#spy family oneshot

[heyiwrotesomethings]

rivals to lovers spy x family, yor x female assassin reader

where your got captured by a gang during a mission she had and the reader is contacted by yors supervisors/colleague cuz she is one of the best and goes and rescues her.

An Assassin’s Rescue Mission

Yor Briar x She/Her Reader

A/N: These two requests are a bit different than I initially thought, but I think I still managed to mix the important bits together. Not really any angst though. Hope you still like it, thanks for reading! Word Count: 2,690

“What did you just say?” (Y/n)’s back went rigid and her hands clasped together tightly behind her back.

“The Thorn Princess has been captured after carrying out a hit on a rather influential business crook. We need you to retrieve her. Make sure she gets back in one piece. She is the best assassin we have at our disposal… no offense.”

(Y/n) snarled at that. There Yor goes again. Even when she gets herself captured she’s still considered the best of the Garden.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sir, but assassins don’t really do rescue missions. We endanger, execute. Find somebody else.”

“Like who, the police? You’ve been to that part of the city outskirts several times. You are the best shot we have. God knows it may already be too late, but we still owe it to her to try—“

“You mean you don’t know her condition? There hasn’t been any correspondence for some kind of deal?” She didn’t wait for an answer before continuing on, “Then why the hell are we wasting time yapping here? Get me my throwing knives! Where is my gun? Keys? I need a damn car!”

The cultivator who had been sitting in on the briefing groaned quietly and covered his eyes with one hand. He had been the one to train Yor and (Y/n) from quite a young age, and they both grew into impressive assassins, but where Yor was rather sweet and well-mannered, albeit a bit ditzy, (Y/n) was more hot-headed, bitter, but as sharp as her knives. She sent potential clients running for the hills with her intensity.

As much as (Y/n) perpetuated that she and Yor were sworn enemies, it was kind of hard to keep up appearances when Yor was too sweet and clueless to realize that there was supposed to be a rivalry going on. She probably couldn’t have driven (Y/n) crazier if she tried to do so intentionally.

And yet despite this, (Y/n) was quick to go rescue her now because like it or not, the Thorn Princess’ vines had weaved around her heart and the little thorns kept it from escaping her grasp. She was much too prideful to admit anything, but for as much as (Y/n) claimed to be unable to stand the other assassin, she sure let her take up a lot of free real estate in her mind at any given moment.

She was also the only one allowed to give Yor a hard time, not that Yor really noticed. But if someone else tried to speak ill of her, (Y/n) was on them in a second. Yor was her rival, and that meant only she had the license to be snarky and knit picky when it came to Yor.

“Come on, hurry up! Do you want me to rescue her or not?” (Y/n) snatched the keys from the cultivator’s coat pocket and chose to skip the stairs and jump right out of the window. She tumbled through the dewy grass below, ran to the sleek black car pulled up to the curb and got in, slamming the door behind her. As soon as the engine roared to life, she tore down the road and quickly vanished from sight.

“I just got that car yesterday…” The cultivator sighed. Hopefully he’d get it back in one piece.

***

Yor flexed her wrists against the metal cuffs, but it only served to make her skin raw. She had really gotten herself into a pickle this time. If only it was rope, she was pretty good at snapping rope. Not as easy as snapping the neck of that shady business man had been, but still.

She shouldn’t have let her guard down like that. (Y/n) would scold her for sure… if she ever got to see her again, anyway. The thought made Yor’s shoulders slump. No one had helped her adjust to the assassin life like (Y/n) did. She didn’t know what she would do without her cute, grumpy face greeting her in the Garden or the occasional mission. But at least she was safe. Yor didn’t know what she’d do if their positions were swapped. There would definitely be hell to pay, of that much she was certain.

At present she wasn’t sure what was to become of her. Since she was detained, she had only been visited by her captors once for a little bit of water. They hadn’t spoken to her at all. Whether this was going to turn out to be a negotiation or an execution, Yor didn’t know.

Her stomach rumbled for the ninth time that night and she sighed pitifully. Wasn’t it custom to get a last meal before an execution? Although, this was a group of angry underground criminals whose paychecks were frozen after she had killed their boss. She would be rather cross too, she supposed.

“Excuse me,” She called out, “is anyone there? I know you are probably upset with me, but could I trouble you for a little something to eat? I haven’t eaten in—“

She heard a heavy thud against the reinforced door of the bare room she had been chained within and she frowned. If they didn’t want her to talk, perhaps they should have gagged her. Though she was thankful they hadn’t.

But then she heard the heavy click of the door being unlocked and she tensed. If she was going out, she would be going out fighting! However, instead of one of the rugged men who had ushered her into the room at gun point, she saw (Y/n) push the door open. Ring of keys in one hand, a sleek knife in the other and a dead man at her feet.

“(Y/n)!” Yor gasped, “What are you doing here?”

“Keep your voice down! What’s it look like I’m doing, Briar? I’m busting you out, dumbass.” (Y/n) hissed, quickly maneuvering behind Yor to test every key on the ring for one that would free Yor’s hands from the awkward position in which they had been cuffed to the wall.

She had to be quick, it was only a matter of time before one of the bodies she had hurriedly stuffed in the dark corners along the way here were discovered. There were more people in this hideout than she would like to deal with. She still took the time to scold Yor as she worked, however.

“I can’t believe you let yourself get caught! You are so lucky I came to rescue your sorry ass. I don’t care what the higher-ups think. This incident definitely makes me the better assassin.”

“I know,” Yor pouted, but for only a moment before smiling sweetly, “thank you for coming for me, (Y/n). You are too kind. You are always looking out for me.”

“Yeah, whatever,” finally the cuffs fell free, “Now let’s get the hell out of here before those goons discover us. Here,”

Yor quickly finished rubbing her wrists in time to receive the sleek, gold ice picks being shoved at her and her eyes practically sparkled. She thought if she ever got out of this place, she’d have to get new ones made. (Y/n) had found a guy using the needles as chopsticks as she weaved through the hideout. Needless to say, that hadn’t ended well for him.

They stealthily checked either end of the hallway before sneaking out in the opposite direction (Y/n) had come from. (Y/n) had observed that the goons seemed to patrol in a clockwise fashion, so it would make sense to keep following the flow where the people (Y/n) had already taken out were supposed to be.

“Come on, stay light on your feet.”

Though Yor was doing a perfectly fine job of keeping up with (Y/n), the other assassin pulled her long by the hand. The contact gave Yor butterflies.

“Shouldn’t be much further—“

“There they are! Stop them!”

“Damn it!”

(Y/n) shoved herself and Yor around the corner, narrowly missing the spray of bullets that came speeding towards them. They skidded to a halt when they heard shouts coming from the direction they were heading. (Y/n)’s presence had been discovered and now they were being surrounded!

“What should we do?” Yor asked.

“Get in that room and cover your ears!” (Y/n) ordered, taking out a small explosive and slapping it to the opposite outer wall before joining Yor in the room and slamming the door shut.

3… 2… bang!

The bomb detonated, and (Y/n) wasted no time pulling Yor through the debris though the smoke stung their eyes and throat. But once they had made it out to the misty, cold night air, their irritation from the explosion started to soothe over. The explosion had taken out a few of the men that led the pack, but more were quick to take their places, guns blazing.

“Get out of here, I’ll make sure you can make a clean get away. I parked behind those bushes over there.” (Y/n) shoved the car keys at Yor’s chest and made a move to turn back around to deal with the mob, but Yor caught her arm and held on with an almost painful grip.

“You can’t go back. Who knows what they’ll do to you. Just keep running! We can escape together!”

“Don’t argue with me, just go! Despite what everyone else thinks, I know I’m a better assassin than you. Besides, notice how weak the gun fire has gotten? Those idiots are almost out of bullets anyway. I got this.” She twisted her arm out of Yor’s grasp and ran back into the fray, throwing knives into the vital points of several underlings as she ran.

“(Y/n), wait!” Yor bit her lip anxiously and looked between (Y/n) and the bushes where the car was.

She should probably listen to (Y/n) and go to the car, right? But she couldn’t make herself look away much less run away.

(Y/n) was doing well holding off the mob on her own, yet Yor still worried. Then she saw a bullet graze (Y/n)’s arm. The assassin winced and blood flowed freely, but she kept fighting, albeit a bit sloppier, and that cemented Yor’s final decision.

Blood red fury coursed through her veins and she gripped her needles tightly in knuckle-white clenched fists. Yor would paint the streets red with the blood of whoever dared to make (Y/n) bleed those few precious streams that now darkened her torn clothes.

“Hey, I said go! Get out of here!” (Y/n) yelled whilst slashing another throat with her non-dominant hand.

But Yor did not retreat, nor hesitate in carving a path straight to her. She had never seen such hellfire in Yor’s eyes. It made a chill run up and down her spine, not that she would ever admit that Yor could be intimidating in any way.

“Don’t you touch her!” Yor growled, snatching the arm of a man who had run out of bullets as his comrades before him. He had clearly intended to pistol whip the back of (Y/n)’s head, but Yor would have none of that. One wound on (Y/n) was already one too many in her opinion.

The man screamed as Yor contorted his arm into an unnatural position and with an awful crack, he fell to the ground. With one swift stab to the back of his head, he was permanently taken care of.

