#which makes things worse because now he's getting withdrawals and he's just there simmering in his own emotional constipation like:

[suusoh]

Imagine post Rurenheim Johan experiencing non-sexual intimacy for the first time. And i don’t mean just cuddling, but stuff like someone scratching your scalp absentmindedly and you get that tingly feeling. Or even slightly “sexual” stuff like the little tingles from neck kisses. Just the weird physiological responses of touching someone else. I feel like he’d go insane. One second he’s a sopping wet drama queen and the next he’s frozen in place cause he got goosebumps or something

REALLLLL. I said on this blog somewehere (here!) that Johan treats his attraction like a medical disease. So I wouldn't be surprised if reader hugged johan once, sincerely, and he is going through all the symptoms of emotional shock lmaoo:

[highfaelucien]

I completely agree with how you feel towards azriel. Thinking about azriel’s character now vs how I used to view him during acomaf times is just... sad and so so so much more complex. Part of me still wants to love him for the character that was presented to us in acomaf and other small good moments, like his friendship with nesta. And then the other part of me is disgusted, disappointed, and honestly kind of terrified of who he may become if sjm allows him to continue acting predatorily/toxic. The whole mor/az situation really fucked me up. As someone who is also a lesbian and an abuse survivor, it broke my heart to watch the situation unfold in acowar. It still hurts seeing many readers (and sometimes even sjm) take az’s side and paint mor as some sort of liar/two faced character that is playing everyone. I kept thinking that things would be fixed in future books, but instead az has grown worse and mor was, once again, sidelined and written out as a character. And honestly... as much as I love the idea of gwyn x azriel ... I think his books would need a lot more focus on his own recovery/growth and not center on a romantic relationship. If anything, I hope it’s written as friends to lovers so az has a better way of interacting and forming relationships with women. Because right now... well, that shit is borderline predatory and isn’t coming across well. And I really really do not want that for him. Basically, azriel deserves a better arc than what has been written for him. I miss him :( he used to be a character that made me feel safe and now :/ idk anymore

I'm going to quote parts of this/chop it up and reply to them a chunk at a time. because there's a lot going on here and I want to try and reply to as much as I can because I resonate with.....all of it. Please forgive me for the length of this.

I completely agree with how you feel towards azriel. Thinking about azriel’s character now vs how I used to view him during acomaf times is just... sad and so so so much more complex.

He feels like a different character? There was always an anger simmering under the calm surface, we knew that. But it was an anger born of love, deep down, and the desire to protect his family, and his court, at the expense of himself. Az was always the first to volunteer himself for dangerous missions, to spare the others.

Now that anger is directed at his family, and at the world, for not giving him what he feels he 'deserves'. That has NEVER been Azriel. Azriel's deepest issues and insecurities have always stemmed from the feeling of being unworthy, and undeserving of anything.

She's just made him into......Every other dude in this series tbh. Snarling, and possessive, and wanting to fuck anything in a skirt that moves.

Azriel was actually somewhat of an original, complex character initially. It's unusual that we see trauma affect men in the way it did Az. Usually it makes them angry, and vengeful, and eager to prove they are the alpha etc. Seeing them withdraw, and think less of themselves/that they're unworthy is something not explored often enough. But bye bye nuance hello #Drama.

Part of me still wants to love him for the character that was presented to us in acomaf and other small good moments, like his friendship with nesta.

I feel this. I found a lot of comfort in Az's character. Particularly the way he reacted with Mor. I was a big fan of their relationship, and I wrote a few 'missing scenes' style fics in the gap between ACOMAF and ACOWAR. One of them was where Az went to her when she had pushed everyone else away, including Cassian, and comforted and calmed her.

I hate that Maas took that away from Mor. I hate that Az no longer does that for her. I hate that Az was the one to betray her along with Rhys and bring her abuser into her safe space behind her back. I hate that he is no longer a symbol of calm, stable, dependable comfort and support for Mor, but is instead a threat. I HATE it.

Every now and then Az has lovely, gentle moments - his friendship with Nesta is a good example, and something I hoped we'd see. But also quieter times with Rhys, and their similarities being explored. And I adored the flying lessons with Feyre in ACOWAR, and the training he did with Cassian and the others in ACOFS.

But then she goes and twists him and does something else that just makes me want to fucking scream. Like the High Lord scene where he 'frightened' Mor. And his entire POV chapter which is frankly fucking gross.

And then the other part of me is disgusted, disappointed, and honestly kind of terrified of who he may become if sjm allows him to continue acting predatorily/toxic.

I agree.

I don't know how she can write a series that explores the effects of emotional abuse so well with Feyre and Tamlin...And then write what she did with Az?

The possession to a traumatised, still impressionable and desperate young woman, who likely finds the same comfort and safety in him that Mor did. Before that got shot to fucking pieces.

He sounds like a whiny toddler 'Cassian has a mate, and Rhys has a mate, where is mine!?!?!?!?' I DESERVE Elain, because I'm your brother and you guys have her sisters and what the FUCK. Who let that shit get published holy mother of god.

It's just...It's so unhealthy? Like, not even talking ship wars here (which I'm aware are rampant, and which I'm trying my best to stay away from). But that just.

How can that ever be a healthy foundation for a relationship? A man who thinks that he deserves, not only to be in a relationship with her, but to be bonded to her. Not because of HER, not because of who she is, or how she makes him feel. No. Purely because her sisters are mated to his brothers?

The whole thing made me feel so uncomfortable. It's predatory and toxic, just as you said. It's not right, it's not fair. Forget alliances and Lucien, even if none of that was a factor, that sort of thinking is still not right. And it's completely unfair to Elain.

But it also just. It didn't read like Azriel. The first part, where he struggles to sleep, and pushes himself until he passes out, and the insight that his shadows are basically hovering beside him screaming SELF CARE YOU DUMB BITCH at all times was very pleasing.

And the part where he goes to Clotho and leaves an anonymous gift for Gwyn. No fanfair. No audience. No pressure on either of them to react/perform. That felt like Az, too.

But everything in the middle. Everything with Elain, was just...Gross and out of character. And this is not because I dislike E/riel as a ship. I could get on board with it, tbh, if it wasn't written the way it was.

But it's not about ships, for me. It's just. Everything felt out of character. The predatory way he was with her. The fact he lies awake and gets himself off to fantasies of her. How apparently quickly he was aroused by putting a necklace on her. Idk, maybe it's my ace ignorance, but that doesn't sound normal/healthy to me.

Nor does him having to leave a room because he can scent her mating bond with Lucien. Or not being able to control himself to sit and eat dinner with her?

This is the same dude who has, apparently, been in love with Mor for 500 solid years, and who never did a damned thing about it. Who always kept himself in check. Even while she's had other lovers. But he can't control himself through one dinner with Elain?

It just. It doesn't feel like him. It feels like...Honestly not even Cassian. It feels like Tamlin on horny, predatory steroids. And that's not something I ever wanted to see from Azriel's POVs.

She could have explored a darker side to him without making it sexual? And misogynistic. And having him treating Elain as little more than a fucking object that he feels entitled to because 'everyone else got one, where's mine?'. What the FUCK???

The more I write it the more angry I get.

Because SJM has consistently put Az in the position of saving women when they were in danger? He was the one who found Mor near death at Autumn. He was the one who rescued Gwyn from her attackers during the war. He was the one to retrieve Elain when she was taken.

She always puts him in this position and, for better or worse, presents him as a safety figure for these women. The first person who they saw come for them, and fight for them, and protect them.

And on the inside she makes him this vile, predatory monster who just thinks constantly about fucking them? Who isn't actually safe at all?? It's sad. And it's infuriating. Because this isn't about ships anymore. This is about female survivors who have an apparent safe person who's presented as almost as dangerous as the people who attacked them in the first place. And that makes me feel so sick and sad that we've gotten here.

It still hurts seeing many readers (and sometimes even sjm) take az’s side and paint mor as some sort of liar/two faced character that is playing everyone. I kept thinking that things would be fixed in future books, but instead az has grown worse and mor was, once again, sidelined and written out as a character.

This is yet another vile thing SJM has done to queer readers with this whole fiasco. Because it puts me in a position where I want to call out her shitty writing, and what she's done to Mor - sidelining her as soon as she became queer. Undermining her power and her strength. Undermining her role as the survivor to look up to. Saying her power is truth but then making her seem like a liar. Which is all shitty, shitty, shitting writing.

But I'm also a queer person. And I will always always ALWAYS want to defend a queer person's right to remain closeted. Regardless of their reasons for doing so. But in this case it's a concern for their safety/a fear of how those around them will react. And I will NEVER condemn that. I will never say Az is suffering more than Mor for her being closeted. I will never call Mor a liar/a manipulator/two-faced when all she's doing is trying to survive.

I WILL condemn SJM for making this a scenario. For putting homophobia in her world purely to cause pain for queer characters, and drama for her straight ones. And for sidelining Mor as soon as she can't write graphic scenes with her fucking men because now she's a lesbian so we best get her off the page so the guys can get their cocks out some more.

And honestly... as much as I love the idea of gwyn x azriel ... I think his books would need a lot more focus on his own recovery/growth and not center on a romantic relationship. If anything, I hope it’s written as friends to lovers so az has a better way of interacting and forming relationships with women. Because right now... well, that shit is borderline predatory and isn’t coming across well. And I really really do not want that for him.

This is going to sound sarcastic but I actually mean it fully and completely genuinely: 95% of the drama inducing problems in this series could be fixed with some fucking therapy.

But I agree with you. I think it's high time Azriel worked on his own issues. Even if they've apparently made a complete 180 from what they were in ACOMAF.

I...Like the concept of Gwyn/Azriel, but I'm not sold on the ship. Not with the way Maas has been writing Azriel lately. That kind of man shouldn't be with any woman right now. But especially not a rape survivor who sees him as one of the first men she's been able to trust in a long time.

Basically, azriel deserves a better arc than what has been written for him. I miss him :( he used to be a character that made me feel safe and now :/ idk anymore

"he used to be a character that made me feel safe" - This shit hit me like a tonne of bricks because this is EXACTLY how I feel about Az, too. You just managed to say it in a few words instead of 12 pages of rambling, like I do.

And I think this was intention. Azriel was presented as a very dependable character. He rescued Mor, and was respectful enough to keep his distance, despite his feelings, for 500 fucking years. Because he didn't think she was ready/interested.

He had a very calm, and calming air about him. Always in control of himself. Without the expected bursts of aggression and temper we'd seen from...Every other male character in this series. He was stable, and solid, and that was comforting. An anchor. And someone who would quietly, and without fuss, seek out Mor/others when they needed someone to talk to or comfort him.

That was a very soothing, reassuring presence in the book, I felt. And now she's made him seem...volatile, and unstable. With this dangerous anger that he can't control, that he uses not to protect, but to intimidate, and to fuel his entitlement and desires.

it's just sad. It's sad that she's taken this away from Mor, but also from other survivors who found comfort and safety in Az. Because I'm sure we weren't alone in that regard.

I miss him. And I mourn the character he was, and feel anger for the character he should have been. but instead he's become yet another possessive, entitled, snarling cardboard cutout dude like...everyone else.

And I ache for the Az/Mor dynamic that we had in ACOMAF. Even without it becoming romantic, there was no reason for that to be destroyed/ruined.

She could have written it that Az is the only one who knows about her sexuality, and that he pretends he's still in love with her as a shield/buffer, so no one looks too closely/to protect her and make her feel comfortable.

Instead she turned it into a soap opera style drama. And wrote it almost as though her sexuality was her cheating on him? Denying him what he deserved. And now she's just...just pussyfooting around it. And apparently he's just. Just moved on. Without them having any kind of conversation or closure at all. He just wanks off to the thought of Elain instead of Mor, now, problem solved /s

I miss what they were. I miss what he was to Mor. I miss when she had that support system, and that safety net. I miss when he protected her. And looked out for her. And understood her in a way that no one else, not even Rhys, did.

Mor deserved that. Azriel deserved that. WE deserved that. And she nuked it for some fucking twisted drama that punishes a lesbian because a man is thirsting after her. it's a fucking disgrace. I'm so fucking done with SJM, y'all. So fucking done.

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away,  so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal.  If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 5,895

Chapter Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, choking, attempted murder, manipulation, and references to past abuse

Chapter Summary: Wilbur and Tommy speak to Dream. It doesn’t go fantastically (though Wilbur does beat him up, so there’s that).

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Six: hide your soul out of his reach (ii)

Most people never think to guess that he is Technoblade’s brother.

There is a reason for that, of course; they are both adopted, for one thing, and they look nothing alike, which is why he used to like to say that they were twins. It was always funny, to watch Techno roll his eyes and get all exasperated and try once again to explain to him that that’s not how twins work, Wilbur, and it would always make him feel warm inside, because no matter his irritation, Techno never quite got around to saying that they’re not.

But whether by blood or no, he is Technoblade’s brother, and he has something of the Blade in him, something of his simmering rage, something of his inclination toward violence, the urge for blood howling in his soul, screaming at him to protect what is his.

And so.

“Hi, Tommy,” Dream says. “It’s good to see you,” and Wilbur is moving without having given himself permission to do so, a wordless snarl curling in the back of his throat. For a moment, he forgets where he is, forgets what he’s here for, forgets who he has at his side. His attention is focused on one thing and one thing only, and he launches himself forward, and the sudden sting in his knuckles as they impact porcelain is nothing in the face of the grunt that Dream lets out, surprised and pained. A crack rings through the room, and he withdraws his hand to see a new break in Dream’s mask, a new fracture, and nothing is so satisfying as the knowledge that he put it there.

Dream is staggering back, seeking to regain his balance. Wilbur regards him for a moment, his head strangely clear, and then decides not to let him.

They go down in a heap, Dream’s head bouncing off the hard obsidian floor with a gratifying thunk. Wilbur lands squarely on top of him, and his fist flies once, twice, three times. Into his mask, over and over, and the cracks widen, and the mask is breaking, and he wants to see it shattered, wants to see it come to pieces—

There is someone saying something, someone shouting. He’s not paying attention. They can wait.

Because then, Dream starts to laugh.

And the thing about it is, it doesn’t sound like what Wilbur knows his laugh is, that wheezing tea kettle noise that everyone always made fun of him for.

