#yorloid

[blueberray]

What if...

[pokianne]

I did this on Twitter and my follower escalated a bit with the goal of it and that's why they got there kiss more than deserved.

That's the Story behind this🤭😅

[nuppu-nuppu]

Been watching spy x family with my dad 😎

[rottontwig]

This but scrungly twiyor

[itsmaferart]

Twiyor parallelism • Romantic approach

One great thing about Spy x Family is the way Endo tries to frame his own idea of what "a romance" is. I'm not sure if this is a deliberate decision, as he prefers to focus on denser and more influential themes, such as war, consequences and the search for peace in each character…. Or if simply, Endo is not so comfortable and sees the typical romantic moments as a forced construction of a relationship between two characters….

And it's in the way it draws a linea between idealized fantasy and the genuine feelings (of love) of a family. This is not only a difference you can notice within the SxF universe, but also as a viewer.

If we analyze Nightfall and Becky's perspective a bit we can clearly see that their idea of love/romance for Twilight/Loid are actually projections of their own desires on a person who fits perfectly

According to Nightfall logic, she will prove that she is perfect, to the extent of being the only woman worthy to be at Twilight's side. She has been his student and comrade on missions, so she has been by his side, has examined multiple roles, memorizing his exemplary 'fake smile'. Nightfall loves Twilight, the perfect spy, the man of a thousand faces, a professional in the art of espionage who foresees a thousand scenarios in his head long before they happen.

Then, Twilight would suddenly discover how perfect she is, having an epiphany of feelings that make him fall madly in love with her (?)

Which makes Nightfall unaware that the man she's in love with (or at least, his spy side) is totally removed from that illusion.

That is a FANTASY

The initial Twilight (her teacher) is a cold, distant man who is not interested in having a relationship because he has discarded that kind of personal happiness, much less would he do so with a WISE colleague.

Twilight is someone with many emotional conflicts, due to the barriers he has created for himself because of his own past. Nightfall wants to awaken those buried feelings while pushing the distant Twilight fr to love, and who has always told him to isolate himself from his own personal desires and feelings.

So… Nightfall's love for her master may be genuine and born out of her genuine admiration for Twilight's motivation to create a better world. But it is unsustainable when it comes to building that love into a marriage, because the Twilight that Nightfall dreams of doesn't really exist, rendering her efforts to impress him futile.

After all, this is not what Twilight is really looking for (at least, his true self).

In itself, Nightfall loves the perfection of Twilight, the perfection of the spy. Because that's what she longs for the most, a love story where she is perfect in someone's eyes perfect.

.

And well…. Is it necessary to talk about Becky? I think it's much more obvious how everything Becky dreams of is a much more exaggerated fantasy, a love story where she fights with her rival to get the heart of her prince charming (for starters, Twilight could literally be her dad xD).

It is here that Endo's joke about romance becomes more blatant and obvious. The perfect romance is a childish fantasy straight out of a soap opera.

We know that Becky does not love Loid. She loves the fantasy she has created around him. For her, romance is synonymous with maturity, and Becky projects herself as a more mature child than the rest of her age group. At the same time, she wishes for a love story full of drama and happiness.

.

In contrast, the relationship Loid (Twilight) and Yor build is perhaps the most mundane. (in a good way).

Yes, they are an assassin and a spy, who got married each other to the sound of a grenade. But at the end of the day, it's the two of them sitting comfortably in a living room, on an armchair, drinking a cup of hot tea/coffee.

Endo shows us that many times, that real and genuine love is made of those small moments of intimacy, where nothing big is happening. Just two people talking from the sincerity of their feelings, two people supporting each other, remembering that "you don't always have to be perfect", "being yourself is what matters".

.

It's wrong for romance to be fantasy?

No, of course not!!

It is natural that the first desire you have with a partner is to have an approximation, especially if it is physical. Like the idea of him holding your hands while he professes his desires of you (As Fiona and Becky would say, "make a move.")

