Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“ Loid , do you have a minute?”

Loid looked up from his newspaper. “Yes, Yor?”

It was a quiet Friday evening. After a long, draining week, the Forger family were enjoying a rare moment of peace in the living room. Loid appeared calm and collected, immersed in the headlines , but Twilight , the spy within, was processing updates for his latest mission.

Across the room, Anya and Bond were curled up in front of the TV, completely absorbed in the newest episode of Spy Wars .

“I’ve been called in for work,” Yor said, clasping her hands in front of her. “The city hall is planning a wildlife conservation act, so a few of us are going to the forest for a two-day survey. I’ll be back by Sunday evening.”

I can’t tell Loid I’m actually hunting poachers… That would be… problematic , Yor thought anxiously.

“I see,” Loid replied, setting the paper down. “Make sure to take a first-aid kit, just in case. But I know you’ll be fine—you’re strong and capable. Just stay safe.”

"I need her to stay unharmed. For Anya’s stability and my mission, of course," thought Loid .

Yor flushed slightly but forced a smile. “Thank you, Loid . I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning.”

“Whoa! Mama is going on an assassin mission! Waku waku!”

Anya’s eyes twinkled with excitement, having picked up her mother’s real thoughts.

Yor knelt beside Anya and hugged her tightly. “Anya, please be a good girl, alright? I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Oui!”

Sunday – 8:45 PM

The front door creaked open.

“Mama!!” Anya zoomed to the entrance with a cheerful shriek.

Yor had barely set down her bag and coat before Anya wrapped herself around her leg. Smiling through her fatigue, Yor crouched down and scooped her daughter into a warm embrace, peppering her with gentle kisses.

“Welcome home, Yor,” Loid said, stepping forward to take her coat. “How was the trip? Did you eat? I can warm something up for you if you’re hungry.”

Yor smiled, tired, but grateful. “I’d appreciate that, Loid . Let me just freshen up quickly.”

“Oh, and—”

Before he could finish, Yor stepped closer. With trembling hands, she gently cupped his face, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed the lightest kiss to his cheek.

It lasted no more than a second and a half.

And then—she bolted to her room, face ablaze, and slammed the door shut behind her.

Loid stood completely frozen.

“…Huh?”

His mind kicked into overdrive, processing the moment like a mission gone wrong. What was the intent? Could this signal romantic interest? Or did something happen on her trip?

He touched the spot on his cheek where her lips had landed. It tingled faintly. The warmth lingered long after she’d gone.

From across the room, Anya peeked over the couch, lips curled into a smug little grin.

Loid cleared his throat, snapping out of his trance. “Anya, it’s bedtime. You have school tomorrow.”

“Can I watch for just a few more minutes? Pweaaaase ?”

“No. You’ve already stayed up later than usual. Those big eyes won’t work this time, young lady.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go.”

After tucking Anya into bed, Loid approached Yor’s room and knocked gently.

“Yor? Are you alright? I warmed up dinner for you.”

“I-I’ll be out in a m-minute , L-Loid,” came the muffled reply.

Why is my chest fluttering? Exhaustion… definitely exhaustion. That’s all it is.

The door finally creaked open.

She stood there, eyes wide, face-to-chest with him. Her cheeks were practically glowing crimson, a perfect match for her sweater. Loid coughed and stepped aside, gesturing toward the dining table.

Dinner was quiet. Painfully quiet.

Yor fidgeted with her spoon, eyes darting anywhere but toward him. The blush on her face refused to fade. Loid kept clearing his throat, unsure what to say or how to say it.

Finally, they both spoke at once.

“ Loid , I—”

“Yor, I—”

“You first,” he said gently.

Yor hesitated. Her knuckles whitened around her spoon.

“I… I’m sorry for earlier. It was completely inappropriate,” she said, voice trembling.

She looked down, shoulders tense.

“My coworkers were gossiping about how wives greet their husbands with a kiss when they come home. They said it’s normal. S-So I thought… maybe I could be a more normal wife to you .”

Tears pricked her eyes.

“But I didn’t ask. I just did it. And I know our relationship isn’t like that. I crossed a boundary. If you want to end this arrangement or… d-divorce me , I understand . I’ll pack my things. I ruined it, didn’t I?”

Tears spilled over, and she covered her face in shame.

Stupid, stupid! What if he hates me now? What if I reminded him of his first wife? What if—

Loid moved before he could stop himself.

He gently took her wrists and lowered her hands, revealing her tear-streaked face.

“Hey. Look at me.”

His voice was calm and soft, gentler than she had ever heard it . His cerulean eyes met hers, full of something she couldn’t name.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Yor. Not one thing.”

He reached up and brushed away a tear with his thumb.

“You were trying to do something kind. And normal. And sweet. You’re already perfect as you are. Please… don’t feel like you need to be anything else.”

Yor blinked rapidly, lips quivering. She shyly leaned into his touch, heart hammering in her chest. His hand was warm and steady, but he was blushing, too. His ears were a light pink.

Loid dropped his hand abruptly, suddenly aware of the closeness. The warmth faded instantly, and he found himself missing it.

“A-And… about the kiss,” he added quietly. “I didn’t mind it. Not at all.”

Yor stared, stunned.

“It caught me off guard, yes— but it wasn’t… unwelcome.”

It’s good for the cover and strengthens our image. He told himself.

Yor could only stare at him, lips slightly parted, mind blank from the overload of emotion and embarrassment.

Loid coughed again and looked at the clock. “It’s getting late. We should both get some rest.”

Yor nodded slowly, eyes still locked on him. “R-right. Of course.”

Oh god! This woman never failed to surprise him.

Chapter Text

The following week passed without incident, well, not one involving spy missions or assassin work, at least. But something still lingered in the air. Something soft and fragile. A little too noticeable.
It was the kiss on the cheek.
Yor and Loid hadn’t brought it up again, at least not directly. But something had shifted.
Loid found himself glancing at Yor more often when she was in the kitchen. Not in suspicion, but just out of curiosity. Admiration, maybe. An emotion he didn’t dare label. Yor, meanwhile, was still plagued by the memory of that impulsive kiss, half-embarrassed, half-longing.

That Saturday, the weather was surprisingly warm and gentle, unlike the usual harsh chill of Berlint. Flowers had started to bud early in the city parks, and Anya had all but begged for a family outing.
“Pwease, let’s go out!! A picnic! Like in the cartoons!”
Loid had hesitated; he had paperwork to finish and missions to prepare. But Yor had smiled, just a little too brightly, and said, “It might be good to spend some time as a family.”
He had agreed before he could think of a reason not to.
They found a quiet spot beneath a broad cherry tree in full bloom, away from the bustling trails. Bond rolled happily in the grass while Anya darted through wildflower patches, arms spread like aeroplane wings.
Loid had packed a modest basket of simple sandwiches, fruits, and bottled juice. Yor had added a small thermos of herbal tea.
As they settled on the blanket, the sunlight filtered gently through the tree’s pink canopy. A gentle breeze rustled Yor's hair, and Loid found himself staring again. She seemed like an illusion of a forgotten dream. The atmosphere between them was peaceful and delicate. They talked casually about Anya’s schoolwork, the new gardening initiative at city hall, the renovations at the hospital, and a strange cartoon Anya had seen that made no sense. The conversation was light, but every shared laugh echoed with something tender.
Something dangerous in its sweetness.
As the sun dipped lower, they began to pack up slowly. Yor leaned down to collect the empty boxes, reaching for the small cloth that had covered the food.
Loid reached for it at the same time.
Their hands brushed.
Yor’s breath caught. “S-sorry!” she squeaked, snatching her hand back like she’d touched something burning.
But Loid didn’t move.
Instead, he reached forward and gently took her hand in his.
Yor froze.
Her heart stilled. Her mind emptied. Her fingers trembled slightly inside his gloved grasp.
Without a word, Loid turned her palm slightly upward. His movements were slow and delicate, as if he were handling something precious. Then, in one smooth motion, he brought his lips to the back of her hand.
A kiss. Soft, light, and sincere.
Time stilled with it.

When he pulled back, there was a flicker of pink blooming across his ears, and he cleared his throat faintly.
“I just wanted to thank you,” he said, his voice lower, quieter beneath the rustling trees. “For today. For everything. It was… nice.”Yor’s eyes were wide. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Y-you’re welcome…”
She felt the warmth of his lips still lingering against her skin, like a phantom imprint. Her hand remained lifted even as he let go, fingertips curling slightly, uncertain whether to hide it or hold onto the moment.
Neither of them noticed Anya peeking from behind the tree trunk nearby, wide-eyed. She didn’t say anything. Not yet. She grinned.
As they walked home, Anya skipped ahead with Bond bounding behind her, and Loid and Yor stayed side by side.
Yor occasionally stole glances at her hand and smiled softly to herself, her cheeks still warm.
Loid kept his hands in his coat pockets, his mind racing far faster than he liked. He told himself it was for the mission. A gesture to maintain appearances. A convincing display and nothing more.
But he couldn’t shake the feel of her skin beneath his lips.
Neither of them spoke of it again.
But both of them thought about it. A lot.

Chapter Text

Yor adjusted the grocery bag on her arm and turned a corner of the bustling market, hoping to make it home before Anya noticed the delay.

That’s when she saw him.

Near a vendor selling fresh vegetables was Hemlock, standing lean, sharp-eyed, arms crossed, his silver hair down, and wearing a smirk that never meant anything good.

Yor froze.

He stepped forward casually, hands in his long black coat pockets, voice low. “Running errands now, are we? Never thought I’d find you among cabbage and carrots.”

“Hemlock…” she said cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t a good place. What are you doing here?”

He looked around theatrically. “What? Can’t two acquaintances catch up? I was in the area. Thought I’d see how domestic bliss was treating you.”

Yor’s smile twitched. “I’m just here for groceries. That’s all.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And is that what life is now? Vegetables and small talk? Seems you’ve gone soft.”

Yor clenched the grocery bag tighter. “That’s not true. I’m just living differently. It doesn’t mean I’ve changed who I am.”

He let out a quiet laugh, but it had no humor. “You always were stubborn. But you know how fragile façades can be. One wrong step and snap everything shatters.”

Tell me, how many enemies have you sliced this week? Or are you too busy folding laundry and crying into your husband’s arms?”

Yor’s cheeks turned pink. “T-That’s not—! I don’t cry in his arms!"

Hemlock raised an eyebrow.

“I’m doing this of my own will,” she said, standing straighter. “Protecting this family is my duty too.”

“Hm.” He leaned in slightly. “Looks like the family's made you soft.”

She kept her voice low, her smile practiced. “You lost, remember?”

His eyes flickered. “Did I?”

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

Two weeks ago-

During their hunt for poachers in the jungle, they’d faced off. Yor in controlled fury, Hemlock in overconfidence.

