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buckyschair · 3 months ago

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✸ WHAT HE DOESN'T KNOW ✸

ILLICIT AFFAIRS ✸ PART TWO

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: After reconnecting with your old flame Azriel, you can’t get him out of your mind. Now, it’s your husband’s birthday, but who’s gonna give you a gift? After all, what he doesn't know won't kill him... AKA closet quickie with Azriel at your husband’s birthday party

Content Warnings: contains smut 18+ MINORS DNI, cheating (WITH, not ON Azriel), alcohol, female reader, shitty husband (not physically abusive), casual shadow bondage, PIV sex (no protection bc they are faeries and this is fiction, but put on your mental magic condom if you must), gross liberties taken with whatever’s going on with the Hewn City, swearing, no use of Y/N

Author's Notes / Housekeeping: 1. This is a part two to my previous fic Illicit Affairs, I would highly suggest you read that first so that the context makes sense, but not strictly necessary 2. Reader’s husband is a guy I made up, named Lustere. He works under Mor’s dad so he’s a minor political figure in the Court of Nightmares (he’s introduced more in this part, but saying it here for clarity) 3. This fic is not based on Eurovision’s plot at all I promise haha but HEAVILY inspired by that one line from Scotty Doesn’t Know: I did her on his birthday ;)

Enjoy!!

Word Count: 6.8k

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

Despite the world shifting force of your collision with Azriel, not much changed afterwards.

The days slipped by, transient and thin as ever.

Although admittedly, after your late night rendezvous, your games died down. You still lit a fire on occasion out of habit, but the fantasies had lost their power to distract you.

Without the ability to make your thoughts a refuge, your thoughts began to bite back, and they played dirty. They consumed you.

It was not the gentle kiss of fantasy but the harsh swallow of reality that haunted your days and your nights, your psyche irrevocably tied to the painful present. You were shocked to find it so mind numbing.

Nothing in your life was your own. How have you put up with it all these years? As a female in a court of males and fuckery, nothing was yours. Every piece of food that passed your lips, every sip of wine, every fancy dress, bought with your husband’s credit.

So what could be yours?

Even as your heart despaired, some small part of you whispered, and your soul curled involuntarily around a persistent, subtle flicker. Your eyes had begun to catch shadows everywhere. Wherever they lurked, you wondered, were they his?

You hoped the answer was yes.

Regardless, their presence soothed you. They were a reminder.

Azriel.

What you had with him, however gossamer thin, was yours. No one else’s.

One night had been enough; the secret fueled you.

The parties were easier to organize, the house more orderly than ever. When the dullness threatened to deaden every nerve, your memory was quick to recall the thrill. It kept you back from that brink.

However, it was a pity that the fresh fuel was poured into such futile efforts, the most interesting of which was planning boring events for your and your husband’s social world. You were certain your eyes would soon dry out from a lack of entertainment.

One of these events was a celebration.

Your husband’s day of birth.

When Lustere had first entered your life, now centuries ago, you had honestly been relieved. He had represented a chance at a new life, maybe even at love. Mostly, he had promised an escape from your father’s home. In that, at least, he had proved useful. Not so much for the rest.

If you heard the voice of hope now, you would hardly recognize her. Her gentle song had died centuries ago, along with a part of your soul.

As his day approached, you thought you ought to feel something, some joy, some excitement, perhaps some pride in the male he had become. All you could muster was a temporary damper for the decades of resentment.

Luckily for you, you were in charge of the whole event, including the guest list.

“Who do you want me to invite?” you asked him casually after dinner one night, well in advance of the event.

Lustere sighed condescendingly, the sound score of your life. “Aren’t you supposed to be handling this? I’m so very busy these days.”

Your eyes crossed from your stacks of papers to where he was pouring his third drink of the evening. Busy indeed.

“Of course, dear. I’ve got it covered, I just want to make sure I don’t leave anyone out.” Your tone was as sweet as the smile plastered to your face.

“Don’t leave anyone out!” he urged you with your own words, as if it were a new thought for you to try out. “Invite everyone important.”

You bit back a bubbling retort, your sweet smile tasting sour. “I’ll see to it.”

“Good, good,” he mumbled dismissively.

“It will be a lovely event; and, more importantly, no one who matters will be snubbed.” As you spoke the words, Lustere turned to you slightly– almost even looking at you.

His face was set in a scheme, so he looked pained. “On second thought, maybe we could uninvite that one guy. You know, the courtier with the annoying wife?”

“We can’t uninvite them, not when they haven’t been invited yet.”

“Maybe their invite could get lost in the mail.”

Your eye roll was internal, but you wished you could slap it into his mind. He never listened.

“Consider it done,” you agreed.

At least he was predictable.

In his self importance, Lustere had asked you to ‘invite everyone important’.

How convenient, you smiled to yourself as you penned another name on the provisional guest list. Azriel could easily be considered a most important guest.

One gift for yourself on your husband’s birthday. You’d earned it.

✸✸✸

“What are they doing here?!”

For a second, your heart leapt to your throat. With a cordial smile, you turned away from the guests you’d been chatting to, only to face your husband’s hushed accusation.

Lustere’s anger was rare, thank the Mother, so when it reared, you never knew what to expect.

“Who?”

You scanned the room; it was full of your husband’s acquaintances, colleagues, and enemies alike.

“Her! And that shadowsinger!” his words were a flustered whisper.

It was a different emotion that caused your heart to jump then. You followed his glance to find the male in question, linked arm in arm with the Morrigan.

You swallowed a smug smile at your husband’s discomfort at her presence.

Not that you could have known that he found her unsettling… but you’d certainly hoped. He nervously eyed the side of the room where she and the Illyrian made a frightening pair. Oh, that damned Illyrian.

Your pulse quieted as you drank him in.

If he would be the death of you, you’d only be grateful.

Azriel looked devastating. His usual leathers had been exchanged for slightly more formal slacks. His siphons still gleamed, but his powers were reserved in accordance with the casual setting. He still looked intimidating as ever, while the blonde on his arm was just as fearsome in her gorgeous get up.

“Oh!” you fumbled momentarily; your vision stuck across the room, your mind caught up in a particular tangle of sheets. “I saw you speak with him at that event last month, so I thought it might be a nice gesture to invite them. I didn’t honestly expect them to show up.”

“Well,” he smoothed his panic into a self-satisfied smile. Your palms itched. “It was a good thing I talked to them, then. Clever.”

You knew the compliment was addressed to himself, not you.

For an insufferable bastard, you sure suffered.

“Have you greeted them yet?” his question grated you.

“Not yet, I hadn't been made aware of their arrival–”

“–Well, don’t wait too long, dear. You wouldn’t want to be rude, hm?”

With that, Lustere moved away to greet some other guests, but you only dimly registered the movement, his critique.

Your eyes were focused on the shadowsinger.

Azriel was here.

And Mor was with him.

Among your husband’s upper court colleagues, you’d gotten creative with who could reasonably be considered a part of his circles. If you could invite the Steward, surely the Overseer and her friends were fair game as well. You’d invited the lot of them, on that whim. As you approached them, you cursed yourself for your liberties with the guest list.

You hadn’t seen Azriel since that fateful evening. The male rarely visited the city, and here he was, twice in as many months. Your gut roiled, you wished you’d had time to prepare.

But you had prepared, you told yourself. You knew how to play this role, the hostess. It was one you’d mastered over the years.

It was easy to slip into now, thanks to centuries of playing the part.

Azriel and the Morrigan’s diffident eyes piqued with interest as you glided to stand before them with open palms.

“Greetings to you both!” You presented yourself with a subtle bow, and they in turn introduced themselves. It was the picture of sophistication.

“It’s a pleasure to be officially introduced,” Azriel said, and his voice flowed like honey.

His words were perfectly cordial, yet they sent a rush through you.

You didn’t need to remind yourself; you were hyperaware of the fact that this was the first time you were formally meeting him, at least to the public.

Before you could answer him, Mor was sweeping in with artful compliments about the event, finishing with a resounding “-and you look divine.”

Kindness suddenly made the daunting warrior glow, her face open and shining as her armor fell away to acknowledge your work. It was wonderful. You hoped your husband was watching.

“Why, thank you. This old thing?”

You twisted to show off your garment, and your heart swelled to match her radiance.

It was actually an old gown, pulled from the back of your closet. It was the dress you’d worn centuries ago, on your first anniversary with your husband.

As you’d primped for tonight, he had even complimented it: “I like the new dress,” he had said. “You should wear things like that more often, it's far better than the usual sort you wear.”

You had bitten your tongue, but his words still stung. You should have known better than to have expected him to remember the dress. You weren’t sure why you’d chosen it for tonight. For some reason, it had felt auspicious when you’d seen it twinkling at the back of the wardrobe.

“Oh, they don’t make them like they used to,” Mor said wistfully, eying the fine material. She was oblivious to how she had soothed the sore subject with her simple compliment.

“They certainly don’t,” you agreed, and your eyes drifted to the shadowsinger.

Through your daze, you gave them the welcome spiel, and pointed out some familiar faces that they could chat with.

“We’re honored to have you here, enjoy the evening,” you admonished with a genuine smile. You turned to continue your cycle through the room of guests, already spotting your next mark.

“Where could we find a drink?”

Azriel’s words froze you in your tracks. Mor was agreeing with him, firing off her order for him to fetch. His eyes were on you.

“I’ll show you.”

The words escaped before you could think.

He nodded and stepped towards you to follow your way.

You didn’t move.

He looked stunning up close.

Several tendrils of dark hair had escaped the hold of his gel. His shadows were relegated to his wings, camping out like bats in a cave. You swallowed thickly, remembering how they had felt on your own flesh, how sensitive his wings had been to the slightest touch.

During your welcome and introduction facade, his amber eyes had been stoic, an unreadable mask. Now, they flared briefly with confusion as you stayed paused.

It rocked you back into your body, your mind addled but present.

“Yes, of course– this– this way.”

Luckily, no one was paying attention to you, next to a presence so commanding as the spymaster’s. No one noticed your momentary lapse– no one except him.

Azriel fought a smirk as you wove through the room together.

His rough hand came to hover at your lower back, and you bit your tongue at the soft contact.

“Here we are.”

All too soon, you’d arrived at the bar. It was centrally located in the room, which was crowded, but not so crowded as to obscure the main attraction, especially not from eyes as keen as those of the spymaster...

Azriel was casual as he ordered his and Mor’s drinks.

“And a whiskey, neat.”

Your eyes snapped to him, and he had long been looking at you.

“For the generous hostess,” he murmured.

You felt your cheeks heat, and you hoped no one would notice your blush.

“Thank you.” You belatedly remembered your manners as he pressed the glass to you.

“I owed you one.”

Your mouth went dry.

He was being bold. Anyone could have heard his little comment.

The imposing Illyrian took a long drink out of the elegant vessel. Your mind flashed back to a different night, when his lips had been on another glass. Your pulse fluttered as you recalled the last time he had drunk from your husband’s collection, and the things he’d done to you after. Foggily, you wondered if this would prove a similar potion.

He frowned at the dark liquid suddenly, before grunting, “Except technically, I suppose you’re funding this one, too.”

“Guess you owe me another one.” Your words were light, flirtatious, even as your lungs stuttered.

“I’ll get my best people on it.”

At his wry humor, your laughter was breathless, hardly a wheeze

“Actually,” you winced, “this would be on my husband’s credit. As was the last bottle…”

“Ahh. And where is the male of the hour?”

You gestured broadly, shaking your head and rolling your eyes with impressive coordination as you took a gulp. Damn, the male knew how to order a drink.

“Around. It’s his party.”

When you caught his eyes again, it was clear he didn’t give a damn about the male of the hour.

Heat flared in your chest as he pinned you with his gaze. Azriel’s eyes were heavy lidded as he watched you watch the room. He took another delicate sip of his wine. It was indecent, how perfectly his lips perched on the edge of the glass, how his tongue darted out to swipe at the liquid that stained them.

“Speaking of which,” you said, and shook yourself out of reverie, “I’ve got to make the rounds. Enjoy the party.”

He took his time watching you go before returning to lurk by Mor’s side.

For you, the evening passed in a blur of greetings and introductions, false laughter and sparkling beverages. Desserts were passed around right on cue, just as the toasts were begun. You kicked them off, your toast to Lustere short in contrast to the tall tale it told. Just your style: brief and full of lies.

Lustere’s grateful smile and kiss at its conclusion was just the same, an empty facade. At best, it was a convincing performance; at worst, it was still the best you could expect from your lifelong consolation prize.

Once upon a time, if you’d tried, you could almost fool yourself into thinking it was real. But you'd since stopped fooling yourself; the trick had only worked the first few hundred years.

Reality was the only vow you honored now.

As Lustere’s friends and associates began to serenade him with vacuous praises, you slipped away from the crowd. It was a moment to check on the staff, see about how things were flowing and if they needed anything.

Without looking, you felt someone’s eyes on you, as if in a concentrated beam. The intensity felt palpable. It was like a spotlight, even as you wove unnoticed through your own guests.

Tonight wasn’t about you. You’d made sure it wouldn’t be.

You grabbed a nearly empty tray of desserts from an attendant, directing them to pick up a full one from a table. You gestured towards the other side of the room with your free hand and a kind word as you moved towards the back rooms.

“The room’s unbalanced, we need more trays over there– oh, shit.”

You swore as you crashed into something. Firm hands steadied you reflexively before you could drop the dish.

Your gut swooped as you turned to see what you’d wandered into. The platter was pressed between you and none other than the shadowsinger himself. If you didn’t know better, you’d say Azriel looked amused.

“Careful there.”

“Sorry,” you gasped out. He waited a moment longer than necessary to release your arms. Slowly, you peeled away, angling the tray horizontal again.

With horror, you noted the crushed pastries smashed into his elegant vest.

“Cauldron boil me.” You were sure everyone could see your blush now. Luckily, the platter hadn’t dropped, so the accident hadn’t drawn much attention.

“It’s fine–”

“–no, it’s not. Come with me. Quickly.”

You gripped his wrist. A quick glance told you that no one was looking.

Only Mor had witnessed it, and she just snorted. At your clumsiness, or the droning speech being given at your backs for your ass of a husband, you didn’t know.

You didn’t care. You had more pressing concerns at the moment, as you led the important guest from the main room to the small prep kitchen at the back of the venue.

“I’m really so sorry about this, sir,” you blustered as you swept into the tight space. Several attendants looked up from where they’d been arranging desserts on trays.

“Hey guys, we need more hands out there,” you addressed them. “The far side of the room is starving.”

Dutifully, they picked up their trays while you ushered them along.

“You should look where you’re going,” he commented, tentatively, as they all filed out of the kitchen, leaving you and Azriel alone. You wetted a rag, wringing it out before handing it to him to clean himself up.

“Clumsy me,” you hummed. His jaw was tense as he swiped at the crumbs on his torso. It was kind of distracting.

“How have you been?” he asked without preamble, now that you were alone.

You relaxed instantly at his casual tone. “Good.” It was hardly a lie. “Busy,” you amended. That was the full truth.

“Nice event.”

“Thanks.”

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Azriel cut abruptly.

You snorted.

“No one deserves this much pomp. It makes me sick.” Your eyes widened as you heard yourself.

You’d been alone with Azriel for less than a minute, and here you were voicing your innermost, honest opinions. You had never shared anything like that with anyone, not even your husband, let alone this practical stranger. Yet the words were true, and you could hardly take them back.

“Have you ever had a party like this?”

You cocked your head at his question before answering slowly. “Yes. Right now in fact.”

“No, I mean, something like this, but for you.” He said it so casually, focused still on wiping a smear of frosting from his clothes.

“Oh.”

Who would plan something like this for you?

The answer was hollow, but definite. Nobody.

Some of the society’s husbands did big parties for their anniversaries, their birthdays, whatever excuse they could find to buy liquor by the barrel.

You’d had a lovely ceremony to officiate your relationship with Lustere, but that was it. How long ago had that been? Through a blur of centuries, you pictured the party. You’d planned it alone, and it had honestly been breathtaking. What a waste.

“Um, no. Never,” you laughed, too loud. You didn’t need his pity.

Azriel hummed, undeterred from creating a quiet moment with you. “Me neither. Every year though, my family insists on doing a special dinner. I wish they’d forget it, but since I refuse to do a whole thing like this,” he gestured around and widened his eyes in emphasis, ”I bear it annually.”

His words struck you funny. Your mouth continued ahead of your senses as you urged him, “You should let them.”

“What?”

He looked up at you in confusion, but you didn’t relax your knit brows.

“You should let them throw you a party.” Your conviction was sudden, but swift, and final. “You deserve to be celebrated, you should give them the chance.”

He dismissed your suggestion with a firm shake of his gorgeous head. “I’d hate it.”

“How do you know that?” you pressed. His face twisted in regret as his confession launched from his tongue.

“‘Cause I hate this.”

“Yeah well, that makes two of us,” you admitted.

His brows rose at that. If he’d expected you to sink any personal pride into the event, he was sorely mistaken.

Then his eyes dipped to your toes before lazily arcing back up your figure, and his expression shifted from surprise to something less innocent.

“Surely you didn’t mind the excuse to pull out that damned dress.”

You jumped on his playful tone. “Careful there, mister, I have a husband.”

Azriel’s laugh was just as irreverent as his next words, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

His eyes crinkled as his lip curled in humor, and you liked the look of it on him. He wore all his faces so handsomely; menace, humor, lust.

The latter of which was gradually blooming now, as if called into being by your imagination. His gaze still held a speck of humor, though at a lower pitch. There was mischief dancing in those hazel pools, dark and unmistakable as his eyes devoured you.

The male slowly stroked the damp towel against his abdomen in a deliberate show. The cloth was as dirty as his vest now, covered in sugary smears. You couldn’t help but picture what you knew was under his shirt, the ink that whorled its way down his front, dipping below his waist.

The silence was charged, the only sounds were the wet rustle of the towel and your own shallow, erratic breaths.

His vest was as clean as it was going to get with such sloppy motions. Now he was just rubbing the stain in, so you grabbed it and took over, helping him brush away the last of the frosting.

“This venue has a cloakroom, isn’t that ridiculous?” you feigned casual conversation as your heart raced, your fingers twitching at his stomach. “This whole city is under a mountain, there’s no weather. And no one has bothered with the custom of overcoats in centuries.”

The words weren’t subtle, the hint bold faced and loaded.

“You’re unbelievable,” he accused. Azriel shook his head even as a coy grin melted his hard features.

“Who, me?” you said innocently. He grabbed your wrist that was still swiping at his lower stomach. The frosting was long gone.

“You planned this.” His words were definitive.

It wasn’t a question, but your chin dipped in confirmation anyways.

“Why?” he pushed.

“Why do you think?”

The venue had been a choice, as had the single perfumed invitation, as had the short staffing; all manufactured by you. It was all perfectly calculated, down to the timing of the toasts and the spill of the dessert tray. It had all been a part of the plan: your master plan to get him here, alone, in this very moment.

Azriel swore as comprehension hit him, his mind wrapping around the totality of your little plot. Anxiety built in your gut.

Was this foolish? Well, of course it was, but it really would be if he didn’t–

“Think you can keep quiet for me?”

The swelling panic in your chest melted instantly at his suggestive words, his voice a wicked rasp that set your skin on edge. Something bubbled in your chest, like an overeager gulp of champagne that wouldn’t settle.

You arched your brow, “Can you?”

A shit eating grin broke on his face at the challenge, and he growled.

“Do your worst.”

You matched his expression as something snapped between you.

He used his free hand to angle you up to meet his lips in a hungry kiss. Every list, plan, plot, and scheme crumbled at the warmth of him, dissolving it all into sweetness.

Every late night hour spent scheming had been worth it, just for this moment. His hot mouth on yours, your hands tangling in his hair.

He shifted against you, and you gasped as you felt him hardening at your lower stomach.

“Fuck, baby. This is all I could think about the second I walked in. You in this outfit… fuck,” he panted as your mouth shifted to taste his jaw. You whined into his skin as he ground against you, demanding some real friction.