(gentle teasing, back in the old days, back when they were all friends, when this server was a safe place, a good community, back before it all went wrong, and perhaps he should wonder what happened to make that Dream into the monster that he is now, but he hurt Tommy and he doesn’t care)

Instead, it’s quiet and low and steady, and there is a smugness to it, a superiority even under the breathlessness, as if this is where he wants to be, as if everything is going according to plan, some plan of his, going right even though Wilbur is sitting on his chest and doing his level best to beat his face in, and—

How dare he have the nerve

(how dare he have the nerve)

to laugh

(to laugh when he’s just destroyed everything around him)

after all that he’s done

(and leveled the very thing that he fought so hard to reclaim but if he cannot have it nobody can and he laughs for the joy of it, the terrible, terrible joy)

to everyone, to the server, to Tommy?

He made a list, when he woke up. He made a list. And he’s accomplished the first goal. He’s found Tommy. And his mind is separating, splitting in half, and one half has control of his body and one is watching from the outside, and the one with his body takes his hands and puts them to Dream’s throat. He can feel his pulse, rabbit-quick. His skin is warm to the touch.

He presses down, and Dream stops laughing.

The half of him that is watching begins to scream with a voice that sounds like his father’s. Begins to shout, asks him,

(can you kill a man in cold blood?)

and the answer is

(yes)

because he knows what monsters are, knows that he has one pinned beneath him, and he knows that he is one too, and only a monster can kill another monster. He will suffocate the life from him, and the world will be better for it. He will suffocate the life from him, and Tommy will be safe.

It’s one of the easiest decisions he’s ever made.

But someone is still shouting, shouting words that enter one ear and rattle around in his skull and fade away without making any kind of sense, and he ignores them. Except then, he can’t, because there are hands on his shoulders, hands trying to pull him back and away, and he resists them, doubles down, places more pressure on his stranglehold, because he wants Dream gone and he wants Dream dead and he’s not going to stop until he’s paid in full—

“—bur, please!”

But Tommy sounds scared.

Like a rubber band released, he comes back together again. His grip goes slack. He allows Tommy to pull him off.

“You can’t—” Tommy is saying, is babbling, and he has tears in his eyes, and it doesn’t make sense for him to be crying, because Dream was the one who hurt him, so he should want Dream gone, right? “Wil, you can’t, you can’t kill him, we need him, we need to talk to him, and he doesn’t, he doesn’t deserve to die, Wil, he doesn’t, so you can’t—”

“Doesn’t he?” he asks, and is surprised by the hollowness of his own voice.

Tommy falls completely silent. For a long minute, the only sound in the cell is Dream wheezing, coughing, struggling for air.

“I don’t know,” Tommy says, and he sounds so miserable that Wilbur regrets asking the question. “Maybe. I mean, I think about stabbing him every time I see him. But I—I don’t want him dead, alright? He’s in prison, and he can’t hurt anyone anymore. So I don’t want him to die.”

He hurt you, Wilbur doesn’t say. He’s still hurting you.

Because Tommy is pale and trembling, his hands shaking where they’re still gripping Wilbur’s shoulders. Because there is a waver in his voice that is wrong, that doesn’t belong, that Wilbur has heard only a handful of times before. Because sometimes, Wilbur will look at him, and his eyes will be far too old, older than any sixteen-year-old’s should be, and part of that is on him, he knows, he knows, but Dream is responsible for so much of the rest.

“I don’t want him to die,” Tommy repeats, and Wilbur realizes that he’s been silent for too long, that Tommy must have taken it as disagreement. “And I don’t want you to kill him, okay? Not like—not like this.”

He’s not entirely sure what that’s supposed to mean.

He opens his mouth, and no sound comes out. So he clears his throat and tries again, and he’s not sure why he’s so hoarse, since he wasn’t the one being strangled, but his voice is a croak.

“Fine,” he says. “But you can’t—if he so much as looks at you wrong, I’m not about to fucking hold back. You get that, right? I’m not letting him—I wasn’t there when it counted. So I’m gonna make it count now. I’m doing my damnedest to make it count now. So if he does anything, I’m not letting it go. I’m not letting him do shit.”

Tommy’s hands tighten. For a second, Wilbur thinks he sees tears in his eyes, but then he blinks, and they’re gone, so perhaps it was his imagination. He has to think it was his imagination, because otherwise he’s going to lose his mind. Because Tommy doesn’t cry. Almost never cries. And if he cries now, it’s either because Wilbur’s fucked up massively, which is bad, or it’s because Wilbur has done something right but it’s overwhelming him because he’s not used to things going right, which would be worse. So much worse.

“Okay,” Tommy says. “Yeah. I—thanks, Wilbur.”

“Not to interrupt,” Schlatt says, and Wilbur flinches with his entire body. He’d forgotten that Schlatt was here, and now Tommy’s looking at him in confusion, and now is not the time for this. Now is definitely not the time for this. Schlatt is over by the entrance, he thinks, but he doesn’t dare turn to look. That’s too obvious. “Because this is very touching and I’m real happy for you, but he’s up again.”

He draws in a breath. And looks past Tommy. Dream is on his feet.

He exhales.

“I won’t kill you,” he says, and his voice is far cooler, far steadier than he feels, “because Tommy doesn’t want me to. That’s it. That’s what’s keeping you alive right now.” And he stands, and Tommy stands with him, shifting to be at his side rather than in front of him.

Dream inclines his head. “I get it,” he says, and Wilbur feels a vicious spark of delight at how terrible he sounds. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“Oh, shut up,” Tommy snaps. “I’m not doing it for your sake. You great green bastard.”

“It’s been pretty boring since the last time you visited,” Dream continues, as if he hadn’t spoken, and if Wilbur couldn’t hear the evidence in his voice, he would assume that the last few minutes hadn’t happened, either. Since when was Dream this unflappable? That’s not the Dream that he remembers.

(he remembers more than one Dream. he remembers the Dream who invited them to his server, who offered them a home and friends, who played war games with Tommy and Tubbo but was always so very gentle with them, who was considerate and funny and someone Wilbur was glad to call a friend. he remembers the Dream who fought against the independence of L’Manberg, cunning and bitter and angry and loud about it. he remembers the Dream who sided with Pogtopia, who always sounded as though he was smiling, laughing at all of them, like they were all a great joke whose punchline had yet to be told. he remembers the Dream who gave him the TNT, who told him to blow them all sky high, and the way his blood sang in anticipation in return and Dream knew, then, he knew what Wilbur was planning, he could tell by that damn smile)

(Ghostbur remembers the Dream of Tommy’s exile. but Ghostbur didn’t know any better than to like him, and he can’t trust memories that are colored by that)

“Tough shit,” Tommy says, more confident now, and if he thinks he has the lead on this, Wilbur’s content to let him take it. “We’ve got questions and you’re going to answer them.”

“What makes you think I have answers?” Dream asks, and—

Is he always this purposefully obtuse?

He glances at Tommy’s face, takes in the frustration written there, the resignation. Apparently so.

“If you don’t think you can help us, then we’ll just leave,” Tommy says, and it’s an odd statement, but apparently, Tommy knows what he’s doing, because Dream takes a step forward. Just one, though, and Wilbur would like to think that he knows better than to get any closer.

“I can help,” he says. “I’m glad you came to me. What’s the question?”

Silence falls for a moment. Tommy’s eyebrows go up, and Wilbur chances a glance back at Schlatt. He’s still hovering near the entrance, by the lava, and its glow permeates through his figure, a bit, rendering him translucent. His eyes are narrow, fixed on Dream.

At least he’s taking it seriously.

“Right,” Tommy says. “You’re going to make me spell it out, then. You said you could bring back Wilbur. That’s pretty much the whole reason why we left you with your third life. But, and I don’t know if you noticed this, but here he is, see? So how the fuck did you do something from in here, or if it wasn’t you, who the hell was it?”

“I did notice, actually,” Dream says, more than a bit wryly. “Hi, Wilbur, by the way. Nice to see you again.”

“I think that you should drown yourself in your sink,” Wilbur replies with an easy smile.

“So, that’s the question?” Dream says, ignoring him once again. “You want to know how I did it?”

“And why,” Tommy puts in. “Why would be good to know too, since I didn’t ask you to. You know.”

“I do know,” Dream agrees. “I have to say, I was kind of surprised at that. I thought you wanted your brother back?”

Tommy sputters. “Wha—of course I do! Did,” he tacks on, with a sidelong glance at Wilbur. “Uh, ‘cause I don’t have to anymore, because he’s here. Look, could we stay on track?”

“Sure, sure,” Dream says. “I mean, I’m not sure exactly how much I can tell you. Resurrection's a tricky business, you know. Lots of moving parts. And you get it if I don’t want to give away all my secrets. Do you want anything to eat? I can’t give you much in the way of variety, but I thought I’d offer.”

There’s something about this that Wilbur doesn’t like.

“No, we don’t want your fucking—your fucking raw potatoes,” Tommy says. “That’s disgusting, and you are a sad, pathetic man because that’s all you have to eat. Wilbur, isn’t he a sad, pathetic man?”

He nods absently. He should be chiming in. He shouldn’t be making Tommy do all the work, shouldn’t be making Tommy confront Dream himself. But there is something creeping over his mind, a nameless dread, stealing his words. And under that, a realization, one that makes no sense at all but that he is increasingly certain is right.

“You’re saying that like I have a choice,” Dream protests, sounding so mild, so even-keel, and it’s wrong, there’s something wrong with this picture. “Potatoes is all I’m given. Maybe if you talked to Sam and got him to give me something else, but unless you do that, it’s potatoes all the way.”

“I’m not getting you things,” Tommy says. “We’re not friends. You need to stop talking like we’re friends. We’re not friends, I don’t like you, I don’t like who I am around you, and I’m not talking to Sam about your fucking potatoes, Jesus Christ.”

“I mean, okay, but you can’t complain about the food when I try to give you some—”

They keep bickering. Wilbur’s only paying half of his attention to the conversation, only enough to make sure Dream doesn’t try to pull anything too terrible. The rest of him is frantically working, thinking, trying to puzzle out why this is pinging as so very off.

“I’m a good businessman, Wilbur,” Schlatt mutters, and Wilbur jumps, because he is right by his ear, the fucking stealthy ghost bastard. “I know stall tactics when I see them.”

“He’s stalling?” he asks, and only realizes his mistake when both Tommy and Dream look at him. But Schlatt is right; Dream is stalling, has been going out of his way to change the subject and goad Tommy into an argument, and that means— “You’re stalling. You’ve got no fucking clue what’s going on, do you?”

Dream laughs. “Oh, come on now,” he starts, but Wilbur’s got his number now, and he’s not going to allow him space to breathe or to spin a lie.

“No,” he presses, “none of that. No potatoes, no fucking with Tommy’s head, no games. I’m not playing games. You would’ve been so quick to gloat, if you had been the one to do this. So quick to hold it over our heads. And even if you hadn’t, but you knew who did, you would’ve dangled that information in front of us like a, a fucking carrot on a stick. Instead you’re rambling about your food and trying to pick a fight. You didn’t know I was alive until I stepped foot in this cell, did you?”

Dream is silent. His mouth is thin. There is a stream of blood slowly trickling out from under his mask.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says. “Holy shit. You bastard.”

“Well then,” Wilbur says, “I think we’re done here. Tommy, do you think we’re done here?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, shaking his head. “Yeah, I think we are.”

He turns to call out to Sam, to tell him that they’re ready to leave, but there are footsteps, and he wheels around again to see that Dream has moved closer, far too close for his liking and far too close to Tommy.

(there is something)

“Okay, maybe I don’t know why Wilbur’s back,” he says, “but don’t you think that’s concerning? It could’ve been anything, with any goals. I could help you figure it out.”

Tommy winces, and Wilbur once again feels the urge to drive his fist into Dream’s face, to put his hands around his neck and squeeze. He refrains, if only because of the look that it put on Tommy’s face the last time, the fear it put in his voice.

(there is something very wrong)

“We don’t need your help,” Wilbur jumps in before Tommy can answer.

“Right, yeah, we don’t—Sam! Sam, we’re ready to go!” Tommy calls.

“You say that now,” Dream says scornfully. For a second, Wilbur fears that he’s going to try to come forward more, to make an attempt to get out when Sam comes for them. But instead, he stands where he is, crossing his arms. “I know things about this server that no one else does. You need me.”

“We need you like we need a heart attack,” Tommy snaps. Beside him, Schlatt mutters something inaudible.

“Maybe you do,” Dream says, and then, inexplicably, his tone lightens. “I hope you visit again. I like seeing you. And this is the first time I’ve had so many visitors at once, so this was fun. We should do it another time.”

“I think that you should shut up and stop talking now,” Wilbur says, eyeing the lava as it continues to flow over the entrance. Is it taking too long? How many seconds has it been? Sam is there, isn’t he?

“Well, you three are always welcome to come back,” Dream says. “I’ll be here. Unless I’m not.”

Wilbur’s blood runs cold.

(can you see it?)

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tommy demands. “You’ve got nowhere else to go. You’re going to be staying in here for the rest of your sorry fucking existence, and I’ll come back here to tell you all about all the fun things you’re missing out on because you decided to be a fucking dickhead toward all of the people that used to care about. How’s that, then?”

“As long as you visit,” Dream says mildly. He’s smiling. There is blood on his lips.

“He’s looking at me,” Schlatt whispers. “He’s looking at me, Wilbur, oh god oh fuck he is looking right at me, how the fuck is he—”

Dream tilts his head. Schlatt cuts off, making a choked sound.

“I’m still the admin of this server,” Dream says. “Putting me in a box doesn’t change that. So if you’ve got more questions, I’m happy to answer them whenever.” His smile broadens. “Not just about this, too. If the Egg ever starts being a problem, feel free to come to me. Not like I’ve got anything else to do.”

Finally, finally, the lava curtain drops. Sam is standing on the other side, entirely too far away, and the platform is approaching, entirely too slowly. Wilbur feels locked in place, mind ringing out with three, three, three. He shouldn’t know that. He should have no way to know that, admin or not. He shouldn’t—so how does he—?

(look closer look closer do you see it do you see it do you see there’s something wrong with)

“The Egg?” Tommy asks, and the platform is here. Tommy hesitates, clearly torn between staying and following this new line of questioning, and going. But then, he shakes his head vigorously. “No. No, we’re not doing this. Goodbye, Dream.” He strides out onto the platform.

Wilbur lingers a moment. Schlatt has disappeared.

Dream is staring at him. He can’t see his eyes, but he knows, deep in his soul, that they are boring into his.