“You’re hesitating Thorn Princess,” he’d said, circling her. “That fake family has made you sentimental. You’re slower.”

But she hadn’t hesitated. She’d parried his blade with graceful precision, attacked him with her stilettos, and sent a rock flying towards his forehead before he could recover.

“I’m faster,” she’d replied. “Because I have something worth protecting now.”

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

Then, with the worst timing imaginable, another voice joined the scene.

“Yor?”

Her heart nearly stopped.

Loid Forger was approaching from across the street, briefcase in hand, a hint of concern on his face. His golden hair was tousled slightly from the wind, and he looked, as always, frustratingly composed.

“Loid!” Yor said a bit too loudly.

Loid paused beside her, his gaze quickly scanning Hemlock from head to toe. “Friend of yours?”

Yor nodded quickly. “Yes uh, a childhood friend. We lived on the same street when we were young and just bumped into each other now.”

Loid extended a hand, polite but firm. “Loid Forger. Husband.”

Hemlock returned the shake, his grip dry but too long. He tilted his head, looking between them. “It’s always interesting, seeing someone you used to know change. Some people thrive in their new roles. Others pretend.”

Loid’s eyes narrowed just slightly, his smile never fading. “Change is necessary. Adaptation keeps people alive. Or together.”

Yor’s heart was pounding. She could practically feel the weight of Loid’s analysis happening. She had to end this.

“Well, it was nice seeing you,” she said quickly. “But we need to get going. Our daughter's waiting.”

Hemlock stepped back with a faint bow. “Of course. I’ll leave you two to your charming domestic life.”

On the way home, Loid glanced at Yor several times. She was oddly quiet, her grip on the grocery bag tense.

He finally broke the silence. “That man, are you two close?”

Yor blinked. “What?! No!” She gave a soft, embarrassed laugh. “Of course not. He’s just old history."

Loid nodded. He didn’t show it, but the strange warmth that spread through his chest told him something else. Still, he filed it under potential threat to Operation Strix. He’d have Franky run a background check tonight.

Yor could sense the quiet tension radiating from Loid beside her. His polite facade remained intact, but she noticed his jaw tightening slightly and his gaze wandering toward where Hemlock had disappeared.

He seems annoyed, she thought. Was it something Hemlock said? Or…

Her heart skipped.

Could he have been jealous?

The thought made her cheeks burn instantly. She shook her head.

No. No, no, no. That’s ridiculous. We’re only married for appearances. That’s all.

She cast a sidelong glance at Loid, who was walking beside her with perfect posture.

Still… he did seem a little stiff. And the way he stepped in, all calm but cold...

She bit her lip.

Don’t be silly, Yor! He was probably just being protective. That’s all this is.

And yet, the image of Loid narrowing his eyes at Hemlock, his voice clipped and his handshake firm, stayed with her.

Their footsteps echoed in sync on the cobbled street, neither speaking, though the silence wasn’t empty. It pulsed thick with questions, observations left unsaid, and emotions neither fully understood.

Yor clutched the grocery bag, her eyes flicking to Loid's face. He was standing a little too close. Or maybe she was. Perhaps neither of them wanted to admit it.

Then, just barely their fingers brushed.

She stiffened. He glanced sideways. Nothing was said.

It happened again. A ghost of a touch. Delicate and unintentional maybe.

Yor's heart skipped.

Oh no…

Then deliberately this time Loid’s pinky brushed against hers.

Yor’s breath caught in her throat. Her blush deepened, blooming like spilled ink across her cheeks. Yet she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she let her hand stay where it was, so close and so still. A heartbeat passed. Then another. And gently, cautiously, Loid’s hand enclosed hers.

Her entire body tensed at the contact. Not because she disliked it.

Quite the opposite.

His hand was much larger than hers; it felt cool to the touch yet firm and comforting. She was accustomed to holding weapons, not hands. Yet, this felt right. Her soft fingers instinctively curled into his.

His hand is cold… Is he nervous too? He doesn't like me that way. No, no… It’s just to keep up appearances… Yes, that’s all this is.

But the way he held her securely, without hesitation, sent her thoughts spiraling.

Loid, meanwhile, stared straight ahead, his expression unreadable. But inwardly, his mind was racing.

Why does this feel so natural? It’s just for cover. That’s all. This is necessary for the success of Operation Strix. Then why does her hand fit so perfectly in mine?

Yor turned her head slightly, stealing a glance up at him.

Her face burned. She quickly looked away, pretending to study the cobblestones beneath her feet. Her heart was hammering louder than her footsteps.

Loid noticed the motion, the quick turn of her head, and the colour blooming across her cheeks. He said nothing. Instead, he gently squeezed her hand.

The touch was subtle, but it sent a shiver down her spine. Her eyes widened slightly, and she felt a warm sensation spreading throughout her arm.

She hesitated For a brief moment, uncertain of its meaning and what she wanted it to signify. But before her thoughts could spiral again, her fingers closed around his , tentative at first , then firmer. It was a reluctant, wordless reply.

Loid didn’t look at her, but he registered the squeeze. He felt it like a pulse, soft and unsure, but very real.

He swallowed lightly.

This is for the mission, he told himself. We’re supposed to look like a loving couple. That’s all this is.

Neither let go.

They walked like that all the way home two secret lives entangled by fate, their fingers intertwined in silence, each pretending not to notice how desperately they didn’t want to let go.

Chapter Text

It started with an unexpected invitation.

Camilla had cornered Yor at city hall earlier in the week, a little too smug for someone being “friendly.”

"A—A double date?!"

“Yes,” Camilla had said with a dramatic sigh. “You and your fancy doctor husband, me and Dom. Just a nice evening out. Unless you’re afraid to look too happy in public…”

Yor’s pride and panic forced her to agree.

When she told Loid, he only raised a brow.

“A double date? With Camilla?”

“I—I’m sorry! I know it’s sudden, and I know it’s difficult with your schedule, but she insisted, and it’s good for appearances, and if we turn her down it might look suspicious—!”

Loid held up a hand, calm and collected as always.

“I’m more than happy to adjust the schedule, Yor."

Anya had been bribed with peanuts that evening and left in Franky’s care for the night. Of course, the informant was paid with a hefty sum.

That left just Loid and Yor… alone.

Yor had dressed up, not for the appearances, not for Camilla, and definitely not for Loid.

Okay… maybe a little for Loid.

"Whoa,” Franky had muttered under his breath.

“Whoaaaa, Mama looks like a PRINCESS!!” Anya had shouted from the couch, eyes wide and sparkling.

Yor, standing in the hallway, turned pinker than her dress. “O-oh, n-no, it’s not that fancy..!”

She wore a soft pastel pink tea dress with delicate floral lace trim and a flowing skirt that hit just below her knees. Her usual braid had been replaced with loose hair that cascaded gently down her shoulders, and she had applied a light touch of makeup, just enough to bring a healthy glow to her cheeks. Her lips shimmered with rose-petal lip gloss.

She had stared at the mirror before leaving, hoping it wasn’t too much.

Loid had nearly dropped his cufflinks when he saw her.

“You look—” he had paused, cleared his throat, and reset his expression into a soft smile. “Very lovely tonight, Yor.”

“T-thank you,” she had squeaked, fidgeting with her purse. “You look nice too. Umm..really nice.”

And he did.

Loid had donned a dark navy suit paired with a crisp white shirt, and his tie was flawlessly knotted. He was, quite unfairly, the picture of charm.

Yor had tried very hard not to stare at him.

Now, under the dim golden lights of one of the elegant restaurants in the district, Yor was doing everything in her power not to pass out from sheer anxiety.

The restaurant smelled like butter, herbs, and faint wine. The soft hum of conversation and the gentle clinking of glasses created a cozy atmosphere around their booth. Faded watercolor paintings and trailing ivy adorned the walls, and candles flickered on every table.

Camilla and Dominic waved from their booth. “There they are!”

“You’re late,” Camilla teased, sipping her wine. “Let me guess... couldn’t keep your hands off each other?”

Yor nearly walked into a waiter. “N-no!! W-we were just getting ready!”

Loid gave a polite smile. “Sorry, Anya staged a full-scale protest when we tried to leave without her. We had to convince our daughter that we wouldn't be gone for too long.”

They sat, exchanged pleasantries, and browsed the menus. When the waiter arrived, Camilla and Dominic ordered wine. Yor opened her mouth, but Loid touched her wrist lightly under the table.

“Maybe stick with water tonight,” he murmured.

Yor blinked. “R-right. Good idea…”

Camilla raised a brow. “What’s the whispering about?”

“Nothing,” they both said too quickly.

Across from them, Camilla and Dominic sat comfortably close. Dominic had his arm resting on the back of Camilla’s chair, and she was enjoying the chance to play smug.

Next to Yor, Loid sat composed as ever, casually scanning the menu like he hadn’t just been forced into a civilian charade with high emotional stakes.

Camilla had already started her teasing before the appetisers even arrived.

“So, how long have you two lovebirds been together now?” she asked, swirling her drink.

“Uh—ah—w-we’ve been… married for over a year now,” Yor replied, clutching her napkin like a lifeline.

“Mhm”, Camilla said, a sly grin forming. “You two look more like newlyweds than married for months.”

Yor’s knee bumped against Loid's under the table. She wasn’t sure if it was panic, protest, or both.

Dominic was kind and calm as always, but Camilla was relentless.

“So, Loid,” she said between sips of wine. “What’s your favourite thing about Yor?”

Yor nearly dropped her fork.

Loid blinked. The question wasn’t difficult; he was trained to handle interrogation. But for a second, the mission files in his head came up blank.

What did he like about Yor?

“She’s… very dedicated,” he said finally. “To her work, her family. To being a good mother and wife. She puts others before herself, even when she’s tired. It’s admirable.”

Yor stared at her plate, face flushed. “Th-thank you…”

Camilla gave a dry laugh. “Seriously, Yor? One nice sentence and you're melting like a schoolgirl. It's a miracle you landed someone like him at all.”

Loid's smile remained steady, though his voice bore a cool edge. "I wouldn’t call it a miracle. Anyone who truly knows Yor would find it easy to admire her."

Yor dared not lift her gaze.

Dinner was a three-course affair: fresh salad, roasted red pepper and cheese penne, and a delicate raspberry tart.

As the second course arrived, Camilla took the opportunity to escalate the evening. With theatrical ease, she twirled a forkful of her penne and fed it to Dominic. He accepted it with a low chuckle, eyes twinkling.

Camilla wasted no time; she immediately directed her sharp and knowing gaze toward Yor.

“Your turn.”

“M-m-my… what?” Yor blinked.

“It’s not necessary..,” Loid started.

“Feed your husband,” Camilla said with mock innocence. “Unless you’re one of those couples that keep things strictly business at home too.”

Yor looked at Loid, who was trying to maintain composure.