The problem with idealized romance, is that it creates a sweep that prevents us from genuinely getting closer to the real person we love. There is so much focus on personal wants and desires that we are blind to the true needs of the other person.

Nightfall's biggest drawback is that she is so focused on what she wants and what she thinks Twilight needs that she is not able to see the emotional needs that her master has (although, being fair… He doesn't know either, right?). The funny thing about Becky and Nightfall's love is the huge contrast to Loid (Twilight) and Yor's real relationship. Both are constantly looking for perfection in Loid /Twilight's actions, forgotten that there is only a tired man with stomach aches from his ulcers.

The difference for Yor, is that she is not expecting greatness in Loid, or if she really dreams that he is an idea man she is looking for. He is perfect, just the way he is. Twilight and Yor may not be very intimate for many, because of the lack of physical closeness between them, and because every time something seems to happen, someone gets hurt (sometimes Yuri, sometimes Twilight)…. or because we don't see them caught up in these fantasies for each other.

But …. is it really like that?

The amazing thing about the fake marriage between Loid (Twilight) and Yor is that the kind of intimacy they have is perhaps the most difficult to achieve but the most valuable in the long run. And that is being at peace with each other, talking about those things you would never talk about with anyone else, enjoying each other's company only, speaking from the sincerity of your feelings and affirming a thousand times that you would never change anything about each other and would choose them as your partner again and again (for life).

This is the true romance within a marriage.

.

So… we haven't seen progress in their relationship?

Sure we have, lots of times. But these are much more subtle and simple than we expect. We know that they both cook dinner together (as a couple), and have selected the stores to buy what they need for the house (as a couple), they buy the ingredients for dinner or cleaning products the other asks for (as a couple), Yor takes her husband's clothes to the dry cleaners, Loid makes delicious food for his wife,They say goodbye at the door (as a couple).... both look at each other as if they were the most wonderful people they have ever met in their lives.

(If these two have not kissed it is because they are basically two idiots).

Every time a romance is forced between them, something bad always happens, simply because it is not the right way it should happen. Unlike when the two approach each other being authentic.

I don't think that in the future, these two will have problems with physical intimacy. We're talking about a man who took a second to REALLY ask his fake wife to marry him (I'm sure if Yor didn't kick him to the curb he would have asked her for a wild honeymoon that very night)...Or that Yor in a fit of confidence pushed her fake husband, cornered him, and climbed on top of him.

I'm serious, these two are craving for physical love, what they want to admit!!

In the end, the engine of a true couple is not in the touch of their hands but in the touch of their hearts.

[deonideatta]

Twilight realizes his feelings

Hello, thanks for the ask! Took a while but I finally got to it lol. Was fun to write, hope you enjoy it!!!

-------------

He feels nothing for her.

Nothing lovers usually feel for each other, at least. Of course, he respects her. Her insight has been crucial to the smooth operation of the Forger family, pulling him back from irrational spirals more than once.

And he admires her. How could he not? The way she cares lingers in Anya’s grins and cheery shouts for her mama, in the warmth that welcomes him home in the evenings, in cups of caffeine-free coffee and gentle smiles that linger in his mind. It throws him sometimes, how much kindness she pours into this little family formed on pretenses.

But over time, he’s come to expect the unexpected from her. None of his pages of analysis can pin down her entirety, no manipulation or carefully planned flowchart can fully bend her to its will. Just when he thinks he’s understood her she blindsides him, throwing all his well laid plans into disarray. It’s intriguing in ways he can’t afford to delve into, as much as he finds he wants to.

Because he feels nothing for her - nothing that should make him want her to trust him with the intricacies of what makes her who she is, at least. He isn’t really her husband, after all. And one day, when Loid Forger has served his purpose and all this is over, she'll find someone out there who will love her truthfully and openly. Someone she can love back and happily share her life with. The thought should not feel like ice in his chest.

Because she doesn’t feel for him either, not in any of the ways a wife should feel for her husband, not in the way he sometimes wishes someone would when the thought of spending the rest of his life in an endless cycle of discarded identities weighs on him a little too much. Solitude is an inevitability. He tells himself he’s fine with that.