Then Yor really let loose. It was a a hurricane of blood, no survivors save herself and the woman she sought to protect. (Y/n) wasn’t even sure were her own blood ended and the blood of her enemies began.

“Good god, Yor,” (Y/n) whispered, looking out upon their combined carnage, but mostly at the particularly gruesome ones contributed by Yor.

“I,” Yor took in a deep breath, “I may have gone a little overboard with some of those.” She swallowed uncomfortably.

Would (Y/n) be frightened of her because of this? Even by assassin standards, these were some gnarly corpses. If (Y/n) began treating her differently because of this, that might just break Yor’s heart.

“Ah!” Yor brought a hand to her stinging nose, then she looked to (Y/n), surprised by being flicked from so out of the blue.

“I told you I had it, but you just had to show off, didn’t you? Geez, this was my rescue mission, you were the one who was in trouble, not me!”

Yor blinked owlishly, then gave a slight smile, “Sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get the hell out of here. You’re probably starving right? I guess I’ll have to make you something at my place given how dawn hasn’t even broke yet. Everyone knows you can’t cook for shit.”

“Thank you, (Y/n) that’s really nice of you, but you should let me tend to that wound first. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It’s just a scratch.“ (Y/n) puffed her chest, “You should see what I did to the other guy!”

Yor giggled, but (Y/n)’s energy was not enough to convince her. As soon as they got to the car, Yor found a medkit in the trunk and put it to good use, though she did make a mess of the hydrogen peroxide and the bandages, spilling them all over the trunk. Given all that had gone down, the cultivator’s car could have suffered a lot worse than a couple bloody bandages soaked in H2O2 left in the trunk.

“Thanks.” (Y/n) begrudgingly mumbled when Yor finished up.

Yor joined her where she sat on the edge of the trunk and gave her a hug, eyes shut tight.

“I’m so glad you’re going to be okay.”

“Hey, do I need to remind you again that this was my rescue mission to save you? That should be my line. So,” she cleared her throat, eyes looking to the side down at the damp grass, “I’m glad you are okay too.”

Yor hummed happily and hugged her just a bit tighter.

“But if you ever let yourself get caught again, so help me I’ll make you my prisoner instead. At least then I’ll know exactly where you are.”

“Do you think we should move in together?” Yor wondered. That would make it easier on (Y/n) somehow, wouldn’t it? In any case, Yor knew for sure that she would enjoy waking up and getting to see her every day.

“That’s not what I was saying at all!” (Y/n) spluttered, but then mumbled, “But I guess I wouldn’t be opposed. Just don’t burn my kitchen down.”

“I won’t, I promise. This is so exciting!”

At that moment, Yor’s stomach chose to growl again. She pressed her hands over her abdomen and blushed. (Y/n) snickered.

“Alright, you driving or not? We have to get some food in you.”

“I’ll drive!” Yor scooped (Y/n) up from where she sat on the edge of the trunk and brought her around to the passenger seat.

“Hey! Put me down, a bullet just grazed my arm. I can walk ten feet.”

“I want to keep you safe too, (Y/n).” Yor replied, “You’re important to me.”

(Y/n) saw the boundless sincerity in Yor’s eyes and swallowed thickly, sinking further into the seat to try to put a little more distance between them. Even she, with her own special brand of cluelessness compared to Yor’s, couldn’t deny that those gentle words did something to her.

It would still take some time for her to admit it, but she was starting to get on the right track. They both were.

Yor wasn’t exactly a smooth driver, but they made it to (Y/n)’s apartment in one piece. First things first, they made either a super late dinner or an extra early breakfast depending on how you looked at it, to combat their hunger. Being on the other end of a massacre was hungry work after all.

Yor helped with food prep, but (Y/n) ultimately cooked it all. Then they took turns getting cleaned off before putting their feet up and laying back against the couch. They ended up falling asleep together, tangled atop the piece of furniture too narrow for two people, but that was only because the night had been so exhausting… or so (Y/n) pretended to reason as she nuzzled closer.

[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.”

[milkbobatyun]

drown your sorrows

pairing: various x gn!reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: there was a liyue saying that alcohol was the best medicine for all ailments, but why didn't it work for heartbreak?

word count: 710

C O N T E N T W A R N I N G : consumption of alcohol

a/n: uh yeah this isn't exactly fully 'medication' but hope yall have fun w this

they said to always drown your sorrows, yet no matter how much they drank every night, when they closed their eyes, all they saw was you.

your phantom touches in the darkness, gentle and familiar against their body. hands combing through their hair, massaging their scalp, straightening their rumpled clothes.

[cheerful but regretful]

[VENTI, beidou, kaveh, feixiao, KAEYA, lyney, gaming, BOOTHILL, sampo, jiaoqiu, HINATA, oikawa, gojo, yuri briar, YOR BRIAR, hoshina soshiro + your favs]

the burn of the alcohol sets their throat on fire, an anchor keeping them in the present. yet their face is warm with heat, mind abuzz with old memories, head slumped on the table, cushioned by their arm.

they hold a one-sided conversation with the air, their words soft and slurred, but laced with the sadness, regret and love of someone who had long ago lost their most precious love.

when their friend sees them in the bar, chatting animatedly to thin air, they tap [character] on the shoulder.

“who are you talking to?” they ask curiously.

[character] blinks up at them, a cheerful, almost delirious grin on their face.

“[name], of course!” they say, as though it is the most normal thing in the world. suddenly, their face crumples with sadness, smile fading, as though they suddenly remembered something. a heavy silence hung in the air, filled with regret and sorrow.

a sigh breaks through the stillness, followed by a hollow laugh.

“you’re wondering who [name] is, right?” [character] offers, eyes downcast, yet a ghost of a smile remains on their lips. “they were beautiful, perfect, an ethereal being…yet, death…death ripped them from me too soon.” [character] laments, reflecting on the bittersweet memories. memories they replayed a thousand times, only to have them leave the same sorrowful taste in their mouth.

in that moment, your laugh echos in their ears, melodious ringing, like the bells of heaven, pure and sweet, only to disappear just as quickly as it came, fading into hollow echoes and a mist of memories.

[character] takes a swig of alcohol, the taste burning their tongue, trying to drown out the teasing of your memories. you’re too far out of reach for them, maybe one day, soon, they’ll see you again.

[quiet, solemn drunk]

[ZHONGLI, diluc, geto, jingyuan, ARLECCHINO, nanami, SHOKO IEIRI, alhaitham, luocha, BAIZHU, kazuha, sunday, wanderer, neuvillette, dan heng + your favs]

the alcohol burned on the way down, a sharp reminder of the present, but it couldn’t burn the ghost of you. every shot, every drop, making your presence stronger, teasing them with the memories that refused to fade.

when they closed their eyes, all they could see was a film of memories, dedicated to you.

they sit, relishing in the silence, letting their mind wander, remembering all the places they visited with you, your favourite things, the things that made you smile, joy radiating from you, everything about you that they engraved in their mind.

every sip of alcohol reminded them of a fragment of your shared lives. they allowed themself to drown in the pool of your memories, where the pain of your absence was numbed by alcohol.

the mind is a cruel thing, they think, as their brain replays the bitter moment they lost you. they pick at the memory like one would with a scab, never letting it truly heal, the pain a reminder of their agony and torture of living a life without you. they savour the feeling, for it is the only connection they have to you now.

sometimes, they see you, sitting opposite them, still talking animatedly about your day, a shot of alcohol held in your hand. they can hear your voice, bright and familiar, the unique way you speak. unbeknownst to them, a soft smile graces their face, as they watch you with a love-struck gaze, as though you never left.

even in their haze, they know, deep down, that no amount of alcohol would truly make them forget about you. yet they still turn to drink, to allow them to pretend, just for a short while, that you’re still there, still with them.

whoever said to drink away your sorrows was a liar, they think bitterly, for a drink may dull the pain, but it would never erase the memories.

footnotes: while there isn't an actual saying in liyue lore, the chinese did believe that alcohol and drinking appropriate amounts of alcohol could cure ailments, so i thought why not combine it w the saying 'drink your sorrows away' (๑*ᗜ*) 

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[jomamaofficial]

Laundry and Taxes (Loid Forger x Wife!Reader Angst Oneshot)

A/N: Hello my lovely toes, I am back from my hiding and I bless you with this SpyXFamily fiction. Istg, this anime is so wholesome but it has so much angst potential. It was killing me that no one decided to create some gut-wrenching angst no comfort. So here I am. My asks are open for any requests or just a conversation. I would love to give back to our little community here. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy :). CW: Minor mentions of hand-guns (because of Anya). Masterlist Word Count: 2204 Summary: In your small found family– with your husband, daughter, and dog– you were content. Content with your normal routine of playing spies with Agent Anya, and setting up the evening coffee and hot cocoa, after your husband came back from his work. Cold War tensions grew yet your small familial unity sustained your peace. But what happens when the war approaches its desired end, when the leaders of Westalis and Ostania finally unite under peace?

——————————————————————————————————

You saw yourself in the pink-haired young girl playing in front of you. Black sunglasses on, with frames too large for her face, you chuckled at the way she rolled around the cosy apartment, hiding behind Bond one moment, hiding behind Pengi the Penguin another. Her hands were raised in front of her face, mimicking a tiny hand gun. 