Yor’s brain glitched. “I—uh—o-okay…”

She picked up her fork like it was a throwing knife. Her hand trembled as she stabbed a small bite of food and lifted it toward Loid, who was watching with mild amusement.

He leaned in, obligingly, and accepted the bite with all the grace of a gentleman.

Her face exploded into crimson.

Yor yelped. “I—I’m so sorry! Did I stab you?!”

Loid wiped his mouth. “No. It was good.”

Camilla raised a brow. “Hmm. You sure you two aren’t just roommates?”

Dominic groaned. “Camilla, stop.”

Yor made a high-pitched noise and stared intensely at her plate.

Later, outside the restaurant under the soft yellow streetlights, Camilla and Dominic said their goodbyes and wandered off into the evening.

Yor and Loid lingered behind.

“That went… better than I thought,” Yor said, clasping her hands.

Loid chuckled. “It did.”

She turned to him then, her voice hesitant. “Thank you… for saying all those kind things back there. I—I know you didn’t have to.”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable.

“I meant every word.”

Yor’s breath caught.

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Loid leaned in.

Softly, gently, he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

Warm, light, and just a second long, but enough to burn.

Yor's instincts screamed.

Her first reaction, well-trained and automatic, was to kick, executing a hard, clean roundhouse purely out of reflex.

But she didn’t.

Somehow, miraculously, she resisted. Her knee twitched. Her fingers curled. Instead, she stood absolutely still, eyes wide, skin burning where his lips had touched. Her hand flew to the spot. Her face turned ten shades of red.

What the hell was that?! A kiss?! On my cheek?! I almost broke his ribs! And why does my heart feel like it’s doing cartwheels?!

Loid straightened smoothly and calmly adjusted his coat sleeves.

I’m Twilight, Westalis’s best spy. A kiss means nothing. It’s just strategy. It’s all ... for the mission. I am just glad she didn't break my chin. He convinced himself.

“W-what was—?!”

“A public display,” Loid said, voice a touch lower than usual. “Camilla was watching from the corner.”

She peeked over her shoulder, and sure enough, Camilla was still there, smirking behind a streetlamp.

“O-oh…”

Loid straightened his coat. “We do need to maintain the illusion of a loving couple.”

Yor nodded, slowly.

But as they walked back, side by side, not speaking, neither noticed how their footsteps had synced in perfect rhythm. Or how Loid glanced at her more than once, his heart just a little off-beat.

And Yor?

She stole a glance at him, hand brushing the place he'd kissed her as if to check if it had really happened. She told herself not to read into it. He had only done it to ward off any suspicion and nothing else. Yet, her heart was doing little flips.

Chapter Text

Loid Forger collapsed the moment he stepped through the door.

Anya’s eyes widened, the book she had been reading falling from her hands. “PAPA?! Did you DIE?!”

Yor rushed from the living room and knelt beside him. “Loid?!”

He was burning up. His forehead was slick with sweat, his face paler than usual. All the exhaustion he had been ignoring, all the stress of missions, reports, and maintaining cover had finally taken its toll.

Without a second thought, Yor gathered him in her arms.

It wasn’t the first time. She had carried him out of a bar once after accidentally knocking him out, and another time when he fainted after Anya came home with yet another Tonitrus Bolt. This time was gentler. More careful. He was her husband, after all, even if only by name.

“Anya, help me open the door to his room—!”

“It’s locked!” she squeaked.

Yor gritted her teeth, looking briefly toward her own room. “Alright. We’ll use mine. Anya, follow me.”

But before she brought him in, she dashed inside first, hiding away her weapons and any traces of her other life.

They laid Loid on her bed. His breathing was shallow, his brow furrowed in fever. Anya hovered beside her mother, a frown etched into her round face. “Mama… is Papa going to disappear?”

Yor smiled gently and brushed her daughter’s hair aside. “Of course not, sweetie. He’s just really, really tired. That’s all.”

“What do we do?” Anya whispered.

“We’ll take care of him”, Yor said, a determined look settling on her face.

She sent Anya to bring a bowl of water and a towel. She folded the wet cloth and placed it gently on Loid’s forehead, patting away the sweat from his temples. Fever. Likely from overwork. She removed his outer coat and carefully adjusted the blanket over him.

“What do people usually do when someone faints…?” she muttered.

“Soup,” Anya said wisely. “You make soup and they get better! I saw it in a spy cartoon!”

Taking the advice to heart, Yor called Camilla for help. “Can you give me a soup recipe? One that doesn’t, um... kill people?”

Camilla groaned but explained to her something easy. “Even you can’t mess this up.”

Yor tried her best. She poured her heart into the broth, slow-cooking vegetables, and soft herbs, tasting it nervously every few minutes.

Later that evening, Loid stirred. His head was pounding, his vision blurry. The Twilight part of him was sluggish. Dangerous.

His entire body felt warmer, cocooned. Softer sheets. A different smell: rose and lavender.

This wasn’t his room.

It hit him fully then. He had slept in Yor’s bed. Yor’s.

His first instinct, honed over years of espionage, was to sit up and scan for threats. But instead of danger, he saw her. Yor.

He tried to sit up, but a soft hand pushed him back.

“You need to rest,” Yor whispered.

“I can’t,” Loid croaked. “I have to cook dinner, and—”

“No,” Yor said, surprisingly firm. “You do everything for everyone. You take care of Anya, me, your patients… who takes care of you , Loid?”

He blinked up at her. Her tone wasn’t accusing, it was gentle. Concerned and real.

“You cook us breakfast by waking up so early even after sleeping so late. I… I’ve seen the light under your door late at night—!” She blushed immediately. “N-not because I was spying! I just… noticed…”

Loid didn’t say anything. He couldn't.

“So… even if this marriage is fake…” she murmured, “I want to take care of you because you deserve that. And b-because I want to. I will cook my mother's stew for dinner."

Loid sighed quietly and looked away. “Alright,” he said, softly. “You win.”

Yor beamed, shy and flustered, but also relieved.

Yor approached quietly, holding a bowl of soup with both hands. “I asked Camilla for a recipe. It's supposed to help with fevers. I hope it's not too bad.”

Loid, propped up against the headboard, took the bowl like it might explode. He stared into the contents. The carrots were uneven, and the broth was cloudy. This was how he was going to die.

But when he looked at Yor’s anxious face, all worry and hope, he took a breath and lifted the spoon.

The soup was… surprisingly decent.

A bit too salty, slightly lumpy, but it was warm and comforting. It tasted like someone had truly tried, and that made it more meaningful than anything else.

He finished the bowl and whispered, “Thank you, Yor.”

Yor’s eyes widened, cheeks turning pink. “I… I’m glad you liked it.”

She gave a small, relieved smile. Loid couldn’t help returning it, a strange calm settling over him.

Maybe it wasn’t perfect.

But it was real. And in his world, that was rare.

She followed him into his room after tucking Anya into bed. His room was clean, and everything was neatly arranged. He had removed every trace of his identity as Twilight beforehand.

She told him to lie down and tucked him into the bed. Then, she placed the towel across his forehead again, changed it with fresh water, and stood there awkwardly.

“Y-you can sit,” Loid said, shifting a little to make space at the edge of the bed.

Her eyes widened. “A-a-are you sure?!”

He gave her a quiet, tired smile. “Only if you want to.”

Yor sat slowly, hands in her lap, her body still tense. Loid mentally chastised himself. A spy should never invite a civilian this close. You're compromised, Twilight. But the exhaustion was too much, and her presence was warm.

Then, gently, Yor began humming. A lullaby her mother used to sing.

She patted Loid’s arm lightly, her fingers brushing through his hair now and then, tentative and soft.

Loid stirred, eyes half-lidded, and caught sight of her looking down at him. The expression she wore was quiet and warm and so gentle it made something inside him ache.

He blinked. “Yor…”

Startled, she jumped back like she’d been burned. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—!”

Loid chuckled. A rare, low sound that caught her off guard. “It’s fine. Really. I… liked it.” His gaze softened. “Your singing. It’s nice.”

Yor stood there, frozen. “O-okay…” she whispered, glowing red.

A pause passed. Then, Loid added, barely above a whisper, “Would you… Keep doing it?”

She blinked rapidly. “Y-you want me to…?”

He nodded faintly, ears just a little pink. “If you don’t mind.”

Yor slowly returned to her seat by the bed, as if afraid she might wake him by moving too fast. Her hand hovered before settling again in his hair, fingers moving gently. She resumed the lullaby, quieter this time, her voice like silk.

Loid’s eyes drifted shut again, but his mind didn’t.

What are you doing? The voice of Twilight rang loud in his head. This is dangerous. Compromising. Unnecessary. A spy does not indulge. A spy does not let his guard down. She’s just your cover. This is a mission. Nothing more. You are Twilight. Remember that.

But the warmth on his scalp where her hand moved said otherwise. So did the softness of her voice, and the tenderness in the way she watched over him.

Still, Twilight screamed. Stop this. Stop it right now. Push her away. Thank her and dismiss her.

Loid didn’t move.

He was exhausted. That was the only reason he didn’t pull away. That was the only reason his heartbeat was loud in his ears, or that the tension in his body was finally starting to melt.

He exhaled slowly, his breathing steadying against the comforting rhythm of her song. Her fingers in his hair felt far too gentle to interrupt. Far too kind to resist.

He told himself it was just a moment. Just for tonight. Just this once.

It was necessary for the mission that he stay healthy, and Yor was helping him with that. She was helping him recover. That was all.

Even as his ears flushed and her face turned pink again, he stayed still.

Twilight, the spy, could protest all he wanted.

But right now, Loid Forger just wanted to be cared for.

She resumed humming. Slowly, her fingers returned to his hair, combing through the blond strands. He exhaled deeply, his breathing steadying.

Believing he had drifted off, she leaned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to his forehead.

Genuine, tender, soft and warm.

Loid's heart raced. A kiss? When was the last time someone cared for him just because they wanted to?

The thought followed him into sleep.

Yor, still singing, curled up beside him on the edge of the bed at some point in the night.

When Loid woke the next morning, an hour and a half later than usual, the first thing he noticed was the warmth beside him.

Yor was curled into a quiet cocoon at the edge of the bed, having slipped out from under the blanket so he could stay warm. Her face was soft in sleep, her breathing slow and even. Tired, but peaceful.

His chest tightened.

She didn’t have to do this. None of it. This marriage wasn’t real. No vows, no obligations. Just a cover story for two people living double lives.

And yet, here she was.

She was the sort of person who made even a man like him believe, for just a moment, that peace was possible.

He tucked the blanket around her shoulders carefully, afraid to wake her.

Then he slipped out of the room and into the kitchen. His muscles still ached faintly, but for the first time in a long while he felt rested.

He felt human again.