“You need me too? Or do you want to suck me off right here?” he growled.

Arousal flooded your core at his dominant tone. You pulled back to look him in the eye. His pupils were blown out, his lips swollen.

“Not here,” you pleaded.

His look was wicked as he saw your reaction, but he didn’t push you.

Instead, he allowed you to lead him through a different door, a few steps down a hallway, and into a small room. You sent a silent blessing to whatever architect included a much disused cloakroom in the venue’s design. Well, much disused until now.

The instant the door closed, his lips were locked on yours.

“Eager?” he teased hypocritically between rapid kisses as you fumbled blindly for his belt.

“I’m sort of multitasking,” you panted.

His brow arched.

“I’m running this show!” you explained hurriedly. “The toasts just started, but they won’t go on forever. Eventually someone might come looking for us, or me at least.”

His mouth fell open, but you cut him off.

“Don’t look so worried, Azriel, we’re right on schedule.”

The male huffed out a laugh, and shook his head. By the light in his eyes, he was impressed.

“You’re killing me, baby. You’ve been killing me all night.” His words were a groan.

He said it like an accusation, so you retorted in kind, “Yes, and I’ve been planning for a month to get twenty damn minutes alone with you because I’ve been totally balanced and not at all because you’ve been killing me just the same.”

That shut him up.

He sucked in a breath, and his face set with determination.

“Well, then,” he said. “I guess I’m going to have to show you a good time.”

He wasted no time reattaching his lips to yours, this time with renewed fervor, before he pressed you against the wall. One of his rough hands came to grip your neck, angling your head perfectly for his strong jaw to set to work. Between his hard body and his looming wings, you were caged. His palpable power sent a thrill through you, rattling to your gums and winding right to your center.

Deftly, he undid his belt in one swift movement with his other hand. You whined as you felt the leather smack briefly across your thighs as it fell to the floor.

You felt his hum through his tongue on your teeth.

“Another time, maybe we’ll use that.”

“Oh gods,” you whined.

His grip on your hips was like a vice, and your pulse was a riot under his rough fingers on your throat.

“Maybe I’ll have Rhys throw a fête here instead of the main hall for my birthday this year,” he murmured darkly against your lips.

You gasped and his tongue swept in again, muffling your pleas. His taste was as intoxicating as you recalled, the flavor of wine and salt heavy on his thick tongue.

“Would you like that?” Azriel pressed. “Maybe you’d even let me taste you, hmm?”

“Anything,” you moaned as his wet mouth replaced his hand along the column of your throat. “I’d plan the damn party just to get you alone for five minutes.”

His teeth scraped bluntly at your jugular as he grinned.

“I thought party planning was a special privilege, only to be enjoyed by a female’s husband,” he teased.

“You’re right, that would be downright improper. I’m not that kind of girl.”

His chuckle at your collarbone was sinful, the sound of it echoing down to your core.

“No, no. I wouldn’t want to taint your honor.”

“No,” you echoed absently as he placed open mouthed kisses along the neckline of your dress. It was a light fabric, but it was suddenly smothering. Your skin burned; you were desperate for more contact. His heavy hands and scalding mouth weren’t enough.

“Please, Az,” you urged.

His belt was undone, as were the top buttons of his vest, but the two of you were decidedly too decent. It would hardly even make a scandal at this point, to be caught fully clothed.

“You want it?” he glanced up from your chest, spit straying along his sharp jaw. He growled, “You can have it, baby. I’ll be generous, after all I didn’t bring a gift.”

You only whined as his hands smoothed down your form.

With a final kiss to the exposed tops of your breasts, the Illyrian knelt to the floor.

Azriel looked debauched; his carefully groomed hair a mess from your hands, his vest askew, and his eyes blown with lust. His powerful chest was heaving as his hands carefully skimmed up your calves. He pushed the bottom of your dress over your knees, kissing the soft spot inside there. He continued to mouth at your thighs as he hiked your skirt up.

For all your careful planning, you had no remaining nerve to urge him to hurry. His tender handling was addicting, the closest thing to appreciation you’d felt in decades. And to feel it so intensely, so viscerally, so physically? It hardly felt fair to call it a vice.

What others took for granted, you could only indulge in the dark closets of your own life. If you’d be damned to be blamed, then so be it.

Because Azriel looked like a statue on his knees for you. His composition was darkness and light, pleasure and pain, right and wrong. In this moment, he was a blissful concoction of it all, and you wanted to drink every last drop.

“You look lovely tonight," he praised with a kiss to your inner thigh. The compliment was almost jarringly polite paired with his next move, as he lewdly brought a finger to press over your clothed core. The fire that had burned low in your belly was stoked at the contact, flaring to a throbbing need.

With swift fingers, he pulled your undergarment down your legs before slyly stuffing them into his pocket.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he dragged two digit through your soaked folds. “Even prettier than I remembered.”

You choked back a moan as he drew circles over your clit. It was torturous, and as his large wings blocked the rest of the dim room from your vision, you felt the thrill of his overwhelming power, his meticulous skill.

One of your hands wove into his hair, the grip both imploring and terrorized as he sparked wave after wave of pleasure until he was satisfied with your near broken state. Your other hand skimmed down his chest when he eventually stood before you.

At the scrape of your nails towards his need, he groaned, “That’s right, baby. You want to take it out for me?”

With shaking hands, you undid his slacks. He hissed as you freed his aching member, his tip angry and swollen already.

He dragged himself over your glistening folds torturously for a brief moment. You whimpered and he laughed darkly before he lined himself up, teasing you with the barest pressure of his tip.

You clawed at his shoulders, his hips, trying to urge him to get to it. With one of his hands holding your hip, and the other balanced on the wall beside your head, Azriel was the picture of leisure.

He had no sense of urgency about these things, you were learning.

“Gonna let me have my way with you, huh? That’s a good girl.”

Slowly, he pushed himself inside, bottoming out in one brutal stroke. You cried out and he slapped a rough hand over your mouth. Your eyes flashed wildly as he began to fuck you in earnest.

“That’s it. Take my cock like a good girl.” he growled.

He set a punishing pace, finding his own sense of urgency at last. He filled you so perfectly, the stretch just right. The scrape over your spongy walls was agonizing as he pummeled you. One particular harsh thrust had you crying out again, muffled against his fingers.

“Gotta be quiet, baby, can’t have anyone finding us like this.”

His expectation was impossible when he abruptly yanked your top down so your breasts spilled out.

“Happy birthday Lustere, alright,” he groaned sarcastically before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth.

You dissolved into another whimper at his wicked words and the warmth of his mouth on your tender flesh.

“You’re bad,” you moaned as the sick sound of your sex filled the tight room.

If this was bad, maybe the world had it backwards, because why did it feel so good? Why did you feel so complete, falling apart shoved against a wall in a closet at your husband’s party? Especially with a male you should hardly be on a first name basis with, let alone close enough to moan his so unabashedly.

That was all it was, you elected to believe. The secrecy, the illicit nature of the connection. That was the basis of its appeal.

Not the particular partner, though he was rugged…

And he was charming…

And his teeth were ghosting your neck in a way that made you want to scream…

But of course, you could hardly whimper at full volume. It only made you want to yell more. The resulting noise was a breathy strangulation, more vibration than real exhalation.

“Azriel,” you cried, and you felt him twitch inside you.

His hips snapped faster and the light in his eyes was wild.

“Are you close, angel? Fuck, we’ve gotta be fast.” He made a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. “It’s so twisted. All I want is to take my time with you. Look at you, doing so well for me.”

His praise was as invigorating as his thrusts, which were growing sloppier with each breath. His stamina wasn’t the issue, it was the waves of pleasure numbing his body that caused him to tremble before you.

You clenched around him and he swore, gasping as his body stilled. Azriel pressed his forehead to yours as he came, and somehow it was more intimate than you were prepared for, your fingers threading through his damp hair.

His lashes fluttered shut and his mouth parted, gone wretched with bliss. The feeling of his hot breath and sticky skin on your face made you want to kiss every inch of his flesh.

Even as he pulsed inside you, he brought his thumb to rub tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves. In moments, he had you coming undone as well. He quickly regained enough function to fuck you through it, his thrusts shaking. When you cried his name, he caught it with his mouth, stifling your crude noises as you convulsed around him.

The sensation had him half hard again, but he pressed a kiss to your throat and held you still as you both came down from your highs.

“Happy birthday to me,” you muttered into his cheek.

Azriel wheezed at that, an arrogant smirk winning out through his fatigue. “Was that worth it?”

“Definitely,” you breathed, your fingers brushing his hair back into some semi respectable waves.

Ignoring your efforts to put the two of you back together, he captured your face in his hands and planted a buzzing kiss on your mouth. He lingered longer than you expected, tasting you and savoring your warmth.

“Okay, Azriel, time’s up,” you sighed after an indulgently long moment.

He nodded, but held your face a moment longer before tapping your hips twice and sliding himself out. You both groaned at the absence, bodies still slick and buzzing.

As he tucked himself away, he looked oddly contemplative for someone who had just had a quickie in a closet while on the job.

You smoothed down your dress, disregarding your missing underwear. It’s not like anyone would notice, least of all your husband, who hadn’t approached you like that for decades.

While you did your best to tame your wild hair, Azriel looked like he was far away. You tried to hurry, mistaking his distance for discomfort in the aftershock of the interaction. In moments, you were fully decent, and at least mostly presentable.

Azriel paused you with a silent gesture as your hand met the door. A shadow slipped back in and around his ear, and he nodded.

The pair of you slunk back down the hall to the still empty kitchen, and you tried not to think about the slick still mixing on your upper thighs under your dress.

Before you could push on to reenter the party, the shadowsinger grabbed your arm. His expression was serious when you faced him

“I want to hire you.”

You laughed at his bizarre words. What was he implying? “What, you want me to plan your birthday party? I’m not sure if you can afford me.”

He joined your laughter, and you threw away your whole schedule at the sound. Surely you could allow yourself an extra moment here with him. All that was waiting was worthless, anyways.

“You know, I'd actually love to see that,” he smiled. The simple gesture made your insides heave, which you attributed to the recent intrusion on your guts.

You wiped your eyes, attempting to tame your doubtlessly ruined cosmetics as you joked with him. You weren’t sure why, but you needed to hear that laugh again. “It’ll be a hit. We’ll only serve whiskey and there will be no food so everyone gets blasted way too hard– ooh, and the servers will be in their undershorts–”

“–I can't wait,” he cut you off. “But that’s not what I meant.”

“Okay,” you sobered up at his tone. “What then?”

“Well, you obviously have some covert skills…”

Well, you think, that’s one way to describe centuries of spying on your cheating piece of shit husband, and more recently, coordinating this… whatever this was.

“...And you can arrange a seamless rendezvous,” he continued, now listing your achievements on his roughened fingers.

You blushed at the innuendo, still lost to his meaning.

“...And your husband works under the least trustworthy son of a bitch I've ever met,” he finished.

“So?”

“You're in a unique position,” Azriel explained cryptically.

Your brows scrunched. You hadn’t had anything but a sip of champagne since the sip of whiskey earlier, yet you were thinking through a thick haze. All you could think of were innuendos about unique positions…

“A unique position for what?” you asked.

“As an informant, of course. You could be very useful.” The words were casual, but you saw how his amber eyes were set with strange emotion as he extended the offer in a deep tone.

Azriel’s words echoed in your mind, hollow to anything else. You could be very useful.

Something surged through you at the word.

Useful.

You could be useful.

Very useful.

How long had you grieved of the uselessness of your work, the incessant, all encompassing meaninglessness of your labors? How empty it all was, how vacant each day left you. How fruitless too; all these years, giving yourself over to nothing, and winning nothing in return.

You swallowed the emotion rising at your throat, and a grin bloomed on your face in its wake.

“What do you need me to do?”

✸✸✸

“Where have you been?”

For all your scheming, your husband’s voice wiped your mind blank. Voices whirled around you, echoing happy and careless in the large room.

“Lustere, I–”

“–There’s empty platters out here, it looks cheap.” You blinked as he looked around in annoyance. “Aren’t you going to do anything about that?”

Leave it to him to interrupt you. You needn’t have prepared such an elaborate excuse for your absence when you couldn’t even get a word in.

And sure enough, just as you’d planned and predicted, you hadn’t been missed.

“Of course, dear.”

He only gave you a curt nod. Before he could turn away completely, you found yourself reaching out with a gentle hand, and something akin to affection slipped into your tone. “Are you enjoying yourself, Lustere?”

There was no tenderness as he looked in shock at your hand on his arm, only confusion.

“Of course,” he said in a self-evident tone. Your husband looked around the room, cataloguing the faces of his guests. “Everyone important is here.”

Your fingers on his arm went numb. Everyone important had been there.

Only you hadn’t been there.

You had been three doors away, wrapped up in darkness with another man.

Despite his ignorance, what Lustere said was true: everyone important to him had been there, everyone who mattered.

Just not you.

The tenderness curdled in your chest. Whatever short candle you held for Lustere, died in that moment. And yet, ever the good wife, you dutifully nodded at the side of his head.

“Good. I'll go fix the attendants.” And see if they haven’t picked up any good gossip from this high profile crowd…

Something warmed inside your chest as you felt the ghost of your promise to Azriel still fresh on your lips. Your game with him had expanded, in one breath.

No longer were you nothing to him, to anyone.

You were to be the spymaster’s eyes and ears on the corrupt inner workings of the Court of Nightmares.

And you had nothing to lose.

✸✸✸

ENDNOTES

Thank you for reading!! Please comment if you enjoyed it, I actually spend quite a bit of time on these haha so I love to hear from youuu. I also love to chat in my inbox or dms so don’t be shy!! I’d love to hear what you think is gonna happen next.. ;)

I fear I have made this plot far FAR too elaborate than cheating smut would sensibly demand. So! Stay tuned for at least two or three more parts of angst and smut and fluff!! HAHA!!

Oh and Lustere should fuckin’ watch himself… lest a terrible accident befall him… sooo whose knife should it be team?? >:))

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reiding-writing · 1 month ago

Note

hi lovely, so in love with cold!reader series

i was thinking if you could maybe write about her finally letting spence console her and letting down her guard after what happened with her killing the unsub that reminded her of the professor

love ur work !!!

UNDER DURESS. /spencer reid/

spencer convinces you to go to therapy.

s11!cold!reader h/c 3.7k series masterlist. main masterlist.

AN | there’s not actually a whole lot of consoling in this— MENTIONS OF RAPE AND SA. VERY CONTEXT DEPENDENT ON PREVIOUS PARTS OF THE SERIES.

It’s been three weeks since the shooting.

The paperwork is finished, the internal review is closed, and the bureau cleared you. “Justified use of force,” they said. You ticked every box. But none of that matters, not really, because Spencer’s still watching you like you might shatter. He doesn’t say it outright, but you see it in the way he hovers—fingers twitching when you’re quiet too long, gaze narrowing when you stare too hard at nothing.

You’ve barely slept. Barely spoken, outside of the necessary. Even now, curled up on the sofa with a book you’re not reading, you feel the weight of his eyes from across the room.

The silence between you isn’t peaceful. It’s brittle.

He waits until your tea goes cold in your hands. “I think,” Spencer says carefully, like he’s rehearsed it a hundred times, “you should talk to someone,”

You don’t look at him. You flip a page you haven’t read. “I talk to you,”

“That’s not what I mean,”

“I know what you mean.”

There’s a beat. You feel him shift on the armchair, lean forward. He’s not touching you—he knows better—but you can feel him, somehow. Like gravity. Quiet and unyielding.

“I know you said you weren’t ready,” he tries again. “And I’ve been trying to give you space. I just—I think it’s time,”

Your jaw tightens. “I am the someone that people talk to. I’ve done this job for almost ten years. You think I haven’t heard worse?”

“That’s not what this is about,”

“Isn’t it?”

“No,”

You snap the book shut and toss it on the coffee table a little harder than necessary. “I don’t need a therapist.”

He sighs, and that does it—that sigh, the disappointed one, full of worry and patience and all the things you can’t stand. You finally look at him.

“What?” you say, sharper than intended.

His eyes meet yours. Not angry. Not even frustrated. Just worried, heartbroken almost. “I know you don’t think you need it,” he says. “But something’s wrong. You shot a man, and you haven’t said more than three words about it. Not to me. Not to anyone,”

“I don’t need to say anything about it,”

“He was sexually assaulting comatose women,” Spencer says, voice quiet but firm. “You pulled the trigger without hesitation. And yeah, it was justified. But it wasn’t just about him, was it?”

Your stomach flips. Cold and sudden.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” you mutter, standing up.

Spencer doesn’t follow. Just watches you pace the room like a caged thing.

“It’s not just the shooting,” he says after a moment. “It’s Wittchen. It’s what happened to you. The way you never talked about it. The way you still don’t,”

You freeze.

That name—the one you never say anymore—doesn’t need repeating. You know who he means. You see his face in your mind the moment Spencer mentions him. The mentor you admired. The predator you survived. The man who ripped out women’s wombs and then put a bullet in his own head, right there in front of you, ten years after the first time he ever touched you.

You close your eyes. Will the memories back down. They rise anyway.

Spencer’s voice breaks through again, softer now. “You don’t talk about him. You don’t even say his name. And I get it—I do. But this thing with the doctor, it wasn’t random. And if we don’t talk about it, it’s going to keep coming back. It’s going to keep hurting you,”

“I’m not a wounded animal,” you snap. “I’m fine.”

He stands now. Crosses the room slowly. You feel his hand hovering near your back, hesitant.

“Can we stop pretending I don’t know you better than that?” he says gently. “You haven’t slept more than two hours a night since it happened. You flinch every time someone touches you unexpectedly. You’re constantly on edge. That’s not ‘fine.’”

You shake your head. “Therapy won’t help.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know,” you say, spinning to face him. “I’ve got a PhD in psychology, Spencer. I know every move they’ll make before they even make it. I’ve read every study. Sat in on casework. I’ve written papers on trauma responses. I know the process, the techniques, the language—hell, I could run the session myself. And I promise you, it doesn’t work on someone who already knows what’s coming.”

Spencer doesn’t argue. He just looks at you with those eyes, full of soft, unbearable concern.

“You’re not a theory,” he says. “You’re a person,”

You scoff and turn away again, dragging your handover your face. “Don’t be poetic. It doesn’t suit you,”

He huffs a soft laugh behind you, but it’s humourless. “I’m serious. You’ve built this fortress around yourself, and you’ve convinced yourself that knowing the mechanisms of therapy makes you immune to it. But it doesn’t. It just means you know how to dodge,”

You don’t reply. You’re too busy listening to the blood pounding in your ears.

Spencer steps closer. He doesn’t touch you, not yet. Just lowers his voice and says, “He hurt you. And he kept hurting other people, and somehow you’ve turned it into this thing you carry alone, like you deserve to,”

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you understand,”

“I don’t,” he admits. “Not completely. But I was there, remember? I was the one who stayed up with you, that night on the jet home. I was the one who cleaned the blood off your shoes. I’ve seen the way you deal with pain, and it’s not healthy. You bury it. You don’t even let it scar,”

You want to scream. Or cry. Or break something. But none of those things are you. So instead, you breathe—slow, measured, the way they taught you in profiling.

He finally places a hand on your back. Warm. Solid. Kind.

“I’m not trying to fix you,” he says. “I just want you to let someone in. Just once. Let someone help you carry this,”

You swallow hard. “And if I can’t?”

“You can,” he says. “You don’t want to. That’s different,”

You hate how well he knows you. Hate how right he is.

Eventually, he says, “There’s someone I trust. She’s not bureau. She’s good. And discreet. I’ll come with you. Just for the first session,”

You’re already shaking your head.

“I can’t—”

“Just once. That’s all I’m asking,”

He’s so damn earnest. All heart and quiet strength and unshakeable loyalty. And he’s not just doing this for you. You can see it in the tight line of his shoulders, the tension around his eyes. He’s scared. You don’t want him to worry about you.

You don’t believe in therapy. You don’t believe in healing. You believe in repression and control and building walls high enough that the world can’t touch you. But Spencer does. He believes in you.