She was obsessed with spies. 

She wanted to become one when she grew up, “to protect world peace”.  

I guess you two weren’t that different. 

Like mother, like daughter. Although it often haunted you that you were only her second mother. Yes, you were Anya’s ‘Haha’, yes, she told you she loved you. But you still hesitated to accept your role between Anya and her ‘Chichi’, Loid. You felt as though… it wasn’t your place to intervene between the daughter-father combination, often feeling as though your use ended on the day of Eden College’s interview. 

Although you had no right to feel upset over being so… disposable. You couldn’t even perform the basic tasks of a mother and a wife sometimes. 

Cooking? Loid made dinner everyday. 

“It’s not that she doesn’t like your cooking, Y/N. She’s just a picky eater. It’s a terrible habit I failed to acknowledge when she was younger and now, I believe Anya’s just stuck with it”.

Laundry? Loid kindly asked you to stop doing the laundry for his and Anya’s clothing after you mixed up the colours and temperatures. Loid had to wear a pink shirt to work for three days. And poor Anya. She was in tears when she saw her favourite wool-knit sweater, four sizes too small, lying limply amongst the sea of baby pink.

You saw Loid’s face go blank, when you opened the machine, your eyes shut in an internal sigh as your cheeks matched the hue of his shirts. And Anya was just crying as she held onto her sweater. 

From then on, you were gently reminded that Loid had no trouble washing his clothes and Anya’s. 

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’ve been doing this for a while now, it’s honestly second nature to me”, he said with a smile. 

Eventually, Anya repurposed her ruined favourite sweater for her little plushies. 

Everyone was happy, yet the colour pink and wool scribed disappointment on your features, a symbol of your failure as the Forger wife and mother. 

Cooking failed, laundry failed. You had basic mathematic skills, you could maybe tackle the taxes? But don't even start about taxes. It was the one thing he never allowed you to touch. Documents were brought in and out of his locked room, swiftly and silently. 

You never felt like the proper wife for Loid Forger. And you never felt like the proper mother for Anya Forger. 

Yet there were times like this, where you could see your reflection in Anya’s innocent game play, where you felt as though you did belong in the Forger household. 

Clad in a black pencil skirt and a white button down Anya ‘borrowed’ from Loid, you revealed your hiding spot from behind the corridor wall, exposing Anya with a loud, “you’ve been caught, Agent Anya!”

Anya turned around slowly, an unexpected smirk on her face. 

“Well well, Agent Haha might have caught anyone else off-gaard. But Haha forgets…” she snickered, pulling out two small plushies from behind her back, “Anya is Agent Anya, the best detetiv in the world!” 

To your surprise, she launched the plushies in your direction, laughing in victory. 

As one plushie hit your arm, you feigned injury, crying out as you slid down the wall. “Oh no! I’ve been struck by the greatest detective in the world! What was my boss thinking of setting me on this mission against the one and only, Agent Anya?” 

Anya laughed and smiled at your declaration of loss, gathering her fellow ‘agents’ to finish the mission. 

“Don’t wovvy Agent Haha, you did well for your forst time! You can onwy get better from now”. 

It had been nearly a year with this bundle of joy and she never failed to make you smile. 

You took Anya’s hand and saluted her. 

“I hope to learn from the best onwards. Please accept my defeat”, you bowed, your lowered eyes stuck in nostalgia. 

Anya was obsessed with spies. You were too. It was a long phase that lasted until your late teens. But one could argue that it still tumbled around your heart, catching you by surprise here and there. 

You wanted to marry a spy when you were younger. It was your only dream. 

Although you were glad that your childhood dream never became true. 

Because spies could never stay. And it was much easier to be the one who left, than to be the one who was left. That was a universal belief, it seemed. 

So you were also glad that Anya had no intentions to marry a spy either. She just wanted to become one, that’s where you two differed. 

You heard the faint jingle of keys as the rapid clock hand approached six. And there he was, your husband, walking through the door with his hands preoccupied with two big, brown paper bags. 

“Chichi!” Anya exclaimed, tearing her hand away from yours to clasp the grey fabric of her Chichi’s trousers. 

“You’re back!” 

Loid was taken aback, weight shifting off-balance. You stood up to free his hands, his eyes silently thanking you. 

He gently shut the door behind him before ruffling his daughter’s hair. 

“Of course I would come back, Anya. A person can’t just disappear out of thin air”. 

“Spies can!” Anya retaliated. 

Loid stared at her. Silent. No apparent emotion in his eyes. 

You couldn’t help but giggle at Loid’s blank face. He never understood spies. Whenever Anya would bring them up, he zoned out: with a nod here and there and a simple response, he always found a way to turn the conversation elsewhere. 

It was how you felt with politics. You never quite understood it, but if someone was passionate about it, you would listen in with a few polite ‘mhms’, and an “interesting!”. But most importantly, you would do whatever you could to direct the conversation elsewhere – it was a trait you shared with your husband. Now who learned from who, that was up for debate. 

“It was in the wast episode of Bondman!” she explained, tugging him towards the living room, where she sat in front of the TV and elaborated on the newest episode. 

Listening to Anya’s adorable voice, you walked into the kitchen, placing the bags on the kitchen aisle. Your body followed the daily routine you had grown to love so much: your hands worked on autopilot, sorting the filter system, pouring the water, adding the coffee beans that were always placed on the bottom shelf of the far-right cupboard. And of course, you could never forget the packets of cocoa powder on the shelf just above, with Anya’s little mug– stained slightly on the inside but white nonetheless, with a band of yellow on the top. And of course, the mandatory bags of tiny marshmallows just beside it, because Anya always wanted a handful of marshmallows on top of her cocoa. It was your normal. A normal you grew to crave so much. 

To love so much.  

“He disappead just wike that, in thin air! Never to be found again by anyone!” 

Loid sighed. 

“If only you could focus on your studies as much as you focus on this show, Anya”. 

You giggled from the kitchen, swiftly sorting the items Loid had bought, cross checking it with the grocery list stuck on the fridge door. The coffee was nearly finished, although you hoped it would filter faster.

“I wonder what Anya will do now that Bondman is finished”, you added as you placed a pitcher of milk, a bowl of a few sugar cubes, and Anya’s mug of hot cocoa on your plain white tray. 

“Will she finally study?” you asked, walking over with your simple white tray, as you did everyday. 

Anya’s eyes widened as she grabbed the tiny mug with her tiny hands, the stars in her eyes still shining as the tiny marshmallows reflected in them. Just like always. 

Loid reached for his mug, a simple white cup with a black band around the top. He reached for the pitcher, the tension in his shoulder dissipating as his wife sat next to him, with her own simple white cup with a coloured band around the top. 

He poured the right amount of milk in your cup and dropped an extra sugar cube in yours, passing a tiny tea spoon to stir. 

This was your normal. But perhaps, it was also his. 

Perhaps, your body also inched closer to his, and perhaps, his hand lingered for a second longer when he passed your coffee. 

“Chichi and Haha are flirting”. 

“No we are not!” you both defended, although her observation was far too frequent to deny internally.

Loid took another sip of his coffee, losing himself in the comfort of the sofa cushions. 

“Your Haha asked you a question, Anya”. 

Anya pouted at her Chichi, unhappy that he redirected the conversation again. 

This was the Forger’s normal. 

So in a year or two, when Anya began to willingly study without Loid’s constant presence, it seemed… different. 

But one could suppose that ‘different’ wasn’t always terrible. 

It was different to hear the deafening silence coat the walls of the Forgers. It was different to see Bond without your pink-haired daughter chasing him around with her ‘spy-gear’ and ‘Silencer gun’. Instead, you saw Bond in front of your daughter’s locked door, where she was silently studying, or silently napping. 

Sometimes she would silently cry, her suppressed sniffles and weeps echoing through the hollow of your mind. 

Your ear would be pressed against her wooden door, with Bond’s empty eyes watching, attempting to decipher her whispers:

“Chichi won’t … if Anya isn’t an Imperial …”. 

“Anya will never … Chichi again if Anya doesn’t …”. 

“Anya can’t … Haha’s coco if Anya doesn’t study”. 

You would look back to Bond, his eyes reflecting the Forger household. It was rumoured that animals knew more than humans sometimes. And how you wished you could know what Bond knew. 

And when the evening shrouded its last ray of light into your shared apartment, the clock ticking to eight, Loid and you still sat together. Although it was different because it only lasted a minute. Because Loid would politely thank you for his coffee and walk away into his room, the milk pitcher left untouched. 

But it became painful when it became normal for your evening snacks to be placed back inside the plastic containers, and stowed away on the top shelf of the far-right cupboard. And every time you opened that cupboard, on the far-right, your chest constricted as three packets of untouched marshmallows stared back at you, lying against the bored packet of cocoa powder. And up in front, you could see that hollow white teacup, collecting dust as the yellow band on top turned sickly. 

Sometimes, you would turn the television on, as you battled the hunger in your heart. Two years ago, you would have to flick through multiple cartoon channels to browse the adult selection. Now, the first channel was always the news, reporting on the decreasing Cold War tensions between Westalis and Ostania. 

“Peace in Unity”–  it flooded the screens and streets of your small little world. 