Yor woke up to the comforting scent of something warm and savory drifting in from the kitchen.

She sat up slowly, blinking at her surroundings. Loid's room. Her cheeks flushed crimson. Did I fall asleep here? Oh no…

Bolting upright, she quickly smoothed her hair and tiptoed toward the door, peeking into the hallway.

Yor rushed into the kitchen, flustered. “L-Loid! You’re supposed to be resting!”

Loid turned to her, standing in front of the stove, “Good morning,” he said, voice calm but his ears tinged a faint pink. “I’m feeling much better.”

She glanced at the table and gasped softly. Omelets, toast, vegetables, her favorite teacup filled and waiting. All warm and carefully made.

“You… cooked all this?”

“I wanted to thank you,” he said, voice a touch quieter. “For taking care of me yesterday. The soup. And for staying.”

Her face turned even redder. “I… I’m sorry I fell asleep in your room! I didn’t mean to, I just—”

“I didn’t mind,” he said, gently cutting her off and rubbing his neck. “It was comforting.”

Yor fidgeted, eyes lowered. “I liked… taking care of you. You always do so much for us. It felt nice to return the favor.”

They sat down to eat together, hesitant at first, both still flushed. But the quiet was easy. Peaceful.

Then Anya shuffled in groggily, muttering something incoherent.

All attention turned to her, and just like that, the morning shifted.

Chapter Text

Sissss, it's been too long!" Yuri declared dramatically, slamming open the Forger family apartment door late on a rainy Friday evening. A massive bouquet of red roses was tucked under one arm. The entire Forger family stood at the door.

Anya peeked from behind her papa’s legs. “Unkie,” she said flatly.

Loid winced. An SSS officer in the house meant staying three steps ahead, at minimum.

As startled as everyone else, Yor forced a polite smile as she accepted the flowers. “Yuri! I wasn’t expecting you-”

“It’s a surprise!” he beamed, stepping in. “Aren’t you happy to see your beloved little brother?”

Dinner was imminent, so Loid offered to cook. He retreated to the kitchen, prepping ingredients with expert grace. Yor trailed after him and apologised quietly. “I’ll give him a piece of my mind later. I promise.”

Loid gave a gentle smile. “It’s alright. He’s your brother. Spend time with him.”

Yor blushed at his kindness, their eyes meeting just long enough to spark something before—

“WHAT ARE YOU TWO WHISPERING ABOUT?!” Yuri’s voice rang from the hallway. “Lottie, the food’s burning!” (It wasn’t.)

Loid watched Yor for a moment before returning to his slicing, letting out a soft sigh. Whatever had passed between them just now was not a first. However, with her brother in the house and their arrangement still shrouded in pretence, it would have to wait. For now, dinner took priority.

Yor sighed and went to distract Yuri while Loid gave Anya a stern look and pointed her to her homework. Groaning dramatically, she dragged herself and Bond to her room.

Dinner was anything but peaceful. Yuri was openly hostile towards Loid, dismissing the meal as “passable” and snapping at Anya for chewing too loudly. Yor had to step in repeatedly, urging her brother to mind his manners. Loid, ever composed, tried to keep the conversation light, but Yuri cut him off sharply, “Being able to cook doesn’t mean I approve of you, Loid Forger.”

The trains had stopped by the time the rain turned into a downpour. Yuri announced he would be staying the night.

Loid and Yor froze.

Yor tried to convince him otherwise. “Yuri the rain might stop soon—”

But Yuri waved her off with a dramatic sigh, already kicking off his shoes. “No way I’m going back out in that."

Loid gave him a sidelong glance but stayed silent.

Yor stepped forward, flustered. “Yuri, really, it’s fine! The rain could stop soon, and maybe—”

Yuri’s expression twisted into one of exaggerated hurt. “Wait… are you saying you don’t want me here?” His voice cracked just enough to make Yor panic. “Is that it? Have I become a burden to my sister?”

“N-No! Of course not!” Yor rushed to reassure him, hands waving. “It’s just—

"Then I am staying", Yuri concluded.

Loid gave his most diplomatic smile and offered to ready the guest room. He swiftly hid all traces of his spy life. Yor used the distraction to tidy her room while Anya kept Yuri busy.

Later, Loid knocked on her door. “Are you alright sleeping in my room? I can take the couch. I’ll wake early before Yuri notices anything.”

Yor’s face was as red as her sweater. “Y-you shouldn’t! You need rest or you’ll collapse again. The couch isn’t comfortable—”

“I just want you to be comfortable. But I understand if it’s too much.”

She shook her head quickly, flustered. “No, it’s fine. Really. I-I’ll manage.”

He smiled and gave her room to reconsider, just in case she changed her mind.

“Then… I’ll see you soon.”

After tucking Anya into bed, Loid returned to Yor’s room with a book.

Yor hesitated in the living room after Yuri had gone to bed. The storm was still going strong.

She stared at the hallway, debating.

I could sleep in Anya’s room and say she had a nightmare, or I could sleep on the floor. That would be fine too, right?

As soon as she reached for Anya’s door, the guest room creaked open.

“Sis?” Yuri’s voice pierced the silence like a knife. “Don’t you sleep with Lottie? Does he snore? Or do you hate him already? Want me to execu-, ahem, report him?”

““Y-Yuri! I was just checking on Anya! The thunder scares her, you know. I’m going back now!” she said, waving her hands frantically. “Hmm,” Yuri muttered suspiciously, “I still don’t approve of this marriage...”

Yor entered the room cautiously as if sneaking into a lion’s den, each step tentative and uncertain.

Loid was already seated on the small pink chair near the bed, dressed casually in a white T-shirt and black slacks, flipping through a medical journal. He glanced up at her arrival and offered a calm, reassuring smile.

“Did Yuri go to sleep?” he asked, his voice low and even.

“Y-Yes…” she replied, standing stiffly by the door, wide-eyed and flustered—like a deer caught in the headlights.

Loid set the journal aside and spoke gently, “I’m still okay with taking the floor if that makes you more comfortable.”

“No!” she exclaimed, louder than she intended. Her hands flailed a bit before she added quickly, “I-I mean, you already gave up your room for him. I should be the one to take the floor, not you.”

Loid chuckled softly, his eyes kind. “I disagree. I don’t think either of us should be sleeping on the floor if we can avoid it.”

Yor hesitated, her cheeks pink. “R-Right… we’re married, after all…”

Silence stretched between them like a thread pulled too tight. Eventually, they agreed to share the bed, each staying as far to the edge as possible. Neither dared to speak at first. The silence buzzed with awareness. Loid lay stiffly, muscles tense, staring at the ceiling. Yor mirrored him, hands folded tightly over her chest, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

This is dangerous, Twilight’s voice screamed. You’re supposed to be detached. Focused. Not…

Thunder cracked. Yor flinched, her shoulders tensing.

Loid turned slightly toward her. “Yor?” he asked gently. “Are you scared of thunder?”

“N-not really…” Her voice was barely a whisper, but her trembling betrayed her words.

“You should sleep. It’ll be a long day tomorrow,” she added quickly.

But instead of turning away, Loid shifted.

“It’s alright to be scared,” he said quietly. “You don’t always have to be strong.”

She bit her lip. “I just… I don’t like the noise. I feel like something’s going to crash through the roof or—” Another boom interrupted her, and she visibly jumped.

This is a mission , he told himself . It's a cover. Yor Briar is not your real wife; you are not her real husband. Attachment is a liability, and affection is a mask.

But the rational voice was drowned out by something gentler. Familiar.

She had taken care of him when he collapsed. The least he could do was ease her nerves.

He hesitated. “If it helps… you can come closer. I-I don’t mind. Only if you’re okay with it.”

Yor blinked at him, stunned. “Come… c-closer?”

Her eyes darted to the small space between them, then back to him. Her fingers clenched around the blanket. “I-I don’t want to be a bother… You’re already sharing your bed and—”

“You’re not a bother,” he said with a soft smile. “But only if it makes you feel safer.”

Her heart pounded. She stayed frozen for a long second, debating whether she could even move without collapsing from embarrassment. Her entire face glowed crimson. But another crack of thunder decided for her.

“J-just a little, okay?” she muttered, mostly to herself.

Yor inched over with painfully slow, jerky movements, hovering awkwardly at first near his side, unsure where to rest her hands or if she was too close.

Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him, she chanted in her mind, almost like a mantra, willing her muscles to stay relaxed and to avoid accidentally elbowing him in the ribs. He’s not an enemy. He’s Loid. He’s… Loid.

Loid, noticing her hesitation, gently lifted his arm, a quiet invitation.

She gave a tiny, breathless nod and slowly rested her head against his chest, body stiff at first.

But the moment his arm came around her back in a warm, protective hold, she let out a shaky sigh and relaxed, melting slightly into him.

“I-I’m sorry. This is so awkward, isn’t it?” she whispered.

Loid shook his head slightly. “No. I… don’t mind. It’s nice. Being near you.”

Yor’s blush deepened. “Really?”

He nodded. “You took care of me without hesitation. And you’ve always protected Anya. You have no idea how much that means to me.”

She paused for a moment before saying softly, “I’m not used to being appreciated. Most people find me odd.”

“I don’t,” Loid replied. “I notice. And… I think you’re amazing.”

Yor let out a shaky breath, then pressed a little closer, resting her hand on his chest. “You’re really warm,” she mumbled, her voice almost dreamy. “This is surprisingly nice.”

Loid smiled faintly, his cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah. It is.”

They lay there in silence for a few moments, just feeling the quiet comfort between them. Then, Yor said quietly, “I’ve never… done this before. Slept beside someone like this.”

“It’s… strange. But not in a bad way.” Replied Loid.

“Exactly.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I didn’t think I could ever feel safe like this. But with you… it’s different.”

Loid’s hand rubbed gentle circles on her back.

They didn’t need to say much more. The storm outside faded into the background as they cuddled even closer, legs brushing, her hand resting lightly against his chest. He pulled her in, slowly, gradually, until they were completely wrapped in each other, her breath tucked beneath his chin, his nose brushing her hair.

And like that, they fell asleep.

Loid stirred first, blinking slowly, unsure what had disturbed his sleep. For a moment, everything felt still, and peaceful… and then he registered the weight on his arm. Light, warm, and faintly floral. His head tilted down slightly, only to realise—

Yor.

She was nestled against him, one hand gently resting on his chest, her breath soft and steady. His lips were only inches from her forehead, and her hair brushed against his chin.

He should’ve moved.

This is dangerous, Twilight’s voice muttered in his head. Compromising. Illogical.

However, he didn’t pull away. Instead, he instinctively drew her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist in a protective embrace. He could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat and sensed the tension gradually leaving her body, even as she slept.

She looks so peaceful.

Yor stirred under his touch, eyelids fluttering open. Her crimson eyes slowly focused on the man holding her, and within seconds, her face lit up a bright pink hue.

