#loid forger render

[prof-kenny]

[o0kawaii0o]

Family

[tipanot]

Yor, the eyes are the window to our soul. You cant hide your crush anymore

[degenerateshinji]

2 dumbasses im obsessed with rn

l'il bonus i made, don't ask.

[malbenita]

The Kick It Anya and guys being grumpy, as a practice

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Loving Suffocation.

A Continuation Of This Piece.

Written for a very lovely, very indulgent anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Loid x Reader x Yandere!Yor (SxF).

Word Count: 4k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Slight Somnophilia, Spanking, Sex Toys, Breeding, Mentions of Pregnancy, Medical Malpractice, Oral Sex, Obsessive Behavior, Slight Gaslighting, Bruising/Marking, and Overstimulation.

You never did get to see your opera. A lack of oxygen turned your cramped world blurry and abstract, and you faded in and out of consciousness while Yor fussed over your ruined dress and gathered you up in her arms, the strip of fabric she’d tied around your neck and stuffed in your mouth – not quite a gag, but enough to convince your uncooperative vocal cords that calling for help wouldn’t be worth the effort. Sometime between being pulled against Yor’s chest and slipping out of that sex-saturated storage closet, you blinked and by the time you could find the strength to open your eyes again, you were in your apartment, in your own bed, your makeshift gag gone and your wrists bound  behind your back with a generous amount of duct tape. You briefly considered calling for help, but you were past the point of screaming. Even if you tried, the Forgers were your only neighbors close enough to hear, and you’d seen enough of enough of that family for a lifetime.

Just as exhaustion began to overwhelm your better judgement, you caught stifled footsteps in the near distance, heard the door to your bedroom creak open and shut with enough force to shake the drywall. This time, when you closed your eyes, it was in a deliberate effort to will yourself to sleep. An effort that was, of course, rendered futile by Yor’s hand on your forehead, a soft hum too tender to be purposefully deceptive. “I think they might be asleep. The poor thing could barely hold their eyes open.”

“That’s fine.” Instantly, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. He spoke quietly, keeping his voice low and airy, but even in worst dreams, Loid seemed to be able to carve out a place for himself. It made sense for him to make an appearance in this nightmare, too. “Can you show me where the damage is?”

You held your breath as Yor’s hand drifted from your face to your thigh. After a moment of hesitation, she nudged you onto your back, pulling the ragged remains of your skirt up to your waist. You fought not to bolt up as cold air washed over your exposed, abused cunt – not to ball your fists as you felt Loid’s narrowed eyes pry into you the way they always seemed to when you passed each other in the hall, when he got home before you could find a reason to get out of the Forgers’ suffocating apartment. You managed to hold yourself still as he clicked his tongue, edging that much closer to the foot of your bed. You could picture him leaning over you, perfectly styled blonde hair falling ever so slightly out of place as he took long, agonizing seconds to evaluate the bruises lining the inside of your thighs, the crescent-shaped marks Yor’s nails had left pressed in your hips, your waist. Calloused fingertips brushed over your ankle, but further restraint was deemed unnecessary as his attention shifted back to his wife. “And you said you found them…?”

“Unconscious,” she filled in. You could hear her shifting her weight, feigning concern as her husband evaluated you. “In front of our building. I tried to wake them up, but they panicked, and I remembered the treatment you told me about for—for hysteria.” She paused, swallowed. “I thought I could help, but I’m afraid I might’ve just made things worse…”

Loid’s response was delayed, put off in favor of inching that much closer to you. The mattress dipped as he rested a knee on the foot of your bed. Don’t move, you repeated to yourself, despite the ever-growing urge to get up and run gnawing violently at the back of your mind. If you pretended to be asleep, you’d only have to tolerate a few minutes of his attention before he got tired of leering at your conscious body. If you pretended to be asleep, they’d leave and you could start to forget this ever happened.

It got harder to be so rational as he reached out, running two fingers over your slit and splitting apart the lips of your pussy, giving himself a better view of your abused clit, your entrance – still pitifully drooling slick. You tried to remember what kind of doctor he was, but any specialties that might’ve come to mind were immediately forgotten as his gloved fingers slipped inside of you. You had to bite back a quiet hiss as he scissored open the sore walls of your cunt, his touch probing and experimental. At least Yor had the decency not to draw it out. “You reacted swiftly and efficiently. Even trained paramedics leave residual damage.” He drew back suddenly, and you fought not to jolt at his callousness. “Can you show me what exactly your…” He trailed off. You could practically hear the curiosity in his voice. “…your treatment entailed?”