She doesn’t know him, anyway. Not him as he really is, beneath the facades that make up his legend, beneath the false emotions and the vulnerability that he’s not sure is quite so false anymore.

It shouldn’t matter, since he feels nothing for her. But this nothing sets a rhythm going in his chest when they’re close, and dusts his cheeks with colour when she stops to fix his tie after adjusting Anya’s uniform at the door.

He’s forced to confront that ‘nothing’ when one evening takes them too close to the edge. His smiles are too soft, and the look in her eyes is too tender, and he struggles to confine all the feelings he shouldn’t feel in the container of nothing where he needs them to stay.

And then she kisses him, and his mind goes terribly blank, devoid of all the reasoning that would - should - give him the strength to pull away. There’s no pretense to the way he reaches out to cup her face, shifting to better kiss her back.

She sighs against him, and he really should stop, and save them both the hurt this will inevitably bring. There's nothing left of himself to give her, barely a shadow of a man hiding behind layers and layers of lies.

Restraint prevails, and he manages to pull away, averting his eyes so as not to see whatever her reaction is. She goes still in front of him, face turned towards him.

He forces himself to meet her gaze. She's looking up at him like she's seeing him for the first time. It's an oddly understanding look, a gleam in her eyes that holds him captive and makes him forget to put up any of the facades that are supposed to govern their relationship.

She moves slowly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, and the nothing shatters its casing to reveal something bubbling up like a spring in his heart. Her face is serious but gentle, and restraint cannot suppress the urge to hold her close. She lets him, tucking her head against his neck. For some reason there's a lump in his throat.

The spring trickles on, a small but constant presence.

Time makes it into a stream, stronger with every touch and every glance, with every quiet evening and every inch that the facades drop.

“And you definitely don’t feel anything for her?” Handler asks, in the middle of the Yor section of one of his weekly reports on the family.

“Nothing,” Twilight replies. If he listens hard enough, he can almost hear the sound of a river roaring.

-----------

Hope this was a good read!!!!! Twilight feeling things is one of my favourite things to write lol. But yea there's a few more prompts left to write, I will write all of them eventually!

[dashflashy-arts]

Finally watching Spy x Family like a normal person

I always knew I'd love the show

[nabikyu]

My headcanon

Well, mine and of the entire fandom

Really messy sketch, but you'll have to forgive me, I got lazy... I didn't even have lunch yet, i'm starving 😩

[basedmoniart]

Happy Holidays from the Forgers!

[hippaforalkus]

This is... just for the mission... right?

[blueberray]

Sought you by ✨️🌿☕️

[pokianne]

👀💖🌅

[evelynpr]

being bisexual is being into both Loid and Yor Forger

[written-by-ariddletobesolved]

Pretending Shouldn't Be This Hard

in which Loid notices something different about his wife and he can’t stop staring (while being in denial about how he really feels).

Rated G | 1,121 words | Also read on AO3  

—

Hello! This is my first Spy x Family fanfiction. I'm probably late to the party because I only got into it recently. As per usual, any type of feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it. Have a great day, everyone! x

—

He didn’t know how long he had been staring, but it was probably long enough that the cup of tea in his grasp had lost its warmth. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off his wife – his pretend wife, with a strong emphasis on that particular word. 

But then again, how could he when Yor looked rather different that morning – a good kind of different. Not that she had never looked so good before (she always does, in his eyes), but it’s not every day that he got to see her long dark hair draped over her shoulder in a single braid, with loose and wavy strands framing her face nicely. 

If he let his spy instinct kick in, he would probably keep his guard up and think of the possibility of it being Yor’s attempt to lure him to a honey trap. But his initial suspicion about her was proven to be untrue, and after taking her out on a date several times (to keep her happy and to ensure the success of Operation Strix, of course) Loid had learned more about his wife. Although he found her quick reflexes and physical strength intriguing, he still decided that she was no threat to him. Not when she had proven herself so many times that she’s a great mother to Anya, no matter how often she doubted that.