“L-Loid…?” she whispered, stunned, clearly trying not to panic as her brain caught up with the situation.

Loid blinked, his own heart skipping a beat.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice still husky with sleep. His usual stoic expression softened, the smallest smile tugging at his lips.

Yor’s eyes widened further, her breath catching. “G-Good morning,” she whispered back, burying half her face into his chest to hide the heat blooming on her cheeks.

A moment passed. Then another.

Neither of them moved.

Yor exhaled deeply, a breath that had been caught in her chest since the second she opened her eyes. She glanced at Loid from under her lashes and said softly, “I… I think that was the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time.”

Loid let out a low chuckle, the kind that was rare, but genuine. “Same here. No tossing, no turning. It was… surprisingly nice.”

Their eyes met again this time with less awkwardness and more warmth. Yor, still blushing, smiled shyly. “I… I feel safe around you. I didn’t expect to, but… I do.”

Loid paused.

Safe.

When was the last time someone said that to me ? Not Twilight . Not the agent . Just … me.

He gently brushed a stray hair away from her forehead and replied, “I’m glad. I want you to feel that way. Around me.”

She smiled, heart hammering. They stayed close, unwilling to move, like the world outside the room didn’t exist, until—

BANG!

The bedroom door slammed open, revealing a still-sleepy Anya.

“WAH I’m STARVING! she whined, dramatically flopping onto the bed like a fish.

Yor yelped, startled, scrambling to pull the blanket higher to hide her face. “A-Anya! G-good morning, sweetheart!”

Loid sat up with an embarrassed cough, subtly adjusting his shirt as he picked up the sleepy child.

“Anya… maybe knock next time?”

“I didn’t get to cuddle you guys!” she grumbled, arms crossed. “You’re not allowed to snuggle without me!”

Behind her, Yuri appeared in the hallway, hair a mess, eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. “Tch. Just what exactly were you two doing in here?! Don’t tell me—”

“ N othing! ” Yor blurted out, her voice cracking. “W-we were just sleeping! Just sleeping!!”

Loid gave his most diplomatic fake smile. “Good morning, Yuri. Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

“Hmph.” Yuri crossed his arms.

Anya, now satisfied with her morning tantrum, flopped between them dramatically. “Let’s all cuddle next time!”

Loid and Yor blinked at each other, still flushed, reluctantly pulling away from one another to start their day.

But as they left the room, a strange calm settled between them.

And as they exchanged quiet glances while setting the table and cooking breakfast, both of them were thinking the same thing:

Maybe… just maybe… I wouldn’t mind waking up like that again.

Chapter Text

Loid’s heart beat faster every time she entered the room.

It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t tactical. And it was absolutely not safe.

For a man like him, emotions had always been the first casualty of the job. In the world of espionage, sentiment was a liability. Feelings were indulgences, distractions that would kill one faster than any bullet. From the day he first donned the name "Twilight," he had known what needed to be sacrificed. He had shed his identity, his past, his attachments. He had become a tool. Efficient, calculated, and detached.

Marriage and children had never been part of the plan. Intimacy, affection, and domestic life are experiences common to ordinary people, not typically associated with spies.

And yet, here he was, sitting in a warm home filled with the aroma of home-cooked meals and the sound of a little girl's laughter. His heart raced at the sight of the woman folding laundry nearby, who was, technically, his wife.

This was meant to be temporary, just a cover, a convenient lie.

He had entered this fabricated marriage with the full intention of discarding it once Operation Strix reached its end. That was the objective of his mission.

But the plan never accounted for Yor.

She was supposed to be simple to read. A civil servant and a fake wife. Nothing more.

But from the moment he met her, she had crushed every expectation. She was graceful, yes, but also wildly unpredictable. Her beauty was captivating, with striking red eyes that burned with sincerity, framed by long lashes. The soft curve of her lips turned upward in a genuine smile that made him feel emotions he couldn’t quite name. She moved gracefully, like a dancer, yet possessing the strength of a soldier. Her long, dark hair always seemed to fall perfectly into place. When she laughed, it was like hearing something rare and precious, untouched by the world's cruelty.

He admired her. That much was undeniable. But admiration wasn’t the same as love. It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be.

He tried to explain away his behaviour. The kiss on her hand. The kiss on her cheek. The way his eyes lingered too long on her whenever she wasn't looking. The way his body reacted instinctively when he saw her speaking to another man. That wasn't jealousy but a necessary observation for the mission, right?

He wasn't falling for her, of course; he was focused on ensuring the success of the mission. But why had he held her so tightly that night when she was afraid of thunder?

Why did it bother him to imagine her with someone else?

He told himself that the kiss on the cheek she had given had thrown him off. That was the catalyst. The confusion would fade, and the feelings would pass.

They had to.

And yet, each day it only grew worse. Or better. He couldn’t tell anymore.

Yor wasn’t merely fulfilling her role in the mission; she went above and beyond what was expected of her. She learned how to cook, navigating through failed recipes and burn marks to prepare meals for them. She memorised his coffee preferences without needing to ask. She cared for his well-being when he was sick, even when he insisted she didn’t have to. She didn’t do these things out of obligation; she did them because it was simply who she was.

Kind, thoughtful, endearingly clumsy and terrifyingly strong.

She wore her heart on her sleeve, unafraid of vulnerability, even though the world had surely hurt her more than once. That was the most disarming thing of all. She was real. She didn’t hide behind masks. And in a life where everything he said was a calculated lie, that honesty hit him harder than any gunshot ever could.

Did she… like him?

No. That couldn’t be. She’d rejected him once in that bar. And again, when she kicked him off the Ferris wheel in Frigis. So clearly, she didn’t see him that way.

Good, he told himself. That was good. That way, it would be easier when the time came to walk away.

Because he would walk away. Right?

Right?

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Anya. Yor would protect her, love her, she already did, as if Anya were her own child. That should be enough. That is enough.

Then why did his heart flutter? Why did it make everything inside him ache ?

Because somewhere along the way, this false family began to feel real.

But even then, it should have been easy to detach.

Except for Yor.

He would watch her smile at Anya with the warmth of a real mother and feel his chest tighten. He would hear her softly call out “Loid-san” and feel his breath catch. He had fallen asleep beside her for two nights, something he had never managed even in solitude. With her, there was no tension, no calculation. Just peace. The kind of peace he never thought he would deserve.

She made life easier. She made him feel human.

And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

Because in the world he lived in, to feel was to fall. Emotion dulled the edge. Sentiment clouded judgment. Lov e—i f that was what it truly was —was a greater threat than any enemy . If he allowed himself to become too invested, he would break. He would become vulnerable. And vulnerable spies didn’t last long.

He should be pushing it away. He should be burying the feelings before they rooted themselves too deeply. He is Twilight.

But instead… he found himself yearning.

Yearning to stay, not as Twilight, but as Loid. As himself. A man with a home, a wife, a daughter, and a dog. A man who could rest.

He didn’t want to walk away.

Not from this. Not from her.

Perhaps Yor would be the very death of him. But it didn’t seem like a terrible way to go.

Still, he told himself, firmly and sharply that this wasn’t love. He couldn’t allow it to be. He couldn’t afford it.

It was all for the mission . All of it.

Yes. That’s all it was. That’s all it could be.

He repeated the lie until it sounded almost like the truth.

But his heart still beat faster every time she smiled. And he still couldn’t explain why.

Chapter Text

Yor had always known this marriage was a lie.
A convenient arrangement. A fragile, fabricated structure built not on love, but on necessity.

And yet, her heart fluttered every time Loid Forger smiled at her.
That was not supposed to happen.
She agreed to this arrangement, fully aware that it was temporary. This decision was made for Anya’s sake, for appearances, and to ensure her safety from the SSS.
She had prepared herself for emotional detachment. However, with each passing day, it became increasingly difficult to prevent her heart from becoming more entangled in the very lie she had helped to create.

Loid was not only a man of many talents; he continually amazed her. He could cook with the grace and precision of a five-star chef, he knew how to fly a plane, perform complex surgeries, and plan three steps ahead in any conversation. Additionally, he could sew Anya’s torn uniform as if it were second nature. 
He was brilliant, resourceful, and always composed under pressure, a man who seemed to excel at everything he did.

But those weren't the only things that drew her to him.

His hair was always perfectly styled, but sometimes, when he was too tired to maintain it, it would slip loose and hang slightly over his forehead. She loved that version of him. It made him look more relaxed, genuine, and oddly enough, younger. He seemed more approachable, like someone she could truly connect with, rather than the perfect man who always felt just a bit out of reach.

His eyes were sharp and piercing, holding an intensity that could silence a room. However, when he looked at her or Anya, they softened and displayed warmth. That tenderness made her stomach flip every time.
Loid seldom smiled; he kept his emotions tightly under control. However, when he offered a genuine smile, it illuminated the area around her, making everything feel a bit more vibrant.
His laughter was rare and precious. The first time she heard it, she nearly forgot to breathe. 

He was always so considerate. When she doubted herself, he reassured her. When she felt awkward, he gently guided her back to confidence. He encouraged her to make friends. He always spoke kindly of her efforts, especially her cooking, which had improved more because of his patience than any actual skill on her part. He told her it had gotten so much better. Maybe he was just being polite. But maybe, he meant it.

She hadn't had anyone while growing up, at least not in the way most people do. There was Yuri, but she had raised, fed, clothed, and protected him. She had taken on the roles of mother, father, sister, and shield all at once. There had never been any time for someone to take care of her.

Until now. 
Now, she had Loid.
And she was in love with him.
Hopelessly and helplessly in love with a man who didn’t know her true self. A man who, despite all his brilliance and kindness, might not reciprocate her feelings.

Sometimes she tried to pass off the growing affection as nothing more than the lingering effect of that cheek kiss. Just a moment of weakness. But she was lying to herself.

Because since then, there have been more. Holding hands, a gentle kiss on her cheek. He had even kissed her hand once, as a thank you. And then, that night. The night they fell asleep together, curled into each other. His arms wrapped around her, providing warmth and a steady heartbeat. It felt safe—safer than she had ever felt in her entire life.
She still blushed thinking about it.

Loid was a good father to Anya. He helped her study, corrected her gently, and cared so deeply even when he looked stern. He let her watch Spy Wars, spoiled her with peanuts, and pretended to be her spy partner when no one else was watching. 
Yor admired him so much.

But he had never spoken about his first wife.
Not once.
There were no pictures, no mentions and Anya never spoke about her. The silence surrounding her was haunting. Sometimes, Yor feared that Loid was still mourning her, that his memories of her were a painful reminder of what he had lost, making her feel like a placeholder for someone far more worthy. That fear twisted inside her like a knife.
Because she knew her flaws.
She was clumsy and awkward, struggling to assist Anya with her homework no matter how hard she tried. Although her cooking had improved, she still wasn't a culinary expert. The only thing she excelled at was fighting.
Killing.
That was what the world had trained her for.
That was what she had become.