And maybe—for him—you can give this a shot.

You exhale slowly. “I’m not promising anything.”

Spencer’s shoulders ease just a little. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“And if she’s a nightmare?”

He smiles, faint but real. “Then we leave. No questions asked.”

You nod once. “Alright.”

He kisses your temple then, so gently it almost breaks you. You close your eyes and let it land.

—

The office is warm, neutral-toned, and utterly unimpressive. You register the little things first—the pale green walls, the bookshelf organised more by aesthetic than utility, the faint smell of peppermint tea lingering in the air. There’s a chair opposite a sofa, both upholstered in the sort of beige that’s meant to be calming. Everything about the space is designed to soothe.

You don’t feel soothed. You feel like an animal under observation.

Spencer sits beside you, close but not touching. He offered his hand in the car. You left it hanging in the air between you. Not because you’re angry with him—though maybe you are, a little—but because you’re trying to contain the slow boil inside your chest. And physical contact makes the pressure worse.

The therapist—Dr. Marin—is younger than you expected. Mid-thirties, perhaps, with tidy hair, sensible shoes, and a file tucked neatly under her arm. She smiles when you walk in. Not too wide. Just the right amount of warmth. Professional empathy, textbook-grade.

You hate her immediately.

You sit with military posture, legs crossed, hands folded. Spencer shifts beside you, clearly trying to act as some sort of emotional buffer. It won’t help him.

“Thank you both for coming,” Dr. Marin says gently, settling into her chair with smooth, practiced ease. “I know this isn’t easy,”

“I was promised discretion,” you say coldly. “So I hope your receptionist doesn’t go bragging about this to her coffee group.”

Dr. Marin doesn’t flinch. “My receptionist doesn’t know your name. She’s instructed not to look at appointment details. Your file is encrypted,”

“Hm.” You glance pointedly at her notes. “Shame about the handwritten file, then. Bit old-fashioned.”

She smiles politely. “I find writing helps me remember what matters,”

“How quaint,” you reply, and cross your arms. You’re already dissecting her—pacing her breathing rate, watching her eye movements, evaluating tone, posture, proximity. You’re sharper than she is. Smarter. You let her know it in every word, every glance.

Dr. Marin looks at you steadily. “Would you prefer not to be here?”

“I was given little choice.”

“Spencer said you agreed.”

“Under duress.”

Her gaze flicks briefly to Spencer, then back to you. “And what is it you feel you were coerced into discussing?”

You snort softly. “That depends. Are we here to talk about the time I shot a serial rapist in the head, or the time my ex-Professor killed himself in front of me after gutting women that reminded him of me?”

Spencer stiffens beside you. You don’t even look at him.

Dr. Marin doesn’t blink. “Why do you think you brought up both in the same sentence?”

“Convenience,” you reply dryly. “I assumed we’d skip the whole 'establishing trust' phase.”

She sits back slightly, tilting her head. “Would you say you trust Spencer?”

“He’s my partner.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t answer loaded questions.”

“Which part do you think was loaded?”

You narrow your eyes. “Let’s not play, Doctor. You know what I do for a living.”

“And you know what I do,” she replies, calm but sharp. “So let’s drop the performance.”

Spencer glances between you both, clearly uncomfortable. “Maybe we could just—start with what happened? At the hospital? Or Stanford?”

You wave a hand. “What happened is I did my job. Twice. And in both cases, men who couldn’t handle their urges ended up dead. One by my hand, one by his own. End of story.”

Dr. Marin’s tone remains perfectly even. “Do you think that’s the end of it?”

“I think if you keep asking the same question with different phrasing, we’re going to waste a lot of time.”

The next half-hour spirals into a game of verbal dissection.

You pick apart her methodology. You challenge her use of person-first language. You point out every time she pauses too long, every instance she uses a textbook phrase you find beneath you. You ask her if she was taught CBT by someone who’s actually published or if she’s just memorised bullet points from a slideshow. You highlight how she crosses her legs inconsistently, which—according to certain behavioural studies—could suggest discomfort or an overcompensation for projected authority.

You’re not just avoiding the subject. You’re laying landmines around it. You know exactly what you’re doing.

And Spencer sees it too.

“Babe,” he says eventually, gentle but exasperated, “Please, this isn’t fair. To either of you.”

Dr. Marin doesn’t speak.

Not immediately.

Then—she closes the folder on her lap.

And her tone changes.

“You’re not avoiding me, with this defensiveness,” she says, voice harder now, cutting clean through the room. “You’re avoiding what he did to you. What it meant. He was a therapist himself, was he not?”

You flinch—barely. But she sees it.

“I read your academic background,” she continues. “I know about your thesis. I know about your clinical work. I know who supervised you.”

You stand abruptly. Spencer’s hand grazes your arm but you shake him off.

“This is unprofessional,” you hiss.

“This is necessary,” Dr. Marin replies. “You’ve turned your trauma into a weapon. You’ve used your intelligence to bury yourself under theory and diagnostics so you never have to feel anything.”

Spencer rises, trying to reach you, calm you. “Let’s just—sit, okay? Just—just listen.” But you’re already trembling.

Dr. Marin presses forward. Not physically. Just with her words. “You’re not here because you want to move on,” she says. “You’re here because you love someone who’s begging you to get help.”

You bark a laugh. It’s humourless. “So what? What’s the grand insight, Doctor? That I’m too broken to fix? That I like being damaged?”

“No,” she says. “That you’re terrified of not being broken. Because then you’d have to figure out who you are without the pain.”

Who are you? Without the guilt, without the memory of his hands on your skin, without the screaming and the silence and the endless dissociation. What’s left of you that matters?

You feel the words clawing up your throat before you can stop them.

“You think I want to dwell on the fact I gave myself an abortion at twenty-two?” you spit, venomous and trembling. “You think that’s something I like remembering?”

“I think you want to punish yourself.”

The silence after that is thick and total.

Spencer looks like he’s been struck. Your jaw clenches so tight it aches. And then— You leave.

You don’t say goodbye. You don’t look back. You don’t even wait for Spencer. You slam the door behind you and step into the cold air like it might freeze the words off your skin.

—

Spencer stands awkwardly. Caught in the aftermath. He looks at the door, then back to Dr. Marin.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, voice thick with shame. “She’s not—she’s not like that.”

Dr. Marin smiles. Not unkindly. Just... knowingly.

“She’ll come back,” she says, leaning back in her chair, her tone calm. Certain. “When she’s ready.”

Spencer nods slowly. He hopes she’s right. He really, really hopes she’s right.

—

You don’t slam the door. You let it click shut behind you and drift to the sofa like your bones are hollow. You don’t even take off your coat. Just curl into yourself, legs tucked under you, arms folded tightly across your chest. Like if you squeeze hard enough, maybe you’ll keep it all in.

Your face is hot, but your tears are long gone. You cried at twenty-two, bent over a bathtub with shaking hands and a mess you didn’t know how to clean. You cried at thirty-three, when a bullet tore through a man’s chest and left you in a lecture hall full of fluorescent ghosts. You don’t cry now. You just sit.

Red-eyed. Empty. Listening to the clock tick louder than it ever has before.

You hear Spencer follow a few seconds later.

He doesn’t speak when he enters. Doesn’t rush to you. He sets down his bag gently, shrugs off his jacket, and walks into the living room like he’s entering holy ground. Quiet. Careful.

Then he sits beside you, close enough that you feel the warmth of him, but not close enough to crowd. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t ask if you’re okay.

He knows you’re not.

So he just waits.

And waits.

The silence stretches until you can’t stand it anymore. You shift slightly—just enough for your shoulder to brush his. Then, softly, barely louder than breath, you whisper, “I hate her.”

Spencer smiles. It’s small, but sincere. “That’s okay.”

You don’t respond.

He makes tea without asking. Puts the kettle on like muscle memory, retrieves your mug—your mug, the one with the chipped rim and a faded headshot of Sigmund Freud that Morgan got you as a gag gift—and drops in a peppermint bag without ceremony. No sugar. No lemon. Just the way you like it. You don’t move from the sofa. You just watch him from across the room, as if you might vanish if you blink too long.

He brings the cup to you, holding it out without expectation. You take it. Don’t drink it. Just hold it between your palms like it’s some kind of anchor.

“She was right.”

Spencer looks at you, startled by the admission, but he doesn’t say anything. Just tilts his head slightly, encouraging.

“I mean—she wasn’t, but she was.” You draw a slow breath, eyes fixed on the tea. “She doesn’t know anything about me, but she still—”

Spencer stays silent. Listens.

“I’ve spent years building a life around not being someone who lets things in. And she saw that in ten minutes. She didn’t even blink when I tried to pull her apart. I’ve made grown men cry doing less than that,”

He hums softly. “I know,”

You glance at him. “Do you think I do it on purpose?”

“The tearing people apart thing?”

You nod.

He shrugs gently. “I think… sometimes you confuse being in control with being safe. And people who try to touch the parts of you that aren’t safe—those are the ones who get hurt,”

You exhale. Shaky. But not angry.

“She said I want to punish myself,”

Spencer’s eyes flick to yours, gentle and cautious. “Do you?”

You don’t answer. Because you don’t know. Maybe?

Maybe not in a conscious, theatrical way. Not in the sense of throwing yourself into danger for the thrill of pain. But… in the silence after that abortion, when you didn’t tell anyone. When you went back to class the next day with blood on your jeans and shook his hand like nothing had happened. When you kept the secret even after graduating. When you watched him die and still refused to cry in front of anyone. Maybe all of that was punishment. Maybe that’s what the coldness has been.

“I didn’t want to be that girl,” you say suddenly. “The one with the story. The victim.”

Spencer reaches for your hand.“You’re not a victim,” he says. “But you’re not a villain, either.”

You pull your hand away, slowly. Not rejecting him—just needing space to think. “Why haven’t you ever asked about it?”

“Because I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

You look down at your lap, at the half-drunk tea in your grip. The silence feels different now. Not brittle, not heavy. Just… still.

“I was alone,” you say. “I didn’t have anyone back then. No one I trusted. He made sure of that,”

“I know,” Spencer says. “But you’re not alone anymore,”

Something cracks in your chest. Small. Hairline. You take a breath. “She said I’ve built my identity around the trauma,”

He nods. “Do you think she’s wrong?”

“No.”

And that, somehow, is the most painful admission of all. Because you did. You’ve spent years being the cold one, the sharp one, the one who doesn’t flinch, doesn’t feel, doesn’t need. You built a fortress out of diagnoses and defence mechanisms, and somewhere along the line, that fortress became your skin.

“Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think there’s anything left of me underneath it all?”

He doesn’t hesitate. Not even for a heartbeat.

“Yes.”

You look at him. “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve seen it,” he says. “I’ve seen the way you look at children when they’re scared. The way you read three pages ahead in every file, just so you can warn me if something’s going to hurt. The way you wake up gasping but never wake me—not because you don’t feel it, but because you’re protecting me.”

Your throat tightens.

“And the way you laughed,” he adds, quieter now. “That one time we got caught in the rain and ran home. You laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe.”

“I was furious,” you murmur.

“You were alive.”

You go still. Alive. It’s a word you don’t use often. Not when describing yourself. You’ve always described yourself in more clinical terms—functional, operational, stable. Alive implies something else. Messiness. Emotion. Living.

And you’re not sure you’ve been doing that for years.

You sip your tea finally. It’s lukewarm. But you drink it anyway.

“I’m not going back,” you say after a long moment.

Spencer nods. “Okay.”

“Not yet, anyway.”

“Okay.”

You glance at him again. “But you’re going to want me to,”

He gives you a faint smile. “Eventually, yeah. I think it’ll help. But it has to be on your terms.”

You nod. Then pause. “She wasn’t a bad therapist.”

“No,” he agrees. “She really wasn’t.”

You sigh. “I still hate her, though.”

He chuckles softly. “You’re allowed to.”

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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inc0mple · 1 month ago

Text

Alright chat, the flip flop is free now, I CAN SHARE MY THEORY.

This started as a vague crack theory but it spiralled and now I have tangible evidence and a thought process and have spent the last week going INSANE but most of the theory rests on one stupid detail---namely, the brand of this mysterious keyholder's flip-flop---that I couldn't share until now.

This theory is---and hear me out---

Before he was a key, Buddy was actually a fictional storybook character turned real.

WARNING: Long, only vaguely coherent rambling and Inco going insane.

Okay I know you're like "wtf are you on about" so just. just. just hear me out pls

To understand this theory we need a little bit of context, which means talking about:

The Elephant Book

"The Elephant Book" is an unfinished comic that Punko worked on before Cinderella Boy or Stagtown. It is a story about two characters who learn the secrets of a hidden organization, called Artifax... secrets that have to do with beloved fictional characters who become real because of readers' love for them. I don't want to spoil too much of it, but I highly recommend giving it a read if you like theorizing about Cinderella Boy. You can get it on her store here as an eBook. It got cancelled before the plot could be fully realized, but here's the thing---Punko has said that The Elephant Book informs Cinderella Boy.

This in itself is intruiging, but what is most fascinating to me---and here is where the flip-flop comes in, LMAO---is one particular plot point.

Again, I don't want to give away too much of the Elephant Book because it's a fantastic story. However, it does feature one part about one book character in particular---Alice, from Alice in Wonderland.

A book character who attempted to enter the "real world" through a looking glass---through a mirror.

And if you take a look at this mysterious keyholder's flip-flop...

IT SAYS ALIC[E].

here me out im not insane here me out

This looks like just a normal brand to me, nothing that has any plot significance. So it's important to ask, why then was it included? Why would Punko include a fictional brand as detailing on a random item of clothing... unless maybe, it was a reference? A jaded, non-diegetic callback to another "Alice" from a different, dropped story...

This leads me to believe that this mystery keyholder was once a storybook character, and has since been greeted into the real world.

I don't know how, but one theory I have is that maybe, to avoid a hassle, Ex Libris may take book characters and turn them real with magic to use as henchmen.

HEAR ME OUT

These people would be untracable; they would have no documents or papers, and nobody from the real world would miss them.

Their memories could be erased or modified so that they do not realize this is their history. They could be amnesic, or remember a false previous life before working for Ex Libris.

They would be easier to control because of this. Ex Libris could manipulate them because they would have qualities that would stop them from fitting into normal life; Ex Libris would feel like the only place they "belonged".

If the keys and their magic exists---and we've seen Violet and Buddy have a spell page---why couldn't this magic be plausible?

Now hear me out even more: Buddy used to be one of them.

I HAVE REASONS.

1. Words n stuff

Weird that Buddy only has one name, or that it doesn't seem to match the other keys.

That's---an underwhelming first point. Uh. That's all. Food for thought.

OH AND ALSO, "Ex Libris" means "from the library of". Could be referring to people who work with them being LITERALLY from books.

2. Dialogue

Perhaps this statement is more literal than we thought. Perhaps in Buddy's "home book", he was a villainous character.

Almost like all three of those phrases apply to him.

3. THE MIRRORS GUYS THE MIRRORS OH MY GOD

Buddy has been seen with plenty of mirror symbolism. Particularly in Dreams by Night:

Reflections show story characters, we know this.

But also, when Buddy escapes through the mirror (like Alice through the looking glass, in The Elephant Book)...

THE GLASS IS CURVED.

But we saw the mirror, the mirror is flat. We know the dreams are supposed to be extremely symbollic...

So what if the mirror is meant to symbolize more of a portal, from one world---a fictional world---to a real one?

...okay thats all i have for now that was kinda underwhelming.

I PROMISE IM NOT INSANE I PROMISE IM MORE COHERENT WHEN IM NOT EXHAUSTED LIKE I AM RIGHT NOW

#cinderella boy #cinderella boy webtoon #cinderellaboy

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yoonia · 2 months ago

Text

Sunset Glow | jhs

— As you accidentally stumble upon a reminder of the past that you have been slowly walking away from, you finally get to see Hoseok losing his resolve for the first time. It is now your turn to become his rock, and help remind him the reason why he has always been yours.

— title: Sunset Glow | pairings: Jung Hoseok (J-Hope) x female reader | genre: angst, smut, past lovers!au, lawyer!hoseok, artist!reader, new beginning!au, with a bit of SciFi touch | word count: 13,678 words

— story note: published as a part of In Bloom Collaboration with @kpopfanfictrash, @kithtaehyung, @syllviere, @leahsfavefics, @suga-kookiemonster, and @cybrsan; this story is also the final instalment/bonus chapter of my trilogy, Spotless Minds. Inspired by the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Minds, this story is set after the events revealed in the previous stories from the series. You can read this fic as a standalone, but feel free to go back and read the previous parts for more context (optional) if you need one!

— rating & warnings | +18 / M for mature; involves conversations about past relationship, mentions of mental health issues, memory loss, memory alteration—smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings | this story consists of multiple explicit mature scenes, including: stripping/nudity, groping, making out, clothed sex, mutual masturbation, hair pulling, oral sex (female receiving), finger licking, cum tasting, fingering, breast play, nipple play, clit play, neck kissing, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, nudity, public sex, sex on a beach, rough sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, aftercare, post-coital cuddle.

Hoseok feels like a fraud. And he knows what a terrible liar he is.

For the past year, he has been acting tough for your sake. Despite his struggle in trying to cope with the past that he once lost and adjusting to the present life he is sharing with you, he always puts on a brave face, keeping his head held high and his shoulders straight so he could be the one that you could rely on whenever you needed strength.

But, as time passes, he starts to feel the heavy weight of his secrets pulling him down. And he is beginning to feel like he is finally reaching his limit.

Sooner or later, his mask will come off, and he needs to do something about it before it happens and everything that he has built falls into ruins.

Sighing deeply, he lets his head fall back and looks up to the sky. The warm sun feels heavenly on his face, yet it does little to clear his mind. Something which he has been hoping to find by coming to this place the moment the cold breeze of winter is just starting to ebb away.

He laughs to himself when he recalls the moment he first brought up the idea to visit this place at the first sign of spring, and your reaction to it. At first, you laughed it off, thinking that he was joking around. This time of the year has always been the busiest for him, after all, and you hadn’t expected him to suggest bringing you to this place when he has a million important things to care about.

You may have never expected him to bring up taking another trip here until next summer. Or perhaps anytime later when the weather is brighter, the temperature is warmer, and both of you have less stressful matters to attend to in the city that you will be able to escape here once again.

Sitting back on the sand, Hoseok looks over his shoulder to watch the beach house. The golden afternoon sunlight is reflected perfectly on the glass walls overlooking the ocean, the wooden frames are standing perfectly firm and still against the small hill rising from the beach line, the perfect image that he had pictured for so long.

It was just last summer when Hoseok brought you here for the first time.

The beach house of your dreams had just finished getting rebuilt; created based on the fractured memories that you both had of the past that you had once lost.

Years and years ago, a different beach house stood in its place. The building was already crumbling—slowly decaying after years of abandonment and rough weather—and he had once believed it to be haunted. Still, that old abandoned house was a symbol of the day when the two of you met for the first time. The day he first found you and fell completely in love with you that he was willing to go through all the lengths he needed just to be with you.

A couple of years ago, the memories he had of the old beach house and his first encounter with you ceased to exist. Then fate played its part to make sure that the two of you would come across each other again in your new paths, and slowly, those missing memories began to make their way back into his thoughts and yours in small fragments—a puzzle that you and Hoseok have been putting back together for the past year.

Just like how the past between the two of you had dissolved with time, the old beach house that was part of that past had been left into nothing but dust and debris at the time Hoseok found his way back to this place. It took him some time, but he managed to bring the beach house back up, building it from scratch until it became this wonderful place that the two of you could call your own.

Building the beach house was meant to be a symbol of a new beginning. A new place to build new memories in the future to replace the old, painful ones that you had both lost. And for the past year, that was exactly what you and Hoseok had accomplished.

But memories have their own way of sneaking their way back in when least expected, even when neither you nor Hoseok had done anything to spark them back to the surface.

Just like how it has been happening to Hoseok lately.

