the troubles of being a spy (or ending up dead) if you become an SSS agent."
"And if I don't accept?" I questioned.
"Death sentence; but that's not exactly favorable, now is it?" he smiled.
"Okay... What exactly am I doing?" I questioned, a slight distaste in my mouth.
"Well. It's always nice to have information on the Westalis spies. It'd also be nice for someone to listen to bugged rooms and watch interrogation videos. I could finally get the sleep I've been needing—it's hard when your coworkers are being killed off by spies or quitting." He sighed dramatically. "Oh, you'll live with a SSS agent too, supervision 24/7 so you don't try any funny business."
"You never mentioned I'd living with someone." I huffed, crossing my legs since I couldn't cross my arms with my hands still in cuffs.
"We have to make sure you're not getting into any trouble, remember?" he smiled triumphally.
I'm starting to realize that I hate this guy's stupid smile.
"Who will I stay with?" I questioned
"Eh, who knows." He smiled, shrugging his shoulders carelessly.
I resisted the urge to grit my teeth and come up with something sarcastic to say. Instead, I bit my tongue and dug my nails into my palms as I sighed and huffed out a "fine."
"Good! I know we're going to get along just fine around here." His smile deepened as I resisted the urge to run away.
He leaned down and unlocked the handcuffs on my wrists, his eyes just daring me to do something stupid and see the consequences.
“When you say information on the Westalis spies, are you referring to me committing treason on my own job?” I questioned. “I don’t see how that’s any different from treason on the country. I’m quite confused on your views of morals and justice.” I sighed.
“Then let me dumb it down for you.” He sighed. “I want to make this country a better place for my sister to live in, but with scum such as yourself and the Westalis spies, it makes it harder to do so.”
“Are you sure insulting me is going to make me want to cooperate with you? Because I don’t work in places with workplace abuse.” I deadpanned.
“You’re a spy; it’s nothing you can’t handle.” He smiled.
Yeah, I want to punch that damn smile off his face.
“Follow me, we’re going to go to the Director and inform him of our contract. Stay close to me and don’t wander off. If you try anything stupid then our contract will be breached and you can say goodbye to your ‘peaceful Ostanian life.’” The man explained.
I clicked my tongue get nodded my head, showing that I agree. We exited the interrogation room and started walking down a dim hallway. The hallway had other doors connected to it with windows and I could see other people being interrogated. Some were being yelled at, others were being either punched or tortured.
I’m surprised I didn’t get that kind of treatment. It’s probably since I’m a woman.
Living in 1950 in Ostania, it hasn’t even been 40 years (32 years, to be exact) since women officially gained voting rights, and even then, we don't even have equal rights! We can't work outside of our house without our husband's permission. With the war going on now, our rights have been pushed to the side and the main focus for women now is to take care of the kids. Even with our husband's permission, it’s still rare for women to be working in "men dominated" places such as the military, police, mechanic shops, and more.
“Take your hands out of your pocket; you look suspicious.” The man spoke.
“Like I don’t already look suspicious, I’m the only woman here and I’m not wearing a uniform.” I spoke, rolling my eyes. “You boss me around a lot. If you’re going to be lecturing me, at least tell me your name, sir.”
“That’s not an option at the moment. If you want to find out, you’re going to have to earn it.” He spoke.
“So what do I call out when dinner’s ready?” I spoke, sassy and sarcastic at the same time.
“Sir has been working so far.” He hummed.
“Whatever…” I rolled my eyes, ignoring the heat on my face as I followed him without question.
He opened a door, at least having the human decency to hold the door open for me. I stepped aside and waited for him, ignoring the stares of the men in uniform. The man lead us to a dark oak door and stopped in front of it. He knocked on the door, then waited.
“Enter.” A voice from behind the door called out.
The man opened the door again, letting me walk in before closing the door behind us. A man was seated at a desk, the Ostanian flag standing next to him as I looked at the man. He was old and wearing sunglasses…indoors?
Weirdo. I thought.
He stood up straight and saluted, “Director.”
“Second-lieutenant. And this is…?” the boss spoke, waiting for the questions to be answered.
“(Y/N) (L/N). Otherwise known as Vixen, the Spy from the West.” He spoke.
“Ah, yes. So, you’ve agreed?” the Director questioned.
“Yeah...” I muttered hesitantly, shoving my hands in my pockets.
It was short-lived as the younger man next to me quickly—and roughly—smacked my arm, making me sigh and take my hands out of my pockets.
“I see. Come sit down in front of me.” The Director invited, but I could tell it was an order.
I bit the inside of my cheek yet obliged, crossing my legs and arms. Second-lieutenant walked over and stopped at my side, side-eyeing me as he made sure I wouldn’t do anything bad.
I mentally rolled my eyes and waited for the Director to speak.
“Sign this contract here on the line.” The Director settled a heavy packet in on the desk as he flipped three pages and pointed.
“What am I signing it for?” I questioned.
“Just to show that you’ve agreed to our contract.” The Director smiled.
I glared daggers at him, rudely snatching the packet from the desk, flipping back to the first page and carefully reading each line to make sure I’m not signing something I don’t agree to.
“I don’t agree with this.” I said, pointing at a line in the packet.
“What aren’t you agreeing with?” The younger male asked.
He bent down and got in my personal bubble to read the page. I rolled my eyes at his closeness, ignoring the anxiety of my heart as I moved the paper a little closer to him.