She remembered what Director McMahon had told her recently. If she had doubts about this marriage, she needed to cut them off now. Indecision would only lead to pain. If she wasn't truly committed, everyone involved would suffer. He did not know the full truth; however, his words hit hard.

Because she was committed.
More than she ever thought possible.

She had become the Thorn Princess to protect Yuri. Now there were two more people she had to protect. Loid and Anya. And she would lay down her life for them in a heartbeat.

And Loid, even if he did not know her truth, was the only person who had ever accepted her as she was. Without judgment. Without fear. Even when she failed, even when she stumbled, he was there. Steady. Kind.

She was certain that if anyone could love her, despite her past and her other identity, it would be him.

But what if she told him the truth and he turned away?
What if he left?
What if everything they had built together, the fragile peace, the gentle smiles, the moments of warmth, shattered into silence?

Should she confess how she felt first?
Or her identity?
Which one would destroy them faster?

She didn’t know, and it kept her up at night. Long, sleepless nights where she stared at the ceiling, her chest heavy and her thoughts loud.

She was in love with him.
There was no denying it anymore. But she was terrified.
Because loving someone meant opening herself up completely.

And losing him, truly losing him, might just be the one thing she would not survive. 

Chapter Text

The days passed quietly, but something had subtly and unmistakably shifted. There was a certain weight to the air, wavering like unspoken words between them. Loid and Yor still moved in sync, their routine unchanged: morning breakfast, shared walks with Anya, calm dinners at home.

But beneath the surface, something had shifted.

Their glances lingered too long. Their hands brushed a little more often. There was an unspoken tension, a soft pull between them that neither was brave enough to address.

They were closer than ever before, joking, laughing, sharing quiet smiles, but their distance felt more fragile now. More delicate. One wrong step and it might shatter.

And today? Today wasn’t helping.

Anya invited Becky over for a playdate. Yor had gone out, apparently for groceries, but in truth, she was out on a mission that had taken far longer than expected. Loid stayed behind with the girls, keeping a quiet watch on the house.

Inside the Forger apartment, chaos ensued.

Becky was animated as ever, trying her best to impress Loid with stories, declarations, and flattery. She wandered around the living room, recounting her favourite scenes from Berlint in Love , occasionally casting glances at Loid in what she thought was a sophisticated way. Loid, ever polite, responded with gentle nods while wondering why Yor was taking so long.

She’s usually back by now. Did something happen? No… maybe she just ran into someone at the market.

“Papa overthinks everything,” Anya said aloud, not looking at him.

Loid glanced at her, wondering how she always seemed to know what he was thinking. His expressions must have given him away.

You are losing your edge, Twilight.

As he walked into the kitchen to begin preparing lunch, the front door finally opened.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Yor said with her usual smile, handing Loid the grocery bags. “I ran into Sharon in the market, and we got so caught up talking I didn’t realize how late it was.”

Bond trotted over happily. Anya greeted her with a hug.

Becky startled mid-story, turned dramatically toward the door and narrowed her eyes.

“Master Yor!” she declared, spinning into a martial arts stance with laughable drama. “So we meet again, love rival of mine! You dare return after stealing Loid’s heart?!"

Yor blinked at Becky, her usual gentle smile faltering. “I-I don’t think I understand?”

“She thinks you stole Papa,” Anya explained, unbothered. “She’s being dramatic again."

“My Loid! You used to cook only for me in my dreams! Now you cook for her! Is this betrayal? Is this heartbreak?!” Becky flopped around the room.

"Ugh, Becky, they are married." Anya dragged Becky away from her parents to the hallway.

Yor asked Loid if he needed help with lunch, but Loid replied, "Could you keep the children and the dog occupied while I finish up in the kitchen?"

"Of course!" Yor beamed, accepting her task as if she had just been given a noble quest. "What are you making, by the way?" she asked, peeking into the kitchen.

"I'm making potato gratin, hamburger steak, and…"—he winked—“an your favourite apple tart." Yor flushed.

His voice softened as he added, "Thank you again, Yor. I don’t know how you’re so good with kids…”

“Oh! I just…” she fumbled.

Loid gave her a long look. She blinked and looked away, her cheeks pink. Why is he looking at me like that? Do I have blood in my hair?

Trying to break the awkward tension, Yor stepped into the hallway and clapped her hands.

“So! What should we do while we wait for lunch?”

“We already watched Spy Wars, played with Bond and my plushies, and we even drew for a while,” Anya said. “Becky acted out all the berlint in Love episodes. We’re out of ideas.”

Yor thought for a moment, tapping her chin. “What if… we dance?”

Becky perked up. “Dancing? Like a ball?! With Loid?!”

“No, papa is busy,” Anya deadpanned.

Yor turned on the radio and flicked until she found something soft and melodic. The little girls began twirling around the living room, laughing and spinning, Bond wagging his tail before deciding he too must dance, or at least flail dramatically.

From the kitchen, Loid peeked out and saw them. The sight touched a deep, quiet part of him. Laughter. Warmth. For a moment, it felt genuine.

So this is what peace feels like, he thought . This is what I’ve been working towards, a world where children can laugh, where they don’t cry because of war, and where families can share lunch.

Back in the living room, Yor began humming to the tune, her voice soft and unpolished, but strangely sweet.

Loid glanced over and found himself staring at her soft features, illuminated by the afternoon sun. Her eyes were closed, and her smile was tender.

Is this… affection? No. No, this is not affection. It’s…

Then Becky, of course, broke the mood by bouncing up to him. “Loid! Dance with me!”

Loid hesitated. “I—”

“Papa’s a strict teacher,” Anya muttered. “I don’t like dancing with him. He makes it like combat training.”

Becky tugged Loid’s hand. “Please~!”

He sighed. “Fine.”

He awkwardly did a twirl, then a step, then the kind of formal foot shuffle you do when entertaining royalty or very excitable children. Becky flushed pink like a blooming tomato. “ He touched my hand—! ”

Anya, suddenly, jumped in. “Wait, me too!”

“You just said—” Loid started to tease, but Anya was already clinging to him.

“I changed my mind,” she huffed.

Yor sat watching from the couch, smiling, fingers folded neatly on her lap. Loid caught her eye and gave a small shrug.

Eventually, Anya got tired and flopped on the carpet beside Becky.

Becky was mid-rant about how “true love takes stamina” when Loid, now free, turned to Yor.

He held out his hand before he could stop himself.

“Would you… care to dance?”

Why did I just ask that? Loid wondered, his mind racing with overanalysis. It’s definitely not because I want to hold her hand. That would be unprofessional, right?

Yor’s eyes widened. “Me?”

Did he just…? Is he joking? No. He looks serious. Oh no. He’s serious.

Her heart thudded in her ears. Still, her fingers reached out, barely brushing his before she fully placed her hand in his.

“O-okay…”

Loid rested one hand at her waist.

Yor nearly jumped.

His hand. That’s... his hand is— calm down, Yor. You have even hugged him while sleeping. This is nothing. Normal couples do this all the time.

Her face turned a deeper shade of red like a rose suddenly struck by sunlight. She tried to play it off, placing her free hand delicately on his shoulder, but her grip was feather-light, like touching him too firmly might cause her to combust.

They stepped, awkward and clumsy. She bumped his foot.

“S-sorry!” she gasped.

He smiled gently. “It’s alright.”

Another step. Then another. They weren’t graceful, but they weren’t tripping either. Slowly, cautiously, they began to move in sync.

Loid’s steps softened.

Yor’s breathing slowed.

The room had gone quiet, save for the gentle music still playing on the radio.

Loid and Yor swayed slowly in the living room, caught in their awkward little bubble. It wasn’t a practised waltz or even anything coordinated. But it was warm. Comfortably slow. Yor's fingers lightly clutched the fabric at Loid’s shoulder, his hand resting at her waist, both of them staring somewhere in the space near each other’s eyes, but not quite in them.

They were close. Too close for a pair who insisted they were “just pretending.”

Yor’s cheeks were flushed, her lips parted slightly as if trying to speak but unsure of what words to use. Loid, normally the picture of control, looked like someone who had just stepped on fire, breath held, face warm, mind spiralling.

She smells nice. When did I notice that? Why are we still dancing? Should I say something? Is this about the mission? Is this not about the mission? What’s happening to my heart rate—

Then—

Yor dared to glance upward.

And met his eyes.

He was already looking at her.

And not like a husband pretending. Not even like a friend.

Just… looking.

She froze. Her breath caught in her chest. Her blush deepened so fiercely that she was sure her ears were glowing.

Loid’s pulse quickened. Why am I staring? Say something. Look away. Do something.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

His gaze flicked, just once, to her lips.

No. Stop. That wasn’t on purpose. That didn’t mean anything. It’s just instinct. Reflex. Attraction is normal. Not ideal, but normal. Just stay still. Keep dancing. Don’t lean in—

Yor’s eyes widened.

He’s going to kiss me. Is he…? Should I…? What do I do with my face? Oh no. Wait, Loid is going to kiss me? W-Wh-What do I do with my face?? I can't-

They slowed to an unconscious halt, the swaying forgotten. They were inches apart.

She was flushed. He was flushed. Their breaths mingled.

Loid tilted in just slightly, so slightly it might’ve been mistaken for a sway in the music. His hand at her back tightened like he was afraid she’d vanish. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes darting between his, uncertain but open.

The air between them pulsed.

Their noses almost touched.

He leaned closer. Yor nervously closed her eyes. And then—

DING!

The oven timer screeched.

Yor startled like she’d been shocked.

“Ah!” She stumbled back, heel landing squarely on Bond’s tail.

“Borf!!” the dog barked in protest.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, Bond!” she cried, nearly tripping.

Loid caught her by the waist and wrist, steadying her.

They both froze.

She was bright red. He was pink to his ears. Their hands still held, trembling slightly.

Anya suddenly chimed in, " Papa and Mama are flirting."

"We are not-", both shouted in unison.

“I—I should get the tart,” Loid said, voice hoarse. He let go of her.

“R-right! Yes! The dessert!” Yor fumbled, stepping back quickly. Her hands twisted in front of her like she was trying to wring her blush away.

They didn’t look at each other as he disappeared into the kitchen.

But both of them stood in stunned silence, cheeks aflame.

Bond huffed and laid his head back down.

The music on the radio played on, soft, slow, and just a little too romantic.

Becky, overwhelmed, had dramatically fainted on the rug.

Chapter Text

The apartment door burst open with a bang of energy.

“Mama! Papa!”

Anya’s voice rang through the quiet home, high and urgent, as she had just returned from a great quest. Her backpack thudded against the floor as she bolted down the hallway, hair bouncing, arms flailing with uncontainable excitement.