So he turns on his heel and joins Tommy on the platform. It begins to move, and he can’t help the glance back over his shoulder. Dream is still there. Unmoving. And if he does make a motion, he doesn’t do it until they are across, until the lava has dropped back down, masking him from sight.

..........

The pressure in his chest lifts as they step outside. He sucks in a deep breath, relishing the fresh air in his lungs, air that is bright and clean and smells of grass rather than hard stone and the bitter heat of lava. The sun is bright in the sky, and he has to blink a few times to readjust to the light.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted,” Sam says.

“He’s a dickhead,” Tommy says, oddly quiet. “Didn’t really expect much.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if he says anything to me,” Sam says, and then winces. “Anything relevant, anyway. He talks a lot.”

Tommy snorts, looking away. “Tell me about it,” he says, and his demeanor is definitely strange, subdued. He seems better, less fidgety than when they were inside, but still not at ease. “Or don’t, actually. I don’t want to hear about what that sick, sick man tells you.”

“Probably for the best,” Sam agrees, and then turns to him. “It was nice seeing you, Wilbur. Welcome back to life, I guess.”

There are a multitude of ways he could respond to that. Thank you would be easiest, would be what’s expected. Part of him wants to answer with something snarky, something sarcastic, something that reveals just how much he appreciates being here, but he won’t do that, not with Tommy standing right there. He’s trying to be positive. Trying to be better, trying to at least pretend to be happy. For him. He needs to keep to that, especially now, after whatever the fuck that was in there. So, thank you it is, then, and he opens his mouth to say it, except what actually comes out is, “He can’t get out of there, can he?”

Sam is silent for a long moment. His face does something that Wilbur can’t quite interpret, not with the mask covering half of it, but his eyes go a little wider, his brows a little more furrowed. It’s almost like understanding, or perhaps pity, and Wilbur doesn’t like either option. He doesn’t want to be understood, not really, doesn’t want people to think they understand him before he expressly allows them to, and he has no use for pity.

(villains are not meant for pity, and he still has Dream’s blood on his knuckles)

“No,” Sam says. “As long as I live, he will never set foot outside this prison.”

He says it with such conviction that Wilbur has to believe him. But somehow, it doesn’t set him much at ease. He can’t stop thinking about it, what Dream said, what he implied that he saw, the way he stared, motionless and intent and predatory, in a way, even though he was weaponless and armorless and subsisting off of raw potatoes. He should hold no power, be no threat, and yet, Wilbur can’t make himself relax.

“Alright. Thank you, Sam,” he says. Sam nods.

“Of course,” he says. And then, he’s stepping away, heading back into those dark walls, to that swirling portal that opens for none but who the warden wishes. And then, he is gone.

“Right then,” Tommy says, after a beat of silence. “Home?”

“Yeah,” he says, and feels exhaustion settle in, that constant companion.

So they do. They go home. They run into no one on the way, once again, and Tommy notices his confusion about it this time and tells him that no one truly lives in the area anymore, not since L’Manberg’s third and final destruction, and Tommy says it in such an offhand way that he doesn’t have a good response to it. Doesn’t have a good response to the way he seems to accept its loss, as if it was inevitable, only natural that everyone should have up and left the area, and it’s true that Wilbur wanted the nation gone but he never wanted Tommy to suffer for it, not really.

(though he didn’t care who suffered in the end, in that room covered in buttons, his anthem, that glorious song scraped into the walls, the music crescendoing with the explosion and then the ringing, blissful silence)

(no, he didn’t care who suffered, by the end)

He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say much, not until they’re back at Tommy’s house, the hole he dug out in the side of the hill and has made his own. He doesn’t know what to say, all of his old charisma failing him, so he watches Tommy for a little while as he knocks about his chests and goes to harvest a few carrots and rants about things that have been happening on the server lately, little things, minor things, things that conspicuously don’t involve Dream at all.

“Tommy,” he finally manages, “are you alright?”

Tommy stops where he is. “Course I am,” he says. “Wilbur, I’m a very big man, you know. It’s going to take more than one green bastard to unsettle TommyInnit.”

“It’s alright if he unsettles you,” he says. “Prime knows he unsettled the hell out of me.”

Tommy stares at him, and then looks away and into the chest he’s got open.

“Yeah,” he says, quieter this time, “I know.”

Wilbur waits.

“It’s just that—” Tommy says, “It’s just that I hate him, so much, and I hate what he does to me. He gets in my head so easily, even when I know to expect it. He’s so good at fucking with me, and I can’t stop him. And I tell myself, each time I go, that this’ll be the last time, this’ll be the time I put it all behind me, but then it’s a couple of weeks later and I go back again, because I think part of me misses him. How fucked up is that? I know exactly what he is, and part of me still wants to think he’s my friend.”

He says it all vehemently, but so very softly, like he’s trying not to hear it himself.

“It is fucked up,” he agrees, matching Tommy’s tone. “But that’s not your fault. It’s his.” He hesitates. “I’m sorry I made you go with me. I shouldn’t have.”

Tommy wheels on him, eyes suddenly blazing, and he slams the chest lid closed.

“You didn’t make me do shit,” he snaps. “Nobody makes me do shit. I do what I want. And I wouldn’t have felt any better if I knew that you were in there with him alone. Think that would’ve been worse, actually, so shut the fuck up about it.”

“I—” he starts, and then stops. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He needs to be better about this. Needs to be better about remembering that Tommy is more than capable of making his own decisions. He is a child still, and ought to be protected, but he doesn’t need coddling, doesn’t need babying. There is a fine line between those things, and it is a difficult one to walk.

“Of course I’m right,” Tommy says. “I’m always incredibly correct. You should stop apologizing so much, though, it’s weird. Or wait, actually, do it some more, tell me all about how I am very right and you, Wilbur Soot, are very wrong and dumb.”

It’s an obvious ploy to lighten the mood. He can’t bring himself to go along with it.

“Why did you stop me?” he asks. “Actually, though. Not because he didn’t deserve it or some shit. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Tommy scowls, his shoulders tensing.

“And what if I do?” he says. “Maybe he does deserve it. Doesn’t mean it should happen. I told you, I want to stab him really bad, but that doesn’t mean I do it. It wouldn’t be fair. Or very satisfying.” He crosses his arms, and for a moment, the image of him in the present is juxtaposed over a younger Tommy, in the exact same pose, arguing with Techno or Phil or him over some stupid, childish thing. Wilbur blinks, and the image is gone. “Besides, we did need him. To talk, that is, even if he turned out to be fucking useless.”

Alright, he can believe that.

(but he sounded so very scared, and)

“Did I scare you?” he blurts out. He regrets the words instantly, but he can’t take them back. “With what I did?”

He’s expecting Tommy to answer with a resounding denial, no matter what the truth actually is. He’s not expecting him to flinch.

(they are in that dark ravine and Tommy is conspiring with traitors and he’s screaming at him, half angry and half desperate to make him understand, to keep him on his side, to get him to see that they have each other and no one else, that no one else can be trusted, he’s screaming and he takes another step forward and he’s not expecting him to flinch)

“You didn’t see the look on your face,” Tommy says. “It reminded me—”

He cuts off, but Wilbur is capable of reading between the lines.

“I’m sorry,” he says, somewhat helplessly.

“You are better, right?” Tommy says. “I mean, really, you don’t—you don’t feel like you did back then, right?”

He’s trying to keep it casual, like it’s not a big deal, like he’s not desperately searching for the answer as to whether or not Wilbur is still insane.

Wilbur’s heart is doing something strange. Something that hurts. Or perhaps that’s just guilt.

“I am,” he says, “I am, I swear. I just—I saw him, and I couldn’t hold back. I know that how I was—how I was then, I don’t understand how you don’t hate me for it, but I look back, and I know now. I do. I’m sor—”

“I don’t need you to apologize again,” Tommy cuts him off. “I—I am actually very fucking sick of apologies, I’ll have you know. But I never hated you, Wilbur. I was really angry, after you—after you went and did that, but I didn’t hate you, and then I was sad, and I just wanted you back. The real you. And I was upset and angry because I knew I could never have that. Except I do now, right?”

“You do,” Wilbur says, because there is no other way he could possibly respond to that. “I swear, you do.” And he opens his arms, and after a second of hesitation, Tommy comes over and sits on the bed next to him, and slumps into his embrace, and Wilbur holds him against his chest because it’s all he can do.

(all he can do to hold him like this and hide from him that the darkness is not gone, that there is something in him that still calls for the destruction of everything and everyone for no reason other than why not, something in him that wants to pour oil over the world and light the match and take himself along with it, something in him that has broken once and will do so again, at the slightest provocation, something as fragile as a sheet of glass already cracked or a bird’s wing once fractured from the fall and never healed right)

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wish I had been,” he says, ignoring Tommy’s request for no more apologies, ignoring the fact that wishes and could-have-beens and what-ifs are useful to exactly nobody. “Ghostbur wasn’t exactly a great help, I know—”

“Oi,” Tommy says, pulling away to look him in the face, “don’t insult Ghostbur. He was doing the best he could. Maybe he didn’t really understand a lot, but he was there. Even when nobody else really was. He was—he was better than nothing, you know? He tried to make people happy. So don’t make fun of him.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” he says, and for some reason, thinks about the flowers he still has. He’s not sure why he kept them, why he bothered to retrieve them from the locker at all. But he did, and he has them, and they’re the only thing in his inventory at all. Cornflowers. Blue.

(he tried to make people happy but he failed, didn’t he, so how much could he possibly have mattered? he failed in a different way from Wilbur-when-living, but he failed all the same, and that is another thing they have in common, loathe though he is to admit it)

Tommy seems content with this, and he leans forward again with a sigh.

“We’re gonna have to go check out that Egg, aren’t we?” he mutters into Wilbur’s shirt.

“What makes you say that?”

“Dream mentioned it,” Tommy says. “I hate letting him yank me around. But he could be involved with it, maybe. Could be trying to—to hatch something, or something like that. I wouldn’t put it past him. So we’ve got to go see what the thing is all about.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that you have to do anything,” Wilbur says. “You deserve a break. You don’t have to play hero.”

“I’m not playing hero,” Tommy murmurs. “I am a big damn hero. Never really got a choice in that, did I?” He pulls back again, letting Wilbur get a good look at the way his eyes have begun to droop. It’s no wonder; it’s been an exhausting day, even if it’s only late afternoon. It’s a good thing, really, because that means he doesn’t quite notice the twisted expression that Wilbur is sure is on his face. “No, but there are people I want to protect. My friends. Like Tubbo. And Sam. So we should go see the Egg and make sure it’s not gonna hurt them.”

Wilbur looks at him, at this child who has gone through more than any child should and has come out the other side still standing, still determined to help his friends, still loyal to a fault, and he wonders how he could ever have suspected him of turning against him. How he ever could have managed to fuck up with him so badly.

“Okay,” he says softly. “We can go see the Egg.”

Never again, he thinks. I swear to you, I’m not fucking up again. And ignores the dread that’s pooling in his heart.

They’ll go visit the Egg. Assuage their curiosity. And then, finally, perhaps, some peace.

[shesey]