Yor made a noise you couldn’t decipher. Loid moved away from you entirely, but Yor was quick to take his place. She settled into the space between your legs, her hands – shaking ever so slightly – taking up your hips, her fingertips near-perfectly aligned with the dark bruises pressed into your skin. You felt her breath ghost over the inside of your thighs, the flat of her tongue run gingerly over your slit, and you bolted upward on instinct, mouth open and ready to—

—ready to have your scream stifled and suffocated by Loid’s palm as he forced his hand over your mouth and shoved you back into the mattress. Unable to claw at his arm, to pry him off of you, you thrashed under his steadfast hold, but he didn’t seem to pay you any mind. Rather, his eyes met yours for all of half a second before flickering to his wife, sparing her a slight nod. “Patients usually react with some level of resistance. You can go on.”

Yor’s eyes widened, but any shock she might’ve felt seemed to melt away at her husband’s assurance. She was more nervous, now that she was performing for an audience rather than assaulting you in the privacy of her chosen hideaway, but the little, tentative movements of her tongue got braver over time, her eyes closing as her hands drifted from your waist to your thighs. She nudged your legs onto her shoulders and latched onto your clit, suckling with just enough force to draw a reaction out of your burnt-out nerves, to leave you trembling and struggling to swallow back pained moans and pathetic whimpers. It hurt – more than anything, it hurt – but she had your body trained, knew just what points to hit to get what she wanted out of you. More than that, your body knew that it wasn’t going to end until she reached her goal, until she had you cumming on her tongue for the— god, how many times would this make? You’d lost track after the first dozen, but even if you hadn’t, it would’ve been impossible to tell, impossible to know what she’d accomplished the first time reality started to blur and consciousness was rendered more of revokable privilege than something you’d ever be capable of holding on to without help. In less than a minute, you were grinding against her tongue involuntarily, the movement of your hips stilted and jerky. You couldn’t have called it a real orgasm, not when any pleasure you could’ve felt was so overshadowed by a searing sort of ache, but Yor seemed satisfied – drawing the back of her hand over her chin as she lifted her head, sending Loid a sheepish smile.

“I just, uh,” she started, drumming her fingers over your thigh. “I just did that until they calmed down. I’m not sure if it helped.”

“I see.” Loid, for his part, failed to let his air of stoic professionalism so much as waver.  “And how many times did the patient reach climax?”

“…thirty?” Yor let out an airy, nervous laugh. “Maybe more. It… It was a little hard to keep track, in the moment.”

“And they’re still so unruly.” He was kind enough to feign concern, to let his tone soften and purse his lips into a thin frown. For a second, you let yourself believe that you’d just stumbled into a bad situation – that he and his wife were under some shared delusion and genuinely thought they might’ve been helping you, but then you caught a spec of crimson on the collar of Yor’s dress out of the corner of your eye and thought better of trying to humanize them. “Would you mind if I took a closer look?”

The question was posed to Yor, not you. “Please do, you’re the doctor here,” she spouted, hurrying to get out of Loid’s way. Loid was more hesitant, his palm lingering over your mouth as his eyes found yours. He was cold at the best of times – his expression often hollow when he thought your attention was elsewhere, his touch enough to send a chill down your spine on the rare occasion he found an excuse to put his hands on you – but the look he sent you as he uncovered your mouth was nothing short of frigid. The threat was clear, albeit ambiguous. You had no idea what Loid was capable of, let alone what extremes he was willing to go to.

But, you knew what Yor could do – you’d caught her in the act.

And you weren’t eager to find out what’d she’d do to you at her husband’s request.

When his hand finally fell away from your mouth, you didn’t make a sound. Rather, you dug your teeth into the inside of your cheek as Loid wrapped an arm around your waist and hauled you onto his lap – his thighs cutting harshly into your stomach. The position was enough to leave your cheeks burning and humiliation tying knots in the back of your throat, but whatever embarrassment you might’ve felt was multiplied ten-fold as his hand ghosted over the buttons lining the back of your dress and your only remaining protective barrier fell away – mutilated fabric now limp and useless beneath you. You started to writhe, but the heel of Loid’s palm found the small of your back, pressing into the base of your spine with just enough force a pained whimper past your lips. Reflectively, Yor moved to reach towards you, but Loid shook his head. “It’s important to test for reactiveness,” he explained, tone flat and steely. “I can take care of bruises and cuts, but lasting nerve damage will make things—” He paused, clicked his tongue. “—difficult.”

“Oh!” Yor clapped her hands together. At least she seemed to sincerely believe that, even if she wasn’t helping you, her husband might be. You couldn’t tell what Loid was thinking, but it couldn’t have been so benevolent. “Is that what you’re doing now? Testing for reactiveness?”