The corner of his lips twitched at that thought and what was happening before him at the moment. Yor was crouching down and gently helping Anya button up her coat as they waited for Becky to pick her friend up for another shopping trip. Yor gave a little murmur, making the little girl with pink hair grin before turning to face her Papa – him with a beam. He didn’t hear what his wife told their daughter – adoptive daughter, he reminded himself – but he could tell that whatever it was did cheer her up, and that was enough of a reason for him to smile back. It didn’t take long until Bond’s soft ‘worf’ got Anya’s attention, and she began to talk animatedly to the gentle giant while Mama combed her hair. 

He let out a sigh, his glance softened as his mask began to slip. That oddly familiar warmth returned to fill his chest – something he couldn’t (nor did he want to) describe. His grip on the cup tightened, and he was torn between finding out what could possibly happen to him all of the sudden and brushing it off as a sense of pride for making sure that Operation Strix was going smoothly. After all, if the Forger family stayed together, it could mean progress, right? 

He got lost in his own thoughts; he didn’t notice that his daughter bade him farewell before she left with the Blackbell kid.

Silence befell them once Yor closed the door. It felt a little odd not having Anya around, but he admitted he could use a little break while his daughter was away. Being a parent really is a full time job, and if he wanted to be honest, he didn’t know he had it in him – the ability to be a parent for Anya. But then again, it has always been Loid Forger who is known as both Anya’s Papa and Yor’s husband; and for Twilight, Loid was just another role he played for the success of Strix.

From his seat, he noticed that his wife had gone to the kitchen. With her back facing him, he could only guess that she was making herself a cup of tea. He knew better than staring, but once again, he found himself unable to look away. Yor’s new hairstyle allowed him a glimpse of her back, which was slightly exposed by the cut of her red jumper. His fingers were tingling, seemingly curious of what her skin would feel like under his touch. It was when he became aware of his own thoughts did he realise that he was blushing.

Get it together, Twilight.

He couldn’t get sloppy, no. One of the rules of being a spy is to not let feelings and emotions get the best of you, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to carry out the task – especially when betrayal was involved somewhere along the line. Besides, he told Franky that people like him couldn’t become emotionally attached to others and it would be very hypocritical of him if he did the opposite. 

“Loid?”

Yor’s soft murmur startled him, waking him up from his train of thoughts, and he tried his best to mask his surprise with a sheepish grin. You’re getting sloppy, Twilight.

“Yes, Yor?”

His wife tilted her head slightly, ruby eyes widened as they gazed at him with something like confusion. 

“Y-you were staring. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Typical Yor, always so polite. Even after months of living under the same roof, he could still sense her awkwardness which is understandable. He knew that sharing a space with someone else after living on your own for years wasn’t easy, and thankfully their frequent ‘dates’ had slowly but surely ease the gap between them, drawing them closer.

“Nothing,” he flashed his wife a smile, shaking his head. “I was just admiring you. You look lovely today, Yor.”

As usual, Yor’s cheeks turned crimson after she heard his compliment and she smiled shyly, her hand flying to cover her mouth and her eyebrows raising. 

“Oh, thank you,” she replied quickly.

Shaking her head, she turned back to the kettle on the stove which had begun to make noises, signalling that the water was boiling.

Loid found her reaction adorable and he didn’t bite back a smile. His gaze softened as he exhaled, feeling the warmth slowly returning. Deep down, he knew that he shouldn’t let his guard down. Years of perfect records as Westalis’ best spy should be well maintained, and he must remind himself that it was just another mission. He must do all that, yes, just not today.

He decided to play the role of an attentive husband for the day and enjoy his day off with his wife. That’s what a good husband does, right? Besides, Yor and Anya’s happiness is always a priority, and as long as they both are happy, Operation Strix will go as planned .

Well, at least that’s what he kept telling himself as he tried his best to pretend like his heart didn’t skip a beat when he caught Yor glancing at him over her shoulder, or his fingers didn’t tingle when he briefly thought about holding her. Pretending shouldn’t be this hard. Why he suddenly felt that way; he didn’t know.