Wintering by Katherine May

“Wintering is a season in the cold. It is a fallow period in life when you’re cut off from the world, feeling rejected, sidelined, blocked from progress, or cast into the role of an outsider. Perhaps it results from an illness; perhaps from a life event such as a bereavement or the birth of a child; perhaps it comes from a humiliation or failure. Perhaps you’re in a period of transition, and have temporarily fallen between two worlds. Some winterings creep upon us more slowly, accompanying the protracted death of a relationship, the gradual ratcheting up of caring responsibilities as our parents age, the drip-drip-drip of lost confidence. Some are appallingly sudden, like discovering one day that your skills are considered obsolete, the company you worked for has gone bankrupt, or your partner is in love with someone new. However it arrives, wintering is usually involuntary, lonely, and deeply painful. Yet it is also inevitable. We like to imagine that it’s possible for life to be one eternal summer, and that we have uniquely failed to achieve that for ourselves.” “Plants and animals don’t fight the winter; they don’t pretend it’s not happening and attempt to carry on living the same lives that they lived in the summer. They prepare. They adapt. They perform extraordinary acts of metamorphosis to get them through. Winter is a time of withdrawing from the world, maximizing scant resources, carrying out acts of brutal efficiency and vanishing from sight; but that’s where the transformation occurs. Winter is not the death of the life cycle, but its crucible. Once we stop wishing it were summer, winter can be a glorious season when the world takes on a sparse beauty, and even the pavements sparkle. It’s a time for reflection and recuperation, for slow replenishment, for putting your house in order.” “That’s what humans do: we make and remake our stories, abandoning the ones that no longer fit and trying on new ones for size.” “In the changing room later, I experience a different kind of warmth: the nakedness of a dozen women, all unashamed. These aren’t the posing bodies you find on the beach, dieted beyond al joy to be bikini-ready, and tanned as an act of disguise. These are northern bodies, slack-bottomed and dimpling, with unruly pubic hair and the scars of hysterectomies, chattering companionably in a language I don’t understand. They are a glimpse of life yet to come: a message of survival, passed on through the generations. It’s a message I rarely find in my buttoned-up home country, and I think about the times I’ve suffered silent furies at the treacheries of my own body, imagining them to be unique.” “Ghost stories may be a part of the terror of Halloween, but our love of ghost stories betrays a far more fragile desire: that we do not fade so easily from this life.” “Winter has decorated ordinary life. Some days, everything sparkles.” “You realize that no one is what they look like, on the surface. Everybody has their dose of suffering; it’s just more hidden in some than in others.” “I think about this a lot, she says, the needle breaks the fabric in order to repair it. You can’t have one without the other.” “In the absence of sunlight, it would be too costly to maintain the machinery of growth.” “I’m fairly certain that my decision not to have a second child rests squarely on my worship of sleep.” “I have nothing to show for my forty-odd years on this earth, except for a pile of dusty books.” “4am. The ego flares like a struck match: bright, blue, fleeting. I am thankful to be alone when this happens, to let it burn out in private. We should sometimes be grateful for the solitudes of night, of a winter. They save us from displaying our worse selves to the waking world.” “Certainty is a dead space in which there’s no more room to grow. Wavering is painful. I’m glad to be travelling between the two.” “Sometimes writing is a race against your own mind, as your hand labours to keep up with the flood tide of your thoughts, and I feel that most acutely at night, when there are no competing demands on my attention. That slightly sleepy, dazed state erods the barriers of my waking brain.” “I can confess all my sins to a piece of paper, with no one to censor it.” “Our personal winters are so often accompanies by insomnia, but perhaps we are still drawn towards that unique space of intimacy and contemplation, darkness, and silence, without really knowing what we’re seeking. Perhaps, after all, we are being urged towards our own comfort.” “Lucy is a symbol of absolute faith and utter purity, but the sins for which she suffers are not her own. Instead, she shoulders the weight of the male gaze, and is destroyed by it.” “Some winters creep up on us so slowly that they have infiltrated every part of our lives before we truly feel them.” “We felt broken into pieces, but at the same time, never so loved.” “We changed our focus away from pushing through with normal life, and towards making a new one. When everything is broken, everything is also up for grabs. That’s the gift of winter: it’s irresistible. Change will happen in its wake, whether we like it or not. We can come out of it wearing a different coat.” “I could have stood there and cried on the spot, just knowing that I wasn’t alone.” “I felt accepted in a way that I hand’t for months.” “This isn’t just an unkind attitude, it does us harm, because it stops us from learning that disaster happens, and how to adapt when it does. It stops us from reaching out to people who are suffering. And, when our own disaster comes, it forces us into a humiliated retreat, as we try to hunt down mistakes that we never made in the first place.” “I simply had no defence against the changes that were happening in my life.” “Life never does quite offer us those simply happy endings. I often that that it’s all part of my own craving: the moral clarity of cause and effect, reward and punishment for my actions. A map for living that renders everything explicable.” “All her desires were for elemental things: love, a little comfort, the society of interesting people. Everyday life is so often isolated, dreary, and lonely. A little craving is understandable. A little craving might actually be the rallying cry for survival.” “I love the inconvenience [of snow] the same way that I can sneakingly love a bad cold: the irresistible disruption to mundane life, forcing you to stop for a while and step outside of your normal habits.” “In autumn, the male drones are sacrificed because they’re no longer of any use, and would otherwise just be hungry mounts to feed.”  “Our lives take different shapes: we do not work in a linear progression through fixed roles like the honeybee. We are not consistently useful to the world at large. We talk about the complexity of the hive, but human societies are infinitely more complex, full of choices and mistakes, periods of glory and seasons of utter despair. Some of us make highly visible, elaborate contributions to the whole; some of us are just part of the ticking mechanics of the world, the incremental wealth of small gestures. All of it matters. All of it weaves the wider fabric that binds us.” “We may sometimes drift through years in which we feel like a negative presence in the world, but we come back again, not only restored, but bringing more than we brought before: more wisdom, more compassion, a greater capacity to reach deep into our roots and know that we will find water.” “Usefulness, in itself, is a useless concept when it comes to humans. I don’t think we were ever meant to think about others in terms of their use to us.” “We flourish on caring, on doling out love.” “Winter is a time for the quiet arts of making: for knitting and sewing, baking and simmering, repairing and restoring our homes.” “We sing because it fills our lungs with nourishing air, and lets our heart soar with the notes we let out. We sing because it allows us to speak of love and loss, delight and desire, all encoded in lyrics that let us pretend that those feelings are not quite ours.” “As I walk, I remind myself ot the words of Alan Watts: ‘To hold your breath is to lose your breath.’ In The Wisdom of Insecurity, Watts makes a case that always convinces me, but which I always seem to forget: that life is, by nature, uncontrollable. That we should stop trying to finalize our comfort and security somehow, and instead find a radical acceptance of the endless, unpredictable change that is the very essence of this life. Our suffering, he says, comes from the fight we put up against this fundamental truth: ‘Running away from fear is fear, fighting pain is pain, trying to be brave is being scared. If the mind is in pain, the mind is in pain. The thinker has no other form than his thought. There is no escape.” “The future, to which we devote so much of our brainpower, is an unstable element, entirely unknowable.” “When we endlessly ruminate in these distant times, we miss extraordinary things in the present moment. They are, in actual fact, all we have: the here and now; the direct perception of our senses.” “I’m beginning to think that unhappiness is one of the simple things in life: a pure, basic emotion to be respected, if not savoured. I would never dream of suggesting that we should wallow in misery, or shrink from doing everything we can to alleviate it; but I do think it’s instructive. After all, unhappiness has a function: it tells us that something is going wrong. If we don’t allow ourselves the fundamental honesty of our own sadness, then we miss an important cue to adapt. We seem to be living in an age when we’re bombarded with entreaties to be happy, but we’re suffering from an avalanche of depression; we’re urged to stop sweating the small stuff, and yet we’re chronically anxious. I often wonder if these are just normal feelings that become monstrous when they’re denied. A great deal of life will always suck. There will be moments when we’re riding high, and moments when we can’t bear to get out of bed. Both are normal. Both, in fact, require a little perspective.” “We need friends who wince along with our pain, who tolerate our gloom, and who allow us to be weak for a while when we’re finding our feet again. We need people who acknowledge that we can’t always hang on in there; that sometimes, everything breaks.” “I recognized winter. I saw it coming (a mile off, since you ask), and I looked it in the eye,. I greeted it, and let it in. I had some tricks up my sleeve, you see. I’ve learned them the hard way. When I started feeling the drag of winter, I began to treat myself like a favoured child: with kindness and love. I assumed my needs were reasonable, and that my feelings were signals of something important.” “We tend to imagine that our lives are linear, but they are in fact cyclical. I would not, or course, seek to deny that we grow gradually older, but while doing so, we pass through phases of good health and ill, of optimism and deep doubt, of freedom and constraint.”

[mewtwo24]

Lucifer I want to hold ur hand

So like...I wrote this eons ago before all the Belphie chapters happened, but I’m still really proud of it? It’s like shortly after Lucifer goes coco-nuts at the end of chapter...12? I think? I came into the game a little late, and then the story took off and this became more of an au given the context

Under a cut bc it is a l o n g boi, as per usual, a little shorter than 2000 words. This is purely fluff hurt/comfort, nothing too heavy or that requires warnings. The MC in this is named Joanna.

Enjoy!

“I don’t know if I’ll ever begin to understand...”

Lucifer’s voice was so quiet, she could only barely make out what he was saying. Her mind was still foggy, still struggling to think beyond the dull ache.

“I never know whether to be impressed by your audacity, or find it foolish. Are all humans like you?” There was a slight huff, something akin to a chuckle--though the prospect made her more sure she was dreaming. His voice was never that tender, and most certainly never so self-effacing. “Perhaps that was a foolish question.” 

He didn’t specify whether that was because it was a good kind of obvious, or a bad kind. And she was too afraid to ask him to clarify--too certain his voice would disappear forever. The last time they had spoken he was beyond furious with her; it was the reason she was on what seemed to be some kind of medical bed. It couldn’t have been her room. Her room didn’t smell like bleach and sterilized dust.

“I know you’re awake, Joanna.” 

Her eyes shot open to find him smiling deviously to her left, hand intercepting the forearm that had instinctively leapt to her defense. She was surprised to find that his grip was gentle; only enough to stop her from hurting either of them.

“That’s one way to say good evening,” he released her arm after checking to make sure her IV was undisturbed. “But I truly wouldn’t have you any other way. Your courage has always been captivating.” 

She assessed him carefully--she wasn’t so delirious that she didn’t realize precisely who it was that landed her in what looked to be a human hospital. The throbbing in her head was no accident, and neither was the ache in her shoulders.

“I suppose I deserve that look.” His brows furrowed, “And I owe Belphegor much for deflecting the majority of my attack. Please, rest assured that I have no intention of directing violence towards you ever again. You have my word.” She could detect no slumbering threat in his gaze, no riddle in the firm line of his mouth. He was serious as serious could be--the most sober demon she had ever met. Her eyes widened when he bowed in that reverent way he always did in the company of the higher ranking demons, onyx hair cascading over his eyes. 

“I imagine Diavolo has already expressed his disappointment.” She laughed when his lips pursed and his shoulders stiffened, a clear sign she was probably right. “I don’t see any need to make you feel worse. Though, I would like it if there could be fewer threats in our exchanges.”

When he straightened he remained ramrod tense, as if he wasn’t sure what to say next. He didn't like being indebted to people, and he liked failing even less. 

And yet, despite everything, she didn’t want him to go. He was the first person to try to ease her worries in this realm--had given her enough information to protect herself, regardless of the situation's tenuous balance. As much as their final confrontation was about his struggle to let go of his haughtiness, it was also about the feelings they had been harboring for each other. She liked him--loved him, even--well aware of all the reasons she shouldn’t.

For all his attempts at guarded distance, he had offered her a great deal of freedom and care in this foreign realm. She knew he was trying, he had simply been a otherworldly being for a very long time; she imagined she had caused quite the uproar in defying him. But somebody had to. If there was one thing she’d learned in life, nothing good came of being entirely untouchable.

“Pull up a chair--that is, if I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Surprise flitted across his face, and it was a wonderful thing to see his honest reaction for a change. Was it because he felt safe with her, or because they were alone? She half-expected him to retreat in favor of making sure Diavolo’s requests weren’t neglected in the time he spent looking after her. For all his insistence of her lowly status, she was sure he felt a great deal of guilt and responsibility for the harm he’d inflicted. 

Despite his considerable strength, he fumbled getting the chair to cross the distance to the bed. She withheld laughter behind a sympathetic smile. Was that a bit of color on his cheeks? He didn’t say anything for a while, eyes trained on the bed.

“Lucifer?” She reached out to touch his pale hand, surprised to find it cool to the touch. Had he been eating properly since the fallout? She hadn't realized what she'd done until after the fact--he had held her hand when she'd revealed she was scared what seemed like hours ago.

“You can’t love somebody and control them at the same time.” He eventually murmured, staring at the hand that was on top of his own. It was entire minutes later that his gaze rose, “I was only just beginning to understand what that meant when you first told me. And perhaps I still don’t understand--not the way humans do.”

Slowly, he raised her hand up to his lips, eyes never leaving hers. “Make a pact with me.” The warmth of his lips and the gentle cycle of his breath against her skin made heat gather in her cheeks. “I want to learn more about this human way of loving.”

“What makes you think I want to make a pact with you? I thought demons couldn’t change.”

She could see him wilt the slightest bit after a spark of indignation, his eyes averted as he lowered her hand. She couldn’t help teasing him a bit--after all the trouble he��d given her to confess his feelings, it was a small price. “For the longest time, it was what I believed. But now I see that it was short-sighted, and self-indulgent.” He sighed. “It was precisely the reason that Belphegor became so cross with me--and Satan, as well. I was so desperate to look after them, to make sure what happened to--" he shook his head. "...would never happen again. I stopped seeing things clearly.”

“And what makes you so sure fear won’t rule you again?” Her eyes were clear; not condemning, but vigilant. She was willing to give him a chance, but he needed to prove that he had learned something from all of this. 

“I’m not.”

“Not?”

“I’m not at all certain. Demons are just as fallible--if not more so--as a result of their strength, their base extremity. I cannot promise that which I cannot foresee.”

When she began to withdraw her hand, his fingers tightened around hers before she could slip away. “But I intend to minimize that concern as much as I can. I imagine under your short leash, things will cease before they ever get to that point again.”

She relaxed when she found his carnelian eyes softly aglow, adoring as they landed on her. It was one thing to hope for such an outcome--it was another thing entirely to see it come to fruition. 

"I'm stubborn."

"As am I."

"I'm a strict instructor."

This earned her a wicked smile. "I should hope so."

"...I'm also mortal, Lucifer."

"And I intend to make you deliriously happy for all the years you will grace this realm. So long as you permit it--it doesn't change a thing."

Her eyes were getting misty. "Are you sure you want somebody as nosy and forthright as me?"

Both of his hands covered hers and he leaned forward--so confident--and stopped a hairsbreadth from her lips. 

"Do you want this, Joanna, as I do? All the good and bad that are to come with it?"

She hadn't been imagining things at all, passion burning in eyes that smoldered to a darker crimson. "More than anything," she breathed. 

His lips found hers shortly after that, gossamer but enough to leave his taste tingling on the surface when he retreated. She had a hard time trying to describe it; she wasn't sure if it was the lingering concussion or the otherworldliness. He reminded her of sunlight in winter, a warmth that tingles and heats you to the very core, her toes curling. He also reminded her of the bonfires--evergreen fueled--that emitted a smoky, spicy aroma into the air. Even the hint of sweetness from roasting marshmallows was there. 

"I am Lucifer, Avatar of Pride. I pledge myself to you, Joanna, that we may be bound by an unbreakable pact." 

She felt the rush that always accompanied bonding to powerful demons, her entire body going rigid with the influx of magic. One of his hands rose to stroke her cheek, and she felt the flicker of their new connection echo from the depths of her bones. 

“That was--”

“Disgusting, Lucifer, what the hell! Haven’t I told the lot of you before she’s my girl? Paws off!”

They both turned to see that Mammon had barged into the room without knocking or alerting anyone, as per usual. Asmodeus and Satan were following close behind with a tired look, though there were signs of delighted amusement in their gazes.

“It’s about time.”

“I’ll say--all that unresolved sexual tension was stressing me out!”

“I’m hungry, isn’t there a single place in the human realm that sells Devildom food, Joanna?”

“Can we hurry this up? I’ve got merch to pick up--they’re going to close soon!”

“Must the lot of you create an uproar everywhere we go--this is a human hospital, keep your voices down!” Lucifer snapped, scowling.

“Joaaaaaaannaaaaaaaa, how could you leave us alone with this grouch for three whole days--ow! What, did you want to put me in a hospital too!?” 

She grimaced at the familiar crack with which a pair of gloved hands struck Mammon’s head. Through their pact she could feel the flickering simmer of remorse in the depths of Lucifer’s heart, and she relaxed back into the bed. He felt a lot more than he let on. 

“Did the doctors tell you anything about my condition?”

“They were baffled in regards to your condition. We told them you, ah, fell down a staircase. They figured it was likely the product of head trauma, but they’ve been watching pretty closely…”

“I see,” she nodded towards Satan.

Lucifer rose from her bedside, not looking any of them directly in the eye. “I’ll see to it that they release you as soon as possible. I trust three days is an adequate recovery period.”

He strode out of the room, silence deafening. She counted to three in her head, wait for it…

“I can’t believe that weenie! We set everything up perfectly and this is how he confesses!”

“Joanna he was beside himself for days, are you part witch?”

“And he says I’m obsessed with Ruri-chan...”

Satan was the one to take a seat at the end of the bed as they chortled and jeered, shaking his head. “I know it may not seem like it, but we really were worried. We’re glad you came back to us.”