“Exactly.” Loid flashed her a smile. You felt him shift, fish something out of the pocket of his suit jacket. Aching numbness had put you at a distance from his invasive touch before, but Yor’s mouth had done away with that – resurrecting the buzzing sort of hyper-sensitivity that meant you weren’t able to hide the way your hips bucked against his thigh as he slid something sleek and metallic into your drenched pussy. It was oddly shaped – one end tapered and the other flat, small enough to fit in the palm of your hand but still big enough to leave you squirming uncomfortably as Loid pulled back. “Normally, I’d use more intricate equipment, but there are a few experiments I can run on my own.”

You heard nails against metal, a soft click muffled by stiff machinery. After a second of delay, the object inside of you let out an abrupt pulse of pure vibration – harsh and sudden and awful. Your reaction was reflexive, undisguisable. You threw your head forward as you bit back a bubbling, broken moan; waves of intense reverberation beating at the walls of your cunt. There was no time to brace yourself, to grow into the piercing sting – it was already too much. The walls of your pussy clenched around the source of your agony, and before you could think to stifle your reactions, to give them as little as you possibly could, tears were blurring your vision, dripping down your cheeks. Yor cooed, kneeling in front of you and cupping your cheeks. “Poor thing…” she mumbled, before looking up towards Loid. “I don’t think they’re enjoying it.”

Another wave of pulsing reverberation, a jagged cry forced past your lips. “P-please, turn it off, take it out, I can’t—”

It took you a second to process the sound of a palm against flesh, how it might’ve been connected to the bright flash of pain just below the curve of your ass. When you could bring yourself to glance over your shoulder, his hand was raised, his expression stern. The sight was enough to make your heart ache in your chest – a sensitivity which surprised you. You hadn’t thought there was anything the Forgers could do to hurt you more than they already had.

“We’re going out of our way to help you.” It was the same tone he used with Anya when she refused to do her homework or threatened to drop out of her upper-crust academy. Whatever genuine sympathy he might’ve had for you was buried beneath a heavy layer of practiced stoicism and nearly totalitarian authority, turning the words cold where they should’ve been comforting. “It’s unfair to be so ungrateful when Yor’s already sacrificed so much of her time for the sake of your health. Why don’t you apologize to her?”

Again, you heard that same soft click, and the vibrations pulsing out of the object in your cunt doubled in intensity. You let your head fall forward, clenching your eyes shut as you struggled to spit something out. “I… I’m sorry, Yor, I didn’t mean to—”

You were cut off by a sharp moan, the feeling of Loid’s fingers tracing over your slit. Soon, the pad of his thumb found your clit, pushing dull circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. He let out an airy chuckle as you withered into yourself, your legs spreading involuntarily as your feet struggled to find purchase on carpeting that seemed to be just an inch too far, to ground yourself on something that Loid didn’t even have to try to keep just out of your grasp. “Don’t strain yourself,” he muttered, your unwanted reward for your easy compliance. “How does this—” He pushed a rough pattern into your clit, drawing out a wavering cry. “—feel?”

Miserable. Torturous. The worst thing that’d ever been inflected onto your poor, spent body. You deflated, your chest flattening against Loid’s thighs. “…it hurts.”

This time, he let you finish before pulling back, his palm striking your ass with twice the force he’d used before. You cried out, the noise uneven and anguished, but your pain didn’t seem to rank very high on his nebulous list of concerns. “I’ve already told you not to be so ungrateful,” he said, shaking his head. “Do you know what would’ve happened if we weren’t here to help you?” Another strike, another ragged sob. “You’d be suffering on your own, in excruciating pain and spiraling into your own delusions. If we hadn’t been there to correct you so quickly, you would’ve been unrecoverable.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You were babbling, now, your apologies clumped together and nearly unintelligible. Loid cut in, pointed as ever.

“You’ve already apologized.” Two digits slipped into you, splitting your pussy open. Somehow, the added stimulation only seemed to make his device’s vibration more unbearable. “Now, it’s time to tell Yor how thankful you are.”

“Thank you—” There was no hesitation, no resistance. If you’d been able to, if you hands hadn’t been bound, you would’ve clung to her, dug your nails into her shoulder and your teeth into Loid’s thigh, anything to feel like you weren’t about to fall apart altogether. “Thank you, I’m so— I can’t— Thank you—”

It was Yor, this time – her mouth crashing against yours as her hand found the back of your head. Her tongue slipped past your lips, raking over yours with a ginger sort of tenderness and raking her fingers through your hair, drinking down every little moan and whimper her husband forced out of you with enthusiasm. She lingered there, lips moving gently against yours, as you reached your next climax – the number completely lost on you, now. When she pulled away, eyes glazed over and a dark blush painted over her cheeks, Loid hummed approvingly, fishing his bullet-shaped device out of your pussy and switching it off. Slick dripped down the inside of your thighs, your chest heaving stiltedly against his lap, and you noticed, for the first time, something large and stiff pressing into your stomach. For your own sake, you decided you weren’t going to think about it.