The message spreaded as the war contained. 

However, the message troubled you heavily. The Westalian and Ostanian governments claimed that there was peace in unity, yet your familial unity starved your peace and fed your tension. 

But the weight finally crushed your troubles when the Forger household was filled with noise once again. 

Your eight-year-old daughter finally left her room to point towards the fridge door. 

It was different, because the noise wasn't the bustling laughter of your daughter’s beautiful giggles. They were gut-wrenching wails that suffocated her throat. Eyes all red and swollen as her running nose dripped down her lips, mixing with her prickles of sorrow, which burnt against her tiny face. 

There was a note with neat cursive printing the sheet in blocks. 

Your dream was to marry a spy when you were younger. But as you grew up, when fiction became an unachievable utopia and horror became the justifiable present, it seemed as though your dream was already fulfilled, three years ago. But this was different. 

Because this dream made your smile too heavy to remain on your gentle face. And the blood that thumped violently behind your eyes, rose your heart just to drop it again. So as your stomach raced, with Loid’s omurice clashing with the constrictions in your abdomen, and chest, this dream was different because you didn’t seem to wake up from it.  

It was much easier to be the spy who left, than to be the wife who was left. Or so you thought, until your blurry eyes stained the last sentence, the ink blending into mush as your hands gave away and dropped the freshly written note from your grasp.

Because in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you,

Loid Forger Twilight.

[linkemon]

Butter (Forger Loid x Reader)

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other oneshots can be found here.

ʟᴏɪᴅ ɪꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇᴅᴇɴ ᴀᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ. ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴀɪᴅ - ᴀɴ ᴏʟᴅ ᴀᴄǫᴜᴀɪɴᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴘʏ - [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]. ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀɴʏᴀ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇᴀɴᴜᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴘʏ ᴡᴀʀꜱ…

"Smooth like butter, like a criminal undercover Gon' pop like trouble breaking into your heart like that" Butter BTS

Anya obediently held her father's hand as she slowly trotted through the sunny city. There were so many things happening around her that she didn't know which way to look. In the orphanage, she rarely went outside. If so, it's usually a dirty yard. The buildings she was looking at now did not resemble the view from the small window of the old tenement house. They were big and colorful. She smiled broadly. It was definitely a fun day. 

— Where are we going? — she asked, tugging lightly on the sleeve of his suit. 

— To the kiosk. To get the newspaper. — Loid adjusted his hat and turned into another of the many streets. 

— [Reader] is a good informant. She'll definitely get some information about the school. 

It wasn't like Anya wanted to eavesdrop on others' thoughts. Sure, sometimes she really tried to do it on purpose and usually succeeded but it was usually without her control. That's why she didn't like crowds. In large crowds of people, her power went a bit crazy. There were times when she heard too much at once. That's why she was glad to go to a less crowded.

She looked at dad. Ask him? No, she couldn't. She would have to explain to him what was going on. He would have realized that she wasn't completely normal and he would have given her back. If she wanted to stay with him, she had to get into school. This was important to his mission. 

She strained her head. Informant... Informant... Informant... Someone like that was definitely in an episode of Spy Wars. She just couldn't quite remember which one. She usually focused on what Bondman was doing. After all, he was the coolest hero of all. He shot, defeated enemies and saved the princess. 

— Good morning. — Forger entered the small shop. 

The bell above the door jingled a few times, letting the owner know that a customer had arrived. Loid took off his hat out of politeness, looking around the shelves. He looked at Anya with a significant look. She furrowed her brow in thought but soon realized what he meant. 

— Good morning! — she screamed. 

— Hello, nice to see my regular customer! — The saleswoman immediately stopped reading the book and seemed to perk up. 

Anya looked at her closely. She had gray hair. Her face wasn't yet wrinkled like the orphanage counselor's but she leaned on her cane from time to time. 

— Dad, how do you know the old lady? 

— Anya, that's very rude. You shouldn't say that. Apologize — Forger sighed. 

— It's okay. — The lady behind the counter laughed loudly. 

— It's a good sign. My cover is working. And I thought that with my beauty I wouldn't be able to pretend to be an old woman. Checkmate, headquarters! 

Anya widened her eyes in disbelief. It must have been the whole informant. The longer she looked at her, the more small details she noticed in her disguise. Her hands were very young. And in one place above her ear the colour of her hair was slightly different than the gray that dominated her head. She wasn't old at all. She was just pretending. The little girl felt a surge of pride. She figured it out herself. 

— You must be Anya? Mr. Forger told me a little about you. — The woman smiled friendly. 

— My name is Anya Forgerzzz. I'm this years old. — She lifted her fingers neatly. — And I like peanutz very much. 

[Reader] looked at the little girl. She had to admit she was adorable. Maybe not quite perfect for this mission, judging by Twilight's report but she should be able to handle it with a little help. To which she herself was to contribute significantly. 

Eden Academy didn't accept just anyone. Known for its demanding course of education, it expected wealth, knowledge, good manners and elegance from students. It quickly eliminated families that didn't fit in and there was no chance of returning. You only had one chance to try to get there. Her professional friend — Franky — entrusted her with obtaining information about the school, as well as the main target of the mission — Donovan Desmond. She had to pass it on somehow, so she bought a small building a bit from the center. Running the kiosk was extremely boring. People usually stopped by to get their newspapers early in the morning. After that she was off almost all the time. Seeing Twilight reminded her, as always, of other, more interesting times, when she was still training to become an agent like him. Did she regret changing her profession? Maybe sometimes, when she almost fell asleep out of boredom, poring over the pages of a novel to pass the time. However, she had little choice. An injury in the last year of training eliminated her from the game. Working as a spy would strain her leg in the long run. So she took the informant course. 

Twilight hasn't changed much since his student days. Already in his first year he was promisingly good. The closer he got to completing his training, the more he proved he was perfect for the job. Now, working on the Strix, he has become his profession's best hope for peace. A lot of people were jealous of [Reader] for getting the chance to work with him. Some of her friends from work bothered her to ask him for autographs on their behalf. She disagreed, answering evasively. He didn't like it and didn't have much time. She didn't want to bother him with such trifles. Even if it made her look like a mean friend in the eyes of others. 

Women were still crazy about him. Both those in the field, at the headquarters, and those that he had to use for his missions. [Reader] wasn't surprised at all. He had a kind of charisma but he could also be sensitive when needed. However, this was usually seen in purely work-related matters. She had the feeling that few of them really knew him. She wanted to believe that she was some kind of exception. She never forgot how one of the first days no one could complete the obstacle course. They were the only ones who stayed longer to try again. Once during an exam, the boy made a wrong turn and almost hit broken equipment. Maybe he could save himself from the sharpened rod, maybe he wouldn't — it was hard to tell how well his tired body could handle it. Then [Reader] appeared out of nowhere, pulling him up. For a long time he couldn't believe that she had messed up her almost perfect score to help him. Since then, they started talking to each other. Sometimes the girl thought about whether what was between them was still friendship or whether the boundary had been crossed. The answer never came and in her senior year the relationship faded as [Reader] changed her career path. Which didn't change the fact that it was still really nice to see him, even from time to time. They usually worked far from each other, in different parts of the country. However, there were joint missions like this one.

— There should be some left around here. — [Reader] started rummaging through her old-fashioned purse. — Butter peanuts. I think you'll like them. 

— Thanks! — The little girl's beaming face let her know that she must really like this delicacy. 

The man immediately realized what was going on. It was a packet of [Reader]'s favorite flavour. She had carried at least one with her since her student days. It wasn't for sale. He tilted his head slightly, as if scolding her for spoiling the child and giving away her things. 

— Today's special edition. — [Reader] pulled out a newspaper from under the counter. 

She gently tapped her fingers against its surface and if it weren't for her mind reading, Anya would never have realized she was conveying a secret message: 

— Half of the answers to the exam. You have to wait for the rest — the woman spelled in her mind.

The girl stuffed peanuts into her mouth, feeling mounting excitement. It may not have been exactly shooting with a gun but she was involved in some real spy work. Almost like in Spy Wars! 

— You should visit us for afternoon tea sometime. Preferably as soon as possible. Maybe this week? — Forger handed Anya a tissue to wipe her mouth. 

— I have a lot of things to do but I'll see what I can do. — She looked at him uncertainly. 

— I don't know if I can get these answers that quickly — she tapped with her fingernail again.

— It's not about the mission. We didn't see for a long time — he tapped. 

She stared at the shelves, trying to keep her face neutral. She thought her feelings had faded after so long. So why was she so happy about this invitation? The answer led to only one conclusion: forgetting didn't work out at all. Maybe it would be easier to get over it if he changed or was less handsome. Meanwhile, she had the impression that he was still the same. Every time she saw him. 

— We should go now. — Loid grabbed the little hand sticky from all of the nuts. — Goodbye. — He bowed and put on his hat. 

Before leaving, he gave [Reader] a second longer look than he should have. He looked like he wanted to say something but then he looked at the baby and decided against it. He took Anya in his arms. 

— Bye Bye! — The girl waved as she left the store.

She felt like sleeping almost immediately. She rubbed her tired eyes. It was a day full of new surprises. She didn't have time to take a nap. She cuddled up to her dad. On the border between wakefulness and sleep, she sometimes heard people even when she didn't want to. This time it wasn't different:

— How long do I have to wait for the tram... 