With a deep sigh, Hoseok turns to look forward, straight across the widespread of the ocean before him and the warm spring sunlight. The waves are calm, a complete opposite to the ripples forming in his chest as more and more fragments of the memories that he once lost keep flashing in his head.

Good memories.

Painful ones.

Even the ones that he wouldn’t have believed to have been parts of his life once, if only he hadn’t seen trails of evidence showing him that they all came from his past.

The thing about losing memories is that you should have come out of it like a blank canvas. Only that his canvas was never truly void from the start.

Instead of a blank canvas, what he had gotten was one with fragments of concealed pictures waiting to be revealed. While he spent the past few years painting the new life which he was building with you, hoping to continue until his soul was whole, those little fragments slowly made their way to the surface, filling up the small voids that hadn’t been touched.

Some of those images fit really well with his present life, adding all the missing reasons why he felt so drawn to you in the first place. While others seem out of place, causing him to start questioning his life—both past and present—and every single decision he has taken which helped him find his way back to you.

Hoseok closes his eyes. He can still see the golden sunlight under his eyelids. Together with it comes another thought.

Two years ago, when he first met you—for what he had thought to be the first time—he didn’t even know that he had memories that he had lost. Meeting you again may have triggered this to happen. And now, he is left with doubts lingering inside him.

Not of his life. Not of you. Nor is it about the relationship that he has built with you.

It’s the doubt he feels about himself.

Doubtful of his choices.

His greed.

“Are you okay?” is what you keep asking him every time you notice him growing silent, getting too deep in his thoughts—in his moments of deep reflection.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay when I have you here with me?” is what he would always say in return.

A part of what he says to you is the truth. Yet he always feels like a liar. Because he is no longer sure if he is truly doing all right. And he has no idea how much longer he can lie to himself—to you—until the truth reveals itself right in front of his eyes.

Hoseok has been struggling.

You can tell as much just by looking at him.

Despite his constant reassurance, and even when he tries his damn best to hide it behind his smile, you can still see it—feel it—when you are with him. It’s not like he is really hard to read in the first place. He’s always been so open with you. Has always been so transparent when it comes to his emotions, his thoughts, and his desires. But when it comes to his insecurities—

For the past year, everything between you has been going so well. Both of you have been doing fine, regardless of the circumstances. You can feel that you are both growing stronger together, the bond that you have is growing more solid as time continues to pass, and you manage to put the past long behind you.

At least, that is what you’d like to believe.

Something must have happened.

You have had this thought for a while now, ever since you noticed the changes happening in Hoseok’s moods. But you don’t have the heart to pry unless Hoseok chooses to share his troubles with you. You have been waiting for that moment to come for a while, yet he has yet to open up until now.

With a sigh, you turn to look out the window. Ever since this beach house was built, you have always enjoyed standing here at the den, watching the picturesque view of the beach and the ocean through the floor-to-ceiling windows. From up here, you can see everything. The white sand and the crystal water across the ocean look captivating, although you know that you wouldn’t be able to dive and swim or play with the waves as the season has yet to grow warm enough for it in early spring.

You look down to the beach to see Hoseok, sitting with a towel beneath him, his eyes looking far away towards the ocean. It was an hour ago when Hoseok mentioned wanting to take a stroll down the beach while the weather is nice. You had initially wanted to join him, but the look you saw on his face made you realise that Hoseok might have needed some space.

So you chose to stay behind at the beach house, taking your time to prepare dinner while you try to figure out how you are going to bring up the conversation. You can only hope that Hoseok can find some peace of mind while he is out there, enjoying the view of the ocean while basking in the early afternoon sunlight.

Perhaps, later on, he would feel comfortable and relaxed enough to open up.

Turning away from the window, you make your way back to the kitchen to check on the meal now cooking in the oven. But you come to a halt when something draws your attention. You turn to the television, which you had left on while you were cleaning and cooking to keep you company.

Previously, the sounds coming from the TV had only become the perfect white noise, replacing the silence that you were left with after Hoseok stepped out of the house. Right now, the news is on, and what you see being shown on the screen is something that you cannot possibly ignore.

“…no further development has been made in the court regarding the public lawsuit involving the medical research company, The Eden Initiative, and the people are now questioning the government…”

Slowly, you move closer to the TV so you can hear more clearly. Your heartbeat picks up little by little as you continue to listen to the news report.

“The Ventura Project, the main product of The Eden Initiative, rose to fame four years ago with the promise of helping its patients to overcome their past trauma, incurable phobia, and from terrible losses and bad memories, by taking away the patient’s memories, using new technology developed by their experts in neurology and human genetics…”

Your body sways, and you carefully move to take a seat on the sofa and continue to watch the rest of the news report with a shaky breath leaving your lips.

“…the public lawsuit was first brought to light when the revelation about the misuse of private patient data was exposed to the public by an inside source, and more lawsuits followed as former patients began experiencing lingering side effects from the treatment, including recurring health problems, both mental and physical, issues with short term memory losses, and former patients who are slowly gaining back erased memories, causing drawbacks in…”

Exhaling a deep sigh, you slump back into the sofa. The news soon continues with a different report, yet you can barely hear the words being said when your mind has begun to drift elsewhere.

You should feel relieved that you had at least found out a little bit of what had happened in the past between you and Hoseok before those past memories began coming back to you. At least the shock wasn’t so great when you started seeing the visions that blurred the lines between dreams and reality. But there is always a part of you that wishes you could remain oblivious, to stay blissfully ignorant of what happened to you, of what is happening in the world around you, and all the consequences that came after what you’ve done.

But it was fate that came to you with mercy, just when you thought life wouldn’t be giving you any more surprises. Just like how it did when fate made it possible for you and Hoseok to cross paths for the first time nearly a decade ago, it had given you another chance to start over with Hoseok by aligning your paths once again years later—when both of you were finally ready to start over without all the hurt.

Right at that moment, realisation dawns on you. Because you may have had the answers to your questions all along—that the reason why Hoseok has been troubled, why he has been so distant before this trip, and why he has found it hard to talk about his problems, has been you all along.

I caused it.

I caused this.

It was you who first set everything into motion, to ignite the ripple effect of consequences when you first made the decision to run to that company years ago in search for a cure from your heartbreak, to find the chance to escape from the pain by allowing them to take away the one most precious thing you had—

Your memory.

The temperature seems to have dropped quite significantly by the time you finally step out of the beach house. The sunlight still lingers, but a part of the sky is already beginning to transform into a warmer hue as the sun is making its journey down towards the horizon.

Hoisting the small basket that you are carrying against your hip, you walk down the stairs going down the rocky hill below the house to reach the beach. You make a quick stop at the small cabana at the foot of the hill to drop the basket and set everything up—a bottle of wine in a cooler bowl, a container filled with snacks and fresh fruits—before turning away to find your fiancé.

Hoseok is still sitting on the same spot. Still with his towel spread beneath him, his toes sinking into the sand as he stretches out his legs, looking a bit more relaxed than he was before. His shirt has been tossed aside, and you can see his skin growing a warmer, slightly tanned shade from sitting under the sun for too long, despite it not being summertime just yet. Yet he shows little care about it. He doesn’t even seem to notice it, too deep in his own thoughts, his eyes still drawn towards the ocean as if he is seeing something out there that you cannot see.

Seeing him like this bothers you so much, and you are determined to do something to make things right again. Taking a deep breath, you begin to march your way across the sandy beach to reach him.

“You know that you’ll need to reapply the sunscreen on your skin if you want to stay under the sun this long. The weather might still be cold this time around, but the sun in this area is a bit strong for springtime,” you gently tease Hoseok as you join him on the blanket, sitting close beside him.

Hoseok turns to look at you with a warm smile spreading across his face. It doesn’t seem enough to hide the hollowness still lingering in his gaze. “I didn’t notice that much time has passed.”

“I’m not too surprised. You seemed to be thinking so hard, you probably wouldn’t have noticed me coming out here if I didn’t say anything.”

Chuckling softly, he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. “Have you been watching me?”

Your cheek warms just as he presses a kiss on the side of your face. “You know I’ll always be watching.”

You are just about to lean in and return his kiss when Hoseok winces. His eyes grow wide as he catches sight of his skin, noticing the reddish tone that has grown around his back while he was buried deep in his thoughts. The sound of his laughter makes the inside of your chest stir with relief as Hoseok laughs at himself.

“Here, let me help. This should calm your skin.”

Hoseok remains seated on the towel with his legs crossed while you slip to his back. Gently, you rub the cooling lotion that you picked up earlier on his skin. You can feel his muscles slowly relaxing under your touch, his head lulling back as you add a light massage against the knots you find around his back and shoulders. You have hoped that this might help ease his tension, although you cannot help but feel affected by the contact at the same time. Your body warms as you press your fingers into his skin, and each soft hum and moan he is making is starting to make your stomach stir.

“Does that feel good?”

He chuckles. “It would be a lie to say I’m not enjoying this.”

“That’s good,” you whisper softly to him as you slowly press a kiss on his shoulder and sit back with him. “If you’re feeling better,” you start, smiling when you notice his eyes growing a bit brighter when he pulls you back to his side, “Mind sharing your thoughts?”

Hoseok laughs, and the melodic sound coming from him draws a smile to your face. “So that’s what this is, huh?”

You give him a sheepish smile and shrug. “I know you’re hiding something from me,” you say, not caring about it if you seem to be too straightforward about it, but it’s better than having your lover clamming up again. “I’m getting worried.”

The smile on Hoseok’s face seems to dim its light, but it doesn’t seem to carry the same sadness that you have been feeling coming from him as of late. You kiss his cheek, hoping that it can help motivate him to share his troubles with you.

“Talk to me. Let me in.”

With a deep exhale of breath, Hoseok closes his eyes and nods. “I’m sorry for making you worry,” he says. His voice is soft, yet it only seems to add the weight in your chest that takes an effort to ignore. “How much more of your memory have you gained since last time?”

You purse your lips. “Not a lot, and mostly, when I do get some clear visions, they are only good ones, yet nothing as clear as the ones I initially got about us,” you tentatively answer.

It’s not like you have been trying so hard to remember, or to deliberately find those missing pieces of the puzzle, which would be able to help you understand your past. Even if you wanted to try and do it yourself, your body would fight against you. The ache you feel in your head would be unbearable, that you would often avoid trying to think much of it.

Considering this, you bite your lips and turn to Hoseok. “Have you been gaining more memories since the last time?”

Ever since the memories you both lost started coming back, you and Hoseok have always shared everything—the bits and pieces of the past, the visions, sometimes comparing them to recognise which parts of them were real and which ones were not.

“Not exactly, it’s just—”

You can feel his hesitation rolling out of him. So you lean into him and offer gentle support by wrapping your arms around his middle. He takes his time to choose his words, though it seems more like he is having trouble revisiting his troubles rather than finding it difficult to share his secret with you.

“I know that we promised not to let our past haunt us, or to let everything that happened, everything we did, keep hanging above our heads so we can continue living and focusing on he future,” he finally starts, and you nod, remembering the promise you made with each other once you both uncovered the hidden truth behind your relationship.

The real truth which explained why it had been so easy for you to be with Hoseok, even from the very first meeting.

Because your meeting with Hoseok nearly three years ago hadn’t been your first, and your chance encounter may not have been such a coincidence at all.

“Lately, as more memories kept coming to me, I’ve been having some thoughts,” Hoseok continues, making you curious and wary at the same time.

“What kind of thoughts?”

Hoseok takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips. He bids his time, kissing your knuckles before he answers, “Thoughts about how I must’ve failed you.”

“Hoseok—”

“No, hear me out,” Hoseok stops you from saying anything with a kiss. “These memories—they play out in my head like broken frames of a movie flashing in my mind.” Again, you nod, because that is exactly how it has been happening to you, too.

“We may not feel any emotions from it, but it still got me thinking. Maybe the real reason why you had to go through such lengths just to heal yourself was all because of me.” He turns to you with a sad smile as he continues, “because I wasn’t strong enough to help you ease the pain you were suffering.”

“No.” You start shaking your head. Even your heart is denying it. It was never his fault. It was yours. “That can’t be right. I was the one who made the decision to—”

“You were hurting, in pain, and there was nothing that I could do to help you go through it.” He keeps talking as if your words don’t matter. “And when I failed, you—”

You have no idea what comes over you, but as you listen to the tremble in his voice, you slowly lean in, pressing your lips on his to stop him from speaking.

To make him stop reliving his hurt.

You have no idea if this would be enough to eliminate his doubts, but you are willing to do anything—everything—to take away his pain. Because, in the end, you do owe it to Hoseok since you were the one who put him in this situation in the first place.

You remember it well now that everything has come back to you.

It was never Hoseok’s fault. You couldn’t handle the pain of losing Hana—your estranged best friend, the one who you once treated like your own sister, someone who once was a huge part of your life. You couldn’t handle the guilt of knowing you had a part in her choice to deal with her struggles alone, somewhere far away from the people who loved her.

All because she had loved Hoseok, and because she couldn’t handle the fact that not only did Hoseok never looked her way, he went chasing after you instead.

So when you received her things the day after her funeral and found out that Hana was in the process of erasing her memories as part of her ways to return to you, the decision was made.

That you were going to do it in her place as your punishment. To erase everything about your past life with your best friend and your life with Hoseok from your memory. It was your way to move on.

It was immature.

Impulsive.

Stupid.

And now you harbour a new guilt of realising the pain you instilled in Hoseok for what you’ve done.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper against his lips, voice trembling as the guilt continues to wrap its cold fingers around your heart, “I’m sorry for putting us both in this whole situation. I’m sorry for making you go through something like this. I should’ve known how much pain I would’ve caused—I should’ve realised how difficult this whole situation must be for you.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It never was,” he answers with a smile. The same smile that you love so much, whether it’s in the present or the past. “My pain and insecurity are something that I need to deal with on my own.”

You look deeply into his eyes and finally understand. “You’re afraid,” you whisper, once you realise what has truly been haunting him.

“I’m afraid of failing you again. What if the next time you’re hurting and I can’t help you—”

“There will be no next time,” you argue, cutting him off before he gets deeper into his sorrowful reflection. Turning to him, you cup his face between your hands and force him to look you in the eyes as you speak, “The next time something major happens, I won’t run away. I’ll turn to you, just like I’ve always been clinging to you, and we solve it together.”

Swallowing down a sob, you think about how lonely you have been feeling lately, with the distance growing between you when he pulled away from you. “I can’t lose you again.”

“I should be the one to say that,” Hoseok says with a sad smile. “If there is one thing that my memory serves me right, it is to remind me of how painful it was to lose you. How bleak my life felt to not have you by my side.”

You suck deep breath and whisper, “You have me. You will always have me.”

Hoseok’s smile softens. He takes your face between his hands, tenderly brushing his mouth along yours before kissing you with nothing but love and admiration. Everything inside you melts the moment you give in to the kiss; his lips feel soft and warm, breaking every doubt and worry while giving you more resolve.

“Thank you,” Hoseok whispers against your lips, before pressing another kiss, a softer one, which is filled more with contentment. He pulls away with a soft sigh, yet remains close, keeping his forehead resting against yours.

“You should’ve come to me,” you murmur to him, “Didn’t we promise each other to be open about this? That whenever we feel lost and afraid, we’ll let each other know so we can work things out.”

He looks at you with guilt simmering in his eyes. “I know, and I was planning to tell you everything,” he says as he pulls back. “I just needed time to process my thoughts before I could.”

You keep your eyes on him, feeling wary about him pulling away again. But the look in his eyes doesn’t change, much to your relief, and it gives you the courage to ask him more about his plight. “Something triggered this, and I don’t think it’s as simple as getting your memories back the way you usually do,” you wonder openly while pressing your palm gently on his cheek so he won’t look away.

Hoseok takes a moment before answering your question.

“Remember when we decided to destroy all mementoes reminding us of the past?” You nod, wondering why he is bringing this up. “Well,” Hoseok reaches into the pocket on his folded shirt and pulls out two small items that draw your attention. Your breath leaves your lungs in a whoosh. Not in a good way, because you know what they are.

Hoseok spreads out the crumpled card in his hand to show you, just as you are starting to wish that you are seeing it wrong.

“I was cleaning up my office while looking through some old papers. I thought for sure I had everything cleared out and tossed away, if not added into the pile we burned the last time we were here.”

Your breath is caught. Your throat feels tight. His voice slowly fades away as you read the content written on the card—

“Dear Mr. Jung Hoseok, Ms. _______ has had Mr. Jung Hoseok and Ms. Min Hana erased from her memory. Please never mention their relationship to them again. Thank you. The Eden Initiative.”

“I suppose we finally have the answer as to why I never received the card.” Hoseok lets out a bitter chuckle, and you remember him revealing the way he seemed to find out what you did—when he accidentally found the card that was meant for his assistant, Wooyoung, to receive back when you first went through with the procedure.

“They did send it to me. I just never found it. Must’ve come in together with some paperworks and got mixed up in them without me noticing.”

Swallowing hard, you put the card away and turn your attention to the box in his hand. Covered in navy blue velvet, the box looks fancy and slick. This isn’t the first time you've seen it—if your memory serves you right. The first time was the day you visited Hoseok in his office, and that box sat on top of his desk, and he was looking at it with his eyebrows creasing. A question of how and where that box came from lingered on his lips and in his mind, with neither of you ever figuring out how that box had ended up in the box of Hoseok’s old files that he kept from his previous office.

“Hoseok—”

You didn’t expect him to have that box with him today. Seeing it again now still sets nothing out of you. Not a recollection. Not an emotion. Nothing that may mirror the look that you see in Hoseok’s gaze as he keeps his eyes on it.

“Have you finally remembered what it was about?” you tentatively ask.

Hoseok’s eyes are downcast when he lifts the box and gently opens it right in front of you. Just like the first time you saw what’s kept inside, your breath is caught, now more so when the snowflake pendant inside the box sparkles in your eyes, the diamonds catching the afternoon sunlight and gleaming beautifully.

“I may have bought this right before everything happened.” Hoseok begins to explain, his voice is gentle, slightly hesitant, as if he isn’t completely sure about everything that he remembers to this point. “I believe I was thinking about proposing to you. But the timing wasn’t right, so I bought this to show you how grateful I was to have you in my life.”

Your mouth feels bitter. An ache forms in your chest. You know exactly what he means.

It’s hard not to think about what happened then, even if your memory isn’t completely whole. Your heartbreak, your best friend’s passing, your complete meltdown that came when you couldn’t handle all the pain, and then your swift decision to take everything away to put it all to a stop.

“You’re right. The timing wouldn’t have been right,” you respond with a sigh. It pains you to think about the life that you lost, the hope shattered, leaving this beautiful pendant meaningless. “How did you miss not giving this away?”

Hoseok shrugs and lets out a low chuckle. “I have no clue. Maybe I was just being clumsy and forgetful,” he says, “Or maybe, deep down, I didn’t want to let this go.”

You tilt your head. “Because it was too expensive?” you tease him with a smirk, making him laugh.

“That could be it,” he says, chuckling softly. His reaction to your teasing manages to wipe away the sadness you saw earlier. His eyes twinkle when he looks at the pendant, not with the same gloom you’ve seen, but more with a curious look.

“What should we do with this?” Hoseok asks you while tilting the box side to side, allowing the gleam to flash across your face. “Do you want to keep it?”

You have no idea what to answer and bite your lip. The life forgotten feels like a different timeline of your life the more you try to look back, with or without the memories that you lost. A life so unfamiliar with you that you no longer feel it as yours.

“I already have a ring that says we are in this together for the rest of our lives,” you finally say to him once you’ve gotten the answer, lifting your hand to flaunt the diamond ring you are wearing around your finger. “Let’s release this one into the wild.”

Hoseok laughs. “It’s illegal to litter the sea, precious.”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t want it to end up inside the stomach of some random fish or turtles any more than you do,” you argue while rolling your eyes, once again drawing the sound of Hoseok’s laughter, “Let’s bury it somewhere up the hills. Young kids love to stroll out here, don’t they? Maybe someone would dare enough to venture through the cliffs, have some intimate moments and be lucky enough to find it,”

The corner of Hoseok’s lips lifts to a grin. He knows exactly what you are insinuating, and he knows just the perfect place for it.