But, like always, Loid was quick to tear even the comfort you found in your own mind away from you.

“You did what you could,” Loid started, with heavy sigh. “But their condition is worse than I thought. It might take more than the usual treatment to set them back on the right path.” A lengthy pause, an arm looped underneath you. With more care than he’d seen fit to show you all night, Loid repositioned you on your back in the center of your bed. You were too exhausted to so much as try to protest. “For cases like this, insemination is the only known cure.”

Yor blinked up at him, more curious than confused. “Insemination?”

“Pregnancy,” Loid filled in. “It can be done artificially, but for cases this severe…”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Weakly, you tried to sit up, but it was Yor that stopped you, this time, pressing her hand flat against your shoulder and pinning you down effortlessly. “If that’s what’s best,” she chimed, her smile wide and brilliant. “Can I help?”

For the first time, Loid’s expression seemed to warm. “Of course.”

Less than a full minute later, you were slotted against Yor, your head resting on her chest and her arms loosely wrapped around your midriff. Loid had reclaimed his position in the space between your open legs, one hand on your hip and the other toying with his clothes, shifting the waist of his now-wrinkled dress pants down just far enough to free his flush cock – already hard, already leaking pearls of arousal. The sight, paired with the breathy sigh he let out as he wrapped his fist around his shaft, was enough to dash any hopes you might’ve had of a last-minute change of heart.

You squirmed in Yor’s hold, your fists balling around your own near ruined sheets as Loid aligned himself with your entrance. You didn’t realize you were talking until you heard your own voice, fragile and desperate, nearly too broken to be comprehensible. “Please don’t, I—I’m not sick, please don’t—”

It was Yor who hushed you, this time, smiling as she pressed a fleeting kiss into your cheek. “He’s going to help you,” she whispered, tone simpering where you wished it would be sterile. “You can just sit back and relax while we—” She paused, squeezed you against her playfully. “—make sure you’re alright.”

There was a beat of silence, of stillness. Eventually, you managed to stutter out, “I don’t want your help.”

Loid let out an airy chuckle, tracing the flushed tipped of his cock over your slit. “You don’t have to want anything.” He bowed his head, leaning down far enough to rest his lips against the top of your head. “You’ll need all the help you can get, in a few weeks.”

You didn’t have time to protest, not before he thrust into you – sheathing himself to the hilt in a single stroke.

You tried to scream, but Yor’s mouth found yours in a moment, swallowing any fractured noises you might’ve been able to make. Loid didn’t seem interested in giving you time to adjust; immediately falling into a rhythm just as forceful and just as cruel as anything else he’d done to you. It wasn’t a question of if it would hurt, anymore, but how badly. The feeling of his not inconsiderably length splitting open your aching pussy alone was enough to bring tears to your eyes, and his rough thrusts, his shattering pace – all of it only working to agitate the few parts of you that hadn’t already gone numb to his assult. You clenched your eyes shut, willing yourself to go completely numb, but Yor cooed, one of her hands falling away from you only to find its way to the curve of your stomach, her palm soon pressed flat against your skin. “Miss Anya did mention wanting a younger sister,” she muttered, nuzzling into the dip of your shoulder. “It’ll be difficult to hide, ‘till it’s over with. There used to be a single mother working at city hall, but the State Security Service paid her a visit and…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “But I’m sure that won’t be an issue for you!”

“Of course not.” Loid’s voice was breathy, his attention mostly elsewhere. He did his best to stay composed, to maintain that painstakingly professionally air, but you could feel him twitch inside of you, feel his hips stutter as his pace grew that much more brutal. “We’ll be taking care of you. When you start to show, you’ll move in with us, and—” A groan, a pair of tired eyes allowed to close. “—and if you cooperate, we’ll make it so you don’t have to worry about anything aside from the baby. Any added stress will only make the pregnancy more difficult.”

Loid’s hips pressed against yours, Yor’s mouth on the curve of your neck. “Our little family is growing so quickly.” You could feel her grin against your throat, fangs ready to clamp down at the first sign of resistance. “I can’t wait until you’re better. You’ll be so happy, when you’re in your right mind again.”