Loid peeked out from the kitchen, holding a wooden spoon mid-stir. “Anya? Welcome home. What is it—?”

“Papa! Mama!” Anya skidded to a halt and grabbed at the edge of her mother’s cardigan. “We learned about space today! And stars! The big kind in the sky! Real ones, not like the Stella stars!”

Yor’s eyes widened in surprise. She knelt instinctively, brushing back a stray lock of pink hair from Anya’s forehead. “Stars? That sounds so exciting.”

Anya’s hands balled into little fists of determination. “I wanna see them! Tonight! With you and Papa! We’re gonna rename the whole sky. I already have, like, five new star names in my head. But I need to see them!”

Loid’s voice came from them, calm and amused. “Did I hear something about renaming the universe?”

Anya spun, beaming. “Yes! The science names are too boring. One of them was called… Beedle juice or something. Ew.”

“Betelgeuse,” Loid gently corrected, walking over with a smile on his lips. “It is truly a significant star.”

“It’s gross-sounding,” Anya pouted. “My names are better.”

Yor stood, laughing softly. “Then let’s go stargazing tonight. A special mission, for the whole family.”

Anya threw her hands in the air. “Mission accepted!”

She darted off down the hall yelling something about marshmallows and space helmets. Yor and Loid stood still for a moment, watching her disappear with the kind of expression only parents—real or not—wore.

Loid looked at Yor. “I’ll finish my reports early. Wouldn’t want to disappoint our little astronomer.”

Yor nodded, her smile lingering long after Anya’s footsteps had faded.

The night arrived gently, like a blanket settling over the city.

Yor and Anya set up on the small apartment balcony. Yor laid out thick blankets and carried out two mugs of warm milk from the kitchen, careful not to spill.

The air had a soft chill to it. The sky above stretched deep and clear, scattered with stars.

Anya sat curled in Yor’s lap, bundled in a thick cardigan that was far too big for her, its sleeves covering her hands like mittens. She was drowsy already, but her eyes sparkled as she pointed up toward the sky.

“That one,” she said decisively, “is now called Sir Sparkle Blast. Because it sparkles extra.”

Yor followed her finger, then looked down at her daughter’s face, full of certainty and pride. “Sir Sparkle Blast is a wonderful name.”

Anya nodded solemnly. “He’s the boss of the stars. He makes all the bedtime dreams.”

Yor giggled quietly, resting her chin lightly on top of Anya’s head. “I had no idea the stars had such an organized leadership.”

“They do,” Anya said firmly. “And that one next to him is Becky’s Nose. Because it’s fancy and pointy.”

“Oh my.”

They sat like that for a while. The wind brushed gently past them. The stars blinked in the sky like secrets. Yor’s arms stayed wrapped around Anya’s small body, holding her as if the girl might float away otherwise.

Loid joined them a little later, his jacket slung casually over one arm. He stood for a moment at the doorway, watching them in the golden balcony light. Yor looked up, startled. Her cheeks were already touched pink from the cool air.

“You both look comfortable,” he said gently.

Anya yawned without shame. “We’re naming the galaxy. You’re late.”

Loid smiled and walked over. Noticing the faint tremble in Yor’s shoulders, he wordlessly draped his jacket over them. His hand lingered a moment, steady against her back.

“You looked cold,” he said softly. “You could have said something.”

“I didn’t notice,” Yor murmured, clutching the fabric gently. “Thank you…”

He settled next to them on the blanket. Anya was already leaning into Yor like a sleepy kitten, eyes heavy, mouth half-open in a tiny yawn.

“That one’s Sirius,” Loid said, pointing to a bright star overhead. “It’s the brightest in the night sky.”

Anya mumbled something about “too boring” and snuggled deeper into her mother's lap.

Loid chuckled under his breath. “She’s already half asleep.”

Yor smiled, brushing her fingers through Anya’s soft hair. But then her expression shifted. There was something quieter in her eyes now . A shadow of thought.

“Loid-,” she said, so softly he almost missed it. “Can I ask you something?”

He turned, immediately attentive. “Of course.”

She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you ever feel like… you’re just stumbling through everything? Like everyone else has the instructions and you’re just trying not to break anything on accident?”

Loid didn’t respond right away.

She kept her gaze on the stars as if they might offer an answer she couldn’t find in herself. Her fingers curled slightly in the fabric of her cardigan, a quiet effort to hold herself together.

“I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right,” she admitted. “I was never someone’s wife. I was never anyone’s mother. Sometimes I wonder if I say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing…"

The words slipped out like a breath she had been holding in too long.

Loid’s voice, when it came, was gentle. “Yor…”

He reached out and took her hand in his, steady and warm.

“You’re not pretending,” he said. “Not with us. Not with her. She loves you. So much.”

Yor looked down at Anya, whose breath came in slow, deep rhythms now, completely at peace.

“You make her feel safe. Cherished. That’s something real mothers do. The important part of being a parent is not about getting it perfect. It’s showing up with love, again and again.”

Yor’s lips trembled. “But what if I fail?”

“Then we help each other,” Loid said. “That’s what families do. And Yor you’ve never failed her. Or me.”

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary, savouring the closeness between them. Leaning forward, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, a gentle affirmation of his feelings. The warmth of his touch sent a flutter through her chest.

“You’re enough,” he whispered. “You always have been.”

She blinked quickly, her breath catching in her chest. The night was quiet, the stars silently bearing witness.

She leaned into him, her head gently resting on his shoulder, the warmth of his body offering a comforting embrace. The soft rustle of fabric surrounded them as Loid instinctively wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to him. He could feel the rise and fall of her breath, steady and calming, and a sense of peace washed over him as they shared that quiet moment. The world around them faded away, leaving just the two of them, wrapped in each other's presence.

Between them, Anya shifted in her sleep, letting out a quiet mumble about peanut planets.

And above them, the stars glowed quietly.

The family sat beneath the expansive night sky for a long time, lost in their thoughts, not speaking, just breathing and enjoying the moment together. There were no missions that night, no roles to play.

Only the warmth of each other's presence.

A little girl, her eyes reflecting the starlight, was nestled against her mother's side. The mother, unaware of her strength and the love she radiated, longed for reassurance but didn't realise she was already enough. Beside them sat a spy, a man who never intended to embrace the role of a father, but who found himself drawn into this quiet bond.

Chapter Text

It started with a note.

Loid had returned from a long mission, nothing out of the ordinary. The city was quiet, his footsteps even more silent as he stepped into the warm stillness of the apartment. It was past midnight, the lights low. He moved to hang his coat up, but paused. There, resting neatly on the small shelf by the coat rack, just beneath where his hangers always sat was a folded piece of paper.

Curious, he opened it and blinked.

Thank you for always reassuring me and accepting my clumsiness.

You are always so kind.

– Yor

He stood there for a long moment, paper held loosely between his fingers. The words weren’t dramatic, weren’t grand. But they felt true . More honest than most things he encountered in his line of work. And they were for him.

A faint warmth bloomed in his chest. He pressed the note closed and slipped it into the inner pocket over his heart.

The next day, he returned the gesture.

Yor had opened her box during a rushed break at work. There, tucked under the lid, was a small piece of paper. Neat, careful handwriting—Loid’s.

You always say you’re clumsy, but I don’t agree .

You show grace in how you care for Anya, how you smile even when you’re tired, and how you always make space for others even when you forget to make space for yourself.

You may not see it, but I do.

—Loid

Her hands flew to her face instantly, cheeks blooming red. Camilla leaned over and shrieked.

“A note?! Yor!!" Camilla grinned and rested her chin in her hand, eyes gleaming. “Seriously though… how did you end up with that charming husband of yours?”

But Yor didn’t hear her. Not really. Her heart was thudding too loudly. She stared at the note again and again.

The lunch sat untouched beside her. She didn’t even notice.

A week later, Loid found another note.

It slipped out from between the pages of his morning newspaper, fluttering softly onto the table. At first glance, he almost mistook it for an intel memo, another mission briefing, another coded warning. His hand moved on instinct to catch it, already bracing for protocol.

But then he saw it.

A tiny, slightly lopsided smiley face drawn in the corner.

Yor’s doodle.

His breath caught for just a second. Carefully, he unfolded the note. Her handwriting was neat, if a little shy on the page, the loops in her letters softer than usual, like she’d hesitated with every word.

You always put so much care into every meal.

Even when you’re tired. Even when you think no one notices.

And somehow everything you make tastes like comfort. Like home.

Thank you for all the small acts of kindness.

– Yor :)

Loid stared at the note, the words settling quietly into his chest.

He let out a slow breath. The corner of his mouth quirked upward, subtle and soft.

The kitchen was still quiet, the morning light just beginning to stretch across the table. He folded the note gently, smoothing the edges like something fragile, and tucked it away into his coat pocket close to the other note.

And then he filled the kettle.

She liked chamomile in the morning. He’d remembered.

Loid left one taped under her pillow next.

It was folded with quiet care; the edges were neat, but the tape was slightly uneven, as if he had hesitated, unsure if it was too much. In the corner of the note, there was a small heart. Slanted, hesitant, but undeniably there.

Sometimes I wonder if you know how strong you are.

You’re the kind of strong that stays, even when everything feels heavy.

You hold this family together without realising you're its centre.

The meals. The warmth. The way Anya always reaches for your hand first.

She feels safe because of you.

So do I.

– Loid ❤

Yor found it at bedtime.

She was already in her night gown, the blanket half-folded over her lap as she sat on the edge of the bed. The paper fluttered softly onto the mattress when she lifted her pillow, and for a heartbeat, she just stared at it, like it couldn’t possibly be real.

Then her fingers picked it up, trembling just a little.

She read it once. Then again. And again.

The words blurred before she realised why. A tear had slipped down her cheek and landed right at the corner of the page, soaking into the paper like a quiet confession. She brushed it away with the back of her hand, lips pressed together as if trying not to smile and cry all at once. Her heart ached in the softest way.

Yor folded the letter carefully and tucked it into her drawer. Then she pulled the blanket around herself and lay down.

Another note arrived inside the book that Loid was reading. Page 87.

He knew instantly it was her.

You read with that little crease between your brows.

Like the world disappears when you're focused.

Sometimes I just watch you read and forget what I was doing.

– Yor

Loid didn’t even try to keep reading.

He closed the book gently, pressing the note between the pages.

Later, when Yor came in to say goodnight, he looked up at her and gave her a look so soft she almost walked into the wall on her way out.

Yor found the next note in the teacup cabinet. It was hidden beneath the lid of the kettle. She had gone to make tea, just like she always did when he looked tired.

You always notice.

Even when I pretend I’m fine, you bring me tea without a word.

I don’t think I’ve ever been cared for like that before.