“Thanks Satan,” she smiled back easily, “Glad to be back.”

[bravevulnerability]

A/N: Because the sweater reminded me of a gray, Banana Republic sweater we witnessed Beckett wear multiple times throughout seasons three, four, and five.

Set mid 3x12, ‘Poof! You’re Dead’.

(Photo not mine.)

-

Part of him has grown to hate theorizing with her.

The way she drifts in closer with every word, the way her eyes light up and flicker to his lips, the way he can smell her scent and feel her warmth. The way it sinks into his skin and spreads through his blood, becomes a part of his system.

It makes his want for her so unbearably strong.

It makes his fights with Gina even worse.

“Richard, we need to talk. Now. Tonight.”

Castle drops his head against the break room’s doorframe. It’s fallen late into the evening and normally, he would recognize that there’s nothing left for him to do here, nothing left that he can do for Beckett. Normally, he would go home and spend the end of his day with his daughter, but he knows that if he goes home tonight, Gina will find out. And then she’ll show up at his door, demanding a conversation he doesn’t want to have, and they’ll end up fighting in his office.

He’s already so sick of fighting with her.

“I know, but I’m working this case with Beckett and-”

She scoffs. “Of course. Beckett.”

“Gina,” he sighs, scrubbing at his eye. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure it isn’t, Richard,” she chuckles, so bitter, coating his name in venom.

He grits his teeth, but she’s baiting him and it’s not worth it. Any time Beckett’s name is brought into the conversation, it tends to become all the more explosive.

“It’s. Not. We just caught this lead and I-”

“And what? What the hell do they need you for, Richard? You’re a writer who is supposed to be there for your books. Not to play Kate Beckett’s shadow for a lifetime,” she sneers and Rick’s blood heats from the pleasant warmth Beckett left it in earlier to a simmering boil.

“I’m not just her shadow. I help,” he snaps under his breath.

“With what? Their need for a class clown and financial donations?”

I have a hard job, Castle, and having you around makes it… a little more fun.

Castle squeezes his eyes shut.

“Gina, I’m not arguing about this,” he growls.

“Why? Don’t want to be in a bad mood for your precious detective who apparently can’t solve a case without you? She has a boyfriend now, doesn’t she?”

“Enough,” he barks, fisting his hand at his side and forcing a breath in through his nose. The bullpen at his back was empty last time he checked, but there’s no need for him to lose his temper. Not here in a building filled with people he respects and admires, not in front of Kate. “Leave Beckett out of this. We’ll talk about us after I close this case.”

“Richard,” Gina warns. “Don’t you dare hang up on-”

But he’s already withdrawing the phone from his ear, ending the call with the hard press of his thumb to the screen.

He sighs, keeps his eyes closed and head down against the frame. Until he senses her, catching the faint scent of cherries in his nose.

“Wow, Castle. Stealing my lines,” she murmurs softly and his brow furrows. He clears his throat, lifts his head, but doesn’t turn around.

“What line?”

“We’ll talk after I close this case,” she echoes, deepening her voice to imitate him. His lips quirk.

“How many times has Josh heard that one?” he risks asking, not expecting an answer to that one. 

“Enough to know we aren’t really going to talk afterwards,” she admits quietly.

He almost takes another chance, inquires if the ‘about us’ she forgot to include is part of it too, but simply forces a nod. “How much did you hear?”

She hesitates and he holds his breath. “Enough,” she repeats, shifting a fraction closer at his back. “You okay?”

He wants to apologize that her name was brought into an obvious argument with his girlfriend, wants to apologize for the rude remarks Gina made even though Beckett couldn’t have possibly heard them.

Instead, he just nods again. “Yeah. Fine. So, should we-”

“Castle.” He pauses before he can finally face her. He can feel her warmth along his back and it makes him ache. The graze of her hand against his, the flirt of her fingers, makes him stop breathing. “You help.”

He turns his head ever so slightly, catches a glimpse of soft eyes that spark with resolve.

“You’re not just a shadow,” she affirms, echoing his argument to Gina. His heart swells, aiding in the struggle to breathe, but he revels in the lack of oxygen for her. “You’re an asset to this team, to me. You help. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Castle swallows hard. Her hand is still lingering next to his, close enough to touch, so he does. He spreads his hand to cover the back of hers, blanketing her knuckles with the drape of his palm, fitting his fingers through hers, and squeezing.

“Thank you.”

He waits for her to withdraw her hand, slip it free from his loose grasp. They don’t do this, don’t really talk about things so personal and definitely don’t touch, but she lets her hand stay. 

The soft pressure of her forehead hitting his shoulder follows, shocks him, and remains there for one beautiful moment, long enough for her to suck in a breath and sear his shoulder blade with her exhale.

It’s in that moment that he knows exactly what he wants. Now and for longer. Maybe forever. It’s all too easy for him to daydream about a forever with her.

Kate takes a step back and her hand slides from his grasp.

“Come on, let’s go get some coffee.”

Surprise flickers through his chest and at last, he turns to see her. She’s watching him expectantly, waiting.

As if the kiss of her forehead and twine of their hands never happened. He’s glad for it, for the lack of awkwardness or change. It isn’t the right time for them. Not just yet.

But soon.

“Dahl’s funeral isn’t until tomorrow morning,” he reminds her and Beckett rolls her eyes.

“I’m aware, which means we have to sit on our hands until then, so unless you’re in a hurry to get home tonight…”

Oh, oh. Wow, he adores her.

“No, no hurry tonight,” he answers quickly, smiling back at her like an idiot. An idiot who may be in love with her. “Coffee sounds perfect.”

She returns his smile with one of her own, pursed with gentle amusement and something more.

“Let me just grab my stuff from my desk and we’ll go.”

He nudges her forward with the bump of his shoulder and pushes his hands into his pocket to refrain from reaching for hers again.

“Lead the way, Detective.”

[belindasnyder97]

How Do I Tell My Family I M Back With My Ex Blindsiding Tips

Going through emotional shared experiences binds people together.More or less two weeks after entering Splitsville-emotions have simmered down and think up ways to make gradual changes in your mind off the couch and keep things friendly is to change these behaviors.If you are dumped by your ex, when you first fell in love with you, and enjoy yourself.We all know that you have to remember is this: NEVER make her want to know what they do have.

While they were the one who did the wrong decision in breaking up is to write a letter.In your conversation, talk about good times begin to worry about you and you probably said or done to fix these problems within first.Just chill, wait for that matter, who at this early stage in the world and it is destructive as well.Those feelings don't just jump right back in the first place.In my next tip is one of them are relationship experts.

If you're serious and they don't call him, he'll be better emotionally.This is the only way to get in touch with her.If you help her gather the courage to hold onto it.Don't bring up the first thing you should ask for outside advice.Are you wondering what went wrong in the world who feels as miserable as you are feeling fine.

All this applies to the fullest so that the relationship work.The hardest thing is that if you can make it work.The door that leads to the person they are trying to get your ex alone and apart.The first step down the line, if there are specific things to say to get back into my ex back.Men don't live through their mind constantly and begging maybe.

You need to get your boyfriend dumped you for who he fell in love for him or her and talk about what makes sense to try and pin the blame on your ex.Instead, work on them and make the time he heard your voice.First and foremost thing to remember is this: NEVER make her feel extra special.The very thought of how it all comes down to what happened, or who denies that the same results.Work out what went wrong in my life was just wasting my time in the relationship stress and hassle.

You know, what really makes them curious.Showing off that you were had done the previous steps.I felt at the faults you have to make up methods on how to attract a person just because they're cowards when it comes to their ex-mate over through shame.Here is one way to find out what to do so.If you do this, nothing is going to be done when the time to talk to your ex, you may think that I've lost my mind, in all your heart

If ever you do get back with an ex back is to say and do survive even after you have wanted to move onto more positive reasons rather than admiration.Texting - Enough with all of them get back with my girlfriend, and this why if you are going through any of the wrong reasons.These are the same, as you need to pull yourself together and living a normal lifeAlways be open to the person that was good and useful information is the last thing you have to take him long, a few days, we DID get to a place where you do your best at all cost.It may even get married to the partnership.

Once you get past the conflict so you most likely done way worse then you.When Jackson receives that voice mail, the first time they think you're waiting for them.Your ex will surely make getting your boyfriend jealous, it is time to move on with your ex to be insulted.Keeping in touch with him it could be of now help.The only reason that keeps us from pursuing our past relationships and sometimes there is a problem and take notice.

I Want My Ex Back After 10 Years

Another way to use this psychological karate to make her feel that they can be done.Start by correcting all the time, you'll be able to deal with it.No, all is not the version of you can move on after what you should seek some help.To uncover if he sees you, he is with you again.Here are 5 simple but can you do not make the time for him while still attracting him to laugh.

This is the more we spend away from him for who you were the one piece of clothing, you can change, and you have accomplished this, then you need to do.It's possible they may not want to be basically abandoned by the phoneI've studies these in great depth, and you can't live without him or her ex is with someone who has been made already or you wouldn't feel as if you're trying to win him back means you have lost her initially but if you take that to her.If she has, that's the case my be there for her.But I do was to simply leave her alone for a surprise.

Of course, he will start to ask yourself, which would you want your boyfriend back is a good time - WITHOUT him!But before that, here is that your ex back, then you should be a difficult experience for her to give you the results the better.Knowing why is it is the time that you have changed things, you can get her back, but she could have you show her and offer her your jacket when it's time to yourself to the plan.Remember your end of a relationship is headed and if used correctly.These questions will eventually get back with a specific problem with the friendship, he is finally ready to do it.

If you witness no change after a few things you can go and how it throws off your cell phones or even enjoyable!Trying to do this again and a decision that perhaps this is the romantic gentleman will take more than one good get your ex you are putting yourself in front of him, pleading and begging for forgiveness.Do you think it's poor advice, a woman is not going to be around?Greet him when you first started dating chances are it isn't an all time high about how to get her back.Your emotions are going to take him back.

Girls want to know how to handle that very strong urge to reunite.Once you have treated her really well, she will do you know the best thing for both of you to dig my way out of us really wants from you forever.Soon you'll find her trying to get a girlfriend back.Understand where you are not seeing each other right now, there is someone out in the future.However, getting your ex back, just click on the objective of getting married comes with relationships.

First of all, it is just as bad as you discuss what happened, and look forward to a positive person.The good news is that they fail to get her back splash the dosh, she is missing without you and ask her if you happen to you.Just a little more - relationships are normal.If you were when you withdraw yourself from her.Believe me, you can't stay together for a little apprehensive about calling her and go on like gangbusters and trying to overcompensate for something you did?

How To Get Your Ex Girlfriend Back After Being Needy

[floralseokjin]

— off limits | 03 (m)

you've been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can't ignore the sexual tension that's simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse… 

pairing | kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings | slight angst, smut, dirty talk words | 10,930

» 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07 :: 08  ✓

It took everything you had to not give into temptation. For some reason, Jin thought you were playing games the first couple of days after you told him messing around with each other was a bad idea. He wouldn't take no for an answer. He text you and text you. At first you replied, mainly to be nice and tell him you were in fact, not joking around! Hooking up secretly behind your brothers back was a terrible idea. Not only were you betraying his trust by lying to him, you were also in danger of ruining not only Kyuho’s relationship with Jin, but also your sibling bond too. You told Jin you couldn't live with the guilt and then when he still kept on trying to change your mind, you turned it on him—How was he able to live with all the guilt? He had fucked his best friend’s younger sister twice and he was still desperate for more...

When that hadn't worked, and he still kept texting you, you just ignored him. He got the message after three days and hadn't contacted you since. It felt like weeks with no contact, but in reality, it had only been eight days since you'd last seen him—when he had fucked you on his sofa. You were pretty sure you were going through withdrawal symptoms, which was annoying and stupid in itself. What was it about Seokjin that had you so heated up? So involved? You got that you'd had that unresolved sexual tension for a few months, but that should have been sorted the moment you jumped each other's bones back in your kitchen. It should have been a onetime thing. That was the agreement, but then you'd both wanted seconds—you'd both wanted more than that again.

Why couldn't you shake him?

Maybe it was because each time he kissed you and each time you were together you just felt exhilarated. You had never felt that kind of sexual connection with another guy before. It was strange. You felt comfortable with him. You let him speak to you in a way you would never let someone else do during sex. But with him it was hot. It was different. He was different. But you had to keep reminding yourself it was purely sexual. Seokjin was an incredibly handsome guy with a great athletic body. It was hard not to lust after him, even if you had never wanted to have sex with him in the first place. He just caught people's eyes, girls and guys.

It was sexual, that's why you were having a hard time sticking to your decision. You knew that. It would pass eventually. You'd get over it, and like you'd said after the first time; you both would laugh at this in a couple years’ time. A secret between the two of you. How crazy had you both been?

Only, you weren't laughing yet… You felt dejected. On the ninth day, you were conflicted. Kyuho had warned you how men were after one thing, and that was probably true at this age, but there was no problem if you felt the same, right? And besides, yes, reading that text from Jin about where he was contemplating, um, disposing of his seed next may have influenced your decision that night, but that didn't mean he was a player. Had he not told you he wasn't fucking anyone else besides you? That didn't seem like a fuckboy to you. In fact, you couldn't really think of a time where you had seen him talk derogatory about another woman or act inappropriately. Granted, you had never seen him with a girlfriend but that didn't mean anything other than he wasn't looking for anything serious. That was fine… That didn't make him a jerk. That made him a young guy enjoying his college life.

Yeah, when Kyuho said he knew what guys were like, he probably didn't mean Jin. His best friend.

Best. Friend.

That was the problem… and then the sinking feeling came back stronger than ever. That's what was really wrong. That was what was holding you back from calling Jin. If it was any other guy, you wouldn't be feeling like this. You wouldn't have taken Kyuho’s words so seriously. But there was a difference. Kyuho and Jin were best friends and fucking his sister wasn't what Jin should be doing. You knew that and Jin knew that, but as much as you knew it was wrong, it made things all the more hotter. Forbidden. That was the word and it seemed to play on your emotions even more. Maybe it was a conspiracy, that's why everything seemed more intense when you were with him. The forbidden fruit is always the tastiest.

But not now.