— How boring this job is... 

— Damn! Attack? Right now? 

This last thought, picked out from a sea of others, successfully woke her up. She strained her mind, trying to figure out where it was coming from. She was horrified to discover that the chaotic words were coming from the building at the end of the street they had just left. She felt panic. How was she supposed to let anyone know what was going on? 

— Just a moment and it will be over. We must have these documents. — The unfamiliar voice sounded menacing, echoing in her head. 

— I want peanutz! — she blurted out as loudly as she could. 

Loid looked at her, raising an eyebrow. 

— You just ate the whole package. If you're hungry, I'll buy you dinner. 

— No no no. — She stamped her foot. — Peanutz! — She turned her head towards the kiosk, as if that would help her figure out whether the informant was still alive. 

— Listen. — The man crouched down, lowering himself to her eye level. — Too much sweets is harmful to children... 

— Anya wants peanutz now! — she shouted louder than last time. And she did something she saw from other children on the street. Every time they wanted something very much, they took a deep breath and started crying. She followed their example, attracting the attention of all passersby. 

She didn't feel well with her snotty nose and face covered in tears. That's why she was happy when she got a handkerchief. 

— Okay, okay. We'll buy them on the way home, how about this? — Forger asked conciliatingly. 

— NO. Butter peanutz from an old lady! — Saying this, she pulled Loid by the sleeve towards the kiosk.

The man sighed heavily. He knew perfectly well that [Reader] had no more packages. However, he was fed up with the glances given to him by random passers-by. So he let the little girl guide him to stop her from crying, at least for a moment. 

He didn't expect what he saw in the store when he crossed the threshold again that day. Anya probably didn't either because she stood there like a pillar of salt, staring at the man behind the counter. He stared at the store owner. [Reader] must have lost her wig in the heat of battle. A fresh scar marred his cheek. She must have been hit hard. She dropped her old lady cover, pointing her gun at her attacker. Someone else's muffled voice came from behind the door of the small storage room. He probably had a gag on his mouth. 

[Reader] glanced back quickly. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Twilight. 

— I thought I'd have to shoot this guy. How could I get two people out of here alive without blowing the cover? 

— We came for nuts. We didn't want to disturb your game of thieves — Loid said, trying to save the day. The little girl couldn't have known that she was a spy. This could ruin the entire mission. 

— If only Anya wouldn't find out... 

The girl gave him a quick glance. Now she had to act a little stupid. 

— Are you playing robbery? Anya wants to play too. Can I have a gun? 

— Of course! And in the meantime I'll take care of the second evil guy, what do you say? — suggested the woman. 

— Great! — said the little girl, taking over the weapon. — Handz up!

The attacker looked at her as if he wanted to say something but eventually closed his mouth. 

It was like a Bondman action movie. She felt herself almost shaking with excitement. Of course, she had to pretend she didn't know what was going on but it was still like in her favourite series. She wasn't disappointed with her dad. She knew from the beginning that if she allowed him to be adopted, sooner or later she would experience his dream. 

Twilight gave [Reader] a slightly horrified look until her lips moved in silent communication: 

— Fake gun. 

Immediately after, she opened the glove compartment, revealing a slightly injured man. The agent wasted no time in dialing the agency's number. Someone had to come and get them as quickly as possible. Considering he made the call as part of Operation Strix, the staff needed to get here as quickly as they could. It wouldn't be so easy for an informant to quietly take out these two enemies. Especially still living.

He stepped deeper into the closet and looked at the man with a critical eye. He made sure no one was looking at him and then hit him with a right hook. A soft moan was effectively muffled by the gag. 

— This is for [Reader] — he whispered towards the already unconscious person. Afterwards, he straightened his suit and joined Anya as if nothing had happened.

— I went to check the back room but [Reader] doesn't have any more nuts — he said, taking the gun from his daughter. 

— What nuts... — began the girl, who had completely forgotten why she supposedly came here. — I mean... That's a realz pityyy. We will buy in different store. 

— We have to go. Say goodbye nicely. 

— You're great! — Anya quickly ran to [Reader] and wrapped her arms around her waist. — Can we play like this again sometime? 

— Sure — the woman replied, smiling slightly. She hugged the little girl tightly, watching as Twilight knocked out the guy she had been holding at fake gunpoint with one punch. — I'll come over for tea sometime. And I'll definitely bring some butter peanuts...

[h0estar]

after i read chapter 95, 6 completely made-up and entirely impossible scenarios of what i wish would happen entered my mind and i hurriedly typed them all down in discord in a frenzy oops

my favorite made-up scenario would probably be where for some reason, anya completely forgets about damian and the mission and chooses to dance with juice man (loid) instead. she'll get bullied ofc for wanting to dance with a "servant" or for choosing a "servant" over damian but she doesn't care because at the end of the day, she loves her dad and she's grateful he adopted her. loid becomes even softer for her, and then the two of them have a little father and daughter dance and it's the sweetest thing ever.

and then maybe this could be a hint to her mysterious backstory!

anw, i'm just rambling. scroll along people. let me live with this cute moment as my personal unwritten fanfic in my head for a while :')

[sunflower-author]

YANDERE REQUEST CLOSED!!

SORRY WILL BE BACK SOON!!

HERE IS ALL THE FANDOMS I WILL WRITE FOR:

Seven Deadly Sins

Haikyuu

Assassination Classroom

Demon Slayer

Seraph of the End

Spy x Family

Hunter x Hunter

My Hero Academia

Dr. Stone

Jujuitsu Kiesen

Kakaguri

Black Butler

Attack on Titian

Tokyo Revengers

Death Note

Toilet Bound Hanako-Kun

Ouran Highschool Host Club

Chainsaw man

Vinland Saga

Blue Lock

Bungou Stray Dogs

Moriarty of Patriot

BTW I LOVE DOING POLY AND WILL BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO WRITE FOR THAN 2 CHARATERS

I do Female and Male characters

If u want a specific type of reader lmk I will do anything

Also platonic or romantic

THINGS I DON'T DO:

I AM SO SORRY BUT I DON'T DO SMUT I WISH I DID BUT IDK HOW

[c0zyrainfall]

I don't have an ao3, so I guess I'll post this here 😂 Enjoy? I've never written fanfic before but this idea had to get out of my mind ~

"Bossman, are you okay? You've been rather... spacey recently."

Damian halts mid step, causing Emile and Ewan to swivel back to him with confusion.

"What? I have not! I was just... thinking about the history assignment." His friends nod, appeased.

Can't even think in peace these days, apparently. Damian quickens his pace. He is NOT going to be late again. Now that he has had a taste of detention, he would not like a repeat thank you very much. Detention is for TROUBLEMAKERS, like the Forger girl. No, he would not repeat his tardiness. Never again. (He's thirty minutes early).

The history lesson drags on. The duke was assassinated. Yep. Old news. Damian already knows this entire lesson because he read ahead in the textbook. Can't be too prepared, right?

Apparently you can. This class is a total snoozefest. He wishes he could just faceplant onto his desk and sleep, like Anya is currently doing. But that would ruin his perfect student reputation. Instead, he props his elbow on his desk and rests his chin in his palm. Speaking of Anya.

Damian needs to figure out exactly what her deal is. She's so confusing. He was NOT happy when she hugged him yesterday. He was NOT happy when she wanted him to stay with her. He was NOT happy when she said she wanted to be his friend. He was not.

Even if he wanted to be happy about it, he couldn't be. Because even though he went through all the effort to give her the cakes in person instead of putting them in her locker, she still thought he was a creep.

After they had served their time in detention, Henderson bailed them out and allowed them to eat the teacakes. Then she beamed at him and said they could be good friends. He was confused, because didn't she JUST want to fight him two minutes ago? Then, a fleeting, unwanted thought had crossed his mind-

-and Anya looked at him like he'd just burnt her peanut butter toast. What the heck?! He hadn't even said anything!

...He hadn't even said anything.

Hold. The phone.

[sparrowsworkshop]

"Attached" by OneWingedSparrow

Main Tags: Spy x Family, Loidyor, Forger Family Fluff, Loid & Yor & Anya, Denial of Feelings, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Summary: Loid has no intention of developing feelings. Yor has no intention of cultivating feelings. Anya knows her adoptive parents have both already failed their impossible missions. Set shortly after the beginning of the series (anime or manga), shortly after they've set up the family ruse. Read on AO3 Reblogs are appreciated!

~

Don't get attached, Loid told himself. You know that's a bad idea. Twilight is a part of neither the darkness nor the light. It is meant to drift the in-between—alone. Don't grow attached, Yor warned herself. No one wants to hold the prickly hand of a Thorn Princess. Even the sweetest rose will dry crisp and drop its petals. So too, this sweetness won't last forever.