And nor did he want to. 

For now.

[middenska]

New Year’s twiyor posting

HAPPY NEW YEAR *fireworks*

I have no recent responses, so how about a little post reveal twiyor? (It has nothing to do with the new year’s lol)

NSFW WARNING

It’s short, but I enjoyed writing it! It’s supposed to be part of a longer story but it’s so close to where it’s supposed to end i just skipped here for funsies~ Enjoy!

“Loid,” Yor moaned as Loid rammed his stiffness into her. His strained breaths wettened the back of her neck creating a puddle of sorts of spit and pure excitement. She tightened her bite on the pillow and yanked it closer while Loid prodded her nipples, playing with them in the fashion that she so admired whenever they became one. He felt Yor’s perfect void tighten around him and he instantly recognized the feeling of his imminent end. He pulled out—though only for a moment—to flip over her in such a way that he faced her, replacing the spit-soaked pillow with his own sweat-soaked body.

“Yor,” he purred, “I don’t think I can last much longer. You’re so tight.”

“You like it like that, don’t you?” She tried her best to say without moaning. “I like making you feel good, Loid.”

“I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have all the fun.”

“You’re not. I’m enjoying this even more than you are, I’m sure.”

After a few heavy breaths and moans, Yor continued.

“I don’t think I can handle much more.”

“Me… neither,” Loid mumbled. His brain steadily clouded as he approached climax, taking no note of his redundancy. Though, with his steady pumps increasing in speed, it seemed that some parts were perfectly clear.

“Loid, I’m…” And she came. She relaxed around him and tightened again as a rubber band would. Her wail of pleasure as she finished ended up being his demise. Fueled by nothing but animalistic desire, he blurted out the first thing he thought of.

“Yor, you’re the only person I wanna be with,” he said, panting, “for the rest of my life.“

At that moment, cum exploded out of his shaft and into Yor’s womb. What he said immediately caught up to him.

“For the rest of my life? I… I can’t be with her for the rest of my life. I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. (he very much wanted to) I can’t let myself get attached to you, Yor. I’m sorry that I can’t fall for you.” (He already did)

This IS post reveal, just Twilight trying to come back into [redacted]’s mind! /[*u*]b

[deonideatta]

Bots. Yeah. Same problem here 😭

Anyway, drabble prompt: classic "sick fic" for TwiYor?

They never has anyone take care of them, so the awkwardness are there, but also genuine concern.

Hello, thanks for the prompt!!!! This is definitely longer than a drabble but I had fun with it lol. And in my defense i didn’t know that apparently a drabble is only supposed to be like 100 words 😂😂 

It took a bit long to finish because I got sick myself midway through writing it lol. At least I can say that all the details for the sick parts are based on fresh and recent first hand experience haha

But yea here it is!! Hope you enjoy!! :)

-------------

Twilight does not forget things. Least of all mildly important things, like his umbrella on a day when the forecast won’t stop bringing up the rain. And yet, when he reaches the hospital exit at the end of his shift, he realizes with a start that he’s left it at home, by the door in the umbrella stand. Despite his best efforts he makes it home soaked to the skin, rainwater dripping from his hair like it’s mocking him.

Yor takes his coat to hang in the bathroom, and Anya carries a whole pile of towels over to him. He takes just one, drying himself off as well as he can. But even after he’s changed into drier clothes he can’t shake off the cold, shivering all through the evening despite Yor and Anya piling blankets over him.

He brushes off their concerns, though he imagines it’s hard to take him seriously from underneath a mountain of blankets. He doesn’t think it’s anything to worry about, but he heads to bed a bit earlier than usual on Yor’s insistence. A little extra sleep probably won’t hurt.

He wakes up the next day with a deep seated ache in his muscles. The mere action of turning to check the time takes far more effort than it should, and his eyes burn as he squints at the clock in the low light.

He tries to get up, and promptly lies back down when his muscles scream in protest and his head spins. His senses come to him as if through fog, and he registers vaguely that his throat hurts and his room is way too warm. 