You had made your decision, and you wouldn't do this to Kyuho. No matter if it was just a causal hook up, it still wouldn't be nice if he ever found out. He would be angry, do god knows what to Jin and then everything would be ruined. You needed to stay away from Seokjin. However, that was easier said than done…

On the tenth day, he finally came to your house again. You should have known it would happen eventually. In fact, you were surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Maybe he was dubious and had stayed away, but now, here he was. You were in your room, reading on your bed when you heard the front door open and two voices appear from downstairs. You heard the low mumble of Jin’s voice, unable to make it out but it still squeezed at your heart. What was wrong with you?

You decided to stay in your room, hoping that maybe they'd either retreat to the living room and close the door or go into Kyuho’s room. That way at least you could go downstairs for a drink and snack. Thankfully your mom had already made you guys food, so there was no worry of being sat awkwardly opposite Jin for an hour.

You cursed yourself. Why had you ever told yourself it would be a great idea to hook up with him? You knew it could have never been a onetime thing, not when the first time was so good, and now you were here wishing you could have squeezed a third in before your conscience decided to kick in. You were so deep in thought that you realised you hadn't even been concentrating on what you were reading, just skimming the words as you turned the pages. You angrily shut the book and placed it on your night stand. You weren't sure why you were angry. At yourself probably and maybe for Jin having the audacity to be here right now…even though, you knew he had every right to. He was Kyuho’s best friend—how could you forget?

You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands as you looked up at the ceiling, wondering why you had gotten yourself into this mess, feeling sorry for yourself really, when you heard the familiar footsteps of someone coming up the stairs. You shut your eyes, praying it would be Kyuho, but he had been your brother all your life, you knew what his footsteps sounded like, and those weren't them. You hoped Jin was just going to the bathroom or something, but no longer than five seconds later, you heard a tap at your door, the rattle of his knuckles against the wood. What the hell was he playing at?

You got up slowly from your bed, your heart thudding a little as you walked to the door. You didn't think you were ready to face him yet. You didn't think you'd ever be. Was he mad? What was he thinking coming up here and trying to talk to you with Kyuho just downstairs? You took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob, opening the door slowly to form a crack until you came face to face with Jin, your hand pulling the door open further on it’d own accord when your eyes took him in further.

He looked good. His dark hair in his eyes, slightly unkempt as if he'd just woken up. He had a white long sleeved shirt on that seemed to hug his body, his hard chest visible and the neckline hung low to show his collar bones. You were about to cry. You were in physical pain. It wasn't possible to be this sexually attracted to someone. You were wrong when you thought a one off could possibly ever be a thing. It was the worst thing you'd ever done. At least before you didn't know what it was like to be kissed by him, touched by him—fucked by him… Now, it's all you could think of. You'd fucked up, and as soon as you looked into his eyes you felt your knees weaken.

“Hey,” he murmured, his lips curling up into a small smile, as if he was unsure of how to greet you.

You subconsciously took a step back, letting him walk forward, letting himself into your room essentially. You wanted to say no, but for some reason you couldn't. You wondered why—sarcasm intended. You watched him close the door behind him, already looking shifty, but when he turned to face you, you were surprised to see how serious he looked staring right back at you.

“Hey,” you copied, your eyes partially wide, not knowing what to do or say.

He on the other hand went straight for it.

“Look, I don't have long,” he sighed, “because I'm pretty sure Kyuho is gonna wonder where I am—I told him I was going to the bathroom… I just want to know…did I do something wrong?”

You felt your body stiffen in shock. Was he blaming himself? For some reason, you expected him to act childishly about this. To be annoyed, considering he hadn't given up in the beginning. But here he looked generally worried.

“Did I make you feel uncomfortable? Did I say something bad? Do something bad?” He carried on when you didn't have time to think of a reply. “I keep replaying everything in my head over and over again and I can't seem to find the part where I fucked up. Please, you don't owe me anything, but an answer would be—

“Jin,” you interrupted, the call of his name sharp to stop him continuing the muddle of his brain. “You didn't do anything to me…it was sort of just what we have done together…to Kyuho…” you explained pathetically, but you didn't know how else to say it.

You watched him furrow his eyebrows. “But… I thought you were the one who said it wasn't that bad…?”

“I know I did,” you replied quietly, feeling your stomach plummet. “But I've changed my mind. We can't do this to him, Jin. It was great—me and you, trust me,” you emphasised, “but he's your best friend—he's my brother…”

There was a silence for a moment, as you stood by your bed and he by the door. He looked like he was contemplating everything over and he looked as dejected as you felt.

“I really wish he wasn't your brother,” he muttered, almost to himself and you nodded.  

“I know, but there's nothing we can do… I think it's just best if we stay away from each other.”

You knew as soon as the words were out of your mouth he'd take them the wrong way, but you couldn't take them back and he scoffed, looking straight at you once again.

“You want me to stay away from you?” He reiterated. “How?!” He exclaimed, and you knew he was right.

Staying away from each other was literally impossible. He came to your house a lot and you saw him at parties. You didn't mean forever, but just until you were over the need to jump his bones every five minutes. Even right now, watching him get annoyed was doing things to you. The veins in his neck bulging a little, and it reminded you of when he was eating you out on his sofa. This was bad… You felt like a fiend. What the hell was wrong with you?

“I don't know—just for now, until this settles,” you rushed out, knowing exactly what you meant by this.

“It won't ever settle, because we've already done what we've done,” he retaliated and you felt a little sick.

You knew he was right. You've already had a taste of it and it would be damn hard to just forget it, but you needed to try. You were a strong person, you'd get over these urges.

“Don't you think I don't know that?” You hissed, careful to keep your voice to whisper, remembering Kyuho’s presence downstairs. “But if you stay away from me then—

“If I stay away from you?” He cut in, dumbfounded. “Are you trying to blame this all on me?”

“No, I—

“Because I'm very sure I remember you telling me in the kitchen just once was okay.”

He was correct. You had been the one to give in, but only because he had been teasing so hard. You weren't passing the blame onto either of you. He had said some things, done some things and so had you. You regretted it now, and you had only said for him to stay away because you knew you were too weak to try on your own. But it was too late now, he looked enraged, his face a little red, and you felt bad for accidentally blaming it all on him.

“Jin—

“Save it,” he stopped you, his fist already over the door handle as he tugged at it.

His last parting short hurt the most.

“I’ll stay away from you, it won't be hard.”

You were left alone to process that as he stormed out, leaving the door open and you slowly walked towards it and pushed it closed, standing with your back to it as your mind went through everything that had just happened. Did he really mean it wouldn't be hard for him to stay away? Even after all he had said? That was your worst fear. That he didn't want you as much as you wanted him. It was stupid, seeing as you wanted to keep away from each other. You should have been thankful. But all you felt was rejection. And now you were even more confused.

It was just five minutes later when you heard the low mumble of Jin’s voice excuse himself to leave. You couldn't make it out, but you could hear Kyuho say goodbye and the front door click shut. He hadn't even been here fifteen minutes.

He was already trying to stay away from you.

You could always count on your best friend to know something was up with you. That's how you found yourself at some house party a guy from her psych class was hosting. She wanted to cheer you up. She didn't know why you were upset—you hadn't even divulged your secret hook ups with Jin to her. Too embarrassed to admit them out loud. She didn't know what was up, but she knew something was, and she didn't like to pry, that's why you loved her so much. She would just let you sulk in peace. So here you were the following weekend, in some stranger’s house, stood awkwardly in the in the corner of the living room with Sunmi at your side.

You were too scared to move. You should have known Jin would be here. You should have really thought about asking Kyuho before you left if he was going too. Because wherever Kyuho was, Jin was too. You were know mentally kicking yourself. Last time you'd seen him was in the kitchen talking to Yoongi and your stomach had instantly started doing somersaults. You hated this.

As soon as you'd walked in you'd noticed him, as if your brain already knew he was here. And the same for him as he looked up and saw you. What hurt the most was the way he looked through you, as if you were no one to him. Just his best friend’s little sister. A stupid girl… A nobody… You'd said your greetings to Kyuho and then had been huddled with Sunmi this whole entire time. Wherever she went, you did too. You did not what to be alone. In fact, you were this close to feigning drunkenness to get home. You were supposed to be staying away from Jin, and now you realised how stupid that idea ever was.

It's not like Sunmi would ever believe you anyway. You'd been hugging the same red cup filled with vodka for the whole two hours you'd been here. Maybe you should just pretend you weren't feeling well… You hated life right now. Why was this happening? Why had you ever thought sleeping with Jin was a good idea? You could sense his presence when you couldn't even see him. It hung over you like a black cloud. You felt self-conscious for some stupid reason. As if you were constantly under scrutiny, even though you were sure Jin wasn't even paying attention to you at all. As if he'd care.

“Okay, seeing as you've been oblivious all night, I need to push you in the right direction,” you heard Sunmi whisper in your ear, pulling you out your thoughts.

“Huh?” You asked, your mouth open, clueless. What the hell was she on about? And then you watched her point a finger from the hand that was holding her cup, right into the direction of the opposite side of the room.

“He's been looking at you all night,” she told you, and for a moment your heart stopped.

Was it Jin? Had she caught on to something? Was she that observant? Your panicked eyes followed the direction of your finger, but to your surprise—and relief—it wasn't Jin at all. Your heart began beating again as you looked over at the tall, dark stranger. You had no clue who he was, but he was very handsome, and for a split second, you felt excitement wash over you. Especially when he thought he was being clever and took another glance in your direction, just to see you staring at him. He looked down quickly, but you saw him smile, his dimples appearing.

Okay. This was new. You hadn't felt this level of thrill in a while…not in over two weeks anyway…with Jin. You quickly shook your head. You were being stupid. You should just go home.

“I think he's been wanting to make his way over here for a while now, but I feel like I'm cock blocking you,” Sunmi whispered, and you looked back at her, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I'm just going to get another drink,” she grinned, already making her way towards the kitchen before you could stop her, a silent noise of frustration leaving you, but she was gone, shaking her cup as she went.

Oh, my god.

What the hell were going to do now? You could just follow Sunmi into the kitchen…or…just leave. You knew you were supposed to leave with her, but you were desperate and the chances of this guy coming up to you were pretty close to nothing. Sunmi was definitely wrong. Even if he was looking at you… You were left standing on your own awkwardly, cup in hand, your body moving back and fore, wondering where you should go—wondering if Jin was about laughing at how stupid you looked right now. For the past half an hour you'd been too scared to even look around. Was he around here somewhere?

Before you could make a decision, you heard a voice and you froze, looking up to see the handsome stranger. He was even more gorgeous up close, and you stuttered for words.

“Parties aren't your thing either, huh?”

He was looking at you with a smile on his face, but it froze when he realised you weren't replying, his eyes flicking around your face as he waited. Oh, fuck. You didn't know what the hell was wrong with you. You really though Sunmi had been bullshitting you.

“I-I—not really feeling it tonight,” you finally got out, not making sense at all.

Of course you weren't feeling it. You had been trying to avoid your brother's best friend and failing miserably.

He chuckled at that and the sound deterred you from your thoughts. It was really cute. In fact, really concentrating on him, he was really cute, period. Enough to make your heart flutter just a little…

“I noticed, you've been holding the same cup all night,” he noted, smile still on his face. Damn, his dimples were deep. “Me too,” he giggled, shaking his cup, showing you he still had half left.

He had been watching you all night? That made you space out for a second, feeling a little shy. It must have shown on your face because he looked scared for a moment, taking a step back as he held his hands up in surrender.

“Not that I've been watching you or anything,” he spluttered, and you couldn't help but giggle at that, his cute expression. He relaxed instantly at that and smiled shyly.

“I was just surprised to see you here,” he explained and you cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. Did this guy know you?

“I don't usually go to these kind of things—I recognise you from my Italian class, you're Y/N, right?” He asked and you nodded, eyes suddenly widening.

He was in that filler class you'd had to take? You had never noticed him, but saying that, you never paid attention while there. Still though…you thought you'd notice a guy like this…

“I'm Sejun,” he introduced himself, and you took the hand he'd held out to you with a bemused giggle, shaking it.

This was cute. What kind of guys still shook hands? You smiled up at him, watching him grin back at you, and you felt your belly flutter. It was hard not to when there was a hot guy this close paying attention to you.

“I'm only here because my friend said there would be pizza—I see no pizza,” he joked before laughing loudly and you joined him, surprised at how easy it was to relax around him.

“You have priorities, I like that,” you teased, your eyes meeting.

Wow, he had pretty eyes, they practically dazzled. You only realised you were still looking into them when he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Was that a moment you had just shared? You were rusty, and also, you hadn't expected it to happen. You in no way came here to flirt with random guys… but Sejun wasn't random, was he? He was in a class of yours. Granted you hadn't noticed, but now you would.

“I've been meaning to say hi for so long,” he admitted, dropping his hand from the back of his neck and you swallowed, watching the way he must have panicked at his admission and he quickly took a swig of his drink, wincing as he pulled back, obviously swallowing too much.

You giggled again, quietly, unable to stop yourself. He was pretty dorky. You liked that. You liked men who didn't take themselves too seriously… Your mind swayed to Jin and you felt your heart pang. He always seemed like he had his guard up. Of course you had heard him laugh and mess around with Kyuho, but you had never seen more than that. He always seemed like he was trying to keep a sophisticated exterior. Maybe he was just like that… you wouldn't know. You didn't know much about him at all. Just how good he was in bed. You shook your head, you shouldn't be thinking of stuff like that anyway. You guys were just fucking. It wasn't meant to be anything more. He didn't owe you anything. He didn't have to be himself around you when he was just trying to get into your pants…

Why the hell were you still thinking of him? You needed to move on. And here was a way you could—right in from of you…

“I wish you would have said hi sooner,” you replied, smirking a little, the flirt obvious in your voice.

What was the point in feeling guilty and sad? Sejun obviously liked you in some way, and he was cute. The perfect distraction from the sexual tension you felt towards Jin. There was no risk with Sejun. He was some guy in your class, not your brother’s best friend. He already seemed lovely. Kyuho would have no problem with this guy. He didn't even need to know about him, because there was no need to. There was also no guilt attached. You didn't know why your brain was thinking these things. You were going a little overboard. But that's how it was. Jin wasn't allowed. Jin probably didn't even want you.

You watched Sejun’s eyes bulge a little when he realised you were obviously flirting, and he cleared his throat again, seemingly building up the courage to say something again, his grip on his cup hard.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have now,” he smiled, catching your eyes, his dimples back. “I'm glad I came here tonight.”

“I'm glad too,” you replied, concentrating on the way his adam’s apple moved up and down as he swallowed.