Anya heard both their lies as she began to doze off against Loid's shoulder. Luckily for Anya's (for now) pretend parents, she was too tired from running around the park that day to put any further plans into action. More luckily for her, however, her previous plan had not been foiled. Upon cracking open one drowsy eyelid to sneak a peek over Loid's other shoulder, Anya saw that Loid was still holding firmly onto Yor's hand—a state they had kept since Anya rigorously suggested the strategy earlier, supposedly to keep the Forgers together in the festival's milling crowds. Now, Anya snickered to herself, though she masked the noise as a snore. Papa's a softie, she mused with glee. And Mama's mission's a fail. Exciting. She snuggled closer to Loid, hiding a smile in his coat. As long as I'm here—Anya yawned—I'll make sure you don't go. ~

[sxf-fics]

Hi hi!!!

So I’m looking for this fic right now, I remember the main plot was that Yor was injured. She tried to cover it up, but Loid discovered it while they attended some type of gala. He touched her dress and she was bleeding. Then they find a nurse’s room and Loid patches her up. It was pre-reveal and completed I believe. It was most likely a one-shot. I remember the plot so clearly but I can’t seem to find the fic.

Thank you so much for this blog! Y’all are super helpful!! <3

Hi! This fic seems to fit with your request, it has a few oneshots and the chapter 4 has all the details you mentionned:

Hope this is what you were looking for ❤️

[biscotti8765]

I’m writing a TwiYor oneshot but I need some advice because I feel like I’ve hit a wall. The concept is that Yor gets tasked to kill Twilight but only realises that it’s Loid the moment she’s standing in front of him with a gun pointed at his face. A secret identity reveal but it’s at both ends of a gun. My question is: where does it go from there? How does Yor react? Can she call the shopkeeper and tell him she can’t do it because it’s her husband? Does this risk his spy identity? How does Twilight react? There’s several ways this can go but I feel like I’m lacking in the knowledge of how Assassins operate. Any ideas?

[heyiwrotesomethings]

yor x femaler reader. friends to lovers

so yor is on an undercover mission on ball?and is almost caught by the bodyguards of the target when she is dragged into an alley way,after being chased, by reader and she keeps her quiet before a gunshot is heard near them and they are found.

Things happen and yor is knocked out and bound in a ware house were they try to interrogate her.

KEY WORD: try

Reader goes and commits h0moc!d3

Ballroom Blitz

Yor Briar x She/Her Reader

A/N: I know this isn’t exactly what you asked for, but I was unsure how to best carry it out so I tried to make it a little easier for myself. I can promise you that Reader does commit homicide though! For added fun, I thought about the song The Ballroom Blitz by Sweet while writing this, so if anyone wants to give that a listen, feel free. Thanks for reading! Word Count: ~1,465

“The target is in the back of the room in the burgundy suit, see him?” (Y/n) murmured into the minuscule communications device tucked snuggly in her ear. She hid the movement of her lips behind the champagne flute in her hand.

“Yes, I see him.” She heard Yor reply.

(Y/n)’s eyes drifted to the opposite corner of the busy room to find Yor navigating between the dancing couples in her signature black dress.

“Use caution, those men around him are trained bodyguards.”

“What would I ever do without your help (Y/n), thank you.”

(Y/n) could hear the genuine gratitude in Yor’s voice and smiled behind the lip of her champagne flute.

“Any time, partner.”

(Y/n) stood vigil in her corner and watched Yor slowly make her way through the dancing and chatting aristocrats, politely denying any offers to dance along the way. She briefly turned her eyes back on the man in the back of the ballroom. Well, it was supposed to be brief, but looking at the man, she saw how nervous he looked as he nursed another glass of wine. A red rather than a white this time around, he must have finished off the previous bottle on his own. No one would think anything was amiss if he suddenly toppled over once Yor slipped the poison into his never-ending drink.

Yet his nervous behavior concerned (Y/n). Was he expecting something to go wrong for him tonight? Had someone tipped him off?

(Y/n) saw movement at the target’s left and peered over at the well-dressed, snooty looking woman stiffly walking over with a large binder in her hands. On closer inspection, (Y/n) noticed it was the guest book and silently cursed as the woman hung over the target’s shoulder and pointed out Yor from the crowd.

“Yor, we’ve been compromised. Retreat and regroup—“

“Everyone attack!” The man shrilled over the fanciful classical music that filled the ballroom, jabbing a desperate finger in Yor’s direction as he practically crawled over the woman with the guest book to run away with his hands raised to the sky.

The bodyguards and even more men who had been disguised as waitstaff leapt into action and began lunging and shooting at Yor, flinging the ballroom into chaos.

“Shit—” (Y/n) pulled her gun free from its hiding place and aimed it at the ceiling, firing off a single shot. “Everyone who doesn’t have a stake in this fight, get down!”

Most of the people fell to the ground in an array of screams and shouts before they began scuttling away like cockroaches. How undignified. For some reason the small orchestra was still playing though, and for that (Y/n) had to give props. That, and they seemed to switch to something more energetic to match the hectic scene.

“(Y/n), go after the target!” Yor yelled into her mic, making (Y/n) wince, “I’ll hold them off here.”

(Y/n) wanted to disagree, but they really didn’t have another choice. If their target got away, then that wiggly little mole would never be seen again.

“Don’t die on me, Briar!” (Y/n) warned, dodging a bodyguard’s punch before elbowing him hard in the stomach and sending him to the ground with the bridge of his nose crushed into his skull.

Yor sent her a wink from the other side of the ballroom as she sliced another man’s jugular open while dodging a spray of bullets. It was strangely artistic, almost like a dance with the music still playing, a very bloody, violent dance.

But now wasn’t the time for (Y/n) to ogle her best friend, she had a cowardly little mole to catch up with.

She disposed of a few more bodyguards on the way out of the ballroom and kicked the double doors open, catching sight of the target as he scrambled around the corner. She ran after him and the ballroom’s double doors swung shut with a heavy thud, muffling the music and gunfire within.

After littering the halls with a few more bodies, she had cornered the target. She almost felt bad for the man sniveling and cowering beneath the elegantly carved mahogany table and red velvet table cloth, an expensive antique vase smashed against the ground and scattered around him in his hurry to hide underneath.

“Please, don’t kill me! I’ll pay you triple what you’re being paid!” He pleaded, eyes red from crying.

“Afraid I can’t do that, sir. This is the risk you run when you deal in selling sensitive information,” (Y/n) reloaded her gun and took aim, “No amount of money can save you when you piss off all the wrong people.”

She ended it with one shot, putting the man out of his misery quickly and only taking the time to check that he was truly dead before rushing back down the maze of hallways back to the ballroom to assist Yor in anyway she could.

“Yor, I eliminated the target. Retreat.” (Y/n) spoke through the communicator. She waited a few moments, but heard no reply, “Yor, respond… Yor? Shit.”

(Y/n) picked up the pace, becoming more worried the closer she got without word from Yor. She couldn’t hear the orchestra anymore, they must have wised-up and split. She slammed the doors open and her eyes were immediately drawn to the middle of the room where Yor was struggling beneath a mob of bodyguards while one stood in front of the dog pile, breathing heavily.

They all looked in pretty bad shape, Yor had given them hell, but they had overpowered her with their numbers and the one left standing was fumbling with his gun, spilling bullets onto the floor as he hurriedly tried to reload while his comrades yelled at him to work faster while trying to keep Yor down.

(Y/n) trained her gun on the man, “Drop it!” She warned.

But the man only tried to load it faster, earning him one of (Y/n)’s own bullets.

“(Y/n)!” Yor called out.

She looked happy enough to see her, but the weight of the people on top of her made her voice sound strained and (Y/n) could already see a bruise forming on her cheek and that made her furious. The time for offering warnings was over, now they had to pay.

(Y/n) fired off the last of her bullets to take out a good portion of the pile before running up on them and striking another man with the barrel of her gun with incredible speed and accuracy. It was then that the rest of the dog pile caught up with what was happening and tried to retaliate by fighting back or putting more pressure on Yor, but (Y/n) was swift in painting the ballroom floors with their blood. So swift in fact, that she hadn’t realized she had moved at all, the only thing waking her from her trance of violence was Yor’s hug.

“(Y/n), it’s over! You did it!” She beamed.

“I… did it. I did it—!“ (Y/n) cupped Yor’s face in her bloody hands, “Are you okay? What am I saying, of course you aren’t, you’re all bruised and scratched up!”

Yor didn’t seem bothered by (Y/n)’s bloodied hands at all. In fact, she cupped her own hands over them to press them even closer to her face.

“I’m okay,” she assured chipperly, “you don’t need to worry so much!”

“I love you, so of course I’m going to worry if you’re hurt! No matter how superficial the wound—“ (Y/n) stopped abruptly, had she really just said that out loud? Looking at Yor’s expression, she definitely did.

In the past, she had let a few things slip that she had later fretted over, a few actions too, but Yor was mercifully oblivious. However, (Y/n) had never flat out told her she loved her before! Even Yor couldn’t be that oblivious, not while they stood so close together with their fingers threaded together against her cheeks.

“I- I mean—“

“I love you too!” Yor blurted passionately despite how flustered she appeared, “I was worried about you going after the target alone, and when we get separate assignments I get really worried too! I can’t go to sleep until I hear you enter the apartment.”

“You too?!”

“Yeah!”

They heard the sound of someone’s throat clearing and they leapt into defensive stances until they realized it was the orchestra organizing themselves back into position. The conductor led the orchestra into the first few notes of a song before craning their head back to give the women an encouraging nod. An unflappable bunch of musicians to say the least.