Your mouth fell open, but anything you might’ve said died in your throat long before it could ever reach your tongue. There was no pleasure to it, no stimulation other than the same grating sensation and the pinpoints of pressure where Loid’s fingertips dug into your waist, but if your comfort mattered to Loid, he would’ve stopped as soon as he saw what his wife did to you. He cursed under his breath, throwing his hand forward and hauling your rigid body that much closer to his. You didn’t have a chance to brace yourself, to trick your pain-addled mind into believing there was anything you could possibly do to get away from him before he went still, something thick and searing flooding into your unprotected cunt. He lingered there, his cum leaking out of you despite your pussy’s futile attempts to cling to his cock, and for the first time, you let yourself think about what they were taking about – insemination, pregnancy, growing families and new siblings. You let yourself acknowledge the weight of Yor’s hand against your stomach, Loid’s hips against yours. You let yourself breath in, holding the air in your lungs for a moment before exhaling and going limp against Yor.

Fuck.

If you never saw the Forgers again, it’d still be a day too soon.

Yor started to pull away from you, but Loid stopped her. “Conception can be fickle,” he started, fighting not to pant audibly. “It’d be for the best if we were…” His eyes dropped to you. “…thorough.”

“Do you hear that?” Her hold grew that much tighter, her smile that much brighter. Her lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. The feeling might’ve sent a chill down your spine, if you still had the strength to be afraid of them.

“Loid’s going to take very good care of you.”

[sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan]

"It's for the Mission"-What does it really mean for Twilight?

"It's for the mission" has become Twilight's mantra, a justification for his actions by emphasizing that his mission is the sole motivation behind everything he does. However, there's more to it than meets the eye. The question arises: Why does he desire the progression of his mission, Operation Strix, even at a minimal level?

The answer lies in contemplating the consequences if Operation Strix were to falter. In such a scenario, WISE, the organization Twilight serves, would likely devise an alternative, more efficient method to establish contact with Desmond, rendering Operation Strix obsolete. This is the outcome Twilight initially sought in episode 1 when he rescued Anya from Edgar – a resolution devoid of endangering children or civilians. Yet here he is, tirelessly striving to sustain the mission, trying to eliminate anything that might jeopardize it.

"It's for the mission" is not merely about the operation itself; it symbolizes Operation Strix-the very thread that binds his makeshift family together. The absence of Operation Strix would mean the absence of Anya, Yor, Bond, and the Forgers. While Twilight acknowledges the temporary nature of his stay and the inevitable end of the mission, he yearns for a bit more time with his newfound family.

He craves the opportunity to continue playing the roles of Anya's Papa and Yor's husband, experiences that a spy like him would seldom have. By saying, "It's for the mission," he essentially means, "It's for my family."

His family, in his view, is synonymous with his mission. Therefore, he strives to ensure the mission's continuity, not just for the sake of duty but to extend his time with those he has grown to love. It's more than just a mantra or justification, it's almost like a plea for a little more time – a chance to be Loid Forger and relish a life that a spy like him wouldn't typically have.

So therefore every time he utters "It's for the mission" it might actually translate to this:

It’s for my family, so I could stay with them and we could be together for a little while longer.

[piracytheorist]

It must mean something.

The way Anya drifts into peaceful sleep even while Spy Wars blasts from the TV.

The way Yor’s shoulders seem to lift the moment she crosses the threshold.

Anya sharing details of her day during dinner. Yor braiding her pink hair, telling her to leave them overnight so her hair will look wavy the next day.

When Loid Forger disappears, Anya won’t go back to the orphanage, Yor won’t go back to her lonely apartment, Bond won’t return to the black market.

Only his heart will be rendered empty.

It’s a fair price for their happiness.

[ao3feed-twiyor]

a face-on lover with a fire in his heart (a man undercover but you tore me apart)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/p2jMqyR by aepreal He wonders if there is some truth to what Anya had said about Christmas magic—if perhaps it really did exist, weaving its invisible threads around him, rendering him devoid of intelligence or logic. He can’t explain it otherwise—whatever it is that makes his heart beat just a little faster as he speaks, whatever it is that compels him to put words to feelings that have been buried too long. or, Loid arrives home late on Christmas Eve to a sleepy (fake) wife, and he confronts feelings that won't remain buried. Words: 6712, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: SPY x FAMILY (Manga), SPY x FAMILY (Anime) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen Characters: Loid Forger | Twilight, Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Anya Forger, Bond (SPY x FAMILY) Relationships: Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess Additional Tags: Christmas Fluff, Mutual Pining, Domestic Bliss, Idiots in Love, Accidental Cuddling, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Family Feels, Awkward Romance, Canon Compliant read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/p2jMqyR

[cercasinomeworld]

FAVORITE ANIME AND MANGA SHIPS pt.22

Yoh Asakura x Anna Kyoyama - Shaman King

Matsuboshi Raidou x Reina Aharen - Aharen-san wa Hakarenai

Nagomu Irino x Kanoko Matsukaze - Deaimon: Recipe for Happiness

Fudo Aikawa x Desumi Magahara - Love After World Domination

Shinpei Ajiro x Ushio Kofune - Summer Time Rendering

Loid Forger x Yor Briar - Spy x Family

Dominic x Camilla - Spy x Family (ok, they aren’t important but they are so cute togheter!!!)