– Yours, Loid

Yor blushed so deeply she almost knocked the teacups over. But she brewed the tea anyway hands shaking just a little.

When she handed him the cup that night, her face was pink, but her smile was shy and certain.

The next morning, Loid woke up earlier than usual, muscles still a little sore from the last mission. He shuffled into the kitchen, already reaching for the coffee machine out of habit.

Then he saw it.

A note taped just beside the coffee maker, written in familiar, careful handwriting. A little heart doodled in the corner, half-erased like she’d almost changed her mind.

Please don’t make it too strong again today.

Your stomach’s going to rebel.

You always act fine, but you don’t have to push yourself all the time.

Lighter coffee. Doctor’s orders!

– Yor ❤

Loid blinked at the note, still half-asleep, and read it again . His ears turned pink. He glanced around the quiet kitchen like someone might’ve caught him smiling. Slowly, he reached for the canister of mild roast instead of his usual dark.

As the coffee brewed, he leaned on the counter, the note still in his hand.

“…Doctor’s orders,” he murmured under his breath, lips twitching into a smile he didn’t bother hiding anymore.

And when Yor came in a little while later, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she found her husband holding out a mug of lightly brewed coffee.

“Following instructions,” he said, voice gentle. “For once.”

Yor blinked, then blushed, cheeks blooming pink as the scent of coffee drifted between them.

“You listened,” she said, voice soft with quiet delight. And, slowly, she gave him a proud smile.

That evening, Yor came home to find the laundry already folded neatly and precisely, with her favourite cardigan laid on top. There was a Post-it on it in Loid’s crisp handwriting.

I noticed you shivered this morning.

Wear this tomorrow.

And stop saying it’s “not that cold.”

— Loid

Yor blinked, feeling a rush of warmth as she pressed the note against her chest, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped her senses, igniting a spark of warmth within her heart. A small, helpless smile danced on her lips, betraying the flurry of emotions inside her. The cardigan was cozy and inviting, yet it paled in comparison to the delightful fluttering sensation that filled her chest, as if a thousand butterflies were taking flight in that moment.

Loid noticed it as he reached into his jacket pocket for a pen during the briefing. His fingers brushed against something unfamiliar—smooth, small, and folded paper. He paused for a moment, discreetly slipping it out from beneath the table.

It wasn’t official. Not a mission directive. Just a note. The note was small, neat, and unmistakably hers.

You always look so sharp in this suit…

But it’s the way you smile when you think no one’s looking that really gets me.

I hope someone makes you smile today.

— Yor :)

He blinked, adjusted his tie and smiled like he didn’t mean to.

It lingered longer than it should have. Nightfall raised an eyebrow.

“Something wrong, Twilight?”

Loid cleared his throat, composing himself with the ease of a trained agent. But the corner of his mouth refused to fall back into its usual line. He tucked the note into his breast pocket.

"No. Just something unexpected."

The suspicion in Fiona's eyes went unnoticed by him.

It was a quiet Saturday morning. The kind that tiptoed into the Forger household gently, sunlight brushing against windows, the kettle just beginning to sing.

Loid was at the kitchen counter, measuring coffee with exact precision. Yor was fussing over breakfast, cheeks a little pink from how he had complimented her new apron just moments ago. Anya was suspiciously silent in the living room, reading her spy manga while Bond napped beside her.

Then—

“AH-HA!!”

Both Loid and Yor jumped.

They turned toward the living room just in time to see Anya standing on the couch, holding a small, folded note above her head like she had just discovered a national secret.

Loid and Yor froze.

“Anya…” Loid said slowly, “Where did you find that?”

“In Mama’s apron!” Anya cried with a triumphant smirk. “It was hiding! Like a sneaky spy message!!”

Yor went pale.

Anya dramatically cleared her throat, unfolded the paper, and in a booming voice (with some extra flair), declared:

“I love the way your eyes sparkle when you're focused—”

“You’re more than beautiful—”

“You’re breathtaking.”

"Yours, Loi-uh-Papa”

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Yor turned crimson in less than a second. Her hands flew to her cheeks as she squeaked, “A-Anya!! That was—th-that’s - ”

Loid was no better, standing frozen, coffee forgotten, face slowly turning pink.

“I KNEW IT,” Anya shouted, jumping in place. “YOU’RE TOTALLY IN LOOOOOVE.”

“Anya, please,” Loid said, voice strained, rubbing his temple.

“Mama is breathtaking", Anya sang in a sing-song voice. I know all your secrets now!!”

Yor buried her face in a dish towel.

Loid sighed deeply, pink in the ears, and finally retrieved the note from Anya’s waving hand.

“You shouldn’t read personal things,” he said gently but firmly.

“But you are being lovey dovey,” Anya said, entirely unrepentant.

Loid and Yor looked at each other, then away immediately.

And Anya, triumphant, flopped back onto the couch with the biggest, most smug grin in the whole of Ostania.

Sylvia Sherwood flipped through Loid’s mission reports at the safehouse desk, eyes sharp—until something unexpected slipped between the pages and fluttered to the floor.

She frowned, crouched, and picked it up.

Pink stationery. A soft floral scent. Three handwritten lines.

And… a faint kiss mark.

She raised her eyebrows slightly, then read the note.

I know this family started as something fake.

But it doesn’t feel fake to me anymore.

You… You make it feel real. I just hope it feels real for you too.

– Yor 💋

Her lips tugged into a small smile.

Loid entered seconds later, and when he saw her holding it, he froze.

“That’s not—” he started, stiff. “It got mixed up—”

Sylvia looked up at him, and for once, there was no steel in her voice.

“It’s alright.” She gently folded the note and set it aside, almost like she didn’t want to crease it. “It’s sweet.”

Loid hesitated, clearly flustered. His ears were tinged pink.

Sylvia's gaze softened. “She cares about you,” she said simply . “And it looks like you care too.”

He didn’t deny it.

She stood, smoothing her coat. “This mission will end someday, Twilight,” she said quietly. “But I hope you don’t let this—” she glanced at the note, her smile barely there, “—slip through your fingers.”

Loid nodded faintly.

Then, just before walking out, she paused and murmured with the barest teasing lilt.

“Next time… maybe don’t file her love notes with your reports.”

And with that, she was gone.

Loid let out a quiet breath, staring at the note.

His fingers brushed over the kiss mark, soft and lingering.

Real.

That night, neither of them said anything at first.

Yor moved quietly through the house, cheeks flushed. Loid watched her from the living room, his mind racing, his chest tight.

And then, as she passed him to set down a cup of tea—

“I read your note,” he said softly.

Yor froze. Her hands trembled.

“I meant every word,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know.”

The silence stretched between them like a thread, fragile and trembling.

Then, with aching gentleness, Loid pulled her wrist—

“May I - uh-c-can I kiss you?”

She turned to face him, heart fluttering like wings in her chest. Her whole face was flushed darker than her sweater. And then she nodded. Just once. Just enough.

Loid took a slow step closer.

He didn’t rush, didn’t fall into her. He approached like she was something fragile and beloved. Something real. He knelt slightly, so their eyes were leve l.

His hand lifted to her cheek, fingers ghosting just beneath her ear, his thumb brushing the curve of her jaw with exquisite tenderness.

And then, slowly, he leaned in and kissed her.

His lips met hers like a question, tentative and feather-soft, like he was testing whether the world would let him have this. He kissed her gently, barely pressing into her at first, just enough for her to feel the full weight of his intention. There was no urgency, only patience. Deep, aching patience, like he had waited forever to know what it would be like to kiss someone and mean it.

She responded with the smallest sound, half breath, half surrender, and he felt her lean into him, hands trembling as they reached for his shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric like she needed something to hold.

Loid exhaled softly into her mouth, and then kissed her again, deeper this time. Not rough, but sure. His hand slid further, cradling the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair as he tilted his mouth to fit hers more fully.

His lips moved over hers with a quiet intensity, coaxing rather than demanding, like he was memorising every inch, every curve, every flicker of warmth. He kissed her more thoroughly now, mouth moving slowly, deliberately, drawing her closer, letting her feel everything he hadn’t been able to say. He pulled her in with a quiet hunger not of desire, but of need. The kind of need that comes from years of loneliness, from building walls too high to ever climb down from until now.

Yor’s breath hitched, but she kissed him back, still unsteady, though utterly open. Their mouths moved together with increasing confidence, exploring, learning and giving. It was not a practised kiss. It was tender, a little clumsy, deeply vulnerable.

His other hand found her waist, anchoring her to him gently .

He kissed her like she was the only person in the world who could quiet the noise in his head. Like she was the first truth he’d ever touched with his own hands.

And when he finally pulled back, breathless, he stayed close, his forehead pressed to hers, his fingers still softly tangled in her hair, his thumb resting at the corner of her kiss-swollen lips.

She opened her eyes, dazed and wide, searching his face for something unspoken. Her lips were slightly parted, flushed from the kiss. Her eyes were wide, glimmering with something unsure but no longer afraid.

He didn’t look away.

Because in that moment, Loid—for once—had no mask.

Their breathing mingled in the narrow space between them, soft and uneven.

Loid felt something in his chest shift.

He hadn’t expected this. The weight of their kiss. The way her hands had clung to him, tentative but needing him. The feel of her mouth against his, soft, unsure, but yielding. The way she had let herself be seen.

And he hadn’t kissed her because he was supposed to.

He had kissed her because he wanted to.

And he wanted to again.

So he did.

This time, he kissed her more fully. Still gentle, but now undeniably present. His hand slid behind her neck, fingers threading through her hair, anchoring her to him as he tilted his head slightly and pressed into her with more intent.

He kissed her like he meant it. Like he wasn’t just asking permission this time, but giving himself away.

There was no audience. No mission. No persona to maintain.

He kissed her like she was the only real thing in his world.

And for that moment, she was.

Yor's arms slowly slid up around his shoulders, uncertain but willing, and she melted into him, warm and trusting.

Loid wasn’t practised in this kind of kiss. He didn’t know how to be vulnerable like this, but his body followed where his heart led.

And when they finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, Yor was looking up at him with something unspoken, something fragile and glowing behind her lashes.

Loid let his hand linger on her face. She blinked slowly, dreamily, her breath still catching.

“I…” Yor began, but the words vanished.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Loid whispered.

He didn’t either. Not yet.

Because that kiss had said enough.

It said:

I want you.

I care about you.

This isn’t pretend anymore.

And the warmth still on their lips, the echo of that kiss was real.

That night, they didn’t need to say much.

Not when they sat on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, cheeks pink and smiles shy.

Not when their fingers brushed again and again, neither pulling away.

And especially not when Loid pulled a piece of paper from his pant pocket, pen in hand.

You’re not perfect.

Neither am I.

But I think we might be perfect for each other.

– Love, Loid

He carefully folded it, kissed the edge as she had once done, and slipped it into her hand.