At first, he wonders if he’s just tired. There’s always some degree of exhaustion lingering in his bones, but he’s a master of staving it off, and not letting it influence the standard of his work. But it’s just past 6am, and he’s pretty sure this is the most he’s slept in ages.

Has he been poisoned? Some kind of nerve agent? He stares groggily at the ceiling, trying to clear his head. Even through the mental haze he knows it’s unlikely. No, this is probably just the result of the unholy union between the rainstorm he’d been caught in and weeks of getting a maximum of 3 hours of sleep per night.

Twilight groans in annoyance, making a new effort to get out of bed. This time he succeeds. Well, partially. The moment he stands up he has to sit down again, breath coming in short, frustrated puffs. 

He tries again. There’s work that need doing, he doesn’t have time to be sick. If he just manages to get up and douse himself in cold water, he’ll probably feel fine enough to at least deliver some reports. Moving at a quarter of his usual pace, he manages to make it to his door and halfway to the bathroom before Yor intercepts him with a greeting from inside the kitchen. 

“Good morning Loid, did you….” she trails off as she takes in his face. Whatever she sees causes her cheery smile to drop, and Twilight frowns. Surely it’s not that clear that he’s sick.

“Loid, are you alright? You look really ill!” Yor’s voice is filled with concern, and she rushes out of the kitchen to stand in front of him, studying him worriedly.

“I’m alright, Yor, don’t worry,” he says. It’s his least convincing lie ever, pathetic in everything from its delivery to the tone of his voice. “I just need a cold shower, and I’ll be fine.” He tries for a smile, knowing it looks feeble even before the worry in Yor’s expression deepens.

Twilight is just about to force out another half-hearted reassurance when Yor reaches up and puts a hand on his forehead, mirroring the action with her other hand on her own forehead. The contact and the proximity are the final straw for Twilight’s already struggling train of thought, and the protests die in his throat. 

Yor pulls her hand away suddenly, like she’d been burned. With how warm he feels, it seems fitting.

“I’m sorry- I just,” Yor stammers, gathering her hands together. Her concern for him seems to override her embarrassment, and for some reason Twilight feels vaguely flattered. “I didn’t mean to overstep, but Loid I think you have a fever.”

That checks out, given the headache and the warmness. With the sore throat, it might even be the flu. He doesn’t manage to say any of that, suddenly hit by a wave of lightheadedness. 

He must have stumbled, because Yor's hand is suddenly on his arm, steadying him.

"Loid, I don't think you should go to work today," Yor says, and she sounds nervous and firm all at once. “And fevers are best treated with lukewarm water, not cold.”

"I appreciate your concern Yor, but I have things to do," he starts, and he's vaguely aware of how petulant he sounds, like Anya asking to watch another episode of Spy Wars before bed. And speaking of Anya. "Anya needs to go to school as well, I need to help her get ready."

Yor's hand on his arm is cool against his flushed skin as she shakes her head resolutely.

"I'll help Anya get ready. You need rest, and that's more important than work," she says, and all of Twilight's inbuilt desire to be efficient at any cost screams in protest. 

"Just let me call work then," he says anyway, because despite that internal drive he has to admit that he's not sure he'll be particularly useful in this state. He must be getting soft. He’s persevered through injury and illness alike - it’s almost humiliating to be so incapacitated by a fever.

Yor nods, letting go of his arm to let him shuffle towards the telephone. He makes a quick call to Handler, who sounds equal parts amused and annoyed. He can almost see her raised eyebrows when he tells her he’s sick, but something in his voice must be convincing because she agrees to take care of his workload for the day and tells him to rest up. He scoffs at that, going to hang up.

"Take better care of yourself, Twilight," she says, just before he can lower the phone. "I know we give you a lot of work, but don’t neglect your health just to keep up with it.”

He mumbles something in return and makes his way back to his room. He catches a glimpse of Yor in the kitchen as he passes, filling a glass with water and gathering some medicine from the cabinet.