Vash x Meryl - Trigun

Nicholas x Milly - Trigun

Gaojun x Shouxue - Raven of the Inner Palace

[prof-kenny]

[asknarashikari]

ReviceCast, Loid, and Yor's reaction to Anya mispronouncing Hiromi's name as Hulemy.

Loid is going to be mortified and would scold Anya for lisping, but Hiromi reassures him it's ok with a smile and a pat on the head for Anya who stares up at the oji-san in awe.

Loid is rendered speechless in shock, and Yor is completely charmed by Hiromi. Even Bond is charmed and "borfs" at Hiromi to get head pats as well (he is delighted when he gets ear scritches to boot)

Daiji is on his knees clutching his heart because by Gaim, his Hiromi is too fucking adorable for words. Kagerou mocks him for being affected even though Hiromi's brilliant smile also affected him XD

Everyone else is just blown away by Hiromi charming the pants off the Forger fam

[coreofgold]

@mvsicinthedvrk for Loid Forger

Quay wandered around, dazed and confused. He shouldn't be here ! He was stabbed right through with a tree branch, then flung back, rendered unconscious and probably burned because without the glamor his chest doesn't look like that, then resurrected but died alongside his wife when Avalir was overrun by chaos and fire and death and yet. . .here he is in. . .in this world. Anyone seeing him would clock how he is. There's dried blood all over his clothes and he looks like he went a few rounds with something. "Would. . .you happen to know where we are ?" Loquatius asks, sounding just as confused and dazed, which never happens to the changeling so this is new and not welcomed.

[night-heron-writes]

Fic gifted to: @risaimitchel (please enable gifts on ao3, friend!)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None

Relationships: Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess

Characters: Loid Forger | Twilight, Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Background Characters (mentioned), Anya Forger (mentioned)

Additional Tags: Loid and Yor Briar Forger Are Eden Academy Students, TwiYor Gift Exchange, Angst, Fluff and Angst, starts fluffy and gets angsty, i am incapable of not writing angst, Passage of time, Pre-Canon, the events of canon still happen but Loid and Yor went to Eden Academy together, no beta we die like [redacted]'s mom, First love and loss, Missed Opportunities

Summary:

And Yor Briar, well, Loid thought she was pretty much perfect. She was full of contradictions, poised and confident one moment and shy and somewhat awkward the next. Her piercing red gaze always seemed to bore right through him, and if he was a little less in control of himself he might dare to say he had a bit of a crush on her. Unfortunately, that rendered him almost completely useless when it came to talking to her, much less flirting with her.

Yor currently had 7 Stella Stars and 7 Tonitrus Bolts, which was a constant source of stress for Loid. The next award or demerit would decide her fate at Eden: Imperial Scholar or expulsion. The two of them were working very hard to ensure the former and prohibit the latter, hence the daily study sessions in the library. Midterms were coming up, and both Stellas and Tonitruses were on the line.

[theclosetpoet7]

I'll Love You Like The Movies page 1

Day One of @clotiweek

Enduring • Favorite Rebirth Moment •  Yor & Twilight  “I’m just a simple father trying not to stumble around too much as I protect my happy little family.”  - Loid Forger (Spy X Family)

Tifa Lockhart had wondered, from time to time, about how Marlene viewed their relationship, how it made her feel, if there was a hint of insecurity there. Their family isn’t like other families. It isn’t easy for a six-year old girl to have to explain to her friends why she calls Cloud and Tifa by their names. It was also hard for kids her age to grasp the concept of Marlene essentially having two dads whenever Barret was around. 

So, when their adopted daughter had come to them with a request for her birthday, Tifa found it hard to refuse. It wasn’t a common occurrence for the young girl to ask for anything after all. Besides, her demands were not hard to meet. She wanted to invite four of her friends over, have a small party, it would be princess-themed, then she wanted to have them sleep over.  That wasn’t a big ask, and honestly, Tifa was looking forward to it since she’d known from experience how fun it can be.

While they were going around the world way back when, one of her fondest memories was sharing a room with Aerith and Yuffie. It was entirely new to her at the time. She was used to hanging out with boys in Nibelheim and her father would not allow her to go when her friends spent the night at Emilio’s house. Being one who held a lot of her thoughts to herself, it was refreshing to be put on the spot when it came to girl talk. She fondly remembers their hushed giggles as a trio and the moments when they’d sneak in a drink or two while playing a game of Queen’s Blood. 