The special place where the two of you made love for the first time right after you met had been one of the first things he remembered. The place where your story with Hoseok began; the perfect spot at the end of the beach, hidden between the rocky hills and the jagged rocks protecting the beach from the intense waves. It would be the perfect place to bury the last memento taken from the life that you both have left behind.

“Fine. Let’s do that,” Hoseok says, sighing. He leans closer to press a kiss on your forehead. “Shall we do it now while the sun is still up?”

Walking further towards the end of the beach makes you feel like you are walking back in time.

Eight years ago, you walked down this same beach while holding Hoseok’s hand and getting to know each other for the first time. You hadn’t known it then, but that encounter and the impulsive decision to run away with him towards the rocky end of the beach had changed the trajectory of your lives forever.

Perhaps it was indeed fate that the two of you met that night.

Just like how fate made you find each other again once all the hurt was gone, and both of you were ready to open your hearts again.

Deep in your thoughts, you almost fail to realise it when Hoseok suddenly stops. You turn to ask him if something is bothering him when his arm comes around your back. He holds you against him before bending down, helping you get out of your sandals, before slipping his other arm under your knees and lifting you off the ground.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“I think I remember something like this happening then,” he calmly says to you as he begins walking again with you in his arms, your discarded sandals dangling on his fingers.

You feel ridiculous, being carried like a child this way, but there is nothing you can do but laugh it off. You do have a faint memory of him carrying you in his arms like this across the beach, only the circumstances had been completely different then. You were both younger, a bit more wild, and were driven completely with lust, that nothing else seemed to matter other than getting to the place where you could hide together.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you cling to his chest. His firm hold on your body makes you feel safe, comfortable, and warm; a feeling that you remember well to have overcome you that night. “Aren’t I heavy?”

He scoffs. “This is nothing. You may not remember it, but I think I struggled more back then compared to now.”

You bury your face in the crook of his neck and giggle softly. “I think I remember, but I didn’t pay much attention then. I got my mind on other thoughts at the time.”

Closing your eyes, you can almost see yourself going back to that night. Back to the time you felt warmth in your chest for the first time because of Hoseok’s smile, and when that warmth lit up like an inferno when he lifted you up in his arms and took you away from the beach house—not the one you have now, but the old, worn-down building he once believed to be haunted.

And he wasn’t carrying you in the same elegant way he is doing it now, but rather have you clinging against his chest, your legs wrapped around his body and your arms around his neck, his palms holding you steady while your lips were entangled in a deep, passionate kiss as he took you all the way down to the edge of the beach.

As if Hoseok is seeing the same memory, he starts to slow down and presses his lips to yours. The gentle kiss he gives you easily makes you melt into him. You ease into it, pressing against him as he laps your lips and slips his tongue to get deeper until your breath grows ragged. But it only lasts for a brief while, because Hoseok pulls away just as he comes to a stop.

“Here it is,” he whispers against your lips.

“What?”

Hoseok bends down and gently lowers you to the ground, your toes sinking into the sand. He turns you around, and you finally get your answer.

You are now standing at the end of the beach, the jagged rocks standing in front of you, breaking the strong waves before they get to hit the rocky cliffs at the side of the beach. Hoseok slides behind you and wraps his arms around your waist as he points at the spot between the rocks where the water doesn’t reach, and a bed of white sand lies undisturbed.

A smile plays on your lips when you recognise the hidden spot. A vague memory that came back to you through your dreams once your life entangled itself with Hoseok once more.

“This is where we first made love.”

Hoseok presses his lips on the curve of your neck, and your body shudders. The heat rising in your body brings you back to that night; when Hoseok laid you down between those rocks, right at the small patch of sand you are now eyeing on, with him covering you with his body.

“Do you want to relive that night? Slide between those rocks and have some fun times, without having to fumble around in the dark this time?” Hoseok teases you with a low voice, his lips grazing on your skin, then on your ear, while his fingers are rubbing at your sides.

Your head falls back as you laugh. His tease not only brings back the heated moment you shared back then, but also the silly things that also happened then; the awkwardness you felt, bumping and crashing against each other while making sure the sand didn’t get into the crevices you wanted safe, and the condom that escaped from your fingers before you got the chance to make use of it.

“There’s no time for that, silly,” you say to him, swatting his hand away before it gets too close to your covered breast. “It’ll be harder to deal with burying the stuff once it gets dark.”

You turn to see Hoseok pouting. “Fine, let’s get this over with. The offer still stands while we’re still at the beach,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes at him and push him on the chest. “I’ll make sure to remember.”

Hoseok steps back and helps you put your sandals back on before taking your hand in his. Fingers interlocking with one another, Hoseok leads the way to leave the jagged rocks behind and towards the nearest hill. You take one last glance at the hidden spot that becomes the witness of your past, before turning and walking in step with Hoseok.

Sand clings to your feet as you leave the beach, crossing the narrow path winding up the hill. The ground rises just a tad bit higher than the hill where the beach house is tucked on, with more private villas waiting on top of the rocky side of the cliffs. Instead of getting closer to them, Hoseok takes you on the opposite side of the hill, where the ground is softer under tufts of wild grass tickling your bare ankles.

“How did you find this place?” you ask him as he leads the way towards a line of rocks bordering the hills.

“I’m not sure. I’m just following my instincts,” he says with a chuckle, and you recall learning that he used to travel to this place long before he met you years ago. Perhaps his body remembers what his mind is unable to. Something that has also happened to you more than once. “This seems to be the perfect spot.”

He stops behind some rocks rising from the ground. You look over, and the sight of the hidden crevice between the jagged rocks at a distance below is visible. “Oh, nice,” you comment before you start laughing, “How much would you bet someone was standing here that night and saw us getting it on right there?”

Hoseok grins at you. “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

Moments later, after laughing off the fact that neither of you had thought of bringing a shovel with you, Hoseok finishes digging up a small hole fit enough to bury the pendant by using a sharp rock that he found nearby. He opens the velvet box to take a look at the pendant one last time, while you lower yourself to your knees to do the same.

“One last time to change your mind. Are you sure that you don’t want to keep it?”

You look at the pendant with a smile on your face. The snowflake pendant covered in diamonds looks beautiful, and you can imagine yourself wearing it one day during one of Hoseok’s lavish events. But what good does it do to have something beautiful when it carries nothing more but painful memories?

“Positive,” you answer him with a kiss on his cheek. “We promised to create new memories, didn’t we? I think I’m fine with letting it go.”

It seems so simple, to bury an object that was somehow linked to your past, just to get rid of it. You have talked about taking other options during your walk here, whether to sell it back or to pawn it, but neither option seemed final, and nothing that may symbolise burying a piece of your past—the same way you’ve burned the other mementoes just months ago when you first acquired them back from the company that had taken your memories away.

No paper trails left behind, just a mark on the ground, somewhere not too far from where you’ve found your beginning.

Hoseok smiles. “All right, then.”

“Do you think someone will actually find it one day?”

“Maybe.” Hoseok shrugs. “This path isn’t completely hidden, and I remember being a kid, digging through dirt around my childhood home while playing treasure hunt with my sister.”

You take one last look at the ground once the box is buried and turn away from it, ready to leave everything behind. “Let’s go back and relax until it’s time for dinner. I’ve brought a bottle of wine and some snacks back when I came down to the cabana. Maybe we can stay and watch the sunset for a while.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Your steps are lighter on your way back to the beach house. The closer you are back home, the more you can feel each weight, the lingering tension, and the dark shadows of the past haunting both you and Hoseok slowly shredding away.

By the time you are back at the beach connected to home, the sun has moved slightly closer towards the horizon. There is still enough brightness in the sky to let you enjoy the view of the ocean as you leisurely stroll down the beach, close enough to the waves but not close enough to feel the splatter.

But the steady waves seem too inviting to ignore, and with the long-winded stress no longer weighing you down, you are feeling slightly playful. Just as Hoseok reaches out for your hand to take you back home, you playfully push Hoseok towards the water, just in time for a big wave to come rushing in.

But Hoseok always seems to know what you are up to; always the one to be able to read your mind. Your push startles him for merely a second, yet he is quick to recover. Instead of falling back, he manages to avoid your hands and grabs your wrists instead. He swiftly turns and, in turn, pulls you back until you are the one standing between him and the incoming wave.

“Oh my God!” You let out a screech the moment the wave strongly hits your body. The water quickly soaks through your summer dress and your exposed skin, causing you to shiver intensely as you clearly weren’t ready for the water to be as cold as ice as it hits your skin.

“I told you not to get too close to the water,” Hoseok mocks you, laughing as he pulls you back into his arms and away from the waves.

You wrap your arms around yourself as you shudder in the cold, but you cannot stop laughing, your head falling back when you scream, “I forgot how cold it would be.”

“You are a mess. Come here,” he says, shaking his head, before lifting you up in his arms to carry you away. He starts sprinting as he hurriedly takes you to the cabana, hoping that he can quickly help you dry yourself up.

“You seem to enjoy carrying me so much,” you muse, noting how he has been carrying you around more than usual. “I could get used to this, you know.”

He presses a chaste kiss on your lips. “I don’t mind it. I like taking care of you,” Hoseok says, with a glint in his eyes that makes you feel giddy. He sets you down once he reaches the cabana and turns to look for a clean towel between the covers. His smile grows wider when he notices the basket that you left behind, with the bottle of wine sitting in the cooler.

“Cheese and crackers with wine? How fancy,” he teases you while wiggling his brows. “But let’s get you dried up first, okay?”

Hoseok turns to take a seat on the edge of the cabana and reaches around the bedding to find a clean towel. You watch him move around as you stand at the foot of the cabana, water dripping down your hair and summer dress, while white sand clings to your legs. Your eyes scan across the cabana, studying the white beddings and cushions that have been laid there for your comfort.

The impromptu excursion you just had leaves you feeling tired and weary, and there is nothing more that you wish to do but to stretch your legs under the shade with Hoseok while enjoying the refreshments that you’ve prepared as you wait for the sunset to arrive. Looking at it now, a different idea crosses your mind.

As Hoseok turns back around to hand you the towel, you strip out of your summer dress, leaving you covered with nothing more than the pair of bikinis that you had slipped on earlier before running out of the house. You toss the soaked dress at Hoseok, who catches it with a sly grin on his face. A gleam of amusement lights up in his eyes as he sits back, silently guessing what you are up to.

“Look at how wet I am,” you murmur. You look down at yourself and start running your hands down your body.

Lifting your gaze back at Hoseok, you notice him watching you with an intense look on his face. There is hunger in those eyes, one that spurs you on to tease him a little bit more. Just a little.

You move your hands upwards. Your bikini top has gotten soaked, your nipples poking through the thin fabric, and you cup them with your hands. With a gentle knead, you press against your soft flesh, and then graze your thumbs across your covered buds.

You can feel his gaze following every movement of your hands and fingers, and it’s making you feel hot inside, knowing that he is completely drawn to you. His chest rises and falls, and you can tell that what you are doing is starting to be affecting him; the hard tent forming on his covered crotch shows enough of how much he is enjoying this.

“You did this on purpose,” he says with a small smirk, his eyes—which had been haunted in his silence—now have a glimmer of his usual mirth in them.

“Who? Me? And what makes you say such a thing?” You feign innocence while dropping your arms gently to your sides, opening yourself to him before stepping closer until you are standing between his parted legs.

"Come here and let me help you,” he says, as he pulls you gently onto his lap and has your body turned to face the beach while he holds you still. His bare chest feels warm against your back after basking in the sun for all afternoon, yet it feels calming, allowing you to relax into his embrace, unknowingly awakening something else that is burning inside his chest.

Every good intention that he had when he first pulled you into the cabana quickly evaporates the moment your body moulds against him and relaxes under his touch. With one hand resting on your knee, Hoseok parts your legs, allowing him to slide his other hand down to your hips. With swift fingers, he tugs the knots tying the small triangle bottom together until it falls off your hips and tosses it away. His hand comes back to your center once he is done, slipping between your folds to find your swollen bud and capture it between his thumb and index finger.

Almost immediately, your head falls back against his shoulder while you let go of your inhibitions and release a few moans, responding to every circling motion he makes. Hoseok takes it all in, astounded at how easily he can entice the sounds you are making and the tremble surging down your body with just a simple touch right on your bundle of nerves.

“Nothing ever changes,” he murmurs, with his eyes completely captivated by the sight of you getting wet under his touch, and the way you are slowly writhing against his chest. Your bare bottom starts rubbing against his covered hard-on, spurring him on. “Always so responsive to me.”

“Because”—you gasp softly—”it’s you.”

At your words, Hoseok pauses and lifts his gaze to look closely at your face. It feels like time simply stops when he makes no move, no sound, though you can still hear the echoing sound of waves coming from all around you, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat vibrating out of his chest and onto your back.

You look over your shoulder, nearly losing your breath when you notice how intense Hoseok’s gaze looks. Disbelief is written all over his face, as if he needs a moment to understand your words.

“It’s always been you, Hoseok. You’re the only one who can make me feel this way.”

Hoseok’s gaze changes. Every bit of doubt, insecurity, pain, and those little bits of despair he carried with him throughout this trip fades into a deep, strong desire that feels so potent that you can feel it emerging from his entire body, and there is the heat you have always felt from him when he is showing you his love.

As if your words are the spell that he needed to break away from the walls confining him and the shadows of the past that have been haunting him.

Hoseok places his hand on your chin, turning your face so he can kiss your lips. The kiss is slow and tender, yet needy at the same time. A claiming kiss that is filled with heat and passion, with less hunger than the usual ones you’ve shared before, yet it still makes your heart race.

Slowly, you feel him moving, lifting your body in his arms and turning you together before he lays you down on the soft cushions. A small giggle slips out of your lips, amazed at how easily he is able to handle you.

Once you are lying on your back, Hoseok follows by moving on top of you; his hips resting between your parted legs, his chest enveloping yours, while his mouth quickly captures yours to continue kissing you until your mind is filled with a blissful fog that makes your cheeks flush with warmth.

“And it’s always been you who makes me feel—everything,” he sighs as he pulls back from the kiss. His lips are swollen from the kiss and from the light grazes you gave him with your teeth, but it’s the look you see coming out of his eyes that has you breathless, and then he makes the insides of your stomach do a quick somersault when he says, “You’re the only reason I’m alive.”

“Hoseok—” you sob softly, with your tears threatening to fill the corners of your eyes.

Seeing this, Hoseok leans down, pressing his lips across your eyelids as they flutter close for him, kissing your tears away before they have any chance to fall. With a hum, you lean forward to him, the sound quickly changing into a gasp when you feel his gentle fingers pulling the knots holding your wet top until you feel it falling off your skin.

“This needs to go,” he whispers, “Don’t want you to feel cold.”

Humming softly, you cup his face with your hands and whisper to him, “Then please warm me up, Mr. Lawyer.”

Hearing your words, his eyes are filled with a flicker of recognition. Your voice, and every word you just gave him, are an echo coming from a small part of the past that he will always remember as the beginning of it all. Then his gaze grows heated, knowing what those words had done to him many years ago.

With your wet bikini top tossed aside, Hoseok leans down to press his lips on the curve of your neck, while his hand moves to cup the underside of your breast. A gasp slips out of your lips as you feel his fingers pressing on your skin, bringing warmth to ease away the cold. Hoseok traces his lips down your chest, gently capturing one bare nipple between his mouth while his fingers start moving to rub around the other until you feel them both hardening under his touch.

Your chest arches upwards to chase his mouth and his touch. You feel him humming against your skin, and then his tongue lashes across the hardened nub, drawing the sounds of soft mewls slipping out of your lips.

Hoseok releases your nipple from his lips with a pop and smiles down at you. “Warm enough?”

“Not quite,” you groan softly, “I need more.”

A lot more, because the heat has gone down to your center. You can feel the pulsing blood gathering between your legs, and you wish for nothing more than to have his touch to relieve you from it.

“Is that so?” Hoseok chuckles, “Then I guess I’ll have to work harder.”

You open your mouth, ready to beg him for it. His hands come down to your hips just as you start rocking against his body, holding you still. With the words hanging at the tip of your tongue, you open your eyes to look at him.

And then you see it—the familiar look of hunger and desire coming out of his eyes that does things to your heart and your body. He smiles at you and slowly climbs his way back up. He weaves his fingers through your hair and pulls your head back, and then he moulds his lips to yours. You moan into the kiss, feeling the need for him rising the more he devours your mouth, and the more you feel his heat coming out of his chest.

Your mind becomes hazy as you melt into the kiss, and you instinctively follow him when Hoseok gently pulls away. You almost whine when you feel him leaving you, taking the heat away as he steps back to stand on the foot of the cabana. But every protest you wish to say to him disappears in your tongue when you see the look in his eyes, knowing that he isn’t done with you yet.

You keep your eyes on him as you lie back down, relaxing against the cushions while trying to control your breath, only to nearly lose it again when Hoseok slowly pulls down his swimming shorts, revealing his hard-on that you previously felt pressing against your back.

Your heartbeat races as you watch him standing there, completely bare, while openly admiring your body while he has a firm grip around his hard cock. His eyes grow darker with need as he starts stroking himself, his hand flexing around his girth as it glides up and down his length. The sight has you licking your lips, wishing that you could have him inside your mouth, that you could lick the heavily swollen tip and have his taste on your tongue.

Whatever is holding him back from pouncing on you only makes you grow impatient. He seems unable to decide whether he wants to take his place right between your legs or let you put your lips to good use, knowing what you have to offer.

So you decide to put matters in your own hands, giving him the initiative that he needs to make up his mind. Keeping your eyes on his, you put a finger on your lips, acting as if you are telling him to keep quiet.

Once you gain his full attention, you part your lips and dip your finger in, giving it a slow, long suck, while he falls into a trance, watching you with his jaw dropping and his hand moving slower, nearly coming to a stop mid-stroke when you pop your finger out. You continue giving him a show, licking the underside of your digit with a soft moan of delight escaping your lips.

He knows that you are teasing him, giving him a little preview of what you would do to him if he lets you. Seeing him utterly mesmerised pushes you to become a little more brazen.

Leaning back and propping yourself up on your elbow, you move your hand down from your lips, tracing down your bare breasts and the curves on your body until you reach dangerously close to your center. His eyes continue to follow the motion, definitely not missing it when you slip your hand between your legs, your wet finger slipping between your folds, disappearing into your depths with a heartfelt moan leaving your lips.

As if he has become completely entranced, Hoseok pauses mid-stroke. His eyes grow wide as he watches your finger sink deeper, entering right where he wants to bury himself the most. Then you start moving your hand, sliding your finger in and out, showing him just how much you want him with how slick you have gotten since he first touched you.

The sound of your slick arousal fills the cabana with each thrust of your finger, while your wetness makes itself known each time your finger slips out, completely coated with your arousal.

With the sound that he is subtly making, the low grunt that escapes him even as he clenches his jaw to hold himself back, it is clear that he wants you just as much as you want him inside you.

Another moan slips out of your lips when you touch a spot within you that sends your whole body trembling. It snaps him right out of his trance, and Hoseok moves right back up onto the bedding within a blink of an eye, taken over by his clear desire. His grip around his cock has tightened and he starts giving himself a few hard strokes to ready himself for you. His free hand finds your knee, keeping your legs apart for him before he reaches out to your center.

One moment you are pushing your finger inside your heat, the next minute you feel a tug that snaps your eyes open, only to jolt in surprise when his finger slides in to take over, substituting your more delicate finger that is now slipping right between his lips.

“Hoseok—”

A gasp escapes you when he sucks your finger clean, all while humming as he savours your taste in his mouth, while he pushes his finger in, moving slowly and diving deeper while your pussy throbs and pulses around him. His longer and stronger digit quickly finds your sweet spot and swipes over it, massaging it gently until you are writhing under his touch while he continues to lick the remainder of your arousal off your finger.