Lying down is a far bigger relief than he’d expected it to be, to the point that he barely registers the sound of knocking on the door, followed by Yor pushing it open. She hands him a glass of water and some pills, and he downs them, trying not to wince at how sore his throat feels. 

“I’m going to go to work now,” Yor says gently. “I’ll make sure Anya gets to school on time too, so don’t worry about her.”

She hovers above him, worried but seemingly unsure, and he does his best to give her a reassuring smile.

“Thanks, Yor,” he says, voice still annoyingly weak. “I’ll be fine, so don’t worry about me either.”

Yor smiles back, looking somewhat placated, though the worry lingers in the tightness of her smile. She closes the door gently behind her, and Twilight contents himself with half-listening to the sounds of Anya and Yor getting ready for the day, drifting in and out of sleep.

A while later Anya pops her head in to greet him and say goodbye, and he musters up enough strength to give her a weak wave and a goodbye in return.

Then he lies there, alone and in the dark, uselessly sick. Rest, Yor and Handler had both said, but his brain refuses to cooperate, racing with thoughts about the mission reports he really should have finished yesterday. Except it isn’t really racing, it’s trudging slowly through the mass of information he’d normally have no problem speedily sorting through. It’s frustrating, and it makes his head hurt more.

The longer he lies there the more restless he feels, like he could be making far better use of his time. To make things worse, his room is still far too warm. He squeezes his eyes shut more tightly, trying to force himself to sleep. If he sleeps, perhaps he’ll feel better more quickly, and then he can get back to work. But any sleep that comes is shallow and restless, and the stupid reports just won’t stop trying and failing to sort themselves out in his mind.

The clock reads 10am when Twilight gives up. Pushing himself up despite the way his body protests, he shuffles out to the living room, a folder of reports in one hand and a pillow in the other. The cooler air is pleasant against his skin, though the light stings at his eyes at first. 

Settling on the couch, he opens the folder and starts to read. He barely gets a few paragraphs in before what had been a mild headache morphs into a sharp pain behind his eyes. He squeezes them shut for a bit, finding relief in the dark. He repeats the cycle a few more times, until the headache gets to the point where the words on the page start to blur.

He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s started to tremble, and suddenly he’s glad he brought the pillow with him. It’s cooler out here, so maybe it’ll be easier to sleep for a while. The cacophony of aches and pains in his body lessens slightly as he lies down, and he feels himself drifting away surprisingly quickly.

Just a little sleep, he thinks. Just to get rid of the headache, and then he can get back to the reports.

When he opens his eyes, he’s back in his bed, and there’s sounds of movement coming from the kitchen. He lies still for a moment, disoriented and very confused. His room isn’t as stiflingly warm as before, and the clock tells him that it’s past 3pm. Alarmed, he tries to sit up, and finds that the feverish aches in his muscle have lessened, albeit marginally.

He looks around, trying to sort out the mess in his head. How on earth did he get back to his room without realizing?

Yor interrupts his thoughts by poking her head into the room, and her eyes light up when she sees him awake.

“Loid! Are you feeling any better?” she asks, coming to stand by his bedside.

“A bit,” he says, still mildly confused. “How did I- when did you…?”

“Ah,” Yor says, flushing lightly. “I came back early because I was worried, and I found you sleeping on the couch.”

Her expression turns disapproving. “You really shouldn’t work when you’re sick, Loid,” she says, frowning. “I understand wanting to be productive, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of your health.”

He feels oddly chastised, and nods silently. Yor’s expression melts into a small smile.

“I’ve made you some soup,” she says. “It’s the best thing for when you’re ill. I asked Camilla for the recipe, so I hope it tastes alright.”

Twilight nods again, filled with the trepidation that usually surrounds Yor’s attempts at cooking. Yor disappears out of the door, returning shortly with a bowl of soup and a glass of water on a tray. Despite her track record, the soup smells rather good, and Twilight can’t say he isn’t grateful for the kindness.