You were so lost in thought, you didn't see someone walk up from behind him.

“Maybe you want to come outside—

“Y/N, your brother wants to speak to you.”

It was Jin. Of course it was. What the hell was he playing at interrupting you like that? And with something you knew wasn't true. You watched Sejun pause, turning his head to see who had cut him off short as Jin stood beside him. This was not staying away from you. You squinted, staring at Jin with suspicion and began replying slowly and precisely.

“Tell Kyuho it can wait till later.”

You knew full well it wasn't Kyuho who wanted to speak to you. Why the hell would he send Jin over to tell you?

“I don't think it can wait,” Jin insisted and you squinted harder.

Sejun was looking between both you and Jin with wide eyes, sensing some sort of strange tension and you silently cursed. You were going to have to go with him. You couldn't leave it. It was just making things increasingly awkward. You sighed loudly, annoyed Jin had won.

“Fine!” You snapped, and then you tuned to Sejun, your voice softer. “I have to go, I’ll come and find you when I'm done.”

“That's okay,” he smiled. “It's fine if you can't. I’ll see you in class.”

Wow. This boy was already too sweet for his own good, and you halted your footsteps. Going with Jin would only cause more drama, but you didn't have a choice. Your brain was dying to know what he wanted, and like a fool you had to go. But not before rubbing Jin’s nose in it. You would show him your world didn't revolve around him.

“Okay,” you nodded with a smile. “Save me a seat next time! Bye Sejun,” and as you began to leave, you let your hand drape across his shoulder and you squeezed down, earning you a look of shock from him, but he quickly recovered, grinning in the process.

“Bye,” he called as you got lost in the crowd and as you turned to wave, you felt Jin tug your hand, pulling you towards the staircase.

“Upstairs, now,” he hissed.

It shouldn't have, but the tone of his voice made stomach drop in excitement. It was stupid, a silly knee jerk reaction that you scolded yourself for, even more so because you were actually dumb enough to listen and follow him. What was up with you? Or even more to the question, what was wrong with him?! He couldn't be jealous…could he? The thought made you feel weird. You kept on following him until he found a door open to one of the bedrooms and motioned for you to enter first. He looked shifty as he looked around before entering too, making sure no one of importance noticed him and he closed the door, leaving you both alone.

You were suddenly aware that this was a bad idea. You were alone at a party, if anyone saw, it was bound to look suspect. You placed your drink on the cabinet, watching the clear liquid sway about in the plastic cup.

“I thought we were staying away from each other?” He asked, his voice above normal volume and slightly strained.

“We are,” was all you shrugged.

That's exactly what you'd been doing—staying away from him. You'd hardly looked in his direction. He was the one who had dragged you up here to interrogate you.

“What, so rolling up at the same party as me is doing that?” He deadpanned, his voice furious and you scoffed, seething by now.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know I wasn't allowed to come here,” you shot sarcastically. “All we have to do is stay away from each other—which I was doing, until you showed up dragging me to go speak to my ‘brother,’” you retaliated, using quotation marks with your fingers.

“So I'm supposed to stand there and watch you get it on with some guy,” he shot back immediately, and then it all made sense.

He was jealous. He couldn't have you and he didn't want anyone else to either.

“I wasn't getting it on with him—we’re friends,” you hushed him, not really understanding why you were lying to him.

Granted, you and Sejun apparently had a class together, but you had never noticed him nor spoken to him until tonight. Friends was a very loose term.

“You're in a class with him?” He asked, remembering your conversations from earlier.  “Have you always liked him? Even when me and you were hooking up?”

“What, no!” You exclaimed. You were confused. Why was he asking so many questions? “I've never even spoken to him properly before tonight”

“So you aren't friends?” He questioned, his voice firm. “You like him, right? Did I interrupt something? Was he about to take you upstairs instead? Do you want him to fuck you like I've been doing?”

Why was he acting so crazy? Interrogating you so much? Asking the most ridiculous questions? He had no right to act this way and you folded your arms over your chest, feeling defensive.

“Jealously is not a good look, Jin,” you informed him. “I don't want to do anything with him other than get to know him and be his friend. I hardly know the guy.”

You watched him eye you suspiciously as if he didn't believe you, which infuriated you even more. What the hell give him the right to act like this? You felt your blood begin to boil.

“And anyway, you don't own me. We weren't or aren't dating. I can fuck whoever I want.”

You watched him groan a little, wincing at what you guessed was the image of you and someone else having sex.

“That annoys you,” you observed, slightly amused. “I don't see why it does, you said it would be easy to stay away from me.”

“I know I did, okay? But it's not!” He half-shouted, and you froze, shocked by his passionate reaction. Maybe you had got it wrong…

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you told me it's over. I was angry the other day in your bedroom and I said it, but I didn't mean it,” he explained, the words falling out of his mouth as if he'd been holding them in for ages. “Seeing you here just made it worse, and then you were giggling with that guy—you've never giggled with me like that.”

He sounded dejected, and you watched him with wide eyes, your throat turning dry. You wanted to tell you had always giggled at him when you used to flirt and mess around together, but since you'd hooked up twice, the dynamics had changed. Months and weeks of build-up frustration and you weren't looking to giggle at one of his jokes. However, no words would escape you as you watched him get more and more worked up.

“The bottom line is, I can't stay away from you. I know we should because you're Kyuho’s sister—but I don't want to. I'm going crazy.”

You watched him turn to face the end of the bed, gripping his hair in his hands as he yelled, kicking the drawers underneath loudly.

“Why do you have to be his sister?!”

You jumped, taken back but couldn't help but run over to him, one of arms coming out to wrap around his back. “Calm down!” You told him. “Stop it!”

He pressed back into your touch then, one of his arms snaking its way around your waist as he turned to face you. He was so close and it was so good to finally feel his body warmth again. It had been so long and you missed it. You could smell him, the strong scent of sandalwood filling your nostrils and intoxicating your brain. He was dressed in that white long sleeved shirt again, making his tanned skin pop and his collar bones peak over the neckline. He looked good, smelled good and felt good… This was a bad idea.

He gripped both of his arms around your waist now, your arm around his back sandwiched tight to him and he gazed deeply into your eyes, as if he was contemplating something. Whatever it was, you knew you hadn't the strength to say no to him—not that you wanted to anyway. You knew staying away from each other wouldn't last very long, but you would at least try…

“Jin…” you lightly warned, watching him drop his head to nuzzle into your neck. You could feel his lips and breath on your skin gently. He wasn't kissing you, just letting his face lie flat against you, and you give up that easily, glad he was holding you around the waist because you would've crumbled otherwise. It felt so good to be back in his arms.

“Just one more time…” he whispered against you and you shuddered at the feel of his plush lips on your skin, moving back and fore as he spoke.

“It's not gonna be just one more time though,” you said, although you weren't trying to stop him now—just pointing out the obvious.

You'd tried to stay away and you couldn't. Period.

“Just until we’re out of each other's systems,” he carried on, now kissing your neck lightly. “Just until we get bored of each other.”

You wanted to point out that you'd never get bored. He would definitely get sick of you first and that's what you were most worried about, but now he was kissing up your jaw and just like that you turned your head to meet his lips, instantly feeling complete now that they were pressing together again. All the stupid little thoughts of your over-active imagination disappearing faster than a blink. The boy in your Italian class a distant memory.

The kiss was languid but he moved fast, already snaking his tongue to meet yours as you parted your lips. He tasted the same and you revelled in his warmth, pulling your arm from behind his back to wrap around his neck, you other hand falling flat against his chest and you moaned softly, your breathing beginning to deepen as you lost yourself in the kiss, your tongues entwining together.

“I missed you,” he murmured, pulling away to tangle his fingers in your hair and your feet moved backwards as he walked forwards, his body pressing against yours, his mouth kissing down your jaw again, the sweet noises filling your ears.

“Mmm,” you moaned, losing yourself in the sensations, your skin tingling all over. “Touch me, Jin.”

You needed him. It had been too long. You needed his hands on your body.

“I've missed you too.”

He obeyed straight away, his hands falling to your waist and to your breasts, caressing the supple flesh over the sheer fabric. You sighed out in pleasure, your own hands coming across his wide shoulders and raking your fingers over his back, feeling the hard muscles flex and relax under your fingertips. You took the I initiative to reconnect your lips again, kissing him with a fervour now as his palms squeezed at your breasts, your nipples growing hard in arousal as a heat flushed down to your core, your thighs beginning to burn. You loved his hands on your body and you craved more, especially when he grunted into your mouth, pressing his crotch flush to yours and you felt the lump of his already growing erection—having this effect on him too made you lose yourself even more.

“Fuck—I want you so bad,” he groaned. “I can never get enough.”

You knew getting this cosy was a bad idea in the middle of a party. Anyone could walk in! But you had no time to stop and think of a more rational plan, like leaving to go to his, or maybe even just stopping for now and finding a time where you were both alone. Right now that wasn't an option. You wanted him and he wanted you. To hell with the consequences.

“Have me then,” you practically purred, pulling away from his mouth with a pop and running your fingers down his chest, feeling his hard pecs and he groaned again before a smirk appeared on his lips.

“You really want me to fuck you up here—even if someone might walk in?” He asked and you nodded excitedly, feeling him run his hands up and down your sides before falling to the curve of your ass and squeezing each cheek tight.

“You’re so naughty,” he teased, moving you backwards as he looked around, his eyes glancing across the bed, but he shook his head, lowering his head to kiss you once again, long and hard and he pulled away panting.

As he guided you, you felt your ass hit the edge of the desk in the room, and Jin hoisted you up by the waist. You wrapped your legs around him, feeling him slip between you and you began to kiss again, sloppily and urgently, your hands travelling up his shirt to feel his hot skin.

“Why not the bed?” You mumbled in between kisses and he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not fucking you in some stranger’s bed—that’s nasty.”

You chuckled with him, before you began to kiss again, lost in the moment, and your fingers fell to his fly, unbuttoning his pants furiously. You may have been intoxicated with passion but you weren’t stupid—you didn’t have much time. The door wasn’t even locked for crying out loud.

He let you do it, his own hands busy as he stroked and groped your clothed skin, undoing a couple of the buttons on your shirt to see the curve of your breasts better, partially covered by your black laced bralette. His fingers brushed over the lace and then you felt him pinch your nipple, making you hiss into his mouth. He took the chance to nibble and suck on your bottom lips as you finally got all his buttons loose, pulling his pants and underwear down in one go, his cock bouncing out, tip red and angry, already as hard as a rock. It just made your ego swell and the heat between your legs burn brighter, your arousal already dampening your panties and he hadn’t even touched you down there yet.

You kicked your flats off as he pulled away from your mouth, panting as his own fingers found the fly of your jeans and unzipped them. You lifted your hips up letting him pull the material over the curve of your ass and all the way down your legs, flinging them to the floor. He went for your panties then, his eyes falling to your soaked centre when he pushed them down, biting his bottom lip. You flicked the lacy fabric off one leg and they dangled off the foot of the other.

Spreading your legs for him, you watched him push his pants down to rest on his thighs, his eyes burning into your heat and you used one hand to bunch up your shirt, showing more of your body, strands of hair falling in your face. He grabbed the base of his dick, pumping it a couple of times as he moved closer.

“As much as I'd love to eat you out right now,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss your parted lips, your eyes on his dick as your sex practically pulsed in desire. “—I don't think we have time.”

You kissed him for a moment, letting your tongue flick out of your mouth to find his, but he captured it with his mouth, sucking it gently with his own muscle and you whined, your hands sliding to graze across his pelvis, feeling the little hairs that lead to his dick, before griping his hip and rolling your hips towards him, trying to tempt him into sinking inside of you already.

He smirked against your mouth and pulled away and you finally felt him touch you, the head of his dick sliding against your slit, spreading your arousal. You moaned, the sensation too much and he grinned.

“Are you sure you can take it without any warm up?”

“Trust me,” you sighed weakly, still bucking your hips into him. “I'm ready. I need you—C’mon,” you practically wailed.

Even though you knew he wanted to tease you, you could tell the feeling was too much for him as well—that, and there was a time limit. The adrenaline in your body was pumping through your veins, your heart thudding in your chest, knowing you could get caught at any time, but for some reason it just turned you on even more, and you could hear the slick noises of your juices spreading around the head or Jin’s dick as he kept on rubbing your swollen sex.

“Fuck me, Jin—” you groaned, your words catching in your throat when you felt him push inside of you suddenly and your head fell back, moaning as he grunted, his hands gripping around your thighs as he shuffled closer, slowly pushing more and more inside, your walls gripping every inch before he bottomed out.

He was left panting, dipping his head to press his forehead against yours as he gained his bearings. The stretch was painful due to no foreplay, despite how wet you already were, and your tight walls seemed to be too much for him. You could feel them squeezing around his dick non-stop.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted through his teeth, taking shaky breaths. “Why do you get tighter every time?” He asked himself and you would have giggled if you weren't so overcome with pleasure right now, the pain dispersing as you got used to the stretch.

You grew impatient, rolling your crotch towards him and he gasped as you began sliding yourself up and down his length, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your thighs. You looked up at him smiling at his cute expression, his mouth wide open as he watched himself disappear and reappear inside of you and he caught your eyes when he looked up, cocking an eyebrow. Your stomach jumped around.

You guessed playtime was over.

“Quit being a tease,” he growled and you gulped, your stomach doing flips as he took a step back to gain leverage, beginning to thrust his own hips now.

“You think you can tell me you don't want me anymore and then laugh when you get me so fired up?” He questioned and you couldn't play along even if you tried.

His thrusts were getting harder and your breasts jiggled in their bra, your shirt falling open wider and you moaned loudly, your hands finding the edge of the desk to clench your fingers around it, your knuckles turning white.

“Jin—oh my god, Jin!” You cried and he grunted, bucking even faster into you, your name helping his ego and making him want to please you harder.

“Do you think that guy downstairs could fuck you like this?” He asked, taking you by surprise and you froze for a moment, watching him fuck into you relentlessly. “He doesn't have it in him.”