“Does this feel better?” he questions you with a gruff voice as he curls his finger inside you, making you shiver every time the pad of his finger is pressed against your sweet spot. He pulls his hand slightly when you fail to answer, adding another finger to test out how well your pussy is wrapping around him. As he pushes his way back inside, his thumb finds your clit, rubbing it gently until you start rolling your hips and pressing against him, welcoming more and more of the pleasure to ignite inside you.

“Oh…hmm,” you keep on humming, unable to respond with words when he continues to do all the wicked things with his fingers that render your mind numb. It feels amazing, even if you still have to admit that it isn’t enough to satisfy your need.

As always, Hoseok seems to be in tune with your feelings. He finally grants your wish as he slowly lowers his head, burying his face between your thighs. He draws your attention back to him when you feel his lips pressing at your folds, and then he brushes his mouth against your clit, capturing it in one slow nip before his tongue slips out and swipes across it, drawing a sharp cry out of your lips. Your hips rise from the bedding when he does it again, nipping and licking, tasting every drop that spills from your wetness while he drives his fingers home, slowly building up the pleasure with his delectable rhythm.

The sweet hum of appreciation that he is giving you while he remains latched on to your center only makes you tighten your thighs around his head, holding him in place just as your muscles are clenching around him at the heightened pleasure. Your hand slips down to find his hair and tug at him, urging him to move, while your other hand grabs hold of the cushion for leverage.

“Use your words, babe,” Hoseok hums against your heat, “Tell me what you need from me.”

With a whine, you lift your head to look down at him. “Do you really want to hear me beg?”

You watch his lips spread into a smirk. “I’d love nothing more,” he murmurs, before his lips return to your heat to give your clit a kiss.

“Hoseok,” you call for him, your voice rising as his lips reconnect with your core. His tongue continues to twirl around your swollen bud while he keeps thrusting his fingers into you, bringing you closer to the peak. “Please—I want you!”

“Impatient, are we?” he teases you with a deep chuckle, though it is hard for you to answer him quickly when his fingers are still moving fluidly in and out of you, distracting you with the pleasure pulsing with each movement. “Relax, baby. Enjoy this first. I know you’re feeling good right now.”

You are feeling more than good. It feels amazing, and you can already feel it coming; the coil in your stomach tightening as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of your climax, yet not quite there yet. You want the pleasure to last, but you also want so desperately to feel your final release.

“Hoseok, baby. I need to cum…,” you cry out to him as you grind your heat against his face. “I’m so close…!”

“Then come for me,” Hoseok grunts, before he captures your clit and gives it a suck, while his fingers dive deep, pushing you over the edge.

“Oh, God…that’s it,” you moan as you feel the waves of your release toppling you over.

“Don’t hold back, baby. That’s it. Good girl,” he hums against your throbbing clit as you rock your hips against his face, his tongue keeps flicking out in between. He repeats it a few more times as he feels your legs quaking around him, swiping across it once, twice, then he captures the tender flesh between his mouth to give it a hard suck, one that is enough to send your body arching off the bedding and your hips pushing down onto his face.

As the tremors of pleasure spread through your body, you clutch his hair tightly and press his head further into your groin, demanding more. He gladly complies with your silent request, increasing the rhythm of his thrusting fingers until you cannot hold back, and your body erupts the moment you let go and allow the waves of your release to come forth. Your hands tug harder into his hair as your body convulses against him, nothing else holding you back from embracing your climax.

Despite not getting everything you wanted just yet, you cannot deny just how good he makes you feel, just by the touch of his fingers and the sinful work of his mouth. It feels so darn good that it takes a while for you to come down from your high. He is also responsible for making it harder for you to come out of your blissful fog when he has yet to unlatch his mouth from your throbbing pussy. Then he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, replacing them completely with his tender lips, and that helps your mind to focus, noticing the emptiness that not even his delicate mouth could rectify.

“Please, Hoseok—” you beg him when you cannot take it any longer; when you want him so badly that it hurts. “I want you. Now. Fuck me now.”

Hoseok’s mouth vibrates around your clit as he chuckles softly. He pulls back, releasing your throbbing nub with a small pop before he starts climbing his way on top of you. At first, you are too mesmerised by the sight of his beautiful face, tainted by the wet glow forming around his mouth and chin after he drank every last drop of your release. And then, with a smile, Hoseok starts licking his lips, making a whole show of cleaning himself, even licking his wet digit clean from the remainder of your sweet nectar.

“You were so bad for teasing me earlier. You made me want to have a taste,” he hums softly, before leaning down over you. He runs his hand down your thigh, coaxing you to relax while he slides into position between your parted legs. “And you do taste so good.”

“I want to taste you too,” you whisper with a sigh, drawing a soft chuckle from him.

“Another time,” he groans while quickly catching your hand just as you start reaching down between your bodies so you can touch him.

His answer makes you pout, and you are just about ready to complain and beg so he will let you take him deep in your throat so you can taste him. But as he shifts to align himself right at your center, you finally realise why he wouldn’t let you. With his hands propped on either side of your head, buried into the soft bedding beneath you, Hoseok dips down, pushing his hips to meet yours, and you are pleasantly surprised to feel his cock brushing against your pulsing core. You are pleased to find that you have worked on him so well that he has grown just as impatient as you have been, when you feel his hard cock pulsing against your heat.

“See? It would be a terrible idea if you took me in your mouth right now. I need you so badly it almost hurts,” he murmurs with a deep groan as he rocks his hips, his rigid cock sliding between your slit, drawing small tremors through your body. “I need to be inside you, baby.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?” you tease him as you loop one of your legs around his hips, pushing him down on you, which has Hoseok raising his brows. “What? I’m only trying to help.”

Hoseok chuckles and says, “Of course you are,” just as he follows your lead.

“Now get on with it,” you snap at him while lifting your hips, pressing harder against his length.

“I should spank your behind to teach you a little bit of patience,” he threatens with a taunting voice while his hand reaches down and cups your bottom, making you wiggle your hips when his touch makes everything inside you tingle.

“Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a promise,” he whispers with a deep voice as he slowly thrusts into you, allowing you to feel it as the wide tip of his cock parts its way in.

You can feel every delightful brush and tight spread as he steadily dips inside you, taking things slow as he buries himself inside you. Seeing you unable to respond, when your voice rises to a sharp cry before fading down to a moan, Hoseok halts for a moment, waiting until the pulses clutching around him start to subside.

A sigh slips out of you when you finally grow lax, and you press your heels right underneath the soft globes of his ass, telling him that you are ready. That is when he begins to move.

He starts with an unhurried pace, backing out slightly before proceeding again, advancing further and going a little bit deeper with each thrust. He repeats it until he starts getting deeper, and deeper, taking his time claiming you with each delicate inch he gains while teasing you, knowing that you are silently demanding more.

Wet and coated with your arousal, his cock becomes slick enough to ease his way inside you until he is fully buried deep within you. So deep that you can feel its tip pressing against your depth, and you can almost feel his presence deep in your belly. It feels overwhelming, and yet you want more.

But he still keeps his rhythm agonisingly slow, prolonging the rise of your pleasure as it comes surging through your body. It puts you on the edge, the desperate need to reach the peak of your pleasure overcomes you, and you begin to move, pushing your hips against him so that he starts moving faster. Still, Hoseok refuses to give up control as he puts his weight on you, pressing his hips on yours to pin you beneath him, with no chance to move and take over.

“Relax,” he whispers with a raspy voice. “What are you such in a hurry for?”

You look up to him, your voice coming out as barely a whimper when you try to answer him, to start begging for him to move, to start pounding hard inside you. You know that not only is he teasing you, but he is also testing your patience. And it would have worked, if only he hadn’t gotten you so worked up and so needy.

Feeling defiant, you decide to return the favour. If he thinks that he could restrain you and control everything, then he has another thing coming. With your eyes on him, you focus on clenching your inner muscles around him, putting all the hours of morning exercises you’ve been getting into to good use by restricting him from moving deeper without it being clamped down.

Hoseok falls forward, unprepared to have you clamping down on his shaft. Grunting against your neck, Hoseok stays still for a moment before he instinctively starts pressing against the constriction, as if showing you that nothing can stop him from getting what he wants and when he wants it to.

As he starts to push back inside, the feeling of him stretching your tightened muscles and slowly breaking through the constrictions that you impose on him only allows you to feel just how hard he is and how fitting he feels inside you. And it feels so good. So darn good that you cannot resist the moan escaping your lips as he rubs against your pulsing walls.

As he continues exerting pressure against you, sparks of pleasure begin to rise inside you, building up slowly until you can feel yourself reaching another peak before you realise it happening.

It doesn’t take long before you give in, unable to resist the temptation that you simply allow him to get his way. Slowly, as the pleasure takes place, you focus on relaxing underneath him, allowing your muscles to grip and quiver around him on their own without you making it happen. Now that he is finally moving, finally giving you exactly what you want, you refuse to allow him to tease you again and make you wait.

You just got to have him all.

As he slowly presses forward, you press your feet into his thighs and take the remainder of his length in one fluid motion. With one strong pull, you draw his body into you, and the hard tip of his cock hits the deepest part of your walls with force until your whole body trembles under the pressure.

Your muscles spasm around him as Hoseok starts moving in a steady pace, your pussy clutching on him as he slowly starts picking up his pace, his thrusts growing harder with each cry you are giving him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” he hisses against your neck as he draws back, easing out and sinking all the way back in. He doesn’t look away as he continues rocking his hips, each thrust stirring up the rush of pleasure inside you, unfolding them like tiny waves that keep building up, more and more as he continues moving in and out of you.

You close your eyes briefly, savouring the moment and the feeling he ignites within you. Then you start rocking your hips around him, getting a good feel of how he is stretching you nicely and pounding inside you in the perfect rhythm that sends you to the peak of bliss.

Your body flinches when his cock hits hard into your depth, drawing a strangled cry from your lips. It brings him to a pause, a deep concern written on Hoseok’s face when he looks at you.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmmm—more than okay,” you answer him as you buck your hips into his, and you feel his cock twitch inside you. “Don’t stop. Keep moving.”

With a soft chuckle, Hoseok lowers himself to cover your body with his, then his lips descend so he can kiss your bare shoulder. A moan slips right out of your lips when you feel his cock sliding in and out of you once more, though he proceeds to pick up his pace, steadily rocking with longer and stronger strokes before he starts moving faster.

You raise your hands, finding his shoulders to hold so you can steady your body against the force as he keeps driving into you with unadulterated passion. Your body shivers uncontrollably as the pleasure keeps rising, building up so fast that you find yourself moulding against his body as you are teetering right at the edge. Just when you feel the first coil of your coming orgasm, the deep sound of groaning and grunting that he has been making becomes louder, and his torso seems to tense against your body, signalling his final release.

Hoseok grabs one of your legs by the underside of your knee and lifts it up, opening you further as he drives deep. A sharp cry leaves your lips when you feel him hitting deep, his pouncing growing harder, each thrust he is giving you causing intense tremors all over your body.

You are too far gone at this point, with your body burning hot, and you are panting with short breaths at the quick build-up of warmth that overcomes you, moments before your whole body contracts as you are pushed into a toe-curling orgasm that knocks your breath away.

Feeling your release pulsing around him sends Hoseok over the edge. You can vaguely hear the sound of his laboured breathing beyond the sound of your pounding heartbeat as he increases his rhythm further, drilling his cock inside you in search for his own relief. You can feel him reaching his peak as he sinks deeper into you, giving you a hard shove that rocks your body roughly beneath him, before the warmth coming from his release fills your insides.

He continues to move in slow, short thrusts before slowing down completely to a halt, prolonging both of your orgasms for a while longer before he falls over your body, completely spent.

“That felt amazing,” you hum breathlessly while stroking his sweat-covered back. For a moment, he gives you no answer. The only thing you can hear from him is his rough breath and the sound of his heartbeat pumping against your chest. It takes a moment for him to sober up completely, to finally come down from his high and look up to see your face again. You give him a bashful smile, feeling him still buried inside you and your body still joined together in the most intimate of ways.

“You are amazing, baby,” Hoseok mutters, while running his gaze down your exposed body, his eyes lingering briefly on your heaving chest before returning to your face.

He takes this moment to look at you closely, questioning you with concerns lathering his voice, “Okay, baby?”

With a soft sigh and a breathless chuckle, you simply nod. “More than okay.”

You can obviously tell that you have a dopey smile on your face right now, but you have no energy to care at the moment. At least it seems to give Hoseok some sense of relief when he sees it. His own smile is spread on his face when he leans down to kiss the tip of your nose before he slowly pulls out of you. A few drops of cum follow his exit, falling into the soft bedding beneath your body and wetting your inner thighs. The sensation you feel of his warm cum oozing out of you and your walls pulsing in his absence seem to light up a new desire, as you enjoy having a reminder of his claim all over your body and inside you, although you are too spent to ask for more than a cuddle.

“You are such a mess, baby,” he chuckles as he reaches out to grab the forgotten towel, ready to continue his work on cleaning you up, including the mess that he just helped create.

“You made the mess," you tiredly complain, "And you love it.”

“That I do,” Hoseok hums against your lips as he kisses you, making you melt into his warmth once again with nothing more than a feeling of contentment.

Hoseok covers you with his shirt once he is done—once he deemed your clothes is completely unsalvageable. And you remain entangled with each other in the cabana until the sun slowly dips into the horizon, brushing the sea with a soft amber glow while leaving a trace of purple hue up in the sky.

It’s a magical sight that ignites a myriad of emotions blooming deep inside Hoseok’s chest as he draws you into his arms.

As Hoseok watches the descending sun, he feels his own light slowly expanding within. As if the sunset represents the departure of the very last bit of his anguish about the forgotten past, allowing nothing else but hope to bloom in its place.

Tomorrow is a new day, he silently tells himself.

Both of you may not have gotten a completely clean slate to start over. The missing pieces of the past will no doubt continue to haunt you both as the two of you continue going forward. But Hoseok no longer fears the future that is coming for him. Not after you have managed to bring all of his broken pieces back together.

Unspoken words fill his mind, and then you manage to steal his words further when you lean back, resting your head on his strong shoulder and let out a deep, contented sigh. “I love you, Mr. Lawyer.”

Hoseok smiles. The silly nickname that you’ve given him—both in your past life and in the present—has always done things to him. “I love you too. Always,” he whispers, burying his face on the curve of your neck as he holds you tightly in his arms, holding you close as he embraces the present and the promise of tomorrow.

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diamonddeputy · 1 month ago

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Why [DELTARUNE CHAPTER 4 SPOILERS] is an effective villain: a premature analysis

Y’all I’m literally posting this and then disappearing from the Internet for however long to avoid the spoiler brigade. I haven’t even finished Chapter 4 yet, there could be more I don’t even know. I just cannot sleep and am so wracked with autistic mania that I HAVE to get my thoughts in order or I will explode

Character creation and analysis have always been some of my greatest passions. I still have my Ceroba Ketsukane analysis sitting on the backburner, 24 pages and counting, that exists purely for my own enjoyment. Storytelling fundamentals are things I keep in mind for everything I consume, especially in the context of characters. That being said, known character development strategies can be attributed to Carol Holiday, and why she works SO WELL as a villain imo

Back when J.K. Rowling wasn’t a piece of shit, I watched an interesting video commenting on how Voldemort could have been made more effective as a villain. Which essentially compared him to Umbridge who usually provokes more vitriol within the community and pitched the idea of him casting some sort of life-altering spell on Hermione. I can’t remember the exact details, but it was something to the effect of memory alteration or brain function suppression, to take away the one thing that mattered most to her in life, which was her academic success and pursuit of knowledge, which we see her strive so passionately for throughout the whole series. And then the reader would have to watch her slog through life with no sense of purpose, a husk of her former self, and allow that rage to fester. He then tied this back to why Umbridge is remembered (ironically, less) fondly, because the slights she commits are targeted specifically on known flaws and vulnerabilities of the main characters

It’s something that I’ve carried with me since because it really does make sense if you stop and think about it. Being like 13 at the time I initially clicked on that video with more curiosity than anything because I thought he worked pretty effectively. But by the end I was like holy shit yeah that would’ve worked SO much better. And the more I think about it, the more it’s really on full display here

The reveal that Carol is a central antagonist made me feel things, sure, but the thing that REALLY got me was seeing her for the first time, even before we knew just how connected she was. When Susie commented on the temperature seeming to fall when she entered, I FELT that. Because the previous chapters made SUCH a big deal about NEVER letting us see her. She was always cooped up in her office with hordes of cronies blocking any entrances commenting on how busy she is, even when confronted with our teenaged protagonist wishing to report a serious danger that not even the police is taking seriously. Within our centralized view, that paints a cold, scheming picture right off the bat

We were given ample time to create a caricature in our minds, shaping itself to whatever bounds it would allow itself to stretch. This is a common practice seen in comic book theory, with the idea that a scene that takes place in a gutter (the space between panels, or in other words, not shown) is infinitely more shocking, gruesome, terrifying, whatever you want it to be than anything that could be shown. Because it allows the viewer to fill in the blanks for themselves, and the human mind has the tendency to jump to the very worst. So seeing her pale fur, sunken eyes, stony glare, frigid colour palette, just HIT because it reinforced EVERYTHING that had been festering in our minds for the past however long. For me, it’s barely even been a year. I can’t even begin to imagine those who have been holding it for upwards of six

We’re already starting off with a bang, but the fact she’s so mysterious is then just used to make the small things we DO learn about her even MORE effective. Noelle is scared to tell her she’s locked out of the house. She doesn’t keep keys of important documents anywhere but home. Rudy is spending what could be his last moments terrified of what will happen to Noelle after he isn’t there to “balance Carol out”, in his words. Noelle explains the feeling of seeking out things that scare her just so she can feel comforted. Speaking as someone else with a poor emotional relationship with her parents, the portrayal of Carol as such is not only harrowing, but very REAL. It’s severe enough to push all the right buttons, but not SO much so that she becomes harder to take seriously because a sense of immersion is lost. THAT is just as important, and it’s what really sells the effectiveness

The fact she wants to bring calamity upon the world is awful, sure. But that’s not why I hate her. I hate her because she’s a shitty mother. I hate her because Noelle has gone through so much because of her. And most of all, I hate her because of the implication that she’s using Dess to get her way, if I’m not going batshit crazy and Dess is the Roaring Knight like is seeming to be implied. Hell, she may have even staged her disappearance to be rid of her, as we know Dess wanted to leave home as soon as possible and take Noelle with her, and also that she was a contrarian to her mother’s strict beliefs and did things she never would have approved of. The reveal that, in her words, “I am always welcome in her home” would only have ever intrigued me if I didn’t know what I do about her. Perhaps she has more sympathetic motives than are being shown to me presently! But because these careful steps were taken to establish her not only as an antagonist, but as a VILLAIN, I felt pure unadulterated disgust. And the desire to be anywhere else and do anything else and listen to anyone else and never do what she wants me to do ever

What truly makes a good villain is the combination between narrative stakes and personal investment. And, more importantly than that, the effort to make it believably, groundely REAL, as opposed to overly blunt or performative. I’ve hated Carol from literally Chapter 1, assuming that she was gonna be an invisible driving force for Noelle’s character development and not much more, and now I just have a vessel to fuel all that rage into because the careful work behind the curtain is being unveiled masterfully. The fact there’s even more to know upcoming has my head spinning because I’m already reeling from just how much I HATE Carol, and just how GOOD that is for the story

If you’ve somehow survived my word salad the size of Mars, please please please leave tour thoughts or whatever else. I’ll see it when I eventually finish everything

#deltarune #deltarune chapter four #deltarune chapter 4 #deltarune chapter 4 spoilers #character analysis #rant post #sleep deprived af #villain analysis #storytelling #not proofread #carol holiday #noelle deltarune #noelle holiday #noelle dr #december holiday #dess holiday #dess deltarune

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fairestwriting · 5 months ago

Note

Hiii!!! Just found your account and I love your works ☺️

May I request headcanons of Leona & Azul with a reader who’s afraid to commit to him since they have a hard time trusting NRC students because they fear he’ll only be with them if they can benefit him/he has an ulterior motive for them?

Thank you!!