Yes, Marlene’s request was not all that difficult to fulfill. What was difficult was the next thing she asked. 

“Hey Tifa, when my friends come over, can I call you, Mama, and Cloud, can I call you, Papa?"

The blond had managed to cover his surprise at the six year old’s request. His eyes meet Tifa’s in less than a second. There was deep meaning there, a hint of shyness and something she could not quite pinpoint. 

“‘Course.” He clears his throat and goes back to mapping out the route for the day. “If Tifa doesn’t mind.”

The barmaid bends down to meet Marlene’s gaze. 

“I don’t mind.” 

This was met by a big toothy grin and a hug, and the next thing they knew, Marlene was running up the steps yelling. “I told you they’d say yes, Yuffie!”

Tifa almost spit out the coffee she was sipping on and Cloud, well, he accidentally traced a different path than he intended. Carmine eyes met blue, and both adults chuckled nervously. They had no idea that the young Kisaragi had arrived.

Yuffie being involved in all this isn’t a good sign. 

.

.

.

Pictures of both of them

Pink bed covers

Fluffy pillows with the word “YES” printed.

Tifa looks at one frame. It was a stolen photo of both her and Cloud during the Loveless play, holding hands. She glances at the rest and quickly realizes that all of them were candid shots of her and Cloud side by side. 

“Yuffie!”

“Yes?” The ninja pops out from the side of the door frame, her hands full of plates for the party tonight. She has a mischievous grin on while also acting like she has no idea what Tifa is calling her attention for.

“I get that Marlene wanted pink to be the theme for her birthday, but I don’t see why our room needed to be decorated, too?” 

“Oho, so just to be clear, this is both yours and Cloud’s room?” 

The sentence renders the monk flustered and bothered. She had completely forgotten that Yuffie had no idea about their sleeping arrangements. It wasn’t that they were hiding it, but the young brunette had a nasty habit of teasing the both of them, especially Cloud. 

“I… uh, what is all this?”

Yuffie shrugs. “Marlene wanted pink. I gave her pink.”

“But our room…” she stops when the Wutaian grins again.

“This room isn’t part of the party.” 

“It’s not?” The fake surprise is evident. 

Tifa was right to be suspicious of Yuffie’s involvement in Marlene’s earlier request. Something is definitely up. To make matters worse, in less than five minutes, their home is going to be full of young children, ready to fill their bellies up with junk food and cake. Cloud is running a little late. He had sent her a text message earlier about a delay in the store that was his last stop.

As if on cue, someone rings the doorbell. 

 _____________________________________________________________

Tifa shuts the door to the bathroom and lets out a tired sigh. She takes off her party dress and sinks into the warm bath Cloud had kindly prepared ahead for her. The young brunette then proceeds to rest her head at the edge of the tub and relaxes, the smell of lavender calming her senses.

The kids are finally asleep, and by kids, she means Yuffie as well. It was a long night but seeing Marlene happy and full of joy made it all worth it. She recounts the events of the evening. 

The now-seven year old had leapt with joy at Cloud and Barret’s surprise for her. They had dressed up as characters from her favorite tv series. Tifa chuckles to herself. It wasn’t anything new to her, but seeing her comrades act was always a good treat. They did have history in acting on-stage. She had no idea they were planning this and it filled her with joy as she watched Cloud play the character of Bondman so perfectly. Denzel was in on it too. He had dressed up as the villain, although “villain” wouldn’t really describe him well as he looked far too nice in glasses and a cape, with an afro wig that was way too big for him. 

The three males had put on a show, treating Marlene as the princess while Barret gave Cloud his mission to save her. Cloud jumped through pretend obstacle courses as the famous spy. In the end, the hero had prevailed. The ex-Soldier placed Marlene on his shoulders and brought her up so she could take the prize for being a great spontaneous actress. She hugged the giant Moogle plushie tight and didn’t let it go for the rest of the night. 

“Thank you, papa!” 

The action hastened the beating of Tifa’s heart and stirred the butterflies in her stomach. Seeing her childhood friend happy like that always brought her a sense of mirth. But, there was something different about it this time. His eyes held warmth and wonderment at being called someone’s father. They were both young, and had plenty of years ahead of them to think about such things, but they had been acting like parents for a while now.

She didn’t think that being called “mama” would make her feel any different than she always does as Marlene and Denzel’s guardian. Perhaps it was the fact that it was both her and Cloud who were addressed as such. 

Or perhaps it was the fact that Cloud had been looking at her discreetly ever since Marlene brought up the subject. She wants to deny it at the risk of misinterpreting his intention but they've always been good at reading each other. It wasn’t hard to infer that the idea wasn’t entirely impossible, the idea that they will eventually have a child together. 