Yor hands him the tray, and he studies the soup. It looks good. It smells alright. Perhaps it’ll be fine to eat a bit. His stomach doesn’t tie into knots at the thought, so he plucks up his courage and takes a spoonful. And then another, and another, because it’s actually some really good soup. A surprised smile makes its way onto his face.

“This is really good, Yor,” he says, and despite everything there’s a note of genuine happiness in his voice. It’s nothing groundbreaking, a simple broth based vegetable soup, but it’s soothing and warming and Twilight finds that he appreciates it even more for the effort and care that went into making it.

Yor beams, and Twilight finds himself captivated by the sight.

“I’m glad to hear it!” she says, her smile wide and proud. Radiant. It causes a warm feeling in Twilight’s chest that he doesn’t think he can blame on the fever or the soup. He chooses to ignore it, tearing his eyes away from Yor and focusing back on emptying the bowl. Being sick is no excuse to indulge in things that aren’t relevant to the mission.

Oblivious to his brief internal battle, Yor sits on the bed next to him, chatting about her day and the process of making the soup. He listens, occupied by eating, interjecting here and there. It’s nice, and despite the lingering aches of the fever and his mind warning him not to get too comfortable Twilight almost feels peaceful.

“By the way Yor,” he says, when there’s a lull in conversation. “How did I get back here?”

Yor immediately goes red, eyes shifting everywhere. 

“I- I carried you over,” she mumbles. “It wasn’t too hard, and it was mainly because I was afraid that you’d hurt your back or your neck from sleeping on the couch, and when I brought you back it was way too warm in here, so I opened the window a little to let some fresh air in, and…” Yor seems to have realized that she’s rambling, trailing off.

Twilight doesn’t know what to say. The extent of Yor’s concern fills him with more of that warmth he doesn’t know what to make of. For almost all of his life, getting sick has been an arduous and solitary affair. He hasn’t really had anyone he trusted enough to help him through something as vulnerable as sickness. Miserably dousing himself in WISE provided medicines and trying to keep working through whatever coughs and colds came his way had become standard procedure for him.

But Yor’s smile is more soothing than all those medicines, and the soup is flavourful and gentle on his sore throat, and some emotion he can’t (won’t) label sweeps through him. He’s vulnerable in this state, he can’t work, and he still feels the aches and pains of the fever. And above all, indulging in domesticity is supposed to be out of the question. And yet there’s a deep seated contentment that settles in his core as he sits there and eats the soup, knowing that he’s cared for.

“Thank you,” he says, instead of addressing any of the feelings building in his chest. “I really appreciate you taking care of me like this.”

“It’s ok, I’m your wife,” Yor says seriously, before flushing and fumbling to amend her statement. “I mean, as your wife in this arrangement, it’s the least I could do.”

Twilight laughs, a quiet but genuine thing, and Yor smiles through the blush on her cheeks.

When the soup is finished, Yor leaves him to rest again with a promise to come back later. Settling back under the covers, Twilight finds that sleep comes a lot easier when his mind is filled with thoughts of Yor instead of trying and failing to analyze mission reports.

Over the next few days he recovers under Yor’s watchful eye, slowly but surely. She brings him soup and tea, and Anya comes to sit on his bed in the evenings, reading chapters from Spy x Wars to him.

There’s something soothing about the fact that they care about him enough to look after him like this. It can’t last, and he knows it, but Twilight selfishly relishes it all - the tenderness in Yor’s touch when she puts her hand on his forehead to check for returning fevers, the way Anya does her best to help out, the way Yor checks in on him throughout the day.

He still feels a bit useless being bedridden and unable to take on his usual workload, but he does his best not to think of it as going soft, or overindulging in domesticity. The severity of his sickness this time is probably the result of years of never allowing himself to recover from illnesses properly. So he lets himself rest, and if those days spent recovering are some of the most peaceful days of his life, no one has to know.

A week or two after he’s healthy again, Anya comes home sneezing. When he starts sneezing as well a few days later, Twilight begins to wonder if perhaps he should take more vitamins and start working on fixing his sleep schedule.

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Hope it was a good read!!! I enjoyed writing it :D