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

It’s not something that goes unnoticed, but also not something he thinks about too much, at the start. Leona’s view of commitment is much more based on how you behave around him than your words, and he doesn’t expect to really feel it when you’re still just getting used to each other’s presence, in this new context of considering a relationship… Besides, you asked to take it slow, he’s not about to disrespect that.

Then that period of time passes, he starts to relax, and the gap between the two of you slowly becomes more visible — He’s not the most overtly affectionate guy out there, sure, but he makes it quite clear when he’s gotten comfortable around somebody. He assumes your distance is just shyness at first, but it quickly starts to bug him. He knows how to recognize the different types of unease in others, and shyness isn’t exactly the feeling he’s getting for you.

The last straw happens when as you’re spending time together and he ends up getting tired, he tells you you can stick around while he sleeps, and you quickly get up, ready to leave — The memory will feel embarrassing to him in the future, at how emotional he got over something seemingly so small, but in the moment, it just feels like you’re avoiding him.

What the hell is up with you, really, he questions when you’re on your way out. In Leona’s perception, he’s being so obvious, basically outright telling you that he wants you to be around, that he trusts you to be there while doesn’t have his guard up. And this same interaction has happened so many times already. Aren’t you two supposed to be… dating? If he could even call it that?

It’s not fair if he’s the only one who’s vulnerable, he thinks and doesn’t say, but the message gets across. ”If you’re so excited to leave, then just go.”, with that bitter look in his eyes. You try to say that’s not how you felt, while still not revealing too much, but he’s set on questioning you now. And it shows how it’d been bothering him, the way you just seemed to never breach that distance.

Eventually you get the words out. It’s not about him, you were just anxious because of previous experiences you had in NRC — Even if you just tell bits and pieces of the full story, it’s enough for him to get a grasp on the situation. His expression softens. It does all make sense to him, he doesn’t feel comfortable around most people either, as much as he hates to admit. ”I wouldn’t tell you to stick around if I wanted to take advantage of you. Would be a stupid move. He says, after a while, then nothing else. He would never pressure you in general, but especially not about this. He just hopes you do decide to stay.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

All sorts of preventive measures happen in the background before you two even agree that there’s any sort of mutual attraction taking place. He’s built his business so carefully, he doesn’t want to take any chances, even if the temptation to just throw logic out of the window is there. When you two decide to date, Azul has already thought about a thousand possible futures, part of his willingness to get into this relationship comes from ruling out the worst outcomes.

The hesitant phase lasts considerably longer with him than it does with Leona. He wants you to be the first one to let your guard down — A wish he knows would make him sound horrible even if he tried to explain, with the image he has — as the last bit of confirmation to him that you’re safe, and he can stop being so overly cautious around you. But he waits, and he keeps waiting, and none of the signs he’s looking for ever come.

How long has it been, at this point? Months? Azul actually isn’t very sure of what to do from here. Was this all because of his reputation? Did he do something wrong? Or was this just your regular personality, and he actually severely miscalculated every part of his “plan”?

He doesn’t want to show how much it bothers him, at first. He tries to think of ways to get you to open up, at least a little bit, like showing interest in your background and such… But he knows there’s a limit to how much he can do until he puts you off completely, if you’re really this cautious. And at this point, he’s too attached to want to risk losing you.

Some questions still slip through though, that exact attachment he feels making it difficult for him to keep up with your level of detachment. His curiosity really is genuine too, he wants to know more about you, to understand you better. Maybe even especially due to the detachment, he can relate to that distrustfulness too much. So much it makes him actually feel closer to you, though he does recognize that might be kind of weird. He does get a stray thought that he could be just projecting, that you could actually turn out to not be safe, but he decides to trust you.

There won’t be arguments or anything on the topic, even if you don’t reciprocate as Azul, without even thinking, ends up slowly lowering his guard first, and your reactions sometimes feel a bit cold to him — The sting of it fades quickly, because he just understands. When he asks questions, or ends up inviting you on more serious dates, there’s always an added, “but only if you’re comfortable with doing so, of course”, followed with a smile you never really see him show to anybody else. His observant nature will help him put the puzzle together, eventually, already starting to suspect you’ve had bad experiences with being harmed by people you trusted in the past. Regardless of how long it takes for you to be straightforward with him about those things, he’ll always thank you for trusting him with that same smile.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

#ALSO TY im glad you like my writing <33 #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst imagines #twst headcanons #lis writing

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the-secret-keeper · 28 days ago

Text

Where MC Reunites With Grim and Their Friends While The Obey Me Dateables + Luke Go Feral

People were wanting this from the part one of this request by @sweetlicorice

Sorry it took me so long! Dead week and finals week were making me want to reorganize my own brain because of stress. But I'm all good now!

Where MC Tells the Obey Me Boys About How Horribly They Were Treated In Twisted Wonderland: (Part 1: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor) And (Part 2: Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and Luke)

Part 1 of this with the Obey Me brothers (Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Satan, Beelzebub, and Belphegor)

Specifically requested by @chaosisbliss and @secret-angels-stuff

TW: Talk of Angry Demons (don't worry, they aren't mad at you), Reuniting with a pet, Reuniting with friends, Crying, Fear of an authority figure, Talk of being overworked, Talk of being burnt out, Talk of abuse of power,

Reader is referred to as MC by the characters, and MC is gender neutral, but this is in second person point of view, so for the most part, you will be referred to as 'You' by the narrator.

Characters included are: Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon, Solomon, and Luke

Could be read as romantic or platonic (EXCEPT LUKE IS STRICTLY PLATONIC)

This will be long so story under the cut

This will be organized by character with some context beforehand.

Enjoy!!

It took a bit of time, but a determined sorcerer, a determined angel, and several infuriated demons can do pretty much anything they set their minds to. Solomon broke through dimensional travel quite easily upon realizing you'd been summoned from another world, despite originally being from the human realm in this world. It was narrowing down which dimension that was the issue.

But knowing that you were missing your friends and your cat, and the idea that they could possibly reunited with them made them work even harder. Not to mention pressure from both Lucifer and Diavolo, who wanted to 'exchange words' with your previous headmaster and his teaching tactics. They wanted to see the people you speak so highly of. And Satan and Solomon want to meet your cat.

They were trying their hardest to lessen your homesickness while they worked on finding a way there. And it worked. Until the portal opened, and you were the first to volunteer to go through. You couldn't wait! You were going to see your friends again, you were going to see Grim again! So you took your boys, and you went through the portal.

Diavolo:

Diavolo was one of the more obvious choices, in your opinion. He was one of the few you were actually able to fully open up to about your past in this school because he runs a school of his own, and he strives to make your life better. He was appalled, aghast, to hear what Crowley had done. No teacher, especially not the headmaster, should be putting that much work on a student, especially not one from another world with no real way to get outside help.

Diavolo was furious on your behalf. But centuries, even millenia, of perfecting his public image, and practicing a fake smile to cover his real emotions as he looked for the most diplomatic solution covered that up quite nicely. He hated to hear how you had suffered. He was glad that he was able to help, and that you were in a better place now, but thinking of all you went through still makes him angry.

That being said, he was very excited to meet your friends, and your cat. Once you opened the floodgates about your friends, you were more than willing to talk about them and all the positive memories you had. The sleepovers, the study sessions, the midnight runs to Sam's shop, or breaking into each others dorms. He was happy to hear that while you struggled, you had a support system that was there for you in the ways that they could be. He wanted to meet these people, and for you to reunite with them.

You knew what your first stop would be after reuniting with Grim, which would be to immediately introduce Diavolo to Malleus. You wanted the two princes to be friends. Or, to at least be cordial. They were so very similar, so you hoped they could at least get along.

Before, when you didn't know whether you would ever be able to go home, you had confided to Malleus that you were worried about what that would mean for Grim. You were each only half of a student after all, and you wanted him to be able to continue to attend. He promised you that if you left, of your own volition or otherwise, he and Diasomnia would take in Grim if that's what he would want. You knew that Grim would likely choose Heartslabyul to live in, given the choice, but you were grateful for the offer, and even relayed it to Grim. He told you to stop talking nonsense that night, but you both knew that it wasn't necessarily nonsense, as your future was unknown to everyone.

You stepped through the portal, finding yourself in the room where the Dark Mirror is kept, having come out of it. You glared at it once Diavolo and you were both safely within the room. He noticed, wondering why you looked at this mirror with such vitriol.

"The Dark Mirror." You muttered bitterly. "I have half a mind to just smash it right here. But it's a rare and expensive artifact." You sighed. "Let's get out of here as quick as we can. I don't want to be around it longer than necessary. It reads souls, according to Crowley, and pretty much guaranteed I would be treated differently by announcing I had no magic to the entire school." You looked to Diavolo, who was now looking at the mirror in subtle curiosity.

"It reads souls?"

"Apparently." You shrugged. "Jamil's suspicious of that, but he's basically the only person I've heard say anything about it. Come on, let's get out of here." He nodded, and followed you as you snuck out of the room where it was kept. "Figures we'd show up through the Dark Mirror." You breathed as you walked through the hallways.

"Yes, it does tend to work in mysterious ways." You yelped at the sudden voice and figure beside you, nearly toppling over backwards with how much you flinched, if not for Diavolo catching you. You heard that familiar giggle, putting your mind at ease as you sighed.

"Lilia!" You scolded lightly, righting yourself with some help from Diavolo. "You shouldn't scare me like that. It's not polite."

"Pish posh. We're close enough." He laughed, hugging you, which you quickly returned, happy to see the mischievous fae. "You must be wondering about your lovely cat."

"Is he alright, did Crowley do something?" You asked quickly, parting from the man.

"He is fine. Crowley did try to kick him out, but, Malleus protested, and he was admitted as a familiar of Diasomnia." Lilia assured.

"Oh thank the Seven." You breathed in relief. "Could you bring us there?"

"Why certainly!" He beamed.

"And can I borrow your phone?" You asked awkwardly. "Kind of need to tell the other first years I'm here, you know, before they find out no one told them and riot."

"They have been doing that a lot lately." Lilia said cryptically, pulling out and handing you his phone.

You quickly created a group chat and sent a message, just telling them that it was you, and you were back, and also heading to Diasomnia to get your cat, they can meet you there if you like. Going to hand him back his phone, you realized he was no longer in front of you, but floating before Diavolo, examining him closely.

"Lilia, personal space." You sighed, reminding the fae. "Please, I'll do formal introductions of everyone once we reach Diasomnia. I just really need to see Grim." You bargained.

"Very well. Follow me."

He dropped to the floor, and started leading you and Diavolo through the halls. You already knew how to get to Diasomnia, and he knew that, but you didn't know where Grim was, and he did. So, he led you through the halls, asking questions about where you'd been and what you'd been up to. He didn't stop to let Diavolo question the mirror transportation, just kept talking.

You knew Lilia was perceptive, it was a skill he'd honed over all the years he'd lived, both as a soldier, and as a father. You knew the questions he was asking weren't just regular questions, he was subtly probing to make sure that you were safe and happy there. You didn't call him out on it, just appreciating the care.

Diavolo could tell too. You'd told him of Lilia, how, despite looking young, he was actually over 700 years old and is a father. He was glad to see that Lilia was making sure, even if not obviously, that you were ok. That being said, he didn't know how to feel when Lilia turned the questions on him, and asking him with a suspicious, almost malicious smirk, rather than the soft fond smile he wore when speaking to you. You just rolled your eyes at Lilia's antics, which put Diavolo at ease.

The three of you walked through the long, winding hallways of Diasomnia, passing students as you did. Some stopped and stared, but you didn't know if they were staring because you had returned after disappearing into thin air with no warning, or because Diavolo radiated power and authority. But, you figured it was probably a mixture of the two.

You finally made it to the common room, which you're certain was closer to the entrance than Lilia made it seem. You didn't say anything, deciding to not say anything about it, more worried about seeing Grim than you were about Lilia leading you and Diavolo on a goose chase. Upon entering the common room, you saw Malleus, Silver, Sebek, and Grim. Silver was asleep, as expected, but the other three were talking.

"Are ya sure ya read the text right?" Grim, standing on the coffee table, asked Sebek, who stood beside him, but not on the coffee table.

"I am certain!" Sebek nodded to his own, loud, words, absolutely positive he'd understood the text he'd gotten from Lilia's phone. Grim narrowed his eyes at him, skeptical. You laughed at the sight, catching the attention of the three.

"MC!" Grim exclaimed, absolutely ecstatic to see you.

He leapt off the table, bounding over. You knelt down, allowing him to slam his full body into yours, as your arms enclosed around him. You felt tears sting your eyes, happy to see your found family. You stood up, him still in your arms. You felt your shirt get slightly wet where his face is, but you didn't say anything, knowing you were on the verge of tears yourself. Sebek was quick to approach, but didn't hug you until you beckoned him to join the hug, wanting you two to have your moment.

Once Sebek let you go, Grim remained attached to you, and you him. You sniffled, wiping the tears that had not fallen as you smiled at your friends. Malleus was standing nearby, hesitating until you opened one of your arms for him to hug you, the other still securing Grim to your chest. You on your tiptoes, him slightly bending down, the angles were awkward, but you still gave your favorite fae prince a hug.

Once you finished greeting everyone, tears having been shed and wiped, you finally turned to Diavolo, beaming up at him. Though everyone had noticed him, Sebek keeping his distance as if sensing his power and importance, which he probably did, no one had addressed him yet.

"Diavolo, this is Grim. Grim, this is Diavolo. He's the headmaster of my new school, and he is much better than Crowley." You assured him, Grim turning in your hold to get a good look at him while still tucked against your chest.

"I have been looking forward to meeting you. Mc speaks highly of you, Grim. They speak highly of all of you." Diavolo assured.

"Formal introductions, right, I said I'd do that." You realized. "Everyone! This is Diavolo, he's the Headmaster of the Royal Academy of Diavolo, or RAD, where I attend. He's a very dear friend of mine." You gestured to the very large man beside you. "Diavolo this is Lilia, Malleus, Sebek, and Silver, who is sleeping. Malleus is the Crown Prince of Briar Valley, Silver and Sebek are his guards, and Lilia is his advisor." You introduced, pointing to each person as you introduced them. "The rest of the first year group, I'm assuming based on how much Sebek's phone is exploding, will be here momentarily, and I will introduce you to them then."

"The Royal Academy of Diavolo, does that make you a Royal then?" Lilia asked.

"Yes!" Diavolo smiled. "I am the Crown Prince of the Devildom."

"I thought you might get along, Malleus. Since you two have that in common at least. And, you know, some might say, Diavolo is equal in power to you, maybe even more so." You teased, smiling at the fae, who seemed intrigued at the notion of an equal. Diavolo simply smiled, happy to get to meet your friends.

Speaking of your friends, the first year group all but broke down the door to the common room of Diasomnia, tackling you as they tried to all hug you at once. Diavolo watched on, fond amusement in his eyes as he silently swore to tear Crowley a new one for ever taking away your smile. But for now, watching you reunite with your friends, that would be enough until he could cook that crow.

Barbatos:

You had an inkling of where Grim would be. Barbatos was fine with letting you lead the way, him walking at your side. Like a smiling shadow, ever present. You were honestly kind of surprised that he agreed to come with you. You had asked him first, but, you genuinely thought he might've said no, so it was a pleasant surprise when he said yes.

Grim, both was where you thought he would be, and wasn't at the same time. You thought he'd be at the place with the most food, the Mostro Lounge or Scarabia, or even the cafeteria. And he was where the most food was. However, that was actually the arena at the moment, apparently there was some kind of event where students could make whatever they wanted and sell it.

You very easily dodged Lilia's table, dragging Barbatos with you, though he wasn't exactly resisting. You found your way to the area where the Mostro Lounge had set up. You saw Jamil, standing beside Trey and Riddle, all three of them varying stages of disappointment and exasperation.

"What's going on?" You asked, approaching.

"MC!" Trey happily exclaimed upon hearing you. He turned and pulled you into a tight hug, Riddle hugging you immediately after. Jamil didn't hug you, but he did offer you a smile, which you returned in kind.

"This is Barbatos, he's a really good friend of mine." You explained, gesturing to Barbatos, who was wearing his civilian clothes, rather than his usual RAD uniform. "He goes to the school I go to now."

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you, they speak highly of everyone here." Barbatos smiled.

"Barbs, this is Riddle, Trey, and Jamil. Riddle is the housewarden of Heartslabyul, and Trey is his vice housewarden. Jamil is the vice housewarden of Scarabia." You introduced, gesturing to each person you spoke of as you spoke about them.

"To answer your earlier question, we are looking at stupidity." Jamil sighed.

You looked over Trey's shoulder to see Ace and Deuce waiting tables, looking miserable, with familiar anemone's on their heads. And soon you spotted Grim with a nearly identical one on his head. You felt your eye twitch.

"So, whose bright idea was this?"

"I believe, actually, that Azul told them he could get you back, so it's both stupid and admirable." Riddle sighed.

"You know what, I'm kind of flattered. And at least the others aren't involved." You sighed. "I'm guessing since you're here that Floyd isn't?" You asked Riddle.

"I haven't actually seen Floyd in a while." He hummed. "Have you?"

"No, I was more focused on finding Grim, and avoiding Lilia's booth." You and the other Night Raven students shuddered in sync. "Alright, it seems I must go figure out how to get these guys out of their contracts. Again."

Luckily this time you had Barbatos's help, and he is scarily good at figuring out how to do pretty much anything. Honestly, compared to the last time you had to get the guys out of a deal with Azul, this is probably going to be a piece of cake. Especially since you're here now, and the whole reason they took the contracts, according to Riddle, was for you to come back. Which means, technically, they should be free once you talk to Azul. But, knowing him, things are never that easy.

Avoiding any of your friends seeing you, not wanting to get their hopes up, you walked over to the area where Azul and Jade were. Armed with Barbatos, you walked with confidence up to the schemers. Upon seeing you, Azul spit out his tea and turned a rather interesting shade of purple, whereas Jade's eyes widened slightly before returning to normal. And while Jade's reaction doesn't seem as extreme as Azul's, you took it as a victory anyway.

"Azul, I believe that my friends are owed their freedom, due to my being back."

"Well, I, wuh, I," He stammered.

"What I believe my boss is eloquently trying to explain, that there is a clause in the contract that stipulates he has to be the one to bring you back." Jade intervened. "And while it is good to see you again, and I'm sure Floyd will be ecstatic at your presence, it was not Azul who is the reason behind it, and therefore your presence has no effect on their contracts."

"I see. So you returned to your narrowly legal business practices then?" You looked between the two. "Unfortunately for you, I have someone who's adept in legalities this time."

"No destroying of contracts?" Jade teased.

"I'm still willing to use force if that's what is necessary." You warned, matching his smile.

"May I see a copy of the contract?" Barbatos asked, to which Azul quickly produced his copy of it. Barbatos, whose reading speed rivals Satan's quickly scanned it over, before smiling. "They're free to go."

"No they're not. The contract is air-tight, I wrote it myself." Azul assured, more calm now that he's adjusted to your presence.

"Yes, it is. Except this contract doesn't state that you must be the reason behind their return to Twisted Wonderland. It states that in return for their barely paid labor that you will find a way to get MC back. It states in a separate clause that upon MC's arrival back in Twisted Wonderland they will be free from their contract. However, it does not state that these two events have to correlate. Simply that you will find a way to get them back, and that they will be free upon MC's return. It never says that you have to be the reason behind MC's return." Azul snatched the contract out of Barbtos's hands, flipping through the pages. "Clauses 3B and 3C." He smiled as he listed the clauses.

Both of you watched as Azul read the entire contract at least six times over, his eye twitched more and more every time he read it over. He was getting more and more upset as he realized that his usually infallible contracts had been foiled in less than ten minutes without any bargaining or force, simply by someone who was smarter than him. It was honestly rather satisfying to watch, and Barbatos was smug as hell about it.

You watched as he sighed, defeated, and stood up from his chair. You and Barbatos shared a look, and Barbatos winked at you. You laughed as you trailed after Azul as he left the room. Azul walked fast than you, approaching your friends.