“Want to dance?” (Y/n) asked.

Yor’s eyes shimmered and she nodded excitedly, bringing (Y/n)’s hands to her waist before eagerly bringing her arms around her neck as the music began to pick up.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Tender Care.

Written for a very lovely, very indulgent anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Yor x Reader (SxF).

Word Count: 2.5k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Slight Asphyxiation, Overstimulation, Implied Violence, Bad Medical Advice, Oral Sex, Delusional Behavior, and Prolonged Stalking.

[Part Two]

Your first instinct was, unimpressively, to assume that she’d followed you here.

It wasn’t the most brilliant idea that’d ever flashed across your mind, but honestly, what else were you supposed to think? You could count the number of days in the past three months you hadn’t ‘coincidentally’ run into the Forgers on a single hand, and you had to hold the precious few nights you didn’t spend helping Loid cook for his busy family or attempting to tutor Anya or trying to talk your way out of whatever family outing they’d invited you on close – if you could really call Yor showing up on your doorstep with a spare dress and a beaming smile an invitation. You couldn’t seem to get rid of them, so it wasn’t out of the question that you wouldn’t be as safe as you’d hoped in the sanctuary of an opera house two trains and three taxis away from the little apartment complex that’d become your waking nightmare. Even if it was only Yor, rather than all three. Even if she clearly wasn’t paying attention to you, her concentration solely on the man she had pinned to wall, one hand wrapped around his throat and a long, needle-like blade clasped in the other. Even if she couldn’t have known you would’ve gotten lost on your way to your seat, couldn’t have snuck into a place like this in a dress sporting so many strange, crimson stains. Even if nothing you were looking at made any sense, you couldn’t help it.

Your second instinct – when you realized that the man she had pinned to the wall wasn’t breathing, that the strange substance painted across her dress probably had something to do with the blood leaking from his throat, that you could only pray she hadn’t come here for you – was to scream.

You covered your mouth as quickly as you could, but it was too late. Yor snapped in your direction, letting the dead man fall to the ground as she turned to face you. Suddenly, as those prying crimson eyes met yours, the hallway between you and her didn’t feel as long as it had, a moment ago, the threat she presented less psychological and more immediate, more physical. Yor seemed to recover from her bloodlust before you managed to pull yourself out of your shock; her eyes widening as she took a step towards you, then another, tucking her weapon into her belt as she approached you slowly, as if her pace would be what scared you away.

And, to her credit, you didn’t move. It was one thing to dread running into your clingy neighbor in an unused wing of an opera house on the other side of town, another entirely to see that same neighbor strangling a man to death. It was all you could do to remind yourself to breathe, to try and fail to stop yourself from shaking as she came to stand in front of you. There was an airy sigh, a quick shake of her head, then her blood-stained hands came up to cup your face, to tilt your head back and force you to acknowledge her adoring stare, the tentative grin tugging at the corner of her lips – not entirely dissimilar to the expression she wore as she forced you out of your peaceful seclusion.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” she asked, in the same gentle tone she used when Anya got into a fight with one of her classmates, when Loid came home with bags under his eyes and only half the energy it would’ve taken to stumble to bed. “I thought you were supposed to be staying home, tonight.”

Did you? You didn’t remember that. Then again, you couldn’t remember much of anything beyond this, beyond the feeling of Yor’s warmth seeping into your cheek, the sight of her looming above you. Had she always been so tall? She couldn’t have been. If it’d always been so clear just how easily she would be able to overpower you, you would’ve moved to the other side of the country the day she and her awful husband moved in.

You didn’t respond, but Yor didn’t seem to care. “It’s alright,” she went on, as if that would be enough to stop your knees from buckling underneath you, as if that would be enough to stop you from running for your life as soon as you remembered how to move your legs. “I’ll have this cleaned up in a few minutes. Then, we can spend the rest of the night together.”

She bowed her head, ducking low enough for her lips to brush against the top of your head and linger there.

She didn’t get a chance to pull away before your legs gave out and the world around you went dark.

~

Yor’s first instinct was, of course, to catch you, smiling as your body went limp and collapsed into her arms.

Her second, rather belatedly, was to remember that she was still very much in the middle of a mission and think that maybe, just maybe, she should stage your little reunion somewhere other than her crime scene.

It helped that her time alone with you was cut short before she could let you distract her, again. For as adorable as she’d found it, your scream had drawn more than a little unwanted attention; she could already hear a rush of footsteps only a few hundred feet away, five or so civilians she didn’t have the clearance to dispose of. With a small frown, a disappointed sigh, she took you into her arms and found somewhere to stow you away – a cramped, forgotten dressing room, left neglected by those responsible for its upkeep. She didn’t bother trying to turn on the lights, relying on her limited sight to find a dust-coated vanity and lean you against a cracked mirror she could only hope wouldn’t cut you. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself if you got hurt because of her carelessness.

Even unconscious, it was clear you were already in distress. Your breathing was uneven, ragged, and she could practically feel your heart beating as she pressed her ear to your chest, even if she was glad to know it was beating at all. She’d let rose-colored joy tinge your greeting, but she now that she thought about it, Yor could remember how shocked you’d looked to see her, how shaken the sight of so much blood had left you. Oh, poor thing. She couldn’t begin to imagine how scared you must’ve been.

She couldn’t begin to imagine how scared you still were. With her head still resting against your chest, she felt you start to stir, shifting underneath her as your own restlessness brought your brief respite to an abrupt end. Your hands – still shaking, much to Yor’s shame – rose to her shoulders, shoving her away gently as you attempted to speak for the first time since you’d run into each other. “P-please, I need—Please, don’t—”

The footsteps were closer, now, a small collection of vaguely masculine voices coming into earshot. Her hand was around your throat in a moment, her palm forced over your mouth in another. You let out a panicked, muffled shriek, and Yor did what she could to hush you, to comfort you. You looked like you could use some comfort, right now.

“I know, I know, it’s scary,” she started, doing her best to keep her voice down, to make sure her hold on your throat wasn’t too tight, that she wasn’t pressing too hard on anything you couldn’t live without. It’d be a shame to accidentally snap your neck, or worse – choke you until you passed out for the second time that day. Even you wouldn’t forgive her for something like that. “Please, try to stay with me. We just have to wait until the commotion dies down, then I can explain what’s going on.”

Her excuses did little to soothe you. Her heart broke as you kicked and struggled, your nails biting into her wrist and thick, warm tears soon flooding down your cheeks. In any other situation, the sight would’ve brought her to hysterics too, but she couldn’t, she had to be strong for you. Catching her with her mark must’ve left you more off-kilter than she’d thought. You weren’t just startled, you were terrified – no, worse than that, you were irrational, past the point of anything Yor could think to say. You were—

You were hysterical.

The phrase rose up from a half-remembered conversation she’d had with Loid weeks ago, after she commented on how cutely your voice shook and wondered aloud if you were always so nervous, if there was anything they would be able to do to help you lower your guard. It was only a passing thought, an ill-advised suggestion, something he’d mumbled about in a state of exhaustion and refused to mention again after a full night’s rest. Pelvic massages, he’d called them, an outdated treatment administered to women experiencing fits of extreme emotion. Often administered without consent, let alone proper documentation.

‘Outdated’, Loid had called it, but he never said ‘ineffective’.

Yor took a deep breath, steeling herself. She tightened her hold on your throat until each shallow breath took every last drop of your concentration. Only when she was sure you didn’t have the oxygen to cry out did she let her palm fall away from your mouth – taking to the space between your thighs, instead. “I’m going to help you,” she whispered, more for herself than for you. “Just… just let me do this for you, please.”

Her voice shook as she found the hem of your dress. Thankfully, your skirt had pooled around your thighs when she set you on the vanity, meaning she’d only just started to blush by the time she’d dragged it up to your waist. She tried to think about how Loid would handle this, about how he would handle you, but nervous static overwhelmed her more rational thoughts the moment her fingertips made contact with your panties, already damp where the fabric pressed against your slit. That was good. A doctor would’ve thought that was good, surely.

Yor couldn’t help but think that it was great – just how quickly you’d gotten wet for her.

She slipped too fingers underneath the thin material, pulling it to the side. In response, you let out a noiseless whine, only identifiably by the slight reverberation of your throat against her palm, and tried to shut your legs, to stop her from helping you. She worked a knee between your legs before they could close completely, forcing your thighs apart and finding your clit with her thumb, eager to prove how useful she could be before you tried to shut her out again. Admittedly, she wasn’t the most experienced caretaker you could’ve had, but she tried to picture the anatomical models she’d seen in Loid’s study, to think of the way she touched herself when she had a excuse to let herself into your apartment, when she was surrounded by things that smelled like you and unable to hold herself back. Slowly, carefully, she started to circle the bundle of nerves with the pad of her thumb, mindful not to hurt you or leave you feeling neglected, unloved.

When you bucked against her, she only held you more securely. Soon, her chin rested on your shoulder, quiet coos and words of comfort falling past her lips as she slid two fingers into your pussy and scissored them apart, savoring how you clenched around her. You weren’t in a relationship (she would’ve noticed if you were, would’ve made sure no one else got close enough to hurt you), and while she wasn’t sure how often you… how often you took care of yourself, it couldn’t have been often enough. All she had to do was curl her fingers, flick her wrist, pay a little attention to your clit, and you were practically melting around her. As your slick began to drip down the inside of your thighs, she added a third digit, and your body stiffened underneath her touch, a pair of hands shooting up and taking hold of her shoulders. You really were adorable, she thought, as your nails bit into her skin. You really did need her.