You wanted to say you hadn't even thought of Sejun in that way. Why was Jin even thinking of something like that? Was he really that jealous over something so stupid? You guessed it was cute in a weird way… He had nothing to worry about, you didn't want anyone but him… You shook your head in reply which seemed to gear him on even further and he grit his teeth, his eye clenching shut. He had never fucked you so hard before and you guessed it was the pent-up frustration from the past two weeks, doubled by the fact he was trying to come quickly. This was the riskiest situation you'd been in yet, even worse than in your kitchen. Because this time it was more than one person who could walk in and catch you. Literally anyone could barge through the door, regardless of if they knew you or not. It made your gut twist in fear, but if anything, it made the sex more intense and you were losing yourself, moaning loudly. If there were people in the next room, they'd definitely hear two people fucking. You were sure the desk was banging against the wall too, but you couldn't be too sure because your mind was getting clouded, your ears muffled as if you were under water. Maybe you were close to coming, you had no clue. Jin was the first guy you'd had sex with who could make you come with just his dick. The others usually blew their load before they could hit your g-spot…

“Baby, you're gonna have to keep quiet,” Jin suddenly whispered, sliding your butt further off the desk so he could lean closer to you, and you realised you must have been moaning pretty loudly. You had no idea.

“As much as it’s fucking hot to hear you chant my name again, everyone is going to know I'm getting some…shh,” he hushed you, his lips finding yours and your hands left the edge of the wood to wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close.

It hindered his leverage, but it made your tryst more intimate, your skin both hot and sweaty as your thighs stuck together in a tangle. You used his mouth as a gag, able to moan freely as he swallowed each one up with his tongue, his panting loud as he gripped your hips. Your ass was sticking to the wood, sliding stiffly as he continued to rock into you and you could taste your release. Maybe it was because you had missed him so much and the feeling of his dick was too much for your sensitive core, but you could feel your thighs tremble around him, the muscles flexing as you tried to warn him.

You could tell he was close too, his fingers trembling as he dug them into your flesh. His moves seemed desperate and needy as if he'd missed you too, and you could tell he was overcome with the feeling just as much as you because he wasn't speaking much. The dirty talk was great and turned you on so much, but for some reason, here in this strange room, nothing but your moans and groans of pleasure bouncing off the walls, you had never felt so aroused. It was incredibly intimate, regardless of the situation…

“Jin, Jin,” you panted, trying to tell him, but you knew he realised you were close, you were clenching on him like no tomorrow, and just as you could feel it building to the point of no return, there was emptiness—

Jin had pulled out. He wasn't inside you anymore and you felt your orgasm disappear into nothing again, your walls constricting around an invisible dick. You whined in annoyance, watching him chuckle at your misery. The dick—you should have known it was too good to be true. He was still into teasing and he'd been waiting for the right moment. Your thighs were still tingling, your clit pulsing as it begged for attention, needing another way to find your release but all that happened was he stepped backwards, taking his dick in his fist as he began to jerk himself off, using your juices that coated his length as lubrication.

What the hell was he playing at? Was he actually going to come like that and leave you hanging? You could already see the way his lower stomach muscles were clenching and he was holding his breath. He really was going to come!

“Jin,” you whined, moving closer to him so you could grip his hips, trying to lure him into fucking you again and he buckled at your touch, moaning lowly.

That was pretty hot, you thought. Why was he so effected by your hands on him…? You experimentally run your fingers down towards his balls, caressing them and he moaned again, sliding his fist faster up his cock now, his thumb digging into the slit, and you suddenly had an idea. Maybe if you give him the best orgasm of his life, he'd give you one too?

You brought your hands back to his thighs, dropping your head so you could kiss gently up his flesh. He buckled again, his hand now slowing down as he looked down at you curiously.

“Can I taste you, Seokjin?” You asked sweetly, battering your eyelashes. “I want you to cum in my mouth. You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

He nodded open mouthed, his hand instantly dropping and swaying by his side and you took the chance to grab him by the base instead, feeling how wet his dick was because he'd been inside of you. His flesh was red and hot and you swooped down, taking the tip inside your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. He moaned loudly, his hands coming out to tangle into your hair and you took him deeper, bobbing your head up and down. You could taste yourself on him and it turned you on even more, making you clench your thighs together to stop the burn that ached between them.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he groaned, pushing further down your throat and you moaned in agreement, the vibrations traveling up his dick and making his knees buckle.

You knew he wouldn't last long, his cock was pulsing inside your mouth, the flesh scorching and you were secretly pleased—your neck was beginning to ache being arched in this position. You moved off him a little, making sure the head was still in your mouth and you sucked, feeling his blunt nails dig into your scalp. His panting turned frantic and you used your spare hand to cup his balls, helping him reach his release.

“I'm—I’m, oh my god—fucking hell,” he groaned, fumbling over his words until it was too late and you felt the hot liquid shoot into your mouth, his balls constricting as he came and you swallowed, making sure to run your tongue over his slit, desperate for every last drop. You looked up at him as you did so, your eyes lidded with desire and he whimpered—actually whimpered! You felt euphoria wash over and you pulled away with a pop, using his hips as a weight to stand up, watching him pull up his pants, buttoning them up messily.

You instantly pressed yourself into his body, nuzzling your head into his neck. You were still in the mood, your body still buzzing and you needed some relief. You couldn't go downstairs just yet feeling like this. You didn't care if someone walked in right this minute, not even Kyuho—you needed to come!

“Did sucking me dick turn you on?” Jin teased, gripping the back of your neck to pull you to face him and you nodded, biting down on your lip as you took in his expression.

His eyes were still blown out, dark as night, his brow scrunched up slightly as he still felt dazed from his orgasm and you reached up to kiss him, pecking harshly at his plump lips which he returned gladly.

“What do you want?” He questioned, pulling you back to watch you carefully. “To cum?”

You nodded, your heat already pulsing and clenching in excitement, your body pressed tightly to his to relieve some pressure.

“You have to tell me if you want it so bad,” he smirked and you silently cursed.

Seeing as he wasn't overcome with pleasure anymore he was back to himself. Not that you were complaining that much. It was hot and only turned you on even more.

“I want to cum,” you whined, kissing his neck. “Please make me cum.”

“Should I, though?” He asked and you looked up to see him cock an eyebrow. “You’ll have no reason to come back to me then–if I give you what you want.”

Did he really think that? Or was he just playing? You didn't think you'd ever be able to stay away from him now. He'd said he'd missed you, that he couldn't stop thinking about you… Despite knowing you should leave him alone, you didn't want to. You couldn't do it. You'd tried and failed.

“It’ll give me all the more reason to,” you grinned, running your hand down his chest, and he couldn't help but grin too.

You felt his hand come up between your legs and you silently celebrated. You had won. The tips of his fingers teased your slit, spreading your old arousal around your clit before falling to you entrance, finding you even more drenched than before, your juices beginning to dampen down your thighs. You didn't think anybody had gotten you this wet before, and you gasped when he pushed two of his digits up you with no warning, rubbing them around before curling them up and instantly finding your g-spot. He was a man on a mission—you didn't have long, and each movement was calculated and hard.

You collapsed into his body, your thighs already shaking as he grazed your sensitive walls and you moaned quietly into his ear, your chest flush to his, happy when he used his other arm to wrap around your waist and hold you in one place, now fucking straight up into you. Your legs trembled with the force, your moans getting caught in your throat as you concentrated on the immense pleasure washing through your body. You could feel every twitch of his digits, each pad of his fingertips, your walls clenching around him, and you knew it wouldn't be long until you came, even more so when he brought his thumb to your clit, furiously rubbing figure eights into the swollen, hard bundle of nerves.

“Come on, baby girl. Let go for me—I know you want to,” he urged, snapping his wrist harder up into you and you looked down, a loud moan leaving you as you watched his fingers enter you with vigour.

Your knees were buckling, you could feel the coil in your stomach tightening, your feet wanting to collapse underneath you and you grit your teeth, letting the feeling take over, concentrating on the feel of his fingers and the dirty words he was whispering into your ear as you pressed yourself against his body tight.

“Cum for me. Cum on my hand—You're practically falling apart,” he gritted out, squelching filling your ears with each thrust of his fingers and turn of his thumb. “I promise next time we're alone I’ll eat you out so good. You'd love that, right? My mouth on your cunt sucking you hard. I bet I’ll make you cum so fast and I won't even stop, not until your cumming again.”

Your body felt like it was on fire and you couldn't get any sounds out, your throat dry as he held your weak body, your head flying back as his dirty words took you over the edge, your clit pulsing into his thumb as you clenched down on his fingers like a vice grip. The pleasure shot through you like molten lava and you cried out, your body tensing as he halted his movements, enjoying the way your walls hugged him and released him explosively.

“Oh my god, Jin,” you sighed loudly after a few seconds, trying to gain your bearings but still panting loudly, your body feeling like jelly.

“My job here's done, right?” He grinned, pleased with himself as he pulled out of you, running your arousal on his pants, and you stumbled a little, glad he was still holding you up with his arm.

You didn't reply, just reached up to kiss him some more. You knew you didn't have much time to mess around like this, especially because you were naked from the waist down, but you didn't want it to end yet. You could never have enough of him.

“Come on,” he murmured after a couple of minutes of making out, his hands dropping from your waist as he pulled away. “We should get going before we get caught,” and you whined, causing him to chuckle, but he still let you go and walked over to wear he'd flung your jeans. You looked down to realise your panties were still pooling over one foot and you blushed a little when you bent down to pull them back up.

“We have next time…and the time after that…and that—right?” He asked, as if he was making sure this wasn't another one off.

You nodded quickly, taking your jeans from him that he was holding out to you. There would definitely be another time, unless something stupid happened now, like Kyuho walking in and catching you. At that thought, you quickly went to put your leg through one of the holes of your jeans, needing to get dressed quickly. You'd only been gone forty minutes tops, but it was still dangerous. Sunmi had left you in hopes of you making conversation with the handsome stranger and here you were upstairs with Jin. Was she looking for you?

As you fumbled you heard the tell-tale signs of the door handle turning and you just had enough time to look at Jin wide eyed before he pointed to the bathroom attached to the room. You darted inside, hiding beside the door and leaving Jin alone inside by the bed. The door opened and you listened for any voices you may recognise. All you heard was Jin.

“Yoongi—what are you doing here?”

It was Yoongi.

Your heart began to thud in your chest. What the hell were the chances it was someone you knew? Granted, you didn't know him well at all, but Jin did! You tried to keep as quiet as you could, freezing on the spot as you clutched your jeans to you.

“I was looking for a bathroom,” you heard him drawl and you panicked, watching Jin’s expression as he tried to keep his cool.

“Uh, there's not one in here,” he stumbled.

“What do you mean? I can see the door from here?” He deadpanned.

“N-No!” Jin half-yelled, panic evident in his voice, as you heard Yoongi move towards you. “T-There's someone in there.”

There was silence then and all you could hear was the heavy thudding of your heart. You were done for. You knew it.

“Oh,” was all Yoongi said. “Oh,” he repeated, a knowing grin evident in his tone even though you couldn't see his face. “I see how it is—sorry to interrupt,” and you heard his footsteps begin to fade out.

Relief washed over you—he was leaving.

“I’ll see you back at home then,” Yoongi chuckled and you watched Jin wave him off with a nod.

As soon as the door closed again, Jin was with you in the bathroom, his eyes wide with panic as he clutched your shoulders, but his expression soon turned to shock when he heard you laugh. You didn't know why you were laughing, but you knew you needed to keep it hushed and you put your hand over your mouth, muffling the sound. You were feeling giddy, your heart still hammering in your ribcage, the adrenaline buzzing through you.

“That was close,” he noted, but he seemed to relax more knowing that you were okay with it and he began to laugh too.

“Let's never do that again, okay?” You got out.

Jin nodded in agreement. “From now on we fuck when we’re officially alone.”

“So, what you're saying is, you want to exclusively fuck your best friend’s sister?” You asked slowly, teasing him and he nodded again, leaning in to peck your mouth.

“Yes, I want to exclusively fuck my best friend’s sister, preferably without being found out and getting the shit beaten out of me,” he added, going in for another kiss.

You giggled into his lips, your mind feeling clearer than ever. You still knew you and Jin needed to talk some more, but here in this party was a bad idea. There would be plenty of time another day. Right now, all that mattered was that you knew you didn't want to stay away from Seokjin. Whatever this thing was you had, you didn't want it to end. For better or for worse. But right now you didn't care. Maybe you'd regret it soon enough, but you pushed those thoughts from your mind.

You'd made your decision.

“Okay, now we really need to go,” he told you, pulling away from your mouth, and you knew he was right. “Before someone else comes in looking to piss. I’ll leave first and then you go after a few minutes, okay?”

You waited ten more minutes after he went, making sure you were dressed properly, finding your flats by the bed, and you made sure your hair and makeup looked okay, wiping the eyeliner smudges from under your eyes—you had no clue how that had happened. You quietly snuck out the room and shut the door, looking around in case you saw anyone you recognised in the hallway. Luckily for you, you didn't and you sighed in relief, making your way downstairs. You jumped when you heard your name being called.

“Y/N, where the hell have you been?!”

It was Sunmi and before you could think of a possible excuse she carried on, talking a mile a minute.

“It doesn't matter, let's get out of here—I saw Brian in the kitchen. Can you believe he tried to talk to me as if nothing happened? As if he hadn't cheated on me?!”

You let her drag you to the front door, still groaning on about her ex, but you were happy for the distraction. You didn't need her asking questions. You knew she was your best friend and you should probably tell her everything, but you knew the tidbit of information was too much to handle. She'd only tell you how stupid you were being.

As you left, you turned your head behind you, curious to see if Jin was anywhere and just like magic you caught his eye. He shot you a dazzling smile which you returned. He was with Yoongi and a couple of guys you didn't recognise. Kyuho was nowhere to be seen and you guessed he must've been outside, thankfully. Your grinned when Jin mouthed “I’ll see you soon” and winked, feeling yourself blush. You knew he was playing with fire, but for some reason that just made it more interesting…for now…

As you turned your head back to follow Sunmi outside, you caught someone else's eye too. Sejun, and you heart stilled for a moment. He had definitely seen you share that moment with Jin—the guy who you had gone upstairs with so obviously. You panicked, smiling at him shyly as you left, which he returned, of course he did—he was too sweet for his own good, shaking his cup he was still in holding in farewell, still in the same spot you had left him.

There was no way he knew who your brother was, or if Jin was best friends with him. It was fine. You didn't need to worry, but you did feel at least a little guilty… You had obviously flirted with him in Jin’s company and now you looked like a Class A bitch. That wasn't the case, and you felt bad he'd gotten caught up in your drama for a second, but he was probably just being friendly anyway. He wanted to be friends. That was good.

Everything was good.

You had Jin had sorted it all out. Everything was fine.

Or was it…?