"Trappola, Spade, Grim, off the floor. Your contracts have ended." Azul reported.

"Ended?" Ace asked.

"Does that mean...." Deuce trailed off.

"You're welcome." You laughed, waving at them from the sidelines.

"MC!" Grim yelled, jumping on peoples heads to get to you.

You caught him as he jumped into your arms, laughing at the familiar weight as he nuzzled into you. You held him tightly, as the other two rushed over and hugged you tightly. Their anemone's disappeared, and Barbatos stood close by, happily observing your heartfelt reunion. Soon the three of you parted.

"Hold him, please." You gently requested of Barbatos, handing Grim to him, to which he obliged, holding the cat-like creature carefully. "As for you two." You scolded, grabbing Ace and Deuce's ears. "What were you thinking? Azul! Really! That was an awful idea!"

"It was a risk we had to take, and it worked, didn't it! You're here!" Ace tried to defend.

"Yeah, no thanks to Azul." You let them go. "It was Barbatos, and several others that had a hand in doing that from the other side, not Azul."

"Then how are we free?" Deuce asked. "I doubt Azul would've let us go without him getting you here."

"Barbatos." You gestured to your friend. "He found a loophole in your contracts." You took Grim back from him. "You should really thank him." You glared at the two.

"Thank you." All three of them chorused. Barbatos laughed.

"It's really, no trouble at all."

Simeon:

You had a hunch that Grim would end up in Heartslabyul, so that's where you went first. What you did not expect to find was Riddle and Azul about to lose their minds as they tried to help Kalim study. You sympathized with their frustration, you too, had tried to tutor Kalim once upon a time, only achieving minor success in that he passed the test, but not by a very large margin.

"Umm." You mumbled, looking over at the table. "So... maybe time for a break?"

"MC!" Kalim exclaimed, the first to notice your presence despite you having spoken, the other two being too stressed to notice.

He got up from the table, rushing over and squeezing you into an insanely tight hold. You wheezed at his grip, but hugged him back nonetheless. He was beaming as he let you go, starting to pull out his phone. Knowing he was about to call Jamil, and also knowing Jamil does not get enough breaks, you quickly stopped him.

"This is Simeon." You introduced quickly. "He attends my new school."

"Oh! Hi, I'm Kalim al Asim! I'm the Housewarden of Scarabia." Kalim introduced, bright smile on his face.

"You two alive back there?" You called gently.

"I fear, I've had more luck tutoring Ace and Deuce." Riddle mumbled.

"Yeah, definitely time for a break." You hummed, looking towards the two. "Kalim, do you happen to know where Grim is?"

"He's with the other first years running an errand for Trey." Kalim explained cheerfully.

"Yes, he should be back soon." Azul reported, rubbing his temples. "Maybe when he gets back he can make us some tea."

"Herbal tea, to be drank in the evenings." Riddle agreed quietly, looking exhausted.

"Are they usually like this?" Simeon whispered to you as Kalim went back to the table, starting to chat with the other two housewardens.

"Tutoring Kalim is more work than keeping Mammon from going gambling." You whispered back. "And I've done both." Simeon winced in sympathy. "What's the subject you're studying, Kalim?"

"They're helping me with language arts."

"Isn't that a middle school and elementary course?" Simeon wondered.

"Simeon can help!" You volunteered.

"I can?"

"He can?" Azul and Riddle looked hopeful.

"He can." You agreed, before looking at Simeon. "Come on, Simeon, you're amazing at the subject, you're a writer!" You tried to persuade. "Please? Grim will be back soon anyway."

"Alright." He sighed.

"Great! I'll make tea." You volunteered.

"Herbal tea." Riddle called after you as started towards the door.

"Yep! The only tea you may drink in the evenings is herbal tea, rule 153." You recited, winking at Riddle, before venturing towards the kitchen.

Trey wasn't in the kitchen, so you were able to boil the water, and start the brewing process without anyone interrupting. You brought the teapot, and necessary teacups in a few different trips, not wanting to break anything, and allowing the tea ample time to steep in the pot, as Simeon endeavored to tutor Kalim.

You didn't talk as you poured tea for all three Housewardens, yourself, and Simeon, allowing them to add sugar or whatever they wanted to the tea themselves, as you sat at the table. Simeon, ever patient, was actually doing rather well at tutoring Kalim, though you did notice that he was uses the same method he uses when teaching Luke something. Strict and firm, and not giving him the answer at all. Simeon's great, and you do study together, but most of the time Satan tutors you in the stuff you don't know.

You sat at the table, witnessing the interaction as the other two decompressed. You felt their pain, allowing them to sit in silence, knowing how much of a job it can be to tutor Kalim. The boy means well, truly, but it can be rather difficult to teach him. Kalim is sweet, but hard to teach. But everyone has their flaws.

"Look who I found." A familiar voice called as the doors burst open and your friends fell through the door. Jamil stood over them, glaring at them.

"What have they done now?" Riddle sighed.

"Nothing really, but, I would appreciate it if they wouldn't run rampant in Scarabia when I'm not there." Jamil sighed. "Is that tea?"

"It is." You concurred, raising your teacup to him.

"MC!" Your friends exclaimed at the sound of your voice.

They were all tangled, but Grim, the smallest of the bunch, got free first, and lunged for you. You managed to set your cup down in time to catch the feline, laughing as you did. You hugged him tight as he nuzzled into you.

It didn't take your friends long to untangle their limbs, and once they did, they lunged for you as well, though you had stood up by then to prevent them from knocking into the table. Your heartfelt reunion, however, was interrupted by Kalim asking a question. It was a valid question, but, and interesting question nonetheless.

"So, wait, where did you end up after you disappeared?"

"Oh, that's," You hesitated, "not... the most important thing right now."

"They ended up with a headmaster that actually treats them right." Simeon smiled in a way that looked polite to anyone else, but sent shivers down your spine. "And they're in a home that is well-taken care of, and are provided good nutritious meals at least three times a day."

"I'm safe and happy." You explained simply. "That's what matters. And, Dia says we might be able to keep the portal open on specific days! If he doesn't kill Crowley before he works out a schedule." You shrugged.

"You'll come back?" Deuce asked, nearly in tears.

"Yeah, but not as a student." You chuckled lightly. "I'm enrolled at a different school now, and it treats me really well."

"But then I won't be able to go to school here!" Grim complained, though you knew it was a veiled attempt to get you back.

"You can go to school with me. I'm sure we can work something out with the headmaster of my school." You reassured, petting his head lightly. "But I will come back as a visitor, how else am I going to keep up with the chaos of this school?" You asked, smiling at the group. "Oh! Speaking of, this is Simeon, he actually attends my school." You gestured to the angel.

"He's a good tutor! Does he teach you?" Kalim asked, smiling.

"He does not, I have a different tutor. But we do study together sometimes." You smiled back.

Solomon:

"You simply must meet Crewel." You demanded as you marched through the school, Solomon on your heels.

"And your cat?"

"It's his alchemy period anyway." You shrugged. "Two birds, one stone."

"Efficient." He agreed.

"Exactly!" You beamed.

You both made your way from the room in which the Dark Mirror is kept, through the school, towards Crewels classroom. The fond memories of this place, made you smile, but you both knew to be cautious. You never know where Crowley might pop up, and you'd rather not run into him with Solomon.

Solomon tends to be rather protective. While you appreciate it, and you're actually rather thankful for that protective streak most of the time. But, you'd rather not have him go on a rampage because of your previous mistreatment while he's here, he can be rather scary when he's angry. Not that he's ever been extraordinarily angry with you, but you've witnessed his anger directed at other people, and you're still hesitant to anger him.

That being said, he is patient a good majority of the time. You like to say it's a sign of his age, he likes to tell you to shut up about it because he doesn't need to hear that from someone several centuries younger than him. The interaction is one that happens often, and always makes you laugh, which is why he always says the exact same thing.

Despite not wanting him to go on a rampage, you were rather happy that he was here. His presence is soothing, and, it also means that if Crowley pops up, you won't have to worry so much.

You knocked on the door to the alchemy classroom, waiting patiently for a response. You got an exasperated sigh, and, you're sure, many quiet relieved ones based on the tone.

"What?" You opened the door with a smile on your face.

"I thought I'd stop by to pick up my trouble-making cat." You teased.

"MC!" Grim, Ace, and Deuce yelled.

"Pup." You almost didn't hear Crewel, but you did, despite him being behind his desk, and you at the top of the stairs.

Grim reached you first, not caring about ruining peoples work, or jumping on their heads, crashing into your torso face first, and gripping at you with his paws. You laughed, hugging him back just as tightly. But, to your surprise, it wasn't Ace and Deuce that made it to you after that, it was Crewel.

Crewel had raced up the stairs, quickly grabbing your face as if to examine it for injury or sign of distress. You just smiled at him. He squashed both you and Grim into a hug, though you didn't really mind, missing the hugs of one of your favorite professors. Once he let the two of you go, he started prodding at you, looking over your arms, and your clothes, as if making sure that now you were being taken care of, you had the good stuff, not just the basics.

Once he had determined that you were in good condition, with good enough resources, he did what any father figure does when worried out of their mind about their child figure. He scolded you.

"Where did you go! Why didn't you call! You just disappeared, no notice, no one was told anything, just up and vanished!"

"That wasn't actually my fault." You tried to explain.

"And then you just show up, looking healthier than you ever did here, with a man whom I have never met or seen,"

"That's Solomon." You interrupted, but were ignored.

"And you just expect me to not question everything!"

"Actually, I expected you to question everything, but that's besides the point." You sighed. "Professor Crewel, this is Solomon, he's one of the people I go to school with now. He is a very successful sorcerer, one of the best in the world, certainly the greatest human sorcerer." You introduced, smiling. "Solomon, this is Professor Crewel."

"I gathered that." He smiled.

"And this is Grim. These two idiots are Ace, and Deuce." You explained as the two quickly hugged you tightly. "I wanted you two to meet, I thought,"

"I came as quick as I heard!" You flinched, violently, at the new, loud, and excited voice. One you'd come to loathe, and would haunt your nightmares. "My student returned! And I'd be oh so kind, as to let you re-enroll! You can step right back into your duties."

"Crowley." You glared. "I am no longer your student. I attend the Royal Academy of Diavolo now. And I will not be returning to Night Raven as a student."

Your hands shook slightly, but you knew that you'd be ok. If he laid a hand on you, that'd basically be declaring war with the Seven Deadly Sins, all of whom are rather protective, and powerful. And he wouldn't want that.

"Ah, so this is Crowley." Ah yes. The powerful sorcerer you brought with you that has a vendetta against your former headmaster. How could you forget.

"Solomon." You said in a warning tone, though you knew he felt no actual obligation to heed your warning.

"Yes, I can work with this."

"Don't do anything that may get us in trouble, Solomon." You sighed, giving up trying to actually prevent him from doing anything. "Diavolo and Lucifer both asked us to be diplomatic. And you know how disappointed Luke would be if you solved this issue with violence."

"No violence necessary." He smiled at you.

"Or if you solved this issue with illegal means." He hummed thoughtfully.

"Illegal here, or illegal in the Devildom?"

"Well, let's see." You sighed, but actually considered it. "Preferably both, but we'll go with here since we're here right now."

"I can do both."

"Transformation potions are illegal in Twisted Wonderland." You scolded lightly when you saw him reach for a vial in his cloak.

"Ah darn. And here I was hoping to test out the new potion Satan recommended me."

"Is this normal?" Ace stage-whispered.

"Unfortunately, yes." You hummed, petting Grim on the head. "But, that being said, Solomon isn't going to kill Crowley."

"He's not?" Deuce asked, almost incredulously as he glanced between the wicked smile on Solomon's face, and you.

"Well," You shrugged, "not yet, at least. There's still the line."

"Line?" Crewel raised an eyebrow, gently tugging you away from the sorcerer that looked like he was about to use the Geneva Conventions as a checklist.

"Yes, the line." You sighed.

"What line?" Ace asked.

"The line of," You looked up at Solomon, recognizing the spell he was starting, "Ooh! If you're using that spell can you go on theme? Then afterwards we can give the result to Mammon, he can always use more familiars."

"Good point." Solomon agreed, adjusting the spell slightly.

"The line?" Crewel prompted.

"The line of people who wish to beat Crowley to a bloody pulp. See, my new friends are rather.... protective.... and powerful. They were not very happy when I explained the circumstances of my enrollment here, and the conditions I was living in."

"More powerful than Solomon."

"Mmm. I think that depends on who you ask. Personally, I think they're all surprisingly equal in terms of power and experience. But, if you ask any of them, you may get a different answer. Watch this."

You tugged on Crewel's sleeve as you watched Solomon shoot the spell with precision at the Headmaster who had finally realized he was in danger. It hit him dead on. And in a puff of black feathers, Dire Crowley no longer stood before Solomon, but a slightly larger than average crow did.

"Solomon is adept in almost all forms of magic. Transformation magic is just a personal favorite of mine that he does. I think it's cool." You smiled as Solomon picked up the crow and turned to you. You laughed, seeing that it had a top hat resting atop its head. "I wanted to introduce him to you." You looked to Crewel. "I think you both would learn a lot from each other." He smiled at you fondly, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

Luke: STRICTLY PLATONIC

"An Un-Birthday Party? What's an Un-Birthday Party?" Luke asked as you patted some rose petals off his shoulder. You were crouched down in front of him, fussing lightly over his outfit.

"An Un-Birthday Party is a birthday party that takes place when it is no ones birthday." You explained, slightly straightening his hat.

"Ok, that sort of makes sense. But why did that, terrified looking, student say it was special."

"Apparently," you sighed, standing up, "Riddle has realized that this day happens to be a day in which no one in any dorm has a birthday, and so he's invited all the dorms, sort of like an Ultimate Un-Birthday Party. It's chaotic. I don't know why he did this. But he's doing it. So, I guess this means you get to meet everyone at once." You shrugged.

"This sounds, like it'd be hard for one person to handle."

"Which is why I'm sure most of the Housewardens and Vice-Housewardens will be doing their best to ensure everything is running smoothly."

"Most?"

"Well," You laughed lightly, "Leona's never been too reliable with wrangling his dorm members unless provoked to do so. And listen to me," You knelt down again, "do not, under any circumstance, eat any of the food Lilia prepared. Or Floyd. You can never tell what his cooking is going to be good because his mood is so unpredictable." You warned. He nodded, as if you've given him a life-or-death mission. Which in a way, you kind of had. "But, most of the food here will be good, so don't worry too much." You smiled, standing up once again. "Alright, onward. Take my hand, I don't want you to get lost in the crowd." He nodded, grabbing your hand.

Most of the people in the crowd were people who didn't recognize you. Though you did know a lot of people at Night Raven, there were so many more people you didn't because the school is huge. Therefore, it was easy to slip through the crowd without a commotion erupting which would draw attention. Luke was good at staying close, which was a relief, because he could so easily be swept away with how many people are here. And then you'd never hear the end of it from Solomon.

"Do I spy a Shrimpy?" You stiffened at the familiar voice.

"Faster, faster." You whispered to Luke, speeding up the pace, starting to drag the poor boy along. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You started quietly apologizing repeatedly as you realized that you were just dragging him along with you. But he picked up the pace to avoid being dragged behind you.

You finally exited the crowd, both of you panting from how fast you were both going, and from how difficult navigating the crowd was. You and him laughed lightly at the absurdity of the situation.

"You two look like you could use something to eat." You beamed up at the familiar voice.

"Trey!" You smiled. "It's good to see you!" You stood up, hugging the man who was holding a tray of cookies.

"This is Trey?" Luke asked excitedly.

"The one and only." You smiled back at Luke, letting Trey go. "Trey this is Luke, he's like my adoptive son/younger brother." You explained. "And he's a really good baker. Might even give you a run for your money."

"That so?" Trey asked, smiling at Luke. "I'd love to see what you can do one of these days." He winked, gently patted Luke's head through his hat.

"Is Grim around here?"

"Last I saw, he was with Kalim, and both him and Kalim were being scolded by Riddle and Jamil."

"Really? Ace and Deuce had nothing to do with that?"

"Not as far as I'm aware. They've been on their best behavior. Riddle finds it suspicious."

"As do I." You narrowed your eyes slightly, glancing around for them. "Well, if you see them, send the my way, I would love to see them." You smiled at Trey. "And while I'm sure you two would be able to talk for hours and hours about baking, we have to get Grim before that can happen."

"I can take you to them, it's easier to get through the crowd with a Housewarden or a Vice-Housewarden." Trey offered.

"If you wouldn't mind, that'd be great."

Trey smiled, before leading you, and Luke, through the massive crowd of people and towards where Riddle, Grim, Jamil, and Kalim were. And, true to his word, Riddle and Jamil were scolding Kalim and Grim, who were kneeling before them, looking guilty and regretful.

You decided that you really didn't want to know hat they had done to anger both of them, and earn a scolding in the middle of an Unbirthday Party.

Instead, you walked through the two, and grabbed Grim off the ground, spinning him around in a circle as you held him tight. He struggled for a bit before recognizing you, and letting you hold him, him squeezing you back. You did, however, quickly apologize to Riddle for stealing him away, but he was in an intense staring contest with Luke, and did not acknowledge your statement.

"How old are you?" Riddle asked suspiciously.

"Older than you might think." You answered in Luke's stead. "Which, reminds me not to let you meet Lucifer." You mumbled, fearing how that interaction would end. "Riddle, this is Luke. Luke, this is Riddle, the Housewarden of Heartslabyul." You introduced. "You've probably figured out that this is Grim. And this," You smiled as you approached, standing beside Jamil, "is Jamil."

"I got to meet Trey and Jamil in one day?" He questioned excitedly, knowing of the tales of their food from you.

"And also Kalim. He's the Housewarden of Scarabia" You pointed to the boy who was still kneeling behind you.

"I have so many questions for you." Luke looked up at Jamil and Trey with wonder in his eyes.

"Yeah, sorry about that." You laughed lightly, petting Grim's head. "I told Luke about your cooking and baking skills, and he loves to do both, so he's been really excited about meeting you both." You told the two Vice-Housewardens.

"Can you teach me about the spices you use in your cooking? I really want to try to recreate the curry MC said you made them." Luke looked up at Jamil.

"He's not... like Lilia, is he? Or Kalim?"

"No. No! Goodness no. He's had to suffer through someone who cooks the same way Lilia does, trust me, Luke is much, much better than Lilia. And Kalim. No offense, Kalim." You said as you helped him up with one hand, as Grim is still clinging to you, so you were holding him with the other.

"None taken. I may try, but I'm not a very good cook." He admitted, smiling. "It's good to see you again, MC." Kalim gave you a tight hug, before Grim yowled.

"You're crushing me! You're crushing me!" He yelled.

"Sorry!" Both you and Kalim exclaimed, parting as Grim climbed your shirt, rounding your shoulders, laying across them.

"This kid, this kid is my new favorite." Jamil concluded.

It almost shocked you, Jamil doesn't really have favorites, he tends to resent everyone equally, but it's Luke, and most people can't resist the young angels puppy-dog eyes and wonder. He's won Mammon over and some of the other demons as well. You're decently sure his puppy dog eyes could solve most conflicts, but you don't want to risk Luke's safety in order to prove that theory.

"I will teach you, everything." Jamil promised Luke, who beamed in response.

"And I'll teach you some stuff too, kid. Though from what I hear you could give me a run for my money already." Trey laughed, patting his head.

"Success!" You turned at the familiar voice of Epel Felmier behind you. "I knew Rook being my Vice-Housewarden would come in handy!" He laughed triumphantly. "Take that Ace!" Epel ran over and gave you a quick hug.

"It's good to see you too Epel." You smiled.

"Ace owes me twenty Thaumarks." Epel smirked wickedly.

"MC." Luke whispered, walking over and tugging on your shirt. You leaned closer to him so he could whisper into your ear. "I'm taller than some of the people here." He smiled. "It's nice to be tall for once."

You tried, and failed, not to start laughing at his statement, knowing that he was right, but it was still funny, and you kind of felt bad for that. Especially because both Epel and Riddle were giving you confused looks.

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