Her whole body feels numb at the thought, it isn’t the bad kind of numb, it is more of the kind that made her pause because the thought of making a baby with Cloud sent a million diverse feelings into her nervous system. 

It’s the same kind of feeling she had when Cloud had told her that he would stay, for her, back in Midgar. 

The same kind of feeling when he held her hand as they walked towards the Sky Wheel. 

And the same kind of feeling when he told her that she wasn’t getting carried away. 

Only that this was ten times stronger.

She wonders if Cloud would be okay with being called “papa” or would he prefer “dad”? Personally, she prefers “papa”.

Tifa ponders on their future as she lets the day’s aches wash away as she drains the tub. ______________________________________________________________

She’s met with his bare back when she enters their room. The sight is not unwelcomed, in fact, she finds herself mesmerized by it. It isn’t anything she hasn’t seen before, but it leaves her mouth dry nevertheless. Well-defined muscle, a straight line tracing the outline of his spine, strong arms built by years of carrying a heavy sword, and blond tresses falling to the nape of his neck that seemed to look thicker than she remembered.

Tifa steps forward and wraps her hands around him from behind, leaning her forehead against him. 

“Tifa.”

In answer, she murmurs into him, lips meeting his skin as she relaxes and lets out a deep breath. It seemed like he had showered in the other bathroom. Cloud chuckles, sending vibrations to her front. His hand takes hers that are settled on his abdomen, and he turns around to meet her eyes.

“I couldn't catch that.”

She smiles up at him. 

“You were very dashing tonight, a hero.”

His thumb lightly brushes against the back of her hand, mouth tilting upwards. 

“I’m just a simple father trying not to stumble around too much as I protect my happy little family.” He gets into character again, trying to impersonate a spy in another series Marlene likes. 

She laughs lightly and hums in reply, these gentle strokes of his hypnotizing her. 

“Marlene’s request earlier, I’m guessing she wants it for more than one night.” she muses.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Tifa tilts her head to the side, signaling her partner to continue.

“I don’t mind it, you know, being called papa.” He bows his head to shield his expression from her. “As long as you're…mama."

Instantly, her body warms up again, as if she’s plunged back into the bathtub earlier. She doesn’t think she can endure this anymore. Her heart is beating too fast. 

Babies.

Scarlet eyes direct their attention to the pillows on their bed.

Making babies with Cloud.

YES. YES.

“Cloud.” she starts to stutter. But, he holds onto her firmly. 

He returns her gaze.

Face to face.

Soul on soul. 

She instinctively leans in, and he follows, still holding her hand, eyes shifting to look at her lips…

“Kiss! Kiss!”

Hushed whispers from behind the door interrupt their moment. This feels like deja vu. Tifa steps away to catch the intruders but is gently pulled back.

“No, not this time.”

Cloud presses his lips to hers and leads her deeper into their room. 

.

.

.

 Yuffie winks at her over breakfast the next day.

“So, Tifa. Did my lovey-dovey emergency kit work last night?”

______________________________________________________________

Author’s note: It’s been 84 years. How’s everyone been? Enjoyed FF7 Rebirth? They freakin’ kissed! I’m late! But I’ve finally found the time to participate in Cloti Week! I had so many thoughts on how to do the prompts. The part of me that wants a challenge aimed to incorporate everything like last time. I had thought about doing a multiverse type of theme but figured that instead, I’m going to sprinkle quotes and moments from the AU couples. Hope you enjoy it! 

Favorite Rebirth Moment: Cloud and Tifa almost kiss in Gongaga. 

[adorned-throne]

Meadow of Oaths.

Through the eyes of Hector Anworth-Blathe.

I’ve always imagined the better days that would come. When I could sit aside of you, palms upon the palms—we would talk through our beamed smiles. We spoke of all the places we would love to go if we could—at last. If I had known that these strings would be fractured and I shall be walking down with my dour, I would tell you that I’ve adored you more than anything.

The Overview.

Virgo’s flaring stars have solemnized my fate at the very first time I encountered your gaze. The hook renders my breath to be doomed and came to the tail end. Parchment be opened, I shall conceal myself beneath the persona of Lee Jongwon, which also be followed by Park Jongseong (Jay), Jung Wooyoung, Shim Jaeyoon (Jake), Yoon Jaehyuk, Sohn Youngjae (Eric), and Loid Forger. ESTJ be carved and bestowed as my burnt-offering. The plate has Act of Service and Words of Affirmation be written as a chant. Once in years, the odes also will be ushered through Indonesian, English, and Basic Dutch also— perhaps, those are what may beguiled All types of relationship as the Dominant.