“I don’t agree with ‘disclosing all of the Westalis secrets, including names, locations, meet-up places, and missions.’” I spoke.
“Hm, and why is that? Are you expecting to return?” The Director's face darkened as did the unknown male.
“No.” I rolled my eyes for what seemed to be the billionth time.
Maybe...
“I’m in debt to some of the people there, so there’s some information I can’t spill.” I explained.
“Is your life worth those secrets?” the young male spat out harshly.
“I wouldn’t be here discussing this contract with you if it wasn’t for them.” I spat back, twice as passionate in my anger as he was with his.
His red eyes rivaled my own as we glared daggers at each other.
The Director chuckled and spoke: "Okay, we can cross that line out."
"What? We're the ones making orders here!" the second-lieutenant complained.
"You can't expect someone to cooperate with us if they don't get any benefits. This can't be two-sided." The Director spoke.
"They get to live!" the second-lieutenant hissed through his teeth.
"She's not the only person that could die from this contract too." The Director chuckled, then rested his face on his palms. "Our contract will be built on trust and communication. We'll give you information from the Secret Police that we see fit to give you, and you give us information about WISE that you see fit to give."
The second-lieutenant spluttered nonsense, exaggerating hand and body motivations as he tried forming words to complain.
"Do we have a problem, second-lieutenant?" the Director darkly spoke.
"Ack!" the second-lieutenant jumped in the air. "N-no, sir." He muttered, looking over to side-eye me.
I stuck out my tongue at him, proud of my small victory (if you can even call it that). In response, he glared at me again, fire in his obnoxiously vibrant red eyes.
"Here, sign this." The Director spoke, grabbing a different paper. "This one is our agreement that you're under our—the SSS'—care and protection for as long as you don't break our contract." The Director pointed to a blank line. "Make sure you add your full first and last name."
"Okay..." I muttered, writing my full legal name down on the paper.
"Great. Now, second-lieutenant, you write your full legal name here." The Director pointed to a line next to my name.
The second-lieutenant hesitantly signed the paper with no questions.
"Great. Here's your marriage certificate." The Director spoke.
I choked on air as the second-lieutenant screamed at the top of his lungs in distress and rage.
"NO WAY! GIVE ME THAT PAPER!" he screamed, lunging over the desk in a fruitless attempt to grab the packet and rip it to shreds.
"YEAH MAN! WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM TRICKING US LIKE THAT?" I screamed.
"Calm down. It's a cover for you two." The Director calmly spoke.
"COVER FOR WHAT?!" We both screamed, slamming our hands on the desk.
"(Y/N) is still legally a spy, and you, second-lieutenant, are still a member of the Secret Police. The government doesn't know that our methods are... frowned upon. And she previously lived in Westalis, so she's already in danger from just that. If (Y/N) is exposed to be a spy to our government, we may just be able to dig her out of that hole. And by we, I mean you, second-lieutenant." The Director spoke, using the lieutenant's low rank in a harsh mannerism.
Of course they're frowned upon, you're forcing innocent people to admit to being spies by beating the crap outta them. I thought, resisting the urge to roll my eyes as I bit my cheek instead to keep quiet.
"Whose gonna find out?" the second-lieutenant deadpanned.
"Traitors." The Director sighed. "Do you think that all of the members of the SSS are really focused on keeping our country safe? For all we know, me or you could be a spy too."
I feel attacked. I thought to myself.
"Wait. There's spies inside of our forces?!" the younger male exclaimed, shocked.
"Are you stupid? 'Course there are!" I spat out harshly.
"Shut it!" he hissed.
"Of course there is, just like there's members of the SSS in the Westalis spies." The Director spoke.
"What?!" I exclaimed in my own shock.
"What are you? Stupid?" the second-lieutenant mimicked.
"You shut it!" I hissed back.
"Now, now. Let's not try to kill each other just yet. We have many things to discuss about, but let's save that for later. For now, let's get the living situations settled." The Director spoke. "Second-lieutenant, follow (Y/N) to her home and help pack her things. She'll be living with you."
"I never consented to this marriage." The second-lieutenant deadpanned, looking at the Director, then me.
"What wife would she be if you two didn't live together?" The Director smiled.
The man mumbled grips under his breath, another one being "still didn't consent."
"I have the papers right here with your signature in permeant ink." The Director smugly smiled as I chuckled in disbelief.
Me and this guy? We're not going to get along at all.
"Aw, don't be too happy about it, sweetheart. To be honest, this will be my first time too." I sarcastically cooed, blushing as placing my hands on my face to add more of a dramatic effect.
"DON'T CALL ME THAT, YOU TRAITOROUS WITCH!" he screamed loudly, pointing a finger at me.
"OI! DON'T CALL ME A TRAITOROUS WITCH! I'M BEING FORCED TO WORK AND LIVE WITH YOU!"I screamed back.
"I HATE YOU, BRAT!" he screamed.
"DON'T CALL ME BRAT EITHER, YOU MUTT!" I screamed back.
"You guys are acting like me and my wife already." The Director happily—and depressingly—sighed, causing me and the mutt to look at each other.
"The day I call him my husband is the day I get executed!" I exclaimed.
"The day I call her my wife is the day a nuke drops on Ostania!" the second-lieutenant exclaimed.
"Well, then get ready you two, because that day may just come sooner than you think." The Director sighed, causing the two of us to go quiet and stare at each other hatefully.