It took more than a little strength to remember why she was doing this, to keep herself from leaning into your affection and keep her pace steady, her tempo constant. The most self-indulgence she allowed herself was a stolen kiss to the curve of your neck, right above the point where her hand wrapped around your throat, then another to your collarbone, a satisfied hum escaping despite her best efforts when she realized you were wearing the low-cut dress she and Loid had gotten for you, last time you accompanied them on a day-long shopping trip. Still, it wasn’t enough to stop her heart from skipping a beat as you stiffened, as your pulse raced underneath her palm and the walls of your pussy convulsed around her fingers. Your mouth fell open, but she managed to keep any sound you might’ve made silent as she brought you to your first climax; your orgasm gentle, but intense enough for her to draw out for minutes before it ended and left you limp, clearly exhausted. Your eyes flickered up, meeting hers in a wordless plea to stop, but she couldn’t afford to be soft with you, not when your own well-being was at stake. Not when you so clearly needed her help.

Tearing a strip of material from the ringed collar of her dress, she pushed an apologetic kiss into the corner of your lips and fastened the makeshift choker around your neck, tight enough to keep you quiet, tight enough to make sure you’d have that pretty, glassy-eyed look for just a few minutes longer. She couldn’t hear the civilians anymore, but then again, she couldn’t hear much of anything over the sound of her own heart beating in her hears as she kneeled in front of you, her hands keeping your thighs spread open as she buried her face between your thighs, mouth latching onto your dripping pussy as if by instinct. Attempting to think about what was medically necessary, what was best for your health was beyond her, now, as her tongue lapped over your entrance, as she tasted you for the first time and found pure euphoria between your thighs. For all the joy she felt, she wasn’t surprised. She’d always known you’d be the sweetest thing she ever tasted.

Any noise you might’ve made was quickly replaced by the slick noise of sucking, lapping, savoring. It was messy, not as calculated as she wanted to pretend to be or as tender as it had been whenever she imagined your first time together, but Yor’s best traits had always lied with her passion, her brute strength, and it only took seconds for you to let out a breathy, muffled sob of a moan, to grind stiltedly into her mouth as she swallowed down everything you had to give her. This time, she didn’t attempt to pull away, to act like she could let that much distance form between you and her. Loid had called it a treatment, right? No, it wasn’t a question, she was sure – this was supposed to be a treatment.

And, as far as Yor could tell, that meant she’d have to help you until you were completely, entirely, absolutely better.

No matter how many hours it took to cure you, she wouldn’t leave your side until you’d made a full recovery.

[staleclown]

she calls me back

(Title from Noah Kahan song, obv. Even though it’s like very tangentially related.) 

Uhhhh I dunno, cutesy little autumn vibes drabble. Context for said drabble is neither my monkey nor my problem. I haven’t written fanfiction in like seven years so please forgive me if I’m rusty, trying to tap back into my tweenhood whims idk to be cringe is to be free and all that jazz. Enjoy :-)

~~~

The early autumn wind whipped through the platform as the train pulled into the station. Loid held onto Anya’s hand tightly to prevent her from running off in such a crowded and dangerous place. His mind raced, and anxiety rolled off him in waves. Anya clung to his hand, no doubt feeding off her father’s anxiety. 

With his free hand, Loid handed Yor her suitcase. She took it with a small smile. 

“Have a safe trip,” He returned the smile, but she could tell he was tense. He always was when they were separated.

She planted a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry about me. We both know I can handle myself perfectly fine.”

Loid relaxed, albeit marginally. “Of course. I’ve been on the receiving end of your self-defense tactics. Anyone who threatens you has another thing coming.” 

Anya tugged at the hem of his sweater, and Loid picked her up and settled her on his hip. She looked dreadfully close to tears, which only made Loid more nervous. Over a year of parenting, and he still wasn’t very good with the comforting part. 

Luckily, Yor was. She gently tapped the tip of Anya’s nose with her index finger. “You don’t need to worry about me either, little one. You’re lucky Loid is staying with you, or you’d have to put up with my cooking.”

Anya smiled at that. “Mama is a bad cook.”

Before Yor could reply in mock offense, the train whistle blew.

“You’d better get going, dear,” Loid said, “Or you’ll miss your train.”

“You’re right,” Yor kissed Anya’s forehead and gave Loid a quick peck before turning to approach the train. 

Loid caught her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Call me when you arrive, I want to know you got there safely.”

Yor’s cheeks were dusted pink. Even after actually being married (or what everyone else interpreted as them renewing their vows), she still wasn’t quite used to all the casual affection Loid gave her. 

But still, she promised, “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else first.”

[satoru-is-the-way]

NEW Master List

For information regarding my request form, character list, and overall all basic my information page pinned on my profile.

Nanami Kento x Reader: Future and Prediction

[Jealous]Jinshi × Gn Reader

Jinshi x fem Reader : Overworked

[Headcanons]Dazai x GN Reader

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And More

[deathcapyandex]

Known Only By Alias

[known only by Alias]

A self indulgent loid forger x yandere self insert.

Yandere in the sense of reclaimed and coping with bpd by using my blorbo and f/o thank you.

Symptoms expressed include obsessive tendencies, jealousy and possessiveness.

Probably just gonna be the one fic unless I decide to write more about loid.

May or may not be replacing Fiona.

Code name Twilight, the agent currently going by the name Loid Forger was a highly respected person in the agency. Damn good at his job too.

Code name Sparrow, the agent assigned to a mission designated in twilights area was also assigned as a neighbor in case of backup or cover during twilights mission was needed.

Today was move in day, sparrow had just arrived at the apartment with their things and started settling in.

Residents had noticed the boxes and furnishings being moved in priar to their arrival and seemed to have created a little buzz, gossiping about the new neighbor moving in, so they expected to meet some people and have to introduce themselves a bit.

No problem, nothing to be nervous about, it would be easy enough. However the thing they were worried about, was actually meeting Twilight.

If they were to cooperate together for the first time, first impressions had to go well!

Though, this meant meeting the rest of the forger family as well. Sparrow looked forward to meeting his fake wife least of all.

They would have immediately volunteered to be assigned that role had they not had an assignment already prior, for the sake of the mission of course, another agent as skilled as sparrow surely would have been much better fitting.

But due to the shortage of agents available at the time limit twilight had upon starting his mission, he had to rope in some civilians. Unfortunate.

At the very least sparrow could be there close by to make sure things went smoothly for twilight. If this mission didn't go well, his reputation as an agent might get tarnished and the agencies entire operation could be at stake or worse. Being around twilight alone was quite the honour and a nice bonus too.

Though, having a seperate mission of their own would get in the way every now and then, they just hopped it didn't become too much of a hindrance.

For now it was time to play the part of the good neighbor.

A knock at the door of their apartment broke up the agents thoughts. They set down the books they were absentmindedly organizing in the living room, setting them on top of the low set bookshelf and walking to the entrance to answer the door.

A peak through the eye hole showed them the face of a blonde man, one glance at the pin on his blazer immediately told sparrow who he was.

They opened it to find a blonde man, a dark haired woman and a small girl. The forgers.

"hello" sparrow greeted with a polite smile.

"hello, I'm Loid Forger. This is my family, my wife Yor and our daughter Anya." He motioned to them both as he introduced them. "We're your neighbors nextdoor. We moved in just last month ourselves and we noticed you're new so we thought we would introduce ourselves."

"it's very nice to meet you all. I'm Sind Dufaux." They introduced themself in return.

"it's a pleasure to meet you mx. Dufaux! We were wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner tomorrow night" Yor spoke up with a bright smile, seemingly excited.

"that sounds lovely, thank you, I would" sparrow replied with an almost mirrored expression.

"it's settled then- ah, Anya, it's rude to stare, say hello" Loid spoke to his daughter.

The little girl stood staring with an awed expression at Sind, like something about them caught her by surprise in the "better than I imagined" way a child usually expresses.

*this kids pretty cute in person*

Anya smiled brightly "Hi!! I got a doggy and his name is Bond! You wanna meet him??"

"They can meet Bond tomorrow when they come over for dinner, sweetie" Yor pointed out with a chuckle.

"right!" Anya nodded with enthusiasm.

"well then, all that's settled. It was a pleasure meeting you Mx. Dufaux. We'll leave you be now" Loud nodded.

"it was very nice to meet you all too." They replied.

Loid and Sind exchanged a glance as the forgers left. A knowing nod, then the door was shut.

All seemed to have gone well. Though they could have done without Yors enthusiasm, twilight at the very least acknowledged them as a co-worker now.

And so starts the new fake life, two agents who only know each other by alias assigned to work together. If they didn't know better it was as if they were in some sort of romance novel. But no, of course not, this was strictly professional, and all for the sake of both their missions.

While sparrow was more than happy to lend twilight a hand, they would have to begrudgingly do so with Yor in the way.

Surely though, it will work out in the end.

Don't mind writing more if